His Bet, Her Unforgivable Revenge
My ex-husband returned after a three-year bet, ready to reclaim me and the son he thought was his. He had no idea that I'd secretly aborted his child, divorced him, and remarried the day he left. His world was about to come crashing down.
His delusion turned deadly when he and his manipulative best friend, Haylee, kidnapped my son, Leo.
I found them at his family's mansion, with Leo suffocating from a severe allergic reaction to a dog they were forcing him to play with. Elliot physically restrained me, scolding me for overreacting while Haylee giggled as my son turned blue.
At the hospital, as Leo fought for his life, Elliot grabbed my arm, demanding to know who the man standing beside me was. He was convinced this was all a game to make him jealous.
That's when my real husband, billionaire Gregory Morton, stepped forward.
"Since when is this child yours, Elliot?"
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Chapter 5
Clare POV:
I glanced at the document without touching it. The terms were exactly what I expected from Elizabeth Fields, Elliot's elitist mother. Clauses specifically designed to strip me of any dignity or claim.
"The party of the second part (Clare Goodwin) shall have no claim to the Fields family assets, present or future."
"The party of the second part shall not refer to Elizabeth Fields as 'Mother' or any other familial term."
"The party of the second part shall refrain from publicly acknowledging her marriage to Elliot Fields as a membership to the Fields family."
I let out a short, sharp laugh. It was a sound devoid of humor, laced instead with pure contempt. The audacity. The sheer, unadulterated arrogance of these people.
I pushed the document back across the desk with the tip of my finger. "Interesting terms, Haylee," I said, my voice cool and even. "But tell me, when exactly did you get a title? Last I checked, you were just the 'childhood friend' and 'my angel' on his phone. No ring, no name, just a side piece with fancy accessories."
Haylee' s face flushed crimson. Her carefully constructed facade cracked, revealing the raw fury beneath. Her hand shot up, a swift, instinctual movement, clearly intending to strike me.
Just as her hand began its ascent, Elliot's footsteps sounded from the hallway. Haylee's face transformed in an instant. The rage vanished, replaced by a mask of delicate vulnerability. Her eyes welled up, glittering with unshed tears that spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks. She swayed dramatically, clutching at her chest.
"Oh, Clare," she whimpered, her voice trembling, laced with an exaggerated sorrow. "I… I just wanted to help. I truly hope you and Elliot can be happy again. For old times' sake. I even told him you should get back together, if that's what makes him happy. Even if it hurts me." She gestured vaguely at the document. "This is just a formality, you know. To make things easier for everyone. Please don't be angry with me."
Her performance was flawless, a masterclass in manipulative victimhood. It was exactly like three years ago, when she played the innocent friend whose "bet" was just a misguided attempt to bring true love together. I watched her, a bitter amusement stirring within me. She was still a pathetic actress, and Elliot was still her blind, adoring audience.
Elliot rushed back into the studio, his eyes immediately fixating on Haylee's tear-streaked face. His concern was palpable, his jaw tightening with worry.
"Haylee! What happened? Are you okay?" He pulled her into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass. His gaze, filled with solicitous tenderness, was directed solely at her.
Haylee shook her head, her face buried in his chest. "No, Elliot. It's nothing. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. And don't… don't be mad at Clare. She's just… upset." Her muffled words perfectly conveyed that I was the aggressor, the cause of her distress.
Elliot's eyes hardened as he looked at me. His face, usually so composed, was contorted with cold anger. He held Haylee tighter, his protectiveness for her overriding any semblance of reason.
"Clare, what did you do?" His voice was sharp, a cutting reprimand. "Apologize to Haylee." The command was absolute, his tone leaving no room for argument.
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9.3
She sells flowers. He spills blood. And he will stop at nothing to make her his. Elena Rossi has always lived quietly among roses and lilies, dreaming of love as gentle as the petals she arranges. She thought she found it in Daniel, the man she planned to marry. Until her wedding day when a dangerous stranger walked into the church and shattered everything. Adrian Volkov is a king in the underworld, a man feared for his ruthlessness and power. But to him, Elena is not just a prize. She is an obsession. A storm he cannot live without. And he will burn the world and anyone in it, to claim her. Torn from the life she knew, Elena resists him, manipulates him, and even runs from him. But Adrian is relentless. His love is dark, his touch both punishing and tender, and his obsession inescapable. When betrayal and bloodshed close in, Elena must face the truth: She doesn't just fear him. She doesn't just hate him. She loves him. Petals and Blood is a haunting, passionate tale of obsession, betrayal, and the dangerous kind of love that blooms in shadows.
7.9
After her twin brother's unexplained death at Alpha Academy, Alexandria Hyde takes his place and his name to uncover the truth. Now living as "Alex," she's thrown into a world of hot, testosterone-fueled Alphas who fight to the brink of death... and she has to survive it while hiding who she really is.
But staying hidden isn't easy–
Not when the Alphas start noticing her.
Not when the truth she's chasing might destroy her first.
And definitely not when they start fighting for her instead.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
9.2
After catching my fiancé cheating with my adoptive sister, I broke off our engagement on the spot.
In retaliation, my abusive adoptive parents sold me to Kaelen Knight, the Lycan King, to clear our pack's debts.
He was rumored to be a ruthless, reclusive monster who had been horribly crippled in a fire centuries ago.
To ensure my absolute ruin, my sister planted fake love letters to my ex in my luggage and anonymously destroyed my university scholarship, cutting off my only escape route to the human world.
"A wolfless whore. You planned to drug me," Kaelen sneered, looking at the fake evidence with absolute disgust.
Believing I was a spy, my new husband had his guards throw me into the freezing woods with the Dire Wolves, leaving me to survive the night alone.
I was just a broken, wolfless Omega, entirely at the mercy of a cruel, powerless Lycan and a family that wanted me dead.
But I was wrong about him being powerless.
One night, I accidentally saw him rise from his wheelchair, his tall frame radiating an overwhelming, lethal aura.
He wasn't crippled at all.
The secret I thought was my shield was actually a loaded gun pointed at my head. Trapped with a terrifying predator, I had to stop playing the victim and fight for my life.
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.