The Fake Mute's Spectacular Revenge Game
Madeline slammed the prenuptial agreement onto the table, forcing Danielle to sign herself away as a "blood bag" bride.
To secure her mother's safety, Danielle was sold to the ruthless, comatose billionaire Deforest Stuart. She kept her head down, perfectly playing the role of a terrified, broken mute.
But on her wedding night, Deforest's sister set a vicious trap, dragging Danielle to a hotel to be ruined by a sleazy investor.
Danielle was prepared to escape, but the hotel door was suddenly smashed open by a massive figure.
It wasn't the investor. It was her comatose husband, Deforest, temporarily awakened by a violent, drug-induced rage.
In the pitch-black room, he pinned her down, mistaking her scent for a ghost from his past, and violently claimed her.
She fled before dawn, only to be blinded by camera flashes.
His sister dragged her back to the Stuart manor, ripping her collar open under the chandelier to expose the dark hickeys on her neck.
"Throw this shameless whore out into the street!" the matriarch ordered.
Danielle's eyes grew cold. If they kicked her out now, her years of planning to tear this rotten family apart would be completely destroyed.
No one believed that the monster who assaulted her was the very man lying perfectly still in the medical wing.
Playing the frantic mute, Danielle dragged the family to his bedroom.
Right as the guards reached for her, she launched herself onto the bed, crushing her weight directly onto Deforest's chest.
A second later, the "comatose" tyrant's eyes snapped open with murderous rage, and her real game of revenge finally began.
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Chapter 4
The life support monitors in the Stuart master bedroom suddenly emitted a rapid, high-pitched alarm.
The steady green line of the heart monitor spiked violently.
Deforest's eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown wide, the whites of his eyes heavily bloodshot. Pure, unadulterated rage radiated from his rigid posture.
He reached up and ripped the oxygen mask off his face, tossing it onto the floor. He sucked in a massive breath of air, his chest heaving.
Dr. Kline, who had been dozing in the observation room, sprinted into the bedroom. He reached out, trying to push Deforest back down by the shoulders. "Mr. Stuart, you need to-"
Deforest's arm shot out. He grabbed the doctor's wrist, twisted it violently, and shoved him backward. Dr. Kline crashed into the medical cart, sending metal trays clattering to the floor.
Deforest grabbed the IV line taped to the back of his hand. He ripped it out in one brutal motion. Blood instantly welled up, dripping down his knuckles and staining the pristine white sheets.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet hit the carpet. "Who put that blood in me?" he demanded, his voice a raw, gravelly rasp.
Dr. Kline scrambled up, clutching his wrist. "Your father, sir. He arranged a medical marriage. The girl-"
Deforest didn't let him finish. He slammed his bloody fist into the glass water pitcher on the nightstand. The glass shattered, sending shards flying across the room.
"Get out," Deforest snarled. He ignored the blood dripping from his hand. He marched into the massive walk-in closet, grabbed a black dress shirt, and shoved his arms into the sleeves. He stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the heavy doors behind him so hard the walls shook.
Miles away, in the underground VIP parking garage of the Grande Hotel, Tierney slammed the brakes of the Porsche.
She got out, popped the trunk, and pulled out a wide-brimmed black sun hat. She opened the passenger door and shoved the hat roughly onto Danielle's head, pulling it low over her face.
Tierney grabbed Danielle by the arm, dragging her limp body toward the private VIP elevator. They rode in silence up to the penthouse level.
The elevator doors chimed open. Tierney pulled Danielle down the quiet, heavily carpeted hallway. She stopped at suite 1802 and swiped a keycard.
Tierney dragged Danielle inside and shoved her hard. Danielle collapsed onto the velvet sofa in the living room, keeping her eyes shut and her body completely loose.
Tierney pulled out her phone. She typed a quick text to Warren, the sleazy investor. Room 1802. She's ready.
Tierney looked around the luxurious room, sneered at Danielle's motionless body, and walked out. She pulled the door shut but deliberately left it unlatched, leaving a small crack open.
The sound of Tierney's high heels faded down the hall.
Danielle's eyes snapped open. The dullness was gone, replaced by ice-cold clarity.
She ripped the hat off her head. She moved quickly to the door and looked through the peephole. The hallway was empty.
She saw the crack in the door. She pushed the door shut until it clicked, then immediately hit the deadbolt and flipped the heavy metal security latch.
Danielle walked into the marble bathroom. She turned on the cold water and splashed it over her face, scrubbing her skin to get rid of the faint chemical smell clinging to her sleeve.
She looked in the mirror. She checked the silver cloud hairpin already securing her tight bun, making sure the signature piece was still firmly in place after the rough car ride.
She reached under the hem of her skirt and pulled out a tiny, flat electronic jammer. She stood on the edge of the bathtub and stuck it directly over the bathroom's smoke detector.
Suddenly, heavy, uncoordinated footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the suite.
Danielle froze. She reached over and killed the bathroom lights. She pressed her back flat against the bathroom door, holding her breath.
A deep, male voice mumbled something slurred outside. Another man's voice answered, trying to soothe him.
The door handle to suite 1802 was violently shoved downward. A heavy thud hit the wood as someone threw their weight against the locked door.
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8.3
My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.
7.6
Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal."
9.5
The first clue my life was a lie was a moan from the guest room. My husband of seven years wasn't in our bed. He was with my intern.
I discovered my husband, Brendan, was having a four-year affair with Kiya-the talented girl I was mentoring and personally paying tuition for.
The next morning, she sat at our breakfast table in his shirt while he made us pancakes. He lied to my face, promising he'd never love another, just before I learned she was pregnant with his child-a child he'd always refused to have with me.
The two people I trusted most in the world had conspired to destroy me. The pain wasn't something I could live with; it was an annihilation of my entire world.
So I made a call to a neuroscientist about his experimental, irreversible procedure. I didn't want revenge. I wanted to erase every memory of my husband and become his first test subject.
9.5
"You shouldn't be here, Fiona," his deep voice rasped against her ear, his hand still pressed against the wall behