His Unwanted Wife Is Madame Lan
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
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Chapter 3
The heavy oak doors of the study slammed shut behind them, sealing them inside. The room smelled of aged leather, expensive cigars, and suffocating authority.
Theodore Morse stood behind his massive mahogany desk. His face was purple with rage. He picked up a crumpled tabloid newspaper and hurled it across the room. It hit the edge of the desk and scattered onto the Persian rug.
The front page featured a grainy photo of Andrea looking disheveled outside the police station after the robbery, the headline screaming in bold black ink: MORSE HEIR'S WIFE IN MIDNIGHT SCANDAL.
"You are a reckless, squandering fool!" Theodore barked, slamming his fist onto the desk. The crystal whiskey decanter rattled. "You are dragging the Morse name through the mud by keeping this... this street rat around!"
Gregory didn't flinch. He walked over to a leather wingback chair and sat down. He crossed his legs, resting his elbows on the armrests, looking entirely bored. He looked like a man waiting for a delayed flight, not a son facing his father's wrath.
Andrea stood near the door, keeping her distance. She blended into the shadows, a silent observer. Her eyes tracked the micro-expressions on Theodore's face. She knew the power dynamics in this room were lethal.
"This little incident caused a two percent dip in the stock," Gregory said, his voice a low, lethal whisper. "But she serves her purpose. She keeps the board from questioning my stability after Genevra's passing."
"Reputation is the foundation of this family!" Theodore yelled. "She looks nothing like Genevra anymore!"
Gregory stared at him for a long moment. Then, he slowly turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto Andrea standing in the corner.
A cold shiver violently ripped down Andrea's spine. She recognized that look. It was the look of a curator inspecting a flawed piece of art. Her breath hitched. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating her lungs as his gaze dragged over her features, dissecting her worth.
"She will learn to dress better," Gregory announced to his father. "Or I will replace her."
Andrea's heart stopped. The air vanished from her lungs. Her pupils dilated in pure shock as she stared at the side of Gregory's face. Replace her? A wave of nausea hit her so hard she almost stumbled. He spoke of her like a broken piece of furniture.
Theodore's eyes darted to Andrea's pale face. The rage in his face melted away, replaced by a calculating, greedy hunger. He looked at her not as a human being, but as a defective tool.
"See that you do," Theodore demanded.
"We are working on it," Gregory lied effortlessly, his grip tightening on the armrest of his chair.
Theodore let out a heavy breath. He sat down heavily in his leather chair. "If she can't maintain the image... the restrictions on your board voting rights will be permanently reinstated."
"Then I suggest you show some good faith, Father," Gregory said, a victorious smirk playing on his lips.
Theodore waved his hand dismissively. "Get out. Both of you."
Gregory turned and dragged Andrea out of the study. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind them in the empty hallway, Andrea violently shoved Gregory away.
She backed up against the wall, her chest heaving. "Are you insane?" she hissed, her voice shaking with suppressed fury. "How dare you make that decision for me?"
Gregory adjusted his cuffs, completely unfazed. "You think you have a choice? This is your only value in this family."
"It wasn't in the contract!" Andrea spat, her nails digging into her own palms so hard the skin almost broke.
Gregory took a step toward her, trapping her against the wall. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. "I wrote the contract, Andrea. I can rewrite it whenever I want."
He reached up, his knuckles slowly, deliberately tracing the line of her neck. The touch sent a violent shudder of revulsion and fear through her body.
"Or," Gregory whispered, his breath warm against her skin, "do you want me to throw you out right now? Let the media tear you apart? Let you lose everything you've built?"
A freezing cold washed over Andrea's internal organs. She stared into his dark, empty eyes and realized just how dangerous the man she married truly was. He wasn't just a playboy; he was a monster in a custom suit.
Gregory dropped his hand and turned toward the grand staircase. "Prepare yourself to be a better shadow, Mrs. Morse," he threw over his shoulder.
Andrea stood alone in the cold hallway. Her hands were curled into tight fists, her body trembling with a rage so deep it physically hurt.
