Betrayed Wife: Claimed By The Ruthless CEO
Isolde Mitchell knew her wealthy husband was cheating on her, but the true nightmare began when her mother-in-law summoned her.
The older woman coldly announced that the mistress was pregnant with a boy and would be moving into their estate.
Because Isolde's family had gone bankrupt and she had only given birth to a frail daughter, she was deemed completely worthless.
When Isolde packed her bags and demanded a divorce, her husband Clark just laughed.
He threatened to use their ironclad prenup to leave her penniless and take full custody of her daughter just to torture her.
To make matters worse, he forced Isolde to secure a failing business deal with the ruthless billionaire Jacques Valdez, essentially ordering her to sell her body to get the signature.
"If you fail, you will never see Bria again."
He even sent his goons to snatch the little girl from her preschool to prove his point.
Isolde was completely cornered, trembling with a mix of rage and absolute despair.
How could the man she married be such a monster? She would rather die than let them destroy her daughter, but how could a bankrupt mother fight a powerful dynasty with absolutely nothing?
Out of options, she looked at the private business card the terrifying billionaire Jacques had unexpectedly given her daughter.
Swallowing her pride, she decided to make a deal with the devil himself, ready to use his power to tear her husband's family apart.
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Chapter 6
Isolde was on her knees, the cold marble floor biting into her skin. Ken's shadow loomed over her, blocking the light. She was about to give up, about to let the despair swallow her whole, when she heard it.
"Sir, my lollipop fell!"
The voice was small, clear, and achingly familiar.
Isolde's head snapped up. From behind Ken's legs, a little figure stepped out. Bria. She was pointing at a sticky red blob on the floor, her lower lip trembling.
Isolde lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her daughter. She pulled Bria tight against her chest, burying her face in the little girl's hair. The tears came faster, but these were tears of relief.
"Mommy, you're squeezing too tight!" Bria squirmed, but she patted Isolde's back with her small hand. "Don't cry. The nice man helped me."
Isolde looked up. Jacques stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable. But the coldness from a moment ago was gone. He was watching Bria with a strange intensity, his brow furrowed.
Bria pointed at Jacques. "The bad men tried to take me, but he stopped them. He gave me a lollipop."
Isolde's mouth fell open. The man who had humiliated her, who had destroyed her husband's deal, had just saved her daughter. "You... you saved her?"
Jacques shrugged, his voice cool. "I was walking through the lobby. I saw her wandering alone. Two men in cheap suits were trying to coax her into a car. I had Ken handle it."
Isolde's blood ran cold. The men in cheap suits must have been Clark's goons. He had tried to have Bria kidnapped.
"Thank you," Isolde whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't know how to repay you."
Bria tugged on Jacques's trouser leg. "Hey. You still owe me a lollipop. I dropped it."
Jacques looked down at her. The hard lines of his face softened. He crouched down until he was at her eye level. "You're right. I do owe you. What kind do you want?"
"The red kind," Bria said seriously. She leaned in, studying his face. "You look like the prince in my storybook. The one with the big castle."
Jacques blinked. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. It transformed his face, making him look younger, less intimidating. "Is that so?"
Isolde grabbed Bria's arm, pulling her back. "Bria, don't bother Mr. Valdez. We need to go."
"But I want his phone number!" Bria protested, grabbing Jacques's sleeve. "Princes have phone numbers, right?"
Isolde's face burned. "Bria, no-"
Jacques reached into Ken's jacket and pulled out a sleek silver cardholder. He slid out a card and handed it to Bria. "You're right. Every princess needs a direct line to the castle."
Bria took the card, her eyes wide. She looked at the numbers, tracing the embossed lettering with her tiny finger, before clutching it to her chest like a sacred treasure. She turned to Isolde. "Mommy, this is the prince's number. You have to save it for me, okay? Don't lose it!"
Isolde stared at her daughter as she carefully handed the card over. It was a lifeline she hadn't expected.
