The Capitol Wife's Revenge

My husband, Matthew, was on a ski trip with his mistress, and his assistant, Stella, sweetly told me the Henderson project needed sorting, fever or not. When I tried to call in sick, Matthew scoffed, dismissing my 104-degree fever as "drama." After eight years of being treated like dirt, humiliated and controlled by him, I calmly told him I wanted a divorce, but he only laughed, reminding me he paid for my ailing father' s expensive medical treatments. Minutes later, a company-wide Slack poll popped up: "Is Gabrielle's divorce threat for real this time?" Matthew voted "Fake," and my colleagues piled on with ridicule. When I typed "It's real. I've hired a lawyer. And I quit," I knew my life was about to explode. Still reeling, I went to the office to deliver my resignation, only to be met by Stella. In a horrifying live company video call with Matthew, she had maintenance workers dump buckets of ice water on me, drenching my feverish body. I collapsed, hitting my head on a glass table, and the world went black. Waking in the ER with a concussion, Matthew stood over me, fuming about the cost and the "scene" I'd made, completely devoid of concern. Then came the news: my father's life-saving procedure had been cancelled while I was unconscious. It was Stella, who had used my phone to cancel it and steal the $50,000 bonus Matthew had promised me, gloating that she was Matthew' s ultimate problem-solver. My father was gone. Killed by their casual cruelty. But as the raw agony tore through me, I realized something cold and clear: they had pushed me too far, and now, they would pay. I would take nothing from Matthew but my freedom, and then I would watch their carefully constructed world burn.

The screams of the "Proving" ceremony were the first thing I heard when I woke up. My eyes shot open, and the scent of pine, sweat, and something metallic filled my lungs. I was back in this godforsaken survivalist compound, mysteriously transported from my office job. A hand grabbed my arm, and it was Gabrielle Chadwick, or Gabby, her terrified eyes pleading. "Molly, help me! Please! They're going to hurt me!" This was the ritual where young men would strike unmarried women with leather belts, and the one enduring the most blows was deemed "most desired." In my past life, I shielded Gabby, taking every blow for her, believing I was protecting a friend. My sacrifice made me the "most honored," granting me first choice of a partner, and I chose Caleb Scott, the compound leader' s son. But my life with Caleb was a private hell of control and brutality, while Gabby, seething with resentment for what she thought was her rightful place, pretended to be my friend. She eventually got her revenge, pushing me off a cliff during a foraging trip. Now, reborn at the start of that same horrifying ceremony, Gabby was playing the same part, her hand clamping my arm, her voice a desperate plea for me to be her shield again. I looked at her, at the calculated fear in her eyes, remembering the sharp, final impact of falling. Not this time.

My MIT scholarship was locked, courtesy of a national coding competition. My future was set. But then I overheard a conversation in the high school computer lab, one that shattered my quiet certainty. Jenny, my childhood best friend, and her powerful "Syndicate" gang-the police chief's kid, the judge's daughter-were planning to cheat on the upcoming AP exams, using stolen data from Jenny's cousin. They found me, and everything changed. They threatened my father' s life-saving transplant, my mother' s safety, everything I held dear. With their parents controlling this town, I had no one to turn to. They forced me to decrypt the stolen files, to create the perfect answer keys, then Jenny deliberately smeared my fingerprints all over the USB drive. "Insurance," she called it. A perfect frame. So, I did the only thing I could. I walked into the SAT, held up that incriminating drive, and publicly confessed to a crime I didn' t commit, a crime so big it had to be federal. I watched my MIT dream vanish. I saw the rage in Agent Morris' s eyes, the pity in my guidance counselor's, and the raw despair on my mother' s face as I admitted guilt. Why would I sacrifice everything-my future, my reputation, my family' s hope-for a ludicrous hack I didn't even do? Why would I burn down my own life and confess to a story so absurd, it made me sound insane? Because I wasn't just confessing. I was setting a trap. And they were about to walk right into it.

The last thing I remembered was a crushing weight in my chest, and the impossibly cruel words about my son not being mine. Then, everything went black. I thought I was dead, a broken man on my own lawn, betrayed by the wife I' d mourned for a decade. But I opened my eyes to the scent of lilies and the familiar wooden pews of St. Michael's church. It was Nicole' s funeral, ten years ago, the very day she supposedly died. My mother-in-law, Maria, was there, whispering an insane proposition: marry her younger daughter, Gabby, just on paper, for my baby son, A.J. In my first life, I' d been horrified by the thought, clinging to Nicole' s memory. But that Andrew was dead. This Andrew was back, alive and seething with a cold, hard resolve. I knew what was coming in ten years. I knew she' d return to destroy me. Not this time. I stared at Gabby, then turned to Maria, my voice steady, my decision made. "Okay," I said. "I' ll do it." The game had changed. I was given a second chance, and this time, I would build a fortress.

