Out Of Your League: The Lethal Ex-Wife
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.
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Chapter 9
At 8:45 AM, the black Range Rover idled smoothly next to a coffee shop, directly across the street from the Fischer Group Headquarters.
Erica sat behind the steering wheel. Her hands rested lightly on the leather. Behind her dark sunglasses, her eyes were locked on the glass entrance of the building.
A black custom medical transport van pulled up to the curb. Colten was mechanically lowered onto the pavement. He had survived the crash, but his body was a shattered ruin. He was strapped into a high-tech motorized wheelchair, his right leg immobilized in an external steel fixation halo. Half his face was covered in thick, bloody gauze, and his left arm hung uselessly in a sling. Despite his catastrophic injuries, he forced a confident, arrogant smile for the paparazzi, trying to stabilize his company's stock amidst the divorce rumors.
Ivy stepped out next to him. She wore a loud, custom Chanel suit, clinging to Colten's arm. She posed for the flashing cameras, soaking in her new status as the queen of the empire.
Erica reached up and pressed the comms button on her earpiece.
The ORACLE System instantly hijacked the Range Rover's radio transmission module.
She had no intention of walking through the front doors. Brute force was for amateurs. She was going to detonate the building from the inside out.
At exactly 9:00 AM, the annual shareholder meeting commenced in the top-floor luxury boardroom.
Through her audio hack, Erica listened as the host, Marcus Fuller, droned on, reading a fabricated, highly inflated quarterly earnings report.
Colten sat at the head of the massive mahogany table. He smiled smugly, nodding at the wealthy investors.
Marcus clicked his remote to move to the next PowerPoint slide.
The massive LED screen covering the entire back wall of the boardroom violently flickered. A loud, screeching burst of static blasted through the ceiling speakers.
The colorful financial charts vanished. The screen went dead black.
A confused murmur rippled through the shareholders. Colten's smile dropped. He leaned into his microphone, his face flushing with annoyance. "Technical team, fix this immediately. What the hell is going on?"
Down on the street, inside the Range Rover, Erica tapped her index finger against the steering wheel.
"Showtime," she whispered.
The Trojan horse activated. It didn't just lock the boardroom screen; it hijacked the entire building's public address system.
Massive, blood-red letters slammed onto the black LED screen in the boardroom:
THE EMPEROR HAS NO CLOTHES.
The screen flashed. The high-definition dashcam video began to play.
The shareholders watched in stunned silence as a drunken Ivy Thorne plowed the car into a pedestrian. They watched Colten arrive, drag Erica's limp body into the driver's seat, and meticulously wipe Ivy's fingerprints off the steering wheel.
The boardroom erupted.
"This is murder!" an older shareholder screamed, jumping out of his leather chair and pointing at the screen.
Colten's face turned the color of ash. Sweat poured down his forehead, soaking into his bandages. He slammed his fists on the table, his eyes wide with panic.
"Turn it off!" Colten roared, spit flying from his mouth. "Security! Pull the damn plug!"
Two security guards rushed the wall, frantically ripping power cables out of the sockets. It didn't matter. The Trojan had locked the hardware's base drivers. The video kept playing on battery backup.
Ivy shrieked. She threw her hands over her face and tried to crawl under the table, but an angry investor shoved her back into her chair.
The video ended. The screen immediately transitioned to the financial documents.
Every dual contract, every offshore wire transfer, every stolen dollar was highlighted in bright yellow marker. The screen scrolled through the evidence, showing exactly how Colten had bled the shareholders dry.
A veteran Wall Street investor picked up his hot coffee and hurled the ceramic mug directly at Colten. It shattered against the table, splashing dark liquid over Colten's suit.
"You're a disgrace to this city!" the investor bellowed.
Erica wasn't done.
The ORACLE System bundled the entire presentation and blasted it to the encrypted tip lines of the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and five hundred other major media outlets.
Then, she aimed higher.
The system breached the server controlling Times Square. The massive Coca-Cola billboard went black. Suddenly, Colten's face and the words "FISCHER FRAUD" glared down at thousands of tourists and New Yorkers.
Twitter exploded. The hashtag FischerFraud hit number one worldwide in less than five minutes.
Back in the boardroom, the heavy oak doors were violently kicked open.
A squad of agents wearing FBI windbreakers stormed into the room. They held up a federal warrant.
"Colten Fischer," the lead agent barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "You are under arrest for massive corporate fraud, obstruction of justice, and tampering with evidence."
Colten collapsed into his chair like a pile of wet rags. The cold steel handcuffs clicked loudly around his wrists. He stared blankly at the LED screen, completely broken.
Down on the street, Erica watched the FBI drag Colten out of the building.
Her lips curled into a cold, satisfied smirk. She shifted the Range Rover into drive and smoothly pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the city.
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7.0
On her wedding night, Liora Vale expected passion from her wealthy husband. Instead, she got rejection and humiliation.
When his dangerously seductive best friend, Kael Draven, corners her on the balcony and claims her virgin body with raw, unprotected fury, Liora discovers a pleasure she never knew existed.