Jacques's eyebrows rose. "Smart kid," he said, standing up. He looked at Isolde, his gaze turning serious. "Why was she alone, Isolde?"
Isolde straightened her spine, refusing to show weakness. "It was a misunderstanding with her nanny. It won't happen again." She picked Bria up, balancing her on her hip. "Thank you again, Mr. Valdez. We'll be going now."
"Bye, Prince Jacques!" Bria called, waving her little hand.
Jacques raised a hand in return, his eyes never leaving Isolde's face. Isolde turned and walked away, her heart heavy.
Back at Vivian's apartment, Isolde ran a bath for Bria. While her daughter splashed in the tub, Isolde sat on the closed toilet, staring at the business card in her hand.
Jacques Valdez. CEO, Valdez Group.
The reality of who he was hit her like a physical blow. He wasn't just a rich man. He was a titan. He controlled half the real estate in the city. And he had her phone number. He knew who she was.
Bria came out of the bathroom, her hair damp. "Can I sleep with the prince's card, Mommy?"
Isolde wanted to rip the card to shreds. But the look on Bria's face stopped her. She handed the card over, watching as her daughter tucked it under her pillow like a treasure.
After Bria fell asleep, Isolde walked into the living room. Vivian was waiting, a glass of mulled wine in her hand.
"I called a lawyer," Isolde said, her voice hollow. "The best divorce attorney in the city. I'm done running. I'm going to fight."
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9.7
For three years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress of a multi-billion dollar tech empire to live in a cramped apartment and support my boyfriend, Ben.
But the day before our engagement, I stood outside a meeting room and overheard him talking to his wealthy boss, Haylie.
"She's just a stepping stone," Ben laughed, his voice full of contempt. "A poor, ambitionless distraction while I work my way up to where I really belong."
He mocked the cheap silver ring he gave me, calling it a necessary prop to keep a naive fool happy.
He bragged about the multi-million dollar merger proposal he was presenting, planning to use it to secure his promotion and build a future with her.
He had no idea that I had secretly negotiated that entire deal using my real connections just to give him his big break.
I had sacrificed my family's comfort, my true identity, and my own career just to watch him rise.
I poured my heart and soul into our humble beginnings, only to realize he saw my love as a pathetic joke and me as disposable trash.
I calmly picked up a pen and voided the merger agreement, tearing my hard work into tiny pieces.
I went home, slid the cheap ring off my finger, and dropped it into his mug of cold coffee.
"Soon, you'll find out exactly who is nothing."
Walking out the door, I pulled out my phone and texted my billionaire father.
"I'm in. Announce the merger."
7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
9.0
To save her dying mother, Adaline walked into the Waldorf Astoria to deliver a shirt to her fiancé.
She didn't know her stepsister, June, had swapped her keycard. Adaline stumbled into a pitch-black suite and was brutally assaulted by a stranger in the dark.
The nightmare didn't end there. June paid off the only bone marrow donor for Adaline's mother to flee the city, and stole Adaline's fiancé. Bankrupt and desperate, Adaline was forced to sell herself into a loveless marriage with the ruthless billionaire Ferris Finch just to secure a medical team.
But when Ferris saw the dark, violent bruises covering her body, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
"You make me sick. Pack up your cheap tricks."
He mocked her, calling her a filthy woman who couldn't even wash her lover's marks off before crawling into his house.
Adaline swallowed her pride and endured his cruel humiliation. When June publicly taunted her about the hotel assault, Adaline finally snapped, ending up handcuffed in a freezing police cell.
She thought she was completely out of moves, waiting to rot in prison while her new husband despised her.
But back at the estate, Ferris had just pulled the hotel's security footage.
Staring at the screen, the arrogant billionaire's face turned completely ashen.
He finally realized that the innocent woman he had destroyed in the dark that night, and the wife he was currently torturing, were the exact same person.