The air in the upstairs hallway was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, and I paused, my hand hovering over my bedroom door. For three decades, I was the unseen force behind my husband, the Governor of Texas, building his dynasty brick by painful brick. But then, voices from my son' s room shredded that illusion: my daughters-in-law, their hushed tones revealing a chilling plot. "Stress-induced heart failure within five years," one whispered, detailing my supposed "natural decline" as a pre-programmed exit for a new woman, Sabrina, my husband' s dead college sweetheart' s daughter. My breath hitched-they were discussing a "system" and a payoff for my demise, orchestrated by my own husband and sons. The family I built, the sons I raised, saw me as nothing more than a placeholder, destined to conveniently die so a younger, 'fresher' face could inherit my life. A cold dread, sharp and sickening, turned into a burning rage that pulsed through my veins. They wanted me gone? They wanted a compliant, tragic matriarch? I ripped open the door to Andrew' s room, my voice dangerously calm as I asked, "Tell me more about this 'system' ." They were speechless, frozen in fear, but I wasn't going to die quietly for their convenience. I was going to burn their carefully constructed world down.

The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, each breath a searing pain. Ryan Todd' s rage-contorted face was inches from mine, his spittle hitting my cheek as he screamed, "This is for Ashley! You owe us!" His fist connected with my ribs again, and a sickening crack echoed through the co-working space. The social media mob, whipped up by his sister Karen, cheered him on as they dragged me from my desk, beating me to death. My crime? Lending Karen my Lucid Air, which then became a death trap for her daughter, Ashley, in a multi-car pile-up on the I-35. Karen, a master of twisting reality, claimed I' d sabotaged my own car, jealous of Ashley' s athletic scholarship. It was a lie so absurd it became believable to the grief-stricken and the gullible. The final blow sent me sprawling, my head hitting the polished concrete floor with a dull thud, and darkness swallowed me. I had been hunted, blamed, destroyed, and murdered for a crime I didn' t commit, a tragedy built on a lie. Then, I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my bed, my heart hammering but my ribs unbroken. My phone buzzed on the nightstand: Good luck with your neighbor today! My blood ran cold. It was the morning Karen Todd would ask to borrow my car. I wasn' t dead. I was back. And this time, not only would the car stay with me, but Karen would pay for what she did.

Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.

After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."

"Please trust me, I didn't do anything." "I don't believe you. I am rejecting you as my Queen and giving you the punishment of death." Alina was living outside her pack for five years. Her parents didn't try to contact her and always ignored her. Her best friend convinced her to go back to their pack and she agreed. But she had never imagined what was waiting there for her. She never thought she would meet her mate and had to face betrayal from everywhere. She had to pay for the crime which she never committed. Aaron Robertson is the king of Lycans. He is a very dominant and powerful King who not only rules Lycans but also rules other ranks of werewolves. Everyone is afraid of Lycans and he is the king of them. But who knew that he would get a mate who was just a simple Omega with no powers and strengths? He called her weak all the time but little did he know that his weak Omega would give him the biggest betrayal of his life for which he had to give her the sentence of death.

A twist of fate bound Allison to Derek in marriage-she, a powerful heiress with countless hidden identities; he, the city's most admired man, now lying silent in a coma. For three years, Allison used her unmatched medical skills to heal him, all while quietly falling in love. But when Derek's long-lost love returned from abroad, he handed Allison divorce papers without a second thought. Resolved to stop chasing shadows, Allison signed the papers and turned her back on love-rising to fame as a dazzling force in business, medicine, and more. Only when she stood high above the world did Derek finally see her worth. He knelt before her, eyes brimming with regret. "Will you take me back?" he whispered.

Rejected by her mate, who had been her long-time crush, Jasmine felt utterly humiliated. Seeking solace, she headed to a party to drown her sorrows. But things took a turn for the worse when her friends issued a cruel dare: kiss a stranger or beg her mate for forgiveness. With no other choice, Jasmine approached a stranger and kissed him, thinking that would be the end of it. However, the stranger unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "You're mine!" He growled, his words sending shivers down her spine. And then, he offered her a solution that would change everything...

Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"