
His Unwanted Wife, Now Unreachable Queen
Bailey, an invisible shadow to the powerful Douglas family, stood in the freezing rain, watching City Hall. For five long years, she’d been used to being forgotten. But today, her entire world shattered as her fiancé, Jameson, walked out with another woman, Haleigh, holding their fresh marriage certificates.
Jameson scooped Haleigh into his arms, treating her like fragile glass, convinced she’d saved him from a burning car five years ago. He never knew it was Bailey who pulled him from the flames, nor that Haleigh's "sickness" had left Bailey with an ugly scar from donating bone marrow, making her a mere family blood bank.
Watching them kiss, pure nausea rose from years of blame. Bailey later found a joyous celebration for Haleigh at the manor. Her wet arrival drew only cold annoyance; Jameson gave pitying instructions before all four men rushed to Haleigh’s side when she faked a cough.
Haleigh, with a sweet smile, presented Bailey a "gift"—a velvet box. Forced to open it, a venomous Brown Recluse spider dropped onto Bailey's hand, sinking its fangs deep. As white-hot agony exploded and her vision blurred, Haleigh theatrically screamed, deliberately scraping her forehead.
The men, blind with panic for Haleigh’s minor scratch, roared at Bailey, shoved her to the floor, and rushed Haleigh to the car. Left to die alone, struggling for breath as her body shut down, Bailey knew this was the end of playing their disgusting game. She had already activated her hidden trust fund, planning to buy a remote island and disappear forever.
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Chapter 2
Bailey Douglas POV:
I pushed open the heavy oak doors of Abernathy's law firm in Manhattan. My wet heels left a trail of dark, muddy water on the pristine beige carpet.
The receptionist at the front desk looked up. She saw my soaked trench coat, my ruined shoes, and my pale face. She immediately stood up, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and moved to block my path.
"Excuse me, you can't just—"
The door to the inner office opened. Abernathy stepped out. The moment he saw me, he waved the receptionist away. A flash of deep respect crossed his aged face.
I followed him into his private conference room. The air conditioning was running on high. The cold air hit my wet clothes, and a violent shiver wrecked my body. My immune system was garbage. Donating bone marrow and countless pints of blood to Haleigh over the years had left me permanently weak.
Abernathy pulled a dry cashmere blanket from a cabinet and handed it to me. He poured a cup of steaming black coffee and set it on the mahogany table.
I didn't touch the coffee. I pulled out a chair and sat down. "Show me the asset list."
Abernathy sighed. He unlocked a heavy floor safe and pulled out a thick stack of documents. He pushed them across the table. "Ms. Douglas, dumping these stocks today is financial suicide. You are losing millions."
I picked up the heavy steel pen from his desk. I didn't even look at the final dollar amount. I flipped to the last page and signed my name on the dotted line.
I pressed down so hard the metal nib tore through the thick paper, leaving a dark, jagged scar of ink. It was done.
Abernathy silently put the papers away. He opened his laptop and turned the screen toward me. It showed an encrypted registry of private islands in the Caribbean.
My eyes scanned past the luxury resorts and the developed properties. I pointed to a tiny, jagged green dot in the middle of nowhere. It had no docks. No buildings.
"That one," I said.
Abernathy stared at me in shock. "Ms. Douglas, that island has no infrastructure. No running water, no electricity grid. It is completely isolated from the world."
A cold smile touched my lips. "That is exactly what I want. A place where no one can ever find me."
Abernathy nodded slowly. "Gathering the liquid funds and processing the deed transfer will take about two weeks."
I stood up. I folded the cashmere blanket and placed it neatly on the back of the chair. "Until then, the Douglas family knows nothing. Absolute secrecy."
By the time I left the law firm and took a cab back to the Douglas Manor in Long Island, the sky was pitch black.
I stood in front of the massive brass gates. I looked up at the second floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows were blazing with light. I could hear the loud, joyful laughter spilling out into the cold night.
That laughter. That sound of a happy family that I was never allowed to be part of. It had haunted my entire childhood.
I took a deep breath. I placed my freezing hands on the brass handles and pushed the heavy doors open.
The moment the doors parted, a wave of heat, the smell of white roses, and the loud pop of a champagne bottle hit my face.
The grand foyer was transformed. White flowers covered every surface. The long dining table was buried under mountains of expensive gift boxes.
Jameson stood in the center of the room. He held a crystal champagne flute. His eyes were soft and full of absolute devotion as he looked at Haleigh, who was surrounded by her three brothers.
Derrick, the eldest, was carefully fastening a massive diamond necklace around Haleigh's neck.
Blake, the second brother, held a digital camera, filming Haleigh's fake tears of joy.
Kane, the youngest brother, held a plate with a slice of cake, carefully feeding it to Haleigh like she was a helpless child.
The cold wind from the open door swept into the room. It hit the crystal wind chimes hanging in the hall. They crashed together with a sharp, piercing ring.
Every single person in the room froze.
Five pairs of eyes looked past the sea of white roses and landed on me. I stood there, dripping muddy water onto their perfect floor.
The tender look on Jameson's face vanished. His brows crashed together. A brief flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was instantly swallowed by cold annoyance.
Haleigh's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Then, she shrank back against Jameson's chest, her eyes widening like a terrified deer.
Kane slammed the cake plate down onto the table. The porcelain shattered with a loud crack.
He marched toward me, his face twisted in rage. He stopped a foot away, looking down at my soaked, shivering body with pure disgust.
"Do you look like this because you're back for a funeral?"
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9.6
For five years, I was Barron Santana's elite bodyguard and loyal shadow. I stood between him and bullets, giving him my youth and my entire heart.
But last night, the CEO announced his engagement to a flawless socialite on national television.
Heartbroken, I got blackout drunk and ended up crashing on the couch of Cassidy Gross, a billionaire tech CEO who saved me from a bar creep.
When I showed up late to work, Barron locked me in his freezing office. He pinned me against the glass, smelling Cassidy's cologne on my clothes.
"Are you already looking for your next meal ticket?"
He snarled the words, treating me like a cheap whore. When I defended myself, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his fingers, acting as if my very touch contaminated him.
Then, he coldly ordered his assistant to draft my termination papers.
Five years of risking my life for him, thrown away like garbage just because of his twisted ego.
Devastated, I ran out and collapsed in the hallway, sobbing uncontrollably until a kind coworker gently pulled me into his arms to comfort me.
I didn't know Barron had followed me out.
Seeing me clinging to another man, his legendary control completely shattered, replaced by a dark, violent possessiveness.
But it was too late. I was done playing his obedient dog, and it was time to take Cassidy up on his offer.

