Shattered Vows: Falling For His Worst Enemy
For three years, I played the perfect, docile wife to Brendon Jimenez, desperate for the real family I never had as an orphan.
But during a high-society gala, I peeked through a cracked door and caught him sleeping with my best friend.
When I packed my cheap canvas bag to leave the penthouse, my mother-in-law blocked the door.
She dumped my clothes on the marble floor, called me a stray dog, and slapped me so hard my mouth bled.
Brendon just stood there, watching his mother humiliate me.
To keep me trapped as his perfect public prop, he even faked his mother's heart attack in a VIP hospital suite.
"Get on your knees. Kneel down right now and beg my mother for forgiveness until she decides to accept it."
I gave them my youth and unconditional loyalty, only to realize this prestigious old-money family was nothing but a rotting corpse built on dirty secrets.
I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't drop to my knees.
Instead, I pulled out my phone right in front of him and called my lawyer.
"File for an at-fault divorce. I have proof of his infidelity with Kaelynn Hudson. I want him ruined."
Then, I touched the matte black card hidden deep in my clutch.
It belonged to Kile Barrett, the ruthless billionaire shark my husband feared most, and I was going to use him to tear the Jimenez family apart.
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Chapter 5
Constance stared at the back of her hand, a red mark blooming where Aisling had smacked it. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"You savage!" Constance shrieked. "You have no class!"
Aisling crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Better a savage than a parasite who confuses cruelty with class."
Brendon finally snapped out of his shock. He puffed up his chest, trying to reclaim his territory. He pointed at the door. "Get out of my house, Aisling. Now."
Aisling didn't even turn her head to look at him. "Shut up, you pathetic mama's boy. You can't even protect your own wife."
The insult hit Brendon's fragile ego like a bullet. His face turned a dark, ugly red. He lunged forward, reaching out to grab Aisling by the shoulder and physically throw her out.
Christen moved faster. She stepped in front of Aisling, her body acting as a shield. She glared at Brendon, her eyes burning with a violent intensity he had never seen before.
"Touch her," Christen hissed, her voice vibrating with rage, "and see what happens."
Brendon froze. His hand hovered in the air. He actually took a step back, intimidated by the raw hatred radiating from his wife.
Constance saw her son retreat and lost her mind. "You ungrateful bitch!" she screamed at Christen. "You bring outsiders in to attack your own husband? You are a disgrace to this family!"
Christen looked at the mother and son. The pristine suits, the expensive watches, the absolute rot underneath it all. The last three years of her life flashed before her eyes-a pathetic, desperate attempt to belong to a family that was nothing but a beautiful corpse.
She took a deep breath. The suffocating weight she had carried for three years lifted off her chest. She stood up perfectly straight.
"The Jimenez family is a joke," Christen said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "You are an empty shell built on lies and dirty secrets."
Constance gasped, clutching her chest as if she had been stabbed. "Get out! Get out of my son's house!"
"I'm leaving," Christen said. She looked directly at Brendon. The silence in the hallway was absolute.
"And I want a divorce."
The words dropped like a bomb.
Brendon's pupils dilated. His jaw went slack. "What?"
Constance stared for a second, then burst into a sharp, hysterical laugh. "A divorce? Is this your little game to get a payout? Read your prenup, you stupid girl. You won't get a single dime from us."
"Your money is filthy," Christen said, her voice steady. "I wouldn't take a cent if you begged me. I'm leaving with nothing."
Panic finally pierced through Brendon's arrogance. He realized she meant it. His perfect image, his controlled life, was shattering.
"No!" Brendon roared, his voice cracking. "I do not agree to a divorce! You are not leaving!"
Christen ignored him. She bent down and picked up her canvas bag. She turned toward the door.
Constance saw Christen dismissing them, turning her back on their authority. Her mind snapped.
She lunged forward with terrifying speed. She raised her arm high and swung with every ounce of strength in her body.
Aisling was blocked by Brendon's broad shoulders and couldn't reach them in time. Christen, weighed down by the heavy bag, couldn't duck fast enough. She only managed to turn her head slightly.
Smack.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed sharply in the hallway.
Constance's palm connected brutally with the left side of Christen's face. The sheer force of the blow snapped Christen's head to the side.
A stinging, burning pain exploded across her cheek. Her ear rang with a high-pitched whine. She tasted the warm, metallic tang of blood pooling inside her cheek where her teeth had cut the flesh.
The hallway went dead silent.
Brendon stared at his mother in horror, but his feet remained glued to the floor. He didn't move to help his wife.
Aisling let out a guttural scream of pure rage. She shoved Brendon out of the way with both hands, charging forward like a lioness.
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Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.
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8.5
I was rushed to the emergency room with a bleeding head after a horrific car crash.
But while the doctor was stitching my forehead, I heard the nurses whispering.
"The CEO of the Finley Group is upstairs right now, playing nurse to that pregnant actress."
My heart stopped. I ripped out my IV and dragged my battered body to the VIP suite, only to watch my billionaire husband tenderly wipe away his mistress's tears.
I filed for divorce that night and left his penthouse with nothing but a basic suitcase.
Carter was furious. He tracked me down, completely ignoring my injuries, and mocked me relentlessly.
"You're nothing but a breeding tool. You won't survive a week without my money."
When I later collapsed from severe stomach cramps, he abandoned me on the floor because his mistress faked a panic attack over the phone. He even nearly ran me over in the freezing rain as he sped back to her side.
I had loved him in secret for ten agonizing years, pouring my bleeding heart into a novel about my unrequited love. I couldn't understand how a man could be so incredibly cold-blooded to his own wife.
But Carter didn't know I was the anonymous author of that global bestselling book.
So when he tried to use his massive wealth to buy the film rights and give his mistress the lead role, I walked straight into his boardroom, slammed my contractual veto on the table, and finally fought back.