The Perfect Love, The Perfect Deception

"Ethan, this is unethical. It's criminal. She hasn't consented." Those chilling words, whispered in the sterile hum of an operating room, were the first thing I heard as consciousness flickered back. My heart pounded, cold dread snaking through my veins. Dr. Ben Carter, Ethan's old friend, was arguing with him. "She's my girlfriend, Ben. Practically my wife," Ethan scoffed, his voice laced with a terrifying casualness. "Chloe needs this kidney. Ava is a perfect match." Kidney. Chloe. My blood ran cold. The beautiful, fragile Chloe Vahn, who had always haunted our relationship, was now taking a piece of me, quite literally. I tried to scream, to move, but my body felt like lead, my throat raw. I felt a sharp tug, a searing line of fire on my side-the scalpel. Ten years of love, of sacrifice, building Ethan Reed and his company back from nothing, all for this. To be carved up like an animal for the woman he truly loved. When I finally regained full awareness, Ethan was by my bedside, a practiced look of concern on his face, spinning a lie about a ruptured ovarian cyst. But then, the overheard nurse's whispered conversation confirmed my nightmare: "Chloe's kidney transplant... he barely left her side." The pieces slammed into place. My despair solidified into a cold, hard resolve. No more. I grabbed my phone, scrolling to one contact I hadn't dared to call. Noah Hayes, Ethan's rival, a man of integrity. My finger trembled as I typed. "Noah," I managed, my voice raspy. "Are you still looking for a COO who knows Reed Innovate's strategies... and perhaps, a wife?" The silence stretched, then his voice, calm and serious, cut through the noise of my crumbling world. "My jet, seven days. LaGuardia."

My parents died when I was seventeen, leaving me heartbroken and orphaned. Mr. Julian Vance, my father's charismatic former mentee and a Silicon Valley titan, unexpectedly stepped in as my guardian. He moved me into his lavish Atherton mansion, offering a bewildering new life of privilege. Confused by teenage feelings, I tragically developed a crush on him, confessing my yearning in a clumsy letter. Julian found it, and his kind facade shattered into a mask of pure fury. He denounced me as an "ungrateful, perverse child" and promptly sent me away to ClearPath Academy, a mysterious institution that promised to "fix" me. ClearPath was a nightmare. I endured forced medication, sleep deprivation, and brutal re-education, emerging months later a broken shell of my former self. Upon my return, Julian introduced his icy fiancée, Eleanor, who immediately launched a campaign of insidious manipulation and abuse against me. Julian, inexplicably blind to Eleanor's malice, repeatedly believed her lies over my pleas, dismissing my visible ClearPath scars as theatrics and ultimately abandoning me to violent thugs. Why was the man who once seemed to care so willing to believe such falsehoods and inflict such profound pain? How could he be so utterly deceived? The crushing weight of betrayal and abandonment pushed me to one final, desperate act beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. My shattered death finally tore away Julian's blinders. Consumed by agonizing guilt, he now confronts the horrifying truth about ClearPath and Eleanor's monstrous deception. He vows bloody retribution and embarks on a chilling penance, willing to endure my every torment in a desperate, last-ditch effort to redeem his tormented soul and reclaim my spirit.

My life revolved around Ethan, the secret husband I loved fiercely, despite the feud between our families. Then, Chloe Vance, his ex-girlfriend and now stepmother, cornered me in a powder room with a cruel bet: ten chances to make Ethan publicly claim me, or I'd sign divorce papers and disappear. Each attempt to win his affection ended in public humiliation. He remained cold, his attention always on Chloe, who openly delighted in my torment. He looked at me with disgust when I tried to bridge the distance, abandoned me in a fire, and watched me suffer an acid attack – his only concern for her. Despite my agony, he later tried to make me take the fall for her sordid scandals. How could the man I loved treat me with such brutal indifference, repeatedly choosing his ex-girlfriend while I withered? Was I merely a convenient shield, a secret to be hidden, while his true devotion remained with another woman? The casual cruelty, the dismissive betrayal, chipped away at everything I believed. Watching him side with her after that horrific attack, something inside me irrevocably shattered. My foolish, stubborn love for Ethan Gold finally, completely died. I decided then that I wouldn't just leave; I would reclaim my life and dignity, severing every last tie to the man who never truly saw me. And he would finally understand what he had lost.

For three years, I lived a lie as Ava Cole, wife to Ethan, whose devotion was reserved not for me, but his college sweetheart, Chloe Vance. I meticulously tracked his escalating betrayals in my secret "Breaking Point Ledger," knowing 100 points meant freedom. The ledger filled quickly, fueled by his unapologetic neglect and public displays of obsession. Then, disaster struck: caught in a violent car crash, I lay bleeding, my world shattering around me. Doctors, grim-faced, revealed I was eight weeks pregnant, desperately needing help. But when the hospital reached Ethan, his urgent command echoed chillingly: prioritize Chloe, who had a mere allergic reaction. My baby, our baby, was lost. "We couldn't save the baby," the nurse later confirmed, her voice laced with a silent fury that mirrored my own. The ledger, once a quiet tally, now screamed past its limit, leaving a brutal, undeniable score of his final, ultimate betrayal. There was no going back; only forward. With a soul-deep resolve, I signed my divorce papers, reclaiming Ava Miller and leaving behind the shattered remnants of a life that was never truly mine. My bags were already packed for Austin, ready for a new chapter where I would rebuild, reclaim, and rise from the ashes.

My marriage to Ethan Cole, a man revered as a titan of industry, felt less like a partnership and more like a never-ending siege. After years of fighting for even a sliver of his attention, I found him on the floor of his study, fixated on a small, wooden box. Inside, nestled on velvet, were forbidden relics: a child's drawing, a pressed flower, and a faded photo of Olivia Vance, the girl he'd been raised with. The raw, yearning expression on his face, a look he had never once given me, confirmed the crushing truth: his emotional unavailability was solely reserved for her. Our sterile, business-transaction marriage was a smokescreen for his lifelong obsession, culminating in him abandoning me in a skyscraper fire as he pulled Olivia to safety. He then brushed off my concussion from Olivia's attack, prioritized her minor burn for a top surgeon, and offered obscene diamonds to buy my silence, while she moved into our home to subtly torture me. His blindness to Olivia's manipulation, his monumental arrogance, and his consistent disregard for my pain made me realize the devastating reality: he didn't just not feel for me, he chose to torment me instead. But as I saved myself from those flames, a cold, hard resolve replaced the agony. My love for him, long dead, was now replaced by a fierce determination: I would reclaim my life, expose his deceit, and make him truly understand the cost of his choices.

My life with Mark was perfect, a picture of happy marriage. He and his identical twin, David, ran a thriving brewery, and together with my sister Jess, we were an unbreakable foursome. Then, a shattering phone call. David, always so full of life, had collapsed and died. Weeks of agonizing grief followed, but the true nightmare began at a solemn family dinner. Mark's mother, Brenda, demanded the unthinkable: I was to carry David's child for my sister, a vessel for the "Thompson legacy." My own mother, always favoring Jess, twisted the knife, urging me to "be understanding." I stood paralyzed, while Mark, my supposed anchor, vehemently defended me. But that defense was a cruel facade. One night, I found him in my guest room, not comforting my grieving sister Jess, but kissing her. And then I heard it: "I want your baby, Mark. Openly. Not... not David's ghost." Jess was pregnant with his child. The man who swore to protect me was betraying me with my own sister, all while their desperate family tried to force me into a truly monstrous act. Every loving gesture, every word of trust, twisted into a grotesque lie. Was I truly so blind? So easily manipulated? Why me? Why this profound and sickening betrayal? That night, the naive wife died. A cold, hard rage ignited. I demanded a divorce, packed my bags, and moved halfway across the country. But Mark, Jess, and their twisted family thought they could sweep me aside. They were wrong. I wasn't running; I was retreating to draw the battle lines. This wasn't just about escape anymore. It was about meticulously crafting the perfect retribution, a revenge so complete, they'd wish they never crossed me.

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

Forced out of a mental hospital by her family, Nicole was made to marry Aidan-reputed to be disabled-in her sister's place. The public ridiculed their union: a so-called lunatic and a cripple. What they didn't know was that Nicole had a sharp mind, countless talents, and secret identities. High society sneered at her unruly behavior, but Aidan always took her side. "My wife is too fragile to hurt anyone," he'd say. But soon- "Sir, your wife destroyed someone's house!" "Let her." "Sir, your wife ran away!" He arrived at the airport with two adorable kids in tow, pleading, "Sweetheart, come back. You can punish me however you want." Nicole froze. Wait-where did these two adorable little troublemakers come from?

"Ms. Crawford, it’s time for you to divorce Mr. Larsen and come home. You're the only heiress the Master's waiting for.” ~•~ For the sake of love, Amara accepted the arranged marriage with Tobias William Larsen. She did everything to gain her husband’s heart but when his old love returned, she realized that all her effort was all for naught. Tobias demanded a divorce on the night of their wedding anniversary, even at the price of threatening her. Heartbroken, she finally dropped all her illusions about him and returned home to be the heiress. The next time she met Tobias, they were no longer couples but opponents. "Mr. Larsen, should I remind you again? We've divorced." "Amara, that's the stupidest mistake I've ever made. Please come back to me."

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary—but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

Janet was adopted when she was a kid -- a dream come true for orphans. However, her life was anything but happy. Her adoptive mother taunted and bullied her all her life. Janet got the love and affection of a parent from the old maid who raised her. Unfortunately, the old woman fell ill, and Janet had to marry a worthless man in place of her parents' biological daughter to meet the maid's medical expenses. Could this be a Cinderella's tale? But the man was far from a prince, except for his handsome appearance. Ethan was the illegitimate son of a wealthy family who lived a reckless life and barely made ends meet. He got married to fulfill his mother's last wish. However, on his wedding night, he had an inkling that his wife was different from what he had heard about her. Fate had united the two people with deep secrets. Was Ethan truly the man we thought he was? Surprisingly, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the impenetrable wealthiest man in the city. Would he find out that Janet married him in place of her sister? Would their marriage be a romantic tale or an utter disaster? Read on to unravel Janet and Ethan's journey.

Three years of marriage couldn't melt Theo's frozen heart. When an art gallery collapsed on Lena, he was off romancing another woman—lavishing her with a private jet. Three steel pins held Lena's shoulder together, but her heart remained broken. She filed for divorce and told everyone that he was impotent. Rising from the rubble, Lena blazed onto the design world's A‑list. She expected him to sail off with his true love—until Theo reappeared at her runway, pressing her against the wall. "Impotent, huh? Care to give it a try?"