Sarah's Desperate Choice

For seven years, I lived as "Chloe' s boyfriend," a quiet coder whose entire self-worth was built around her "saving" me from social anxiety. Our Austin apartment was loud, packed for the Super Bowl party, until the music died and everyone stared as Chloe walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, carried by her ex-boyfriend, Blake. His smirk was a dare, a familiar test of my manufactured jealousy, but this time, something inside me was just... quiet. My unexpected calm ignited a terrifying rage in Chloe, shattering her control and escalating her manipulations from fake tears and public flirtations to a staged car crash and a chilling threat to jump from our 15th-floor balcony. I calmly moved on, started a new life, and was building my own success, finally free of her endless drama. Then, just weeks later, at my promotion celebration, she appeared in a white wedding gown, asked for one last photo, and plunged a knife into her own stomach, collapsing into my arms. Her final, horrifying act left me tragically, undeniably free.

My life in San Diego, as a successful architect married to my high-school sweetheart Liam, seemed picture-perfect. But the arrival of our new live-in housekeeper, Brenda, shattered that façade. She relentlessly undermined me, criticizing my career, my home, even my choices, while my husband, Liam, inexplicably defended her every cruel word. Her petty comments spiraled into outright sabotage, culminating in the destruction of my vital project blueprints and the invasion of my private space. But the true horror emerged when, after she brazenly desecrated my revered father-in-law' s military memorial, Liam, the man I loved, shockingly slapped me for confronting her. With the sting of his hand on my face, a profound loneliness enveloped me. Why did Liam consistently choose this woman over me? Why did he strike me? Then, a black town car pulled up, and Liam' s mother, Eleanor, stepped out. Her reaction upon seeing Brenda wasn't anger, but a chilling whisper: "Brenda? Is that you?" That whispered recognition ignited a terrifying suspicion. A hidden camera revealed the unthinkable: Liam wasn't Eleanor' s son, but Brenda' s, swapped at birth, and Eleanor' s real child was tragically murdered. Now, united with Eleanor, my grief transformed into an ice-cold fury. We would unleash a calculated, devastating revenge.

For three years, I poured every ounce of myself into Liam's tech dream, working multiple jobs to keep a roof over our heads. Tonight was the night I'd finally tell him my own life-altering secret: I was Ava Vance, the long-lost, presumed-dead heiress to the colossal Sterling-Vance empire. I believed in him, utterly. But he didn't walk in alone. He arrived with a stunning, polished woman named Chloe, arm-in-arm, and then dropped the bomb: she was his fiancée, and her father was his lead investor. He looked at me, his eyes cold and dismissive. "I'm leaving you," he stated flatly, then mocked our entire relationship, calling me just a "housekeeper" and an "embarrassment." When Chloe spilled wine on herself, Liam forced me to my knees to apologize to her like a maid. The ultimate betrayal came when he returned later, poisoned me to destroy my voice, and dragged my limp body into our cold, damp basement dungeon to keep me quiet. From my prison, I overheard them coldly plotting to frame me as delusional and commit me to a psychiatric hospital forever. The man I had loved and sacrificed everything for was a monster, systematically ripping away my very existence. Every lie, every calculated cruelty, twisted into a horrifying full picture. But they seriously underestimated the woman they thought they'd silenced. Just as two thugs came to haul me away, I found the strength to activate the emergency beacon hidden in my Sterling-Vance necklace. They believed I was a "lost cause," but they were about to face the terrifying wrath of the Sterling-Vance empire.

It was our tenth wedding anniversary, but the celebration was interrupted by a jarring Instagram post. My husband Julian' s mistress, Brooke, shared a photo of them kissing in his high-rise office, captioned, "Closing the biggest deal of our lives. Some partnerships are just meant to be. 😉" He brought her home later, forcing me to host her and then locking me in a dark pantry when I refused to cook their "special meal." For four years, Julian had relentlessly tormented me and our daughter, Sophie, based on a cruel lie Brooke fed him. He made me book their romantic getaways, ridiculed Sophie' s finger paintings as "low-class," and destroyed my art, calling me worthless. The cruelty peaked when Brooke deliberately injured Sophie, leaving her unconscious, and Julian refused medical help until I completed an unimaginable task. He forced me into the garage, a place steeped in the trauma of my father' s death by fire, and ordered me to strip a vintage car using the very tools that had killed him. Every roar of the sander, every chemical fume, plunged me back into the horrifying night my father died, but Sophie' s bleeding face was my only anchor. I became a machine, powered by a mother' s desperate will, enduring torture to save my child from a man who now embodied pure hatred. Julian finally broke when our seven-year-old Sophie, waking in the hospital, dropped his expensive doll into the trash and calmly told him, "My mommy said my real daddy is gone." That same night, a drunken Julian confessed the elaborate lie Brooke had spun, thinking I' d cheated, unraveling his entire world. But he couldn't see that David, his assistant, had helped me secure his signature on airtight divorce papers days ago. Sophie and I finally walked away, leaving him kneeling defeated in his hollow mansion, driving West towards a new, truly free life under the vast Texas sky.

