Too Late, Mark Olsen

My life was perfect, the American dream within reach. I was Ash Carter, engaged to Ethan Miller, our star quarterback, future NFL legend. We had it all mapped out: the big house, the easy life, the picture-perfect wedding. Then, in a brutal flash, it all imploded. An ACL tear, career-ending complications. Ethan, my golden boy, was broken. His father disgraced. My mother, Karen, wasted no time. "You have to break it off, Ashley," she commanded, her voice cutting, practical. He was a "liability," a "nobody." The dreams of wealth and connections she envisioned for me vanished with his ruined knee. I felt sick, my stomach churning at the thought of the conversation to come. I knew she was right, didn't I? For my future. For her sanity. My thumb hovered over Ethan's name, ready to end it. Then, my phone buzzed wildly, not a call, but bright, blocky letters flashing across my vision like a game interface. `GAME FEED: CRITICAL CHOICE!` `ABANDONING ETHAN MILLER NOW = 'TRAGIC SPINSTER' BAD ENDING. DETAILS: Social ruin, crushing debt, lonely cat lady. Forty cats. Minimum.` My blood ran cold. Was this real? `ETHAN MILLER IS PROPHESIED TO ACHIEVE UNEXPECTED GREATNESS. STAY THE COURSE FOR 'POWER COUPLE' GOOD ENDING. DETAILS: Influence, respect, true partnership. Legendary status.` My life was a game? The words "forty cats" burned behind my eyes. Looking at Ethan, broken on the couch, the breakup words died. Fear, stark and overwhelming, took hold. The path was terrifyingly clear. And I had to play.

Mike Collins lived a double life that was tearing his marriage apart. To the world, he was a "corporate security consultant," a boring cover for his true role as personal security head for a reclusive tech CEO. His wife, Jessica, craved the flash and status he couldn't publicly provide, growing increasingly resentful. At a lavish charity gala, her high school bully, Chad Miller, an ostentatious luxury car dealer, decided to make his move. Chad dramatically approached Mike, flaunting a thick envelope. "Here's a severance package," he boomed, "do Jessica a favor and grant her a divorce. You're holding her back." Jessica, instead of defending her husband, publicly justified her affair, claiming Mike's secretive "boring" job made him "impossible to live with." The entire room, a sea of whispers, watched the "nobody" corporate drone being humiliated. My heart ached with a cold, profound disappointment – not just from the betrayal, but the sickening realization this entire evening was a meticulously planned ambush. Chad, high on arrogance, then committed his biggest blunder. He seized Mike's discreet company phone, screamed insults into it, and triumphantly shattered it on the marble floor. "No more calls to your imaginary powerful friends," he sneered, utterly oblivious. Chad believed he was utterly destroying a pathetic man. But he had just foolishly provoked an invisible, meticulously powerful force. He was about to learn that underestimating a man who drives an unassuming Ford Fusion might be the last mistake he ever makes.

Tomorrow, I, Ethan Reed, was set to marry Isabelle Davenport, the exquisite old-money bride who promised a future of prestige and endless possibilities. Our lavish rehearsal dinner glowed with anticipation, my parents beaming with pride as their "new money" son married into established aristocracy. Then, a chilling phone call shattered everything. "I'm pregnant, Ethan," Isabelle whispered, "It's Liam's." My world tilted, instantly replaced by a wave of nausea and disbelief. She didn't stop there. Isabelle demanded I postpone the wedding indefinitely, quit my career to support them, and even insisted their relationship be openly acknowledged, with Liam, her step-brother and the baby's father, moving into our condo. The next indignity: she had my belongings, including my beloved grandmother's irreplaceable quilt, dumped on the curb, then maliciously desecrated the quilt itself with cigarette burns. The final blow came when Liam staged a pathetic suicide attempt, and Isabelle, her eyes blazing, tried to force me to apologize, even offering me a letter opener to "understand his pain" by cutting myself. How could the woman I loved be so utterly manipulative, so cruelly deluded? My future, meticulously planned, lay in toxic ruins. But amidst the devastation, a memory resurfaced, a lifeline in the darkness. Today was my 30th birthday. And a childhood pact with my best friend, Chloe: "If you hit the big three-oh still single, Ethan Reed, you're mine. We marry each other. Deal?" Just as I stood broken, she appeared, the small gift in her hand, her eyes clear and steady. "A deal's a deal, Ethan," she said, cutting through the ash of my ruined life. "Marry me, Ethan. In three days. I'll handle everything."

For 18 years, I quietly raised my twin sons, Alex and Ben, believing their father Mark and his mistress Brenda were dead. Now, with their Stanford acceptance, I planned a celebratory dinner, a culmination of my secret pride. But as the party peaked, the 'dead' burst in—Mark Thompson and Brenda Sullivan, arrogantly alive. Mark accused me of lies, Brenda feigned heartbreak, and he demanded I sign away my sons, seizing what he claimed was his. My bewildered sons watched their world crumble as Mark's family rallied behind him. With a steady hand, I signed the papers, feeling my boys' pain and disbelief. "Mom, no! How can you?" Alex cried. Everyone assumed I was broken, defeated. They saw a mother abandoning her children, a woman succumbing to the pressure. "You're just... giving us up?" Ben whispered, his eyes clouded with betrayal. The room buzzed with judgment. They had no idea this was just the first act of a meticulously planned retribution. "The party isn't over," I stated, a chilling smile on my face. As two young men, one dependent on a wheelchair, entered, I revealed their truth. "Mark, Brenda, meet Cody and Tyler Thompson. Your actual biological sons." My 18-year revenge was finally set into motion.

My life was perfectly on track. I was Ashley, the daughter of Katherine, heir to the "Katherine's Kitchen" bakery empire, and I was about to ace my SATs and get into my dream Ivy League school. Everything was normal. Until Spirit Week. A viral video exploded through the school, showing my foster sister, Brittany, tear-streaked, claiming our mother had stolen her. That I was the imposter, the switched baby, and the entire family fortune was rightfully hers. Her biological mother, Brenda, was right there, nodding grimly. Suddenly, I was public enemy number one. Whispers followed me, my locker was vandalized, and the bullying became relentless. My college art project, weeks of work, was smashed. Brittany even faked bruises and got me suspended, shattering my academic future. Then a "leaked" DNA test, clearly fake, confirmed their lies, making even me question everything. How could my life be stolen by a baseless lie? Why did my own foster sister resent me so deeply, and why would her mother unleash such a venomous campaign? The injustice burned, leaving me reeling, wondering who I even was anymore. But my mother fought back, proving the first DNA test was fake. Yet, Brittany's malice didn't die – she tried to drug me. And Brenda, consumed by delusion, escalated to setting fire to my house! I wouldn't run. The battle for my life, my name, and my future had only just begun. And I was going to win.

For thirty years, I lovingly maintained our family home, a legacy from my parents. Now, in my late fifties, a promise resonated: the Italy trip my husband, David, made me under wedding fireworks. When I finally brought up that cherished dream, he scoffed, "Too old for that." Days later, on his laptop, I saw it: five plane tickets to Rome and Florence. For David, our son Mike, his wife Jessica, our grandson Leo. And my sister, Emily. Not for me. My dream trip, his very promise, was given to everyone else—especially Emily, whom David openly admired. This wasn't an oversight; it was a deliberate, casual cruelty. I drove them to the airport, listening to their excited chatter. At the curb, David publicly humiliated me over a "lost" passport, grabbing my arm. Even after it was found, he didn't apologize. They just rushed to the gate, leaving me alone. No one looked back. The humiliation burned, hotter than anything before. My family, my entire life, simply walked away, discarding me. Thirty years of giving, of being taken for granted, culminated in this brutal moment. This was my reward. I watched them disappear, then turned and walked out of the airport for good. I drove straight to a real estate agent, listing the house—my house, inherited and solely in my name. Then, I booked my own one-way ticket: Paris, France. My flight was in three days, the same day they were due in Rome. My old life was over.

Aria Wilson agrees to her step- sister offers to have a one night stand with an old man interchange for large amounts. It will be use for his brother's operation. What they don't know is the man she had sex with is turned out to be Jake Thomson! The most powerful man in Golden City, a multi-billionaire. Her step- sister Ayah, pretended that she is the one he was with that night so she is the on who gained wealth. Aria got pregnant and walked away but after five years she came back and her children...

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

As a simple assistant, messaging the CEO in the dead of night to request shares of adult films was a bold move. Bethany, unsurprisingly, didn't receive any films. However, the CEO responded that, while he had no films to share, he could offer a live demonstration. After a night filled with passion, Bethany was certain she'd lose her job. But instead, her boss proposed, "Marry me. Please consider it." "Mr. Bates, you're kidding me, right?"

When your mate cheated the night before your wedding with your best friend, and your father insisted you go on with the wedding because you're nothing but an asset. Under the influence of your anger, you had a one night stand with a stranger in rut who marked you as his without a second thought. Next day, your mate showed up and called the man you spent the night with, "Lycan King..." Lycan King? The same vicious Lycan King that was about to rain war on your pack?

"Sign the divorce papers and get out!" Leanna got married to pay a debt, but she was betrayed by her husband and shunned by her in-laws. Seeing that her efforts were in vain, she agreed to divorce and claimed her half of the properties. With her purse plump from the settlement, Leanna enjoyed her newfound freedom. The constant harassment from her ex's mistress never fazed her. She took back her identities as top hacker, champion racer, medical professor, and renowned jewelry designer. Then someone discovered her secret. Matthew smiled. "Will you have me as your next husband?"

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."