Now addicted to Kael's brutal touch and filthy promises, the once-innocent bride becomes his secret slut, sneaking creampies in limos, riding him at galas, and begging to be bred while her husband sleeps nearby.
Kael won't stop until he destroys Silas and fills Liora's womb with his child.
She was supposed to be the perfect wife... now she's the shameless breeding whore who belongs only to him.
7.9
Justice was dragged back from the slums by her biological father, only to be sold off to the billionaire Aguirre family. Her purpose was simple: marry their comatose heir to secure a three-hundred-million-dollar lifeline for his company.
Her stepmother and stepsister sneered at her cheap canvas shoes, treating her like a contagious disease.
"A high school dropout from the slums marrying a billionaire? It's a miracle your trashy bloodline is getting anywhere near the estate," her stepsister Emery mocked.
At the sprawling estate, the "comatose" heir, Auguste, was secretly conscious. Disgusted by his new bride, he orchestrated her enrollment at an elite prep school, hoping the ruthless rich kids would break her. On her very first day, Emery ambushed her, loudly broadcasting Justice's "dropout" status to the entire classroom and turning her into an instant social pariah. The teachers tried to humiliate her with impossible calculus, and the students treated her like garbage.
They all thought she was just a pathetic, uneducated pawn they could easily crush and discard. They had no idea that her "dropout" file was a manufactured ghost, or that the Aguirre family's top intelligence network had just hit a military-grade firewall trying to look into her past.
Justice didn't panic. She flawlessly solved the university-level equation on the board, then walked into the cafeteria and looked right at Emery.
"She has no Barnes blood. She is a squatter living in my father's house."
With three casual sentences, Justice completely incinerated her stepsister's elite life. The billionaire heir wanted to play games? She was about to show them all what a real monster looked like.
7.5
"I know you're pregnant, Valentina. That's why you have to die tonight. Two lives for the price of one, efficiency was always my strong suit."
On her third wedding anniversary, Valentina was gifted a shallow grave.
Her husband, Kennedy, the man she adored, was never a billionaire. He was a fraud who drugged her, watched her drown in a poisoned bath, and ordered her burial so he could marry his mistress.
He didn't know the gardener would hesitate. He didn't know she would crawl out of the mud, pregnant, broken, and alive. And he never imagined that ghosts would come back with teeth.
Dragged from the storm by Ian Kingston, the Titan of industry, Valentina is saved by a man so powerful that Kennedy is nothing more than a disposable bookkeeper in his empire.
To the world, Ian is a monster.
To Valentina, he is survival.
But Ian doesn't see a victim.
He sees Misha, his vanished wife, the mother of his two children, the woman who disappeared without a trace.
"You have 365 days to prove you aren't her, little bird. Until then, you will sleep in my bed, wear my name, and obey every rule I set."
Trapped in a deadly case of mistaken identity, Valentina signs the contract.
She becomes Misha Kingston, cold, ruthless, untouchable. Wrapped in emerald silk and Ian's dark protection, she walks back into the world that tried to bury her.
The next time Kennedy sees his dead wife, she isn't in a coffin.
She's in the arms of his boss. Wearing a queen's crown. Looking down at him from a throne of gold.
But as Ian's control turns into obsession, Valentina faces an impossible truth.
She is hiding a child conceived by her enemy... While being claimed by a king who refuses to let her go.
He buried a wife.
He's about to kneel before a Goddess.
8.8
Bella Danvers aka Isabella Powell is a 20-year-old college student who encountered the hot and ruthless CEO of the Rinaldi Corporation, Gabriel Rinaldi. They had a forgetful one-night stand that took a turn for the worst. Will he be able to find her before he is forced into an arranged marriage? Will she be able to tell him the news? Or will they be forced apart?
7.2
For ten years, Aurora was abandoned by her wealthy family to rot in the countryside.
When she finally returned, there was no warm welcome. The Lott family only brought her back to replace her adopted sister in an arranged marriage with Damian Yates, a notoriously violent, crippled billionaire, just to save their bankrupt company.
Her grandmother mocked her as uneducated trash. Her fake sister feigned disgust at her very presence.
When her biological father desperately tried to stop them from sending his daughter to her death, the family turned on him.
Her grandmother struck her father across the face, kicked the three of them out of the manor into the freezing rain, and arrogantly declared they would starve on the streets by nightfall.
They thought Aurora was just a helpless, pathetic hillbilly who would quietly accept being sold as livestock.
They had no idea that over the past decade, she had survived the darkest corners of the world, becoming a lethal operative with unimaginable power.
Standing in the cold rain, Aurora didn't shed a single tear.
She calmly pulled out her encrypted phone, personally canceled the billionaire's marriage contract, and ordered her hacker to completely freeze the Lott family's accounts.
"Total financial annihilation. Burn them to the ground."
But as she watched her abusers' legacy crumble, a classified file arrived on her phone, revealing that the very billionaire she just rejected was tied to her mother's unsolved murder.
The real hunt was just beginning.
9.0
I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves."