Jilted Bride's Comeback: A Billionaire Queen
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.
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Chapter 3
A few days later, Ethan called Ava, his voice laced with fake panic.
"Ava? It's Chloe. We were at my place, and she… she fell. She hit her head on the coffee table. I think it’s bad."
Ava’s heart didn’t even jump. It was all part of his show.
"Is she conscious?" Ava asked, her tone professional, like a paramedic.
"Yeah, but she’s dizzy. Says her vision is blurry. I need to take her to the ER."
"Okay," Ava said. "Do that."
She knew this was a test, another way to reel her in, to make her jealous or concerned.
It wasn’t working.
When Ava arrived at the ER – Ethan had insisted she meet him there, "for support" – he was making a huge fuss over Chloe.
Chloe was on a gurney, a perfectly placed ice pack on her forehead, looking pale and fragile. Ethan was hovering, stroking her hair.
"She’s been my rock through all this," Ethan announced loudly to a nurse, making sure Ava could hear. "Such a dear friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her."
He shot Ava a look, clearly expecting her to react. To be jealous. To fight for him.
Ava just stood there, arms crossed.
A doctor finally saw Chloe. A mild concussion, they said. Keep an eye on her.
Ethan made a big show of relief, hugging Chloe tightly.
"I was supposed to have a neurology follow-up with you today, Ethan," Ava reminded him, her voice flat. "We had an appointment."
Ethan looked flustered. "Oh, right. Well, obviously, this is more important. Chloe needs me." He turned back to Chloe, all tender concern.
Ava just nodded. "Right."
Another piece of his "devotion" facade crumbled. He was prioritizing his fake girlfriend's fake emergency over his own "recovery."
Later that night, Ava’s phone buzzed.
A picture message. From an unknown number.
It was Ethan and Chloe. Kissing. A selfie, clearly taken by Chloe, her tongue just visible.
The caption: "He’s feeling much better. "
Ava deleted it without a second thought.
Then another. Chloe in Ethan’s shirt, sprawled on his couch, looking smug.
Delete.
Another. A close-up of their hands, intertwined.
Delete.
The messages kept coming, a barrage of staged intimacy.
Chloe, or Ethan through Chloe, was trying to break her.
They didn't realize Ava was already broken, and rebuilding herself into someone they wouldn’t recognize.
Ava sat on her bedroom floor, the one box of their shared past still in the closet.
She remembered Ethan, years ago, when she’d had the flu. He’d stayed with her for three days straight, making her soup, reading to her, holding her hand.
Genuine care. Real love.
Or had that been an act too? Part of a long con?
The thought made her stomach clench.
The Ethan who sent those pictures, who flaunted his fake amnesia and his new girl, was a monster.
The tears she’d been holding back finally came. Not for the Ethan she was losing, but for the Ava who had believed in him for so long.
For the fool she had been.
A week later, Maya dragged Ava to a gallery opening. "You need to get out. See people who aren't Ethan or his new side piece."
And of course, Ethan and Chloe were there.
They were the center of a laughing group, Chloe practically draped over Ethan, her hand possessively on his chest.
Maya stiffened beside Ava. "Assholes."
Ava just watched them, a strange detachment settling over her. They looked like characters in a poorly written play.
Ethan caught her eye. He smirked, then leaned down and kissed Chloe, a long, deliberate kiss. For Ava’s benefit.
Ava turned away, heading for the bar.
As she reached for a glass of wine, a hand shot out and covered hers.
Ethan’s.
"Don't," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "You're allergic to red wine, remember?"
Ava froze.
For a split second, his eyes were clear. The old Ethan. The one who knew her.
Then, just as quickly, the fog returned. Or he pulled it back into place.
He blinked, looking confused. "Sorry. Did I… say something wrong?" He stepped back, turning towards Chloe, who was now approaching, her eyes narrowed.
"Everything okay, babe?" Chloe asked, sliding her arm through Ethan's.
"Yeah, fine," Ethan said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Just… a weird moment."
He let Chloe lead him away, not looking back at Ava.
A flicker. A mistake. Or another calculated move?
Ava didn’t know. And she was starting not to care.
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7.0
Eight years ago, Alaina forced herself to say the most vicious, heartless things to break up with her fiercely loyal college boyfriend, protecting him from his billionaire family's wrath.
Now, she is a top maxillofacial surgeon, and Jarred Mcknight has returned as the ruthless CEO of Wall Street's most powerful corporation.
Their worlds collide in the ER, but Jarred isn't alone. He is accompanying his rumored heiress fiancée.
His eyes are pure ice. He treats Alaina with a suffocating, clinical detachment, fiercely protecting the heiress from Alaina's medical examination. The professional slap in the face shatters Alaina's heart all over again.
