No Longer Yours Ex Husband by Diti Koshy

Modern

I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray's text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

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She opened her arms to hug him, but he halted her, flinging an envelope at her. Amy stopped and looked at him in shock, perceiving a female fragrance from him. Was he really cheating on her? She picked up the envelope and opened it. "Divorce papers? Anderson? Why? We can sort it out..." she said

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For seven years, I was the perfect husband, or rather, the perfect live-in help, trapped in a gilded cage after the Davies family took me in following my parents' death and arranged a marriage to their daughter, Olivia. I gave up my dreams, working a stable job and tending to their every need, becom

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Hazel Queen had loved her husband with all her heart for three years. But the one thing she never saw coming was the cold, shocking truth: he wanted a divorce because his mistress was pregnant. Heartbroken and betrayed, Hazel decides to move on and returns to Queen Corp, where she steps into her tru

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Thanksgiving rush, the usual chaos of life with my daughter, Jessica. For years, I' d been their quiet support, their free childcare, their endless ATM. My late husband' s heroism left me one asset: our fully paid-off home. Then, a towering display of canned goods began to fall, directly on my gr

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The glossy magazine cover screamed it: "Chloe Van Der Bilt to Wed Titan of Industry Richard Sterling." My heart, which I' d poured into every stainless-steel surface and Michelin-starred dish of "Ember" -the restaurant I built for her-shattered. For five years, I' d sacrificed everything, clawi

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The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. Then came the screams, the smell of smoke, the fire. My body moved to save Chloe, a reflex from a past life I shouldn't remember, a life where her disgust and obsession with her childhood crush, Ethan, had led to my suicide. But then the cruel memories fl

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“Dance!” She seductively swayed her body and bit her lips before closing her eyes to feel the sexy rhythm of the music from her earphones. Her body moved on its own like it was accompanying the sexy song. She was in the kitchen, drinking some milk when she suddenly felt like dancing. She was sure

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"Yes, Dad. I agree." My voice was steady, my eyes fixed on a ceiling crack. My father needed a lifeline for his company, and I, Ava, was his duty, a merger by marriage. But before I could even process the words, my stepbrother, Liam, snatched the phone from my hand, his grip crushing, his eyes blaz

Modern

My Charleston dream wedding to Ethan, my fiancé of ten years, was just days away. Our future together felt set, a lifetime hand-in-hand. Then, my smart home security feed played a horrifying, silent film. Ethan, my fiancé, intimately with Chloe, my stepsister, right there in our house. An undeni