8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.

8.5
"You are getting married, huh?" A shrill voice asked me from behind. "You don't look happy.'
"It's a complicated situati..." He cut me off.
"I can make you happy."
My eyes darted between his lips and eyes, he noticed my indecision and locked his lips with mine.
While battling with betrayal, Iris melts into a mafia's touch without knowing who he is. Now she must bear all the consequences that follow.

9.8
Erica Murphy had spent three years rotting in a freezing prison cell.
She thought she was serving time for a tragic accident, but the truth was much darker. Her husband, Colten, had framed her for his mistress's drunk hit-and-run, stolen her fortune, and left her to take the fall.
The day Erica was finally released, a speeding car intentionally slammed into her, shattering her spine. As she lay dying on the emergency room table, flatlining on the monitor, Colten and his pregnant mistress didn't come to save her. Instead, they tossed a stack of divorce papers onto her bloody hospital blanket. They wanted her to sign away her last remaining shares and take on thirty million dollars of toxic corporate debt.
"Sign it," Colten demanded coldly, looking at her crushed body with utter disgust. "Consider this the last bit of dignity I'm giving you."
The original Erica died right there, suffocating in despair and betrayal, unable to understand how the man she loved could be so monstrous.
But when the flatline on the monitor suddenly spiked and her eyes snapped open, the traumatized victim was gone.
Replaced by the cold, calculating consciousness of a future special ops commander. With microscopic nanobots rapidly fusing her shattered bones together, Erica picked up the pen, preparing to burn Colten's entire empire to ashes.

9.4
I was lying in a sterile hospital room, dying of cancer, with only a fake infertility report to keep me company.
Right before my heart monitor flatlined, a stranger walked in and handed me a medical file.
He told me that my fiancé, Garret, had zero sperm viability. The baby my adoptive sister, Beryl, was carrying wasn't his.
When Beryl got pregnant years ago, my adoptive parents forced me to break my engagement and take the blame for being barren.
I was discarded by Garret, mocked by Beryl's triumphant smiles, and kicked out of the house.
I was left to rot alone in a hospital bed while they lived the perfect life stolen from me.
My entire existence had been a cage built on a single, disgusting lie.
The anger burned away my despair. Why was I the only one who didn't know?
Why did I let them use me as a maid and a shield for their filthy secrets?
As the darkness swallowed me, I prayed for just one more chance.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my adoptive mother yelling my name.
The calendar on the wall read March 15, 2019—the exact day they forced me to give up Garret.
This time, I didn't cry or beg.
"You want Beryl to have Garret? Fine," I told my shocked adoptive parents. "But I want a cash buyout, and we are legally severing this adoption."
Then, I set my sights on Douglass Ward—the stranger from the hospital room.

8.0
Twenty-one-year-old Hazel has always lived in a safe, comfortable bubble, meticulously guarded by her fiercely protective older brother. Her life is predictable, quiet, and perfectly ordinary. Until he steps into it.
Silas is twenty-four, dangerously captivating, and her brother's best friend. He brings with him an aura of dark secrets, ink-stained skin, and a predatory gaze that strips away all her carefully built defenses. He is everything she has been taught to avoid, yet living under the same roof makes him impossible to escape.
What starts as a temporary living arrangement quickly spirals into a suffocating web of stolen glances, unspoken desires, and a dangerous obsession. Silas isn't just looking for a place to crash; he's looking at her. And once he pins her in his sights, the thorns of their forbidden attraction will bind them together in ways that could destroy them both.
In a house where walls have ears and her brother is always watching, giving in to the madness is a risk. But Silas is a temptation she might not survive.