Later, at an exclusive restaurant, Jarred catches Alaina on a miserable, forced blind date. Still believing she left him for money and status, he publicly mocks her for working herself to the bone just to climb the ladder.
Her sleazy date, humiliated by the billionaire's sheer dominance, turns his bruised ego on Alaina. On the dark street outside, the lawyer aggressively grabs her arm, trying to force himself on her.
Alaina thought Jarred despised her. She thought he had completely moved on, leaving her to drown in the memories of the future they never had.
But why did Jarred suddenly explode from the shadows like a lethal predator, brutally snapping the lawyer's wrist just for touching her?
Pinning her trapped against the cold brick wall, Jarred's dark eyes burn with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"Is this the kind of garbage you date now?"
The eight years of separation mean nothing. The billionaire hasn't let her go, and this time, there is no escape.
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.
8.9
At my million-dollar wedding to the Hoffman heir, the priest was interrupted by a ringing phone.
My groom, Elijah, didn't silence it. He answered it right at the altar, yanked his arm from my grasp, and walked out because his "true love" Jalyn needed him.
I was left standing alone in front of three hundred elite guests, blinded by mocking camera flashes. My own mother rolled her eyes in disgust, later threatening to freeze my trust fund and sell me to a notorious playboy to recoup her losses. Elijah even had the nerve to call me, demanding I take the blame for the canceled wedding to save his PR, while live news feeds showed him cradling a fragile Jalyn in the hospital.
I had spent two years bending over backward to be his perfect bride, only to be discarded like trash. What made it sicker was finding out that Jalyn's sudden "medical emergency" was actually a ruptured cyst caused by having vigorous sex with Elijah right before he walked down the aisle.
I refused to let them destroy me.
Kicking off my six-inch heels, I stepped down from the altar and walked straight to the back row where Cristian Lowe sat. He was the ruthless iceberg of Wall Street and Elijah's most terrifying rival.
I looked up at his sharp jawline and asked the craziest question of my life.
"Will you marry me?"
He stood up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.
"As you wish."
9.2
Nica caught her boyfriend, Chris, and her best friend, Ella, in a shocking betrayal. Chris was kissing Ella while caressing her close, and Ella only smirked at Nica as if she had won. Nica got pissed off and swore she would not let their betrayal go unpunished. What happens next? Read the story and find out for yourself.
9.3
Candice Luna thought her marriage to Julius Hansen was a lifeline to save her father's struggling company.
She didn't know it was a death sentence until Julius coldly slid divorce papers across his mahogany desk.
His true love, Amina Rowe, was nestled in his arms with a triumphant, mocking smile. The "merger" Julius promised had been a brutal, hostile takeover designed to bleed the Luna Group dry from the inside. Bankrupted and utterly broken, Candice's father stepped off the roof of their corporate tower. Meanwhile, Candice was publicly humiliated, stripped of her dignity, and mocked by all of Wall Street as a discarded stepping stone.
She died in a car accident, her final moments consumed by an agonizing, feral scream. She hated herself for letting her blind devotion destroy the father who had always believed in her.
But when Candice opened her eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room, she realized she wasn't dead.
She was twenty-two again. Three years before the wedding. Three years before her father's suicide.
When Julius's assistant walked in holding a bouquet of blue roses to discuss the preliminary merger, he expected a docile, desperate heiress.
Instead, Candice grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and flung it directly into his smug face.
"Tell Julius Hansen to never, ever send his dogs to my door again."
This time, there would be no engagement. This time, the Hansen family would choke on her family's legacy.
7.9
I woke up in a burning warehouse, twelve years after my supposed death. My body had been reset to its physical prime, the deep burn scar on my wrist completely gone.
Through the smoke, my eldest son, Kennard, rushed blindly into the flames. He was screaming the name of the very woman who had orchestrated this trap—Brittnie.
When I tackled him out of the way of a falling steel beam, he didn't recognize my youthful face. Instead, he pinned me to the concrete and nearly crushed my windpipe.
"How much did she pay you to carve up your face to look like a dead woman?"
He hissed the words at me, treating me like a sick corporate spy. For a decade, a bizarre narrative "script" had brainwashed my son, forcing him into pathetic devotion to Brittnie. She had drained his wealth, turned my daughter against him, and hollowed out our family empire.
Whenever Kennard tried to resist her, the mind control punished him with agonizing migraines, driving him to smash his own hands against the wall just to cope with the pain.
Hearing him quietly sobbing outside my locked door, my heart shattered. How could this invisible force torture my brilliant son and turn my family into puppets for a D-list actress?
I dragged him to the hospital for a DNA test.
When the results confirmed my maternity at 99.999%, the cold billionaire collapsed to the floor, weeping in my arms like a lost child.
I wiped his tears and smiled ruthlessly. It was time to take back my empire and burn Brittnie's life to the ground.