
His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Designer
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."
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Chapter 1
"It is past ten, Mrs. Valdez."
Elena Rios kept her voice low, her eyes fixed nervously on a spot on the floor just past Ervin's expensive shoes. The housekeeper stood near the edge of the massive Persian rug, her hands folded neatly in front of her apron.
Kelsey placed the heavy porcelain bowl of French beef stew onto the center of the marble dining table. The heat radiating from the dish was already fading.
She stared at the two unlit candles. Her chest felt tight, as if a heavy stone was pressing down on her ribs. A sour taste coated the back of her throat.
A sharp click echoed from the entryway. The security system light turned from red to green.
Kelsey's head snapped up. Her heart skipped a beat, a foolish flutter of hope hitting her ribs.
Ervin Valdez walked through the heavy oak door. The crisp, biting chill of the Manhattan autumn clung to his dark wool coat.
He shrugged off the custom-tailored jacket and handed it to Elena without looking at her.
Kelsey took a step forward. The air shifted around him.
It hit her instantly. A thick, suffocating wave of sweet vanilla and synthetic jasmine.
Her stomach violently cramped. The acid burned its way up her esophagus. It was Sylvia Vance's perfume.
Ervin loosened his silk tie. His dark, cold eyes swept over the elaborate spread on the dining table. He did not look impressed. He looked annoyed.
Kelsey dug her fingernails into her palms. The sharp pain grounded her. She forced the corners of her mouth up and reached for the decanter. She poured a glass of red wine and held it out to him.
Ervin did not raise his hand. The glass hovered in the empty space between them.
The silence in the penthouse grew thick and freezing.
Ervin let out a low, harsh breath that sounded like a laugh.
"What new trick are you playing tonight, Kelsey?"
Kelsey's fingers trembled against the smooth crystal stem of the wine glass. Her knuckles turned stark white.
She forced air into her lungs.
"It is our three-year wedding anniversary, Ervin."
Ervin's jaw ticked. He reached up and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt with a rough, impatient tug.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides.
His massive frame cast a dark shadow over her. He backed her up until her spine hit the hard edge of the marble table.
His large hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her jaw like a steel vice.
Kelsey winced. The pain shot through her cheekbones.
He leaned down. His face was inches from hers.
"You called me back to Manhattan just to satisfy your physical needs?" he sneered.
Heat flooded Kelsey's eyes. Her vision blurred. She brought both hands up and pushed hard against his solid chest.
Ervin's eyes darkened at her resistance.
Before she could blink, he wrapped his arm around her waist and hoisted her off the floor.
Elena flinched almost imperceptibly, her hands tightening against her apron before she turned and disappeared silently toward the kitchen.
Kelsey gasped. The sudden loss of gravity made her stomach drop. Her fingers slipped.
The wine glass shattered against the thick carpet. A dark red stain spread across the fabric like blood.
Ervin carried her down the long hallway. He kicked the heavy carved wooden door of the master bedroom open with his leather shoe.
He threw her onto the center of the massive bed. The mattress bounced under her weight.
He followed her down instantly, pinning her beneath his heavy body.
His mouth crashed down on hers. It was not a kiss. It was a punishment. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip, brutal and devoid of any warmth.
Kelsey could not breathe. Her lungs screamed for oxygen. She shoved her hands against his broad shoulders, twisting her face away.
Ervin grabbed both of her wrists with one hand. He slammed them into the pillow above her head and held them there.
"Fulfill your duty as a Valdez wife," he ordered. His voice was ice.
Kelsey closed her eyes. A single tear broke free and slid down her temple, disappearing into her hairline.
Her muscles went completely slack. She stopped fighting. She lay there beneath him, staring at the ceiling like a hollow, broken doll.
Her dead silence irritated him. Ervin let out a frustrated growl. He grabbed the neckline of her silk nightgown and ripped it down the middle.
The sound of tearing fabric sliced through the quiet room.
Kelsey's eyes snapped open.
Her chest heaved. Her voice shook, but the words came out sharp and clear.
"Ervin, let's get a divorce."
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8.5
Synopsis
It still feels so unreal being dumped by my boyfriend at the courtyard on the day of our wedding.
David didn't show up and when I called him to know the reason why.
He told me right to my face that he had found love with another woman who happened to be my best friend.
My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces.
I was wallowing in self-pity when I overheard Lucas talking on the phone about needing a replacement for the woman who has collected a part-payment to be his wife.
I agreed to be his wife without thinking twice wanting to get back at my Ex.
What would happen when two strangers' hearts intertwined?
And what started as an arrangement became a bedrock for something real?
Read to find out.

8.2
Karmen lived suffocating under a tight chest binder and a grotesque silicone scar, forced to disguise herself as her degenerate twin brother, Kem. Her only job was to maintain a fake corporate engagement with the ruthless billionaire Earl Calderon.
But her abusive father suddenly escalated his demands. He ordered her to steal Earl's revolutionary AI patents, threatening to cut off her mother's life-saving medical trust and abandon the real Kem in a locked Swiss psych ward if she failed.
The task was a death sentence. Earl absolutely despised "Kem." He treated her like a repulsive parasite, constantly threatening to break her neck. When he accidentally caught her without her wig, he mistook her for a deranged cross-dresser, forcing her to glue the dirty fake scar back onto her raw, inflamed face in sheer disgust. At home, her father hurled glass ashtrays at her, violently yanking her collar.
"Do whatever you have to do in that bedroom, Kem. I don't care how disgusting it is. Just get the signature."
Trapped between a fiancé who loathed her very existence and a father ready to sacrifice their family for greed, Karmen endured the agonizing physical pain of her disguise. She was exhausted, terrified, and running out of time as her brother's life hung by a thread.
But they all underestimated her. When the Calderon matriarch forced Earl to link his ultra-secure private phone with "Kem" to fake their romance, she unwittingly handed over the master key. Karmen wasn't just a helpless victim; she was the elite hacker Nyx, and she was going to tear their empire apart from the inside.

7.6
Elliana Lewis lay dying on the freezing concrete of a federal penitentiary, her ribs shattered by a guard's heavy boot.
She had been flawlessly framed for murder by the one person she trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita.
During her final prison visit, Jovita wore their mother's diamonds and smiled cruelly behind the glass. She revealed she had liquidated the family company, caused their father's stroke, and paid the guards to ensure Elliana suffered a grueling, agonizing death.
"Your marriage was a joke from day one, Ellie. You have nothing left."
As her lungs stopped, the tragic truth finally dawned on Elliana. She had spent months screaming for a divorce and publicly humiliating her billionaire husband, Damon Stirling, believing his silence was weakness. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.
Why had she been so incredibly stupid? Why did she blindly trust a monster and destroy the only person who truly loved her?
Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas. Elliana bolted upright, gasping for air on a massive, king-sized bed.
There was no pain. No broken bones. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a date from exactly ten years ago.
It was the morning after her disastrous wedding night.
This time, she would tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she would hold onto Damon so tightly that nothing could ever pry them apart.

7.9
Fiona spent three years in a concrete cell, taking the fall for a hit-and-run accident caused by her billionaire husband's mistress.
When she finally got out and returned home, she found him throwing a lavish party, with the mistress on his arm wearing a gown Fiona had designed. Even worse, her own seven-year-old son pointed at her in disgust.
"Go away, bad woman!"
Her husband Cecil threw her out like a stray dog. To force her into submission, he trashed her belongings and cut off the life-saving medical funding for her mentor. Driven to desperation, Fiona snuck back into the mansion to retrieve her late mother's sapphire necklace. But the mistress caught her, ripped her own clothes, and screamed that Fiona was trying to kill her. Cecil didn't even hesitate. He violently shoved Fiona backward. Her head smashed against the sharp edge of a mahogany desk, and blood immediately poured into her eyes.
Lying in a pool of her own blood, Fiona watched the man she had sacrificed her freedom for wrap his arms protectively around the woman who ruined her life. He looked at her with pure, murderous disgust, as if she were the monster.
But Fiona didn't cry. Instead, a cold smile crept onto her face as her bloody thumb secretly pressed the emergency SOS button on her phone, snapping a clear photo of him standing over her shattered body.
"My husband just violently attacked me. I am bleeding from the head. I need help."
The police were already on their way. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.

7.1
To survive a forced one-year marriage contract with the ultra-wealthy Chavez family, Averi Marsh disguised herself as a pathetic, ugly duckling.
She caked her flawless skin in muddy yellow foundation, wore thick glasses, and played the part of a trembling, uneducated orphan.
The entire family treated her like literal garbage.
The youngest brother publicly swore he would rather cut off his own hand than marry a piece of trailer park trash.
Her nominal fiancé, Clarke, looked at her with cold disdain, allowing his glamorous companion to humiliate Averi by forcing her into a neon pink clown dress.
At a high-society party, a socialite shoved her into an infinity pool, laughing as the heavy fabric dragged her to the bottom.
They all wanted to see the poor girl broken, humiliated, and driven out of their pristine world.
What they didn't know was that beneath the hideous sweaters was a breathtaking, lethal predator.
They had no idea she was 'Spectre', the undefeated underground racing god who had just humiliated the arrogant Clarke on the track.
They didn't know she could shatter a bully's wrist in seconds or bankrupt their wealthy friends with a single text message.
But when the chlorinated pool water washed away her ugly makeup, the family's ambitious second son caught a glimpse of her true, flawless face.
The game of hide-and-seek was officially over.
The Chavez family thought they were torturing a helpless sheep, but they were about to realize they had locked themselves in a cage with a wolf.

7.6
Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care.
But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles.
She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala.
"Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy."
Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion.
Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin.
When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies.
"Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace."
Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood.
Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto.
Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank.
Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport.
Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box.
She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island.