The fluorescent hum of the ER was my world, a demanding but predictable rhythm. I was a dedicated doctor, a loving wife to Julian, a university professor, and a proud mother to Lily. I even funded a scholarship for bright students from my hometown, like Chloe. Then, a pager call shattered that peace. It led me to cubicle three, where my husband, Julian, was intimately comforting a sobbing young woman: Chloe, the student I' d proudly sponsored. Anonymous whispers from nurses confirmed my worst fear: an affair. His frantic lies, her chilling taunts about my 'unfeminine' career, and later, the explicit photos and a voice memo of him mocking me and praising her, all twisted the knife. But the real horror began when this student, Chloe, started bullying my six-year-old daughter, Lily, at preschool, spreading vicious rumors that caused physical and emotional harm. My blood ran cold with a rage so pure it froze my veins. How could the man I built a life with, and the girl I selflessly helped, conspire in such a cruel, public dismantling of my family, systematically using my child as a weapon? The humiliation was suffocating, the injustice unbearable. When Lily, through tears, told Julian she didn't want him as her Daddy anymore, something snapped. Right there, amongst the whispers and lies, a new resolve solidified within me. I was divorcing him, and I had the evidence to ensure he wouldn't fight it.

Ten years ago, I was just the quiet girl next door, hopelessly in love with Ethan Carter. Prom night was supposed to be my moment, my chance for him to finally see me. But instead, he asked me for my car keys, not for us, but for Jessica Vance, the girl he was setting up fairy lights for. Just as I handed them over, my phone buzzed with the call that would shatter my world: my dad had a heart attack. My heart sank as I watched him kiss Jessica, under those very lights, his flimsy excuse for needing my car keys. When I desperately pleaded for them back, my world crumbling around me, he just fumbled, then admitted they were locked in Jessica's car – and she flatly refused to retrieve them. No one offered me a ride, not even a glance of pity, as I ran miles in my prom dress, missing my father' s final breaths because of their casual indifference. They reduced my raw grief, my trauma, to a mere bid for attention, laughing about the 'dramatic girl' who 'ruined the party.' It was a cold, lonely clarity: they never saw me, and they never would. Ten years later, I returned to New York not as the shy girl they discarded, but as Claire Anderson, a formidable architect. Now, he thinks he can waltz back into my life, seeking redemption for a past he barely remembers, but I' m ready to remind him exactly who he dismissed.

It took only a second for a person's world to come crashing down. This was what happened in Hannah's case. For four years, she gave her husband her all, but one day, he said emotionlessly, "Let's get divorced." Hannah's heart broke into a million pieces as she signed the divorce papers, marking the end of her role as a devoted wife. Within Hannah, a strong woman awakened, vowing never to be beholden to any man again. Embracing her new life, she embarked on a journey to find herself and command her own destiny. By the time she returned, she had experienced so much growth and was now completely different from the docile wife everyone once knew. "Is this your latest trick to get my attention?" Hannah's ever-so-arrogant husband asked. Before she could retort, a handsome and domineering CEO pulled her into his embrace. He smiled down at her and said boldly to her ex, "Just a little heads-up, mister. This is my beloved wife. Keep off!"

For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul—her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband’s entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I’m out of your league."

Rumors claimed that Fernanda, newly back with her family, was nothing more than a violent country bumpkin. Fernanda just flashed a casual, dismissive grin in response. Another rumor suggested that the usually rational Cristian had lost all sense, madly in love with Fernanda. This frustrated her. She could tolerate gossip about herself, but slander against her beloved crossed the line! Gradually, as Fernanda's multiple identities as a celebrated designer, a savvy gamer, an acclaimed painter, and a successful business magnate came to light, everyone realized they were the ones who had been fooled.

If desire were a blade, their first encounter left him bleeding in silence. He'd built a life on peril and pleasure, armor forged from recklessness, never imagining a woman could make him lower his guard. But even with the truth veiled in lies, he was already in too deep-entangled in the game, and captivated by the player.

On the day of their wedding anniversary, Joshua's mistress drugged Alicia, and she ended up in a stranger's bed. In one night, Alicia lost her innocence, while Joshua's mistress carried his child in her womb. Heartbroken and humiliated, Alicia demanded a divorce, but Joshua saw it as yet another tantrum. When they finally parted ways, she went on to become a renowned artist, sought out and admired by everyone. Consumed by regret, Joshua darkened her doorstep in hopes of reconciliation, only to find her in the arms of a powerful tycoon. "Say hello to your sister-in-law."

"End her, and burn her body." Those words rolled off cruelly from the tongue of my destined one-MY MATE. He stole my innocence, rejected me, stabbed me, and ordered me to be killed on our wedding night. I lost my wolf, left in a cruel realm to bear the pain alone... But my life took a twist that night-a twist that dragged me into the worst hell possible. One moment, I was the heir to my pack, and the next-I was a slave to the ruthless Lycan King, who was on the brink of losing his mind... Cold. Deadly. Unforgiving. His presence was hell itself. His name a whisper of terror. _He swore I was his, craved by his beast; to satisfy even if it breaks me_ Now, trapped in his dominant world, I must survive the dark clutches of the King who had me wrapped around his finger. However, within these dark reality, lies a primal fate....