She looked back at the closed doors of the study. Theodore's concession was temporary. Gregory's control was suffocating. If she didn't act, she would be swallowed whole by these monsters.
She reached into her pocket with shaking fingers and pulled out her phone. She opened a secure, encrypted messaging app and typed rapidly.
Accelerate the timeline. I need the new Dreamscape Atelier collection ready for launch by next week. Whatever the cost.
She hit send. She wasn't a canary in a gilded cage. She was the poison they had willingly swallowed.
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8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
7.2
Blaire woke up in a Manhattan penthouse, her body covered in bruises and her innocence stolen.
Before she could process the terror, her adoptive sister Danita burst in, acting heartbroken and accusing Blaire of shamelessly seducing the powerful Kamryn Lane. Kamryn threw a one-million-dollar check at Blaire's bleeding face, calling her a calculating gold digger.
That night, Blaire overheard a conversation in the family study that shattered her entire reality.
"Once she gives birth to the Lane family's seed, we'll stage an accident, drain her blood, and transplant her healthy heart into your chest."
Her adoptive mother and Danita were celebrating the success of their trap. She wasn't an adopted daughter; she was a living organ bank and a disposable surrogate. Even her adoptive brother, Calhoun, knew everything, trapping her in the dark hallways with a sick, possessive obsession to ensure she never escaped.
The horrific truth suffocated her. The family that had taken her in had raised her like livestock for slaughter. How could they smile at her every day while planning to carve out her heart?
Terrified but burning with a desperate will to survive, Blaire swallowed a Plan B pill to ruin their surrogate plot and fled the estate. To get the money and power she needed to crush her adoptive family, she pulled out Kamryn Lane's business card. This time, she would make a deal with the devil.
9.4
Six years ago, Breanna was shoved into a pitch-black hotel suite by her own uncle.
She was forced to endure a brutal night with a drugged stranger just to keep her grandmother's ventilator running.
Nine months later, she gave birth in a cold underground clinic.
But her uncle immediately snatched the crying newborn from her trembling hands, coldly announcing the baby had died.
For six years, Breanna lived in agonizing grief, working as a lowly hotel cleaner just to survive.
But a cruel setup threw her directly into the path of Elliot Finch, the arrogant billionaire from that dark night.
He did not recognize the woman whose life he had completely ruined.
Instead, he looked at her like she was rotting garbage, had his guards drag her into a wet alley, and mercilessly got her fired.
"If I ever see your face again, I will make sure you cannot get a job cleaning toilets."
Breanna was suffocating from the injustice, stripped of her dignity and her family's only lifeline.
Yet, when she instinctively protected a traumatized little boy from bullies, she discovered he was Elliot's son.
The boy clung to her neck, crying and desperately begging his father to let her stay.
But Elliot just threw a massive check at her chest, violently accusing her of brainwashing a sick child for a meal ticket.
Looking at the toxic disgust in his eyes, something inside Breanna finally broke.
She picked up the check, ripped the millions into tiny shreds, and let them rain down on his expensive shoes.
"Keep your dirty money."
She turned her back on the crying boy and the stunned billionaire, deciding she would no longer be their victim.
7.2
Five years ago, I, Claire Parker, ran away for love with Daniel Carter, the broke boy everyone looked down on. But on the very day we were supposed to leave together, he abandoned me.
Overnight, I became the laughingstock of the entire city and was forced into a marriage alliance with a terminally ill man, Ryan Cooper.
Five years later, my husband died, the marriage arrangement fell apart, and the Cooper family threw me out without a shred of mercy.
Meanwhile, Daniel, the man everyone once sneered at, returned home in glory and became the hottest rising name in the business world.
And somehow, he ended up becoming my boss.
I wanted nothing to do with him, yet he kept closing in on me, cornering me with sarcasm sharp enough to draw blood.
Then one day, Daniel caught me on a date with another man.
His eyes reddened instantly as he pinned me against the wall. "Claire... are you abandoning me again?"
8.7
"You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down?
7.6
I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart.