Silent No More: The Genius Ex-Wife's Revenge

Fitzgerald Woodard was the "stray" I used to torment in prep school, a boy I once paid to kneel in the mud for my amusement. Now, the tables have turned, and he’s the billionaire who bought my father’s debt, dragging me into his mansion as a "personal asset" listed in a contract I never read. He didn't just want the money back; he wanted to see me break. He stood over me in the rain and told me he owned the very machines keeping my father alive, and with one flick of his thumb, he could stop his breathing forever. The nightmare escalated until I didn't recognize myself. He forced me to eat cold soup off the floor like an animal and gripped my hand over a heavy hammer, forcing me to crush a young guard's bones just to prove I was as much of a monster as he was. His childhood sweetheart, a nurse I once humiliated, stood in the shadows, whispering that I was nothing more than a used-up toy he was already bored of. I lay on the cold marble, shivering from a fever he refused to treat, realizing that the curse he placed on me years ago had finally come true. Every act of cruelty I had ever committed was being repaid with interest, and the man I once looked down on was now the only god I had left to pray to. Suddenly, he threw me out into the freezing night with nothing but rags on my back and a shattered phone. The hospital called with an ultimatum: fifty thousand dollars by noon, or they pull the plug on my father’s life support. Standing barefoot on the biting asphalt, I watched his black SUV disappear into the dark. I have nine hours to save the only person I love, and only one way to get the money. I have to go back and kneel before the devil I created.

My husband, Cameron, stole my father's last gift to me-a one-of-a-kind watch. I found it on the wrist of his mistress, Kenda, during a video call where she thanked him for the gift and their "late nights." When I confronted him, he tried to gaslight me, using the years of painful, humiliating fertility treatments I endured as a weapon. "You've been under a lot of stress lately," he said, a cruel glint in his eye. He had convinced me I was barren, all while he was stealing from my family's foundation to fund her life. He even told her the watch was too ostentatious for me. The affair was a sting, but the calculated cruelty of his deception was a mortal wound. He made me believe I was broken. My grief turned to ice. I walked out of my study, leaving him stammering, and picked up my secure phone. I made a single call to the only man I trusted. "Gunner," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "I need you."

I thought I was the luckiest Omega in the world when the Alpha of the New Moon Pack chose me. I was pregnant with his heir, sleeping in his bed, believing the warmth I felt was love. But then I found the medical report hidden in his desk. "Subject: Scent Modulator. Dosage: High." It wasn't a fated bond. It was a drug. He was chemically forcing me to love him. My best friend dragged me to a restaurant window, and I watched him kiss my cousin, Olivia. Through the glass, I heard the words that shattered my soul. "Just a few more months," Ethan told her, caressing her hand. "Once the incubator drops the brat, we'll dispose of her. Then we raise the heir as ours." I was never his Luna. I was livestock. A walking womb chosen for my bloodline compatibility because his mistress was barren. My father had tried to warn me with his dying breath, but I had been too blinded by the synthetic scent to listen. Grief threatened to kill me, but the White Wolf inside me woke up screaming for vengeance. I went back to the house. I didn't pack a bag. I went straight to the kitchen and brewed a tea of Wolfsbane and Mugwort. I drank it all, weeping as I felt the bond to the baby snap. Then, I walked into our bedroom, left the divorce papers on his pillow, and whispered into the mind-link: "I, Ava Miller, reject you, Ethan Cole, as my mate." As he screamed in my head, I blocked him and walked into the rain. He thought he broke a weak Omega. He didn't know he had just unleashed a White Wolf.

A woman brought a boy into my clinic with my mate’s eyes and a genetic disorder exclusive to his Alpha bloodline. She named my mate, Damien, as the father, and through our bond, I felt his love for her as he lied about where he was. That night at the pack gala, he shoved me to protect that boy, causing me to miscarry the baby I’d just learned I was carrying. As I bled on the floor, he comforted his son over a scraped knee, never once looking back at me. His mistress later pushed me from a cliff, rejecting me in his name. But I survived, and a week later, I boarded a plane to Switzerland, ready to be reborn from the ashes of the woman he destroyed.

The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires and a crushing impact. Then, I was a ghost, floating above my own lifeless body, pulled from the wreckage. I watched silently as my fiancé, Liam, the man I' d given everything for, proposed to my stepsister, Scarlett, at my funeral-the very ring I' d once admired. Their passionate kiss, the congratulatory smiles of our friends-it all ripped through me with a pain far worse than death. My entire life had been a lie, a sacrifice for their happiness, and the regret consumed me whole. I woke up with a gasp, drenched in sweat, in my childhood bedroom. The date on my laptop screen read June 12, 2008-the day it all went wrong. An email glowed: "Internship Offer: Prestigious New York Firm." I had a second chance. My heart turned to ice as the doorbell rang-it was Liam, charming as ever, with a bouquet of my favorite flowers. He walked in, proposing marriage, but only if I gave my prestigious internship to Scarlett, his "soulmate." "Marry me, Chloe," he whispered, "if you give her your internship spot...She' s my soulmate, you know that, but you...you're the one I want to build a home with." This time, I slowly pulled my hands from his, a cold smile touching my lips. "No." His facade cracked, revealing the selfish man beneath. "You're over, Liam," I said, holding the door open. "I'm taking the internship. And I am never, ever going to sacrifice my life for yours again."

For eighteen years, the Miller mansion was my sanctuary, a gilded cage built with the love of my adoptive father, Richard, and my brother, Ethan. My top-floor studio, overlooking the city, was my universe, filled with their unwavering support for my art and their endless affection. Then Tiffany arrived, Richard' s biological daughter, a ghost from his past. I welcomed her, eager for a sister, but the dream shattered almost overnight. One night, Richard gave me a beautiful, antique paintbrush-a cherished gift. But a single, perfectly timed tear from Tiffany, a trembling voice whispering about her deceased mother, instantly shifted the narrative. Suddenly, I was the villain, my joy overshadowed by her fabricated grief. Richard took the brush back, Ethan consoled her, and I was left with a cold, heavy stone in my chest. This was just the beginning. Soon, the Miller Corporation faced ruin, and I, their beloved adopted daughter, became a commodity. My family, the men who had once adored me, arranged my marriage to a stranger to save their empire. They saw a necessary sacrifice, not a heartbroken daughter. When I fled to my Uncle David, he offered escape, a life devoted to my art. But I believed it was my last act of loyalty to the family I once loved. That night, on the grand staircase, Tiffany ensured my "loyalty" came with a price. She faked a stumble, pushed me, and sent me sprawling, my ankle twisting in agony on the marble floor. Richard and Ethan rushed to her side, not mine. "Chloe, what is wrong with you? Your jealousy is going to destroy this family!" Richard roared, his face a mask of cold fury. They saw only Tiffany' s tears, never my pain, my twisted ankle, or the innocent truth. In that moment, something inside me broke for good. The marriage wasn' t a sacrifice anymore. It was an escape, a desperate flight from a family that no longer saw me.