More Than a Mistress, Less Than a Wife

My life as Olivia Vanderbilt Miller, wife to the powerful Ethan Miller, was a meticulously curated masterpiece of luxury and influence. Our annual Children's Foundation Gala was meant to be another perfect night, a testament to our powerful alliance. I even smoothed down my custom Oscar de la Renta, ready for my husband to pick me up. But pulling up to the curb, Ethan’s familiar Maybach held a stranger in *my* passenger seat, a bright-eyed intern named Chloe, shattering the illusion. She chirped at me, utterly unmoving, while Ethan was on his phone, signaling me to calm down. What followed was a ruthless campaign of disrespect: a stolen sapphire necklace meant for me, brazenly flaunted on Chloe’s social media. Ethan, instead of defending our marriage, dismissed my growing unease as jealousy, comparing his intern to his bullied sister. He effectively abandoned me, moving to his city apartment, allowing this audacious intern to systematically erode our trust. The betrayal wasn't just Chloe's audacity, but Ethan’s shocking revelation: he’d been *testing* me. He was orchestrating this humiliating spectacle to ‘correct’ my behavior, driven by his own unresolved childhood trauma. His cruel indifference, his inexplicable defense of her, confirmed a devastating truth: this was no accidental slight, but a deliberate dismantling of our trust. Olivia Vanderbilt Miller doesn’t crumble when hurt; she strategizes. So, at our family Thanksgiving dinner, I unveiled my retaliatory masterplan: a fake pregnancy, a hint of suspicious paternity, and divorce papers, served with a serene smile. What do you do when your husband engineers your public humiliation? You secure your future and leave him with an impossible paternity question.

I was Emily Rose, a top-tier law student, interning at the prestigious Kent Corporation. William Kent, the notorious playboy heir, relentlessly pursued me, and I fell hard, believing I was finally his "one." Old Man Kent had even announced a challenge: the woman who could tame William for six months would be the next Mrs. Kent. I pictured a future, a ring, a life. Then the news broke: Sophia Vanderbilt, William’s society-approved match, staged a public, bloody suicide attempt, blaming me as the gold-digging home-wrecker. William, to save his family's reputation and his own ascent, instantly turned on me, calling me a calculating liar. The Kents ensured my scholarship vanished, my reputation was shredded, and I became a corporate pariah. They didn't stop there; my nurse mother was framed for theft, and my younger brother faced drug charges. My world burned as their lawyers offered a chilling ultimatum: confess and disappear, or my family would face ruin. I refused, and the next day, a black SUV ran a red light. Then, nothing. Until I snapped awake, back at the very Kent gala where William first charmed me – the night it all began. My heart hammered, a wild bird trapped, but this time, it vibrated with a cold, clear resolve. Why was I back? To relive this nightmare, this betrayal? No, this time, I wouldn't be their lamb. I met William's gaze, my eyes cold and flat: "Not yours, Mr. Kent. Excuse me." This time, the game was mine to play.

I woke up in my own bed, my familiar floral comforter, my slightly messy room. The sun was too bright, and a wave of nausea hit me. Then, Jessica’s sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the kitchen, "Emily? You up?" My digital clock flashed 7:32 AM, April 12th – the day before my world ended. Just then, Jessica appeared, her smile too wide, wanting to borrow my Mustang for the Desert Bloom festival. The image of my beautiful car, mangled, a body on the asphalt, flashed before my eyes. Last time, I’d been blind to her manipulative ways, handing over the keys to my dream car. She drove it drunk, killed an innocent man, then, with my boyfriend Mike’s help, used my own driver’s license to frame me. My denials were useless against their calculated lies and her fake tears. I was abandoned, accused, then dragged from my apartment by the victim’s son and his crew. They left me broken on the side of the highway, my body never recovered. The phantom pain echoed through my limbs, the memory of her betrayal and my agonizing death so vivid, so raw. How was I back? Why was I here, staring at these two people who orchestrated my destruction, their faces masks of innocence? A choking rage, hot and living, simmered within me. But this time, my eyes were wide open, and my voice was steady as I said the single, defiant word that would change everything: “No.” This time, they wouldn’t get away with it.

Seven years of my life were stolen, locked away for a crime I didn't commit. Now, out of that concrete cage, the California sun feels alien against my skin, and the only thing I crave is peace. Not salvation, not forgiveness, just a final resting place: my ashes scattered among the ancient Redwoods I once dreamed of with him. But achieving even that final wish requires money, a sum I, a pariah with a prison record, can barely imagine. So, I swallow my pride and take a job in the opulent heart of Los Angeles. On my first shift, amidst the clinking glasses and hushed power plays, I hear a familiar laugh. Liam. The man I still love, the man who believed I was a murderer, who saw me imprisoned for his sister’s recklessness. He’s not alone. My former best friend, now his fiancée, Jess, is by his side. Their eyes, once filled with affection, now gleam with cold fury and malicious triumph. They relish in my humiliation, forcing me to clean up their messes, parading their love in front of me, a constant reminder of the life I lost. Why do I endure this exquisite torture? Why do I allow the man I cherished to break me, piece by agonizing piece? Because I’m dying, and this agonizing job is my only chance to fulfill my last desire. Then, Liam offers me a new role: his personal attendant. A public spectacle of my subservience, designed to parade my shame at every elite gathering. The pay? Substantial. A devil’s bargain, perhaps, but it's the only key to the Redwoods. I accept, my dignity traded for a final breath of freedom among the trees.

For fifteen years, silence was my shield, a vow I kept to prevent my "disaster prophecies" from unleashing chaos into the world. My six-year-old son, Noah, was my entire universe, the one shining star in my muted life. But then my ex-husband, Kevin, and his new, beautiful girlfriend, Jessica, sent Noah—who was terrified of dogs—to a brutal ‘discipline’ camp filled with vicious Rottweilers. Soon after, the camp director curtly informed me that Noah "didn’t make it," handing me a small bag containing his torn shirt and a muddy sneaker. When I confronted Kevin with the devastating truth and the remnants of our son, his response shattered my very being. He laughed, callously dismissing Noah's last belongings as "trash," then threw the sacred fragments to his own German Shepherd, watching as the dog tore at them. The familiar sting of my silence, always a weapon against me, now became an unbearable agony, a fire raging inside my soul. But in that moment, as the last shred of my world crumbled, the dam broke, and a raw, hoarse sound ripped from my chest. My voice, silent for a decade and a half, returned with a chilling clarity. "Kevin," I hissed, "you will pay for this. Everything you value will turn to dust." And to Jessica, shielding her pregnant belly, I declared, "Your child will not live, and fire will consume your beauty for the rest of your miserable life." This was no longer sorrow; this was a mother’s curse, freshly spoken, and the world would soon discover its terrifying power.

Our crystal chandeliers glittered in our San Francisco mansion. It was our tenth anniversary party, a celebration of a decade of my supposedly perfect marriage. Then, Richard stood by the grand staircase, his arm around a visibly pregnant woman I didn’t recognize. Jessica Wang, his new PR manager, beamed, placing a hand on her belly. His voice, smooth and practiced, silenced the room as he announced, “Emily and I are expecting!” The ensuing wave of murmurs and Jessica’s proud smile clarified the brutal truth. The humiliation was immediate and public. But nothing compared to the depths of his callous disregard that followed. He forced me to move into a guest room, demanded I cater to his mistress's whims, and even stepped over me when I collapsed from a heart attack. The ultimate betrayal came when he *forced* me, with my rare O-negative blood and congenital heart defect, to undergo a medically dangerous blood donation – for *her*. My life force, my very existence, was merely a disposable convenience for his new family. I was supposed to be a devoted wife, yet how could the man I spent ten years with be so utterly monstrous, so devoid of basic humanity? But as I lay weak in the hospital, gasping for air, a quiet defiance ignited within me. With my meticulously accumulated 'freedom fund,' and the unwavering clandestine support of a loyal friend, I knew this wasn't just an escape. I was going to dismantle his meticulously built empire, piece by excruciating piece, finally reclaiming my life.

On the eve of their wedding, Clara Raymond discovers her fiancé in a compromising situation. Deeply hurt by his treachery, she has a breakdown outside the civil affairs office where she intended to formally register their marriage, following a family tradition. However, his abrupt withdrawal on that very day after betraying her the night before proves to be the breaking point. She is no longer willing to forgive and move on. Instead, she craves vengeance. To retaliate, Clara seizes the first attractive man nearby and boldly proposes, "Will you marry me?"

Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."

Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"

"Listen, Gadreel Ødegaar," she looked at him, not hesitating this time. "It's my anniversary present for you. Let's divorce." *** Ivory Remington had sacrificed five years to look after her husband Gadreel who was in a vegetative state after an accident and a few months ago, he finally awakened like a miracle. She thought it was the start of their happy life but Gadreel still had no heart for her. On their anniversary and her birthday, she received a cheating video of her dear husband and her stepsister. Heartbroken, Ivory chose to quit this stupid game. She decided to set him free but the reason she left on the divorce agreement pierced Gadreel's noble pride. *** "Impotent? Are you serious?" He gripped her wrist and a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. "I'm a woman, Gadreel. I'm tired of being in a sexless marriage. Let's end it once and for all." "Sexless, huh?" he chuckled lowly and without warning grabbed her chin in between his hands, pulling her face closer. "Turns out my wife was so eager to get a man between her legs? "

Rena got into an entanglement with a big shot when she was drunk one night. She needed Waylen's help while he was drawn to her youthful beauty. As such, what was supposed to be a one-night stand progressed into something serious. All was well until Rena discovered that Waylen's heart belonged to another woman. When his first love returned, he stopped coming home, leaving Rena all alone for many nights. She put up with it until she received a check and farewell note one day. Contrary to how Waylen expected her to react, Rena had a smile on her face as she bid him farewell. "It was fun while it lasted, Waylen. May our paths never cross. Have a nice life." But as fate would have it, their paths crossed again. This time, Rena had another man by her side. Waylen's eyes burned with jealousy. He spat, "How the hell did you move on? I thought you loved only me!" "Keyword, loved!" Rena flipped her hair back and retorted, "There are plenty of fish in the sea, Waylen. Besides, you were the one who asked for a breakup. Now, if you want to date me, you have to wait in line." The next day, Rena received a credit alert of billions and a diamond ring. Waylen appeared again, got down on one knee, and uttered, "May I cut in line, Rena? I still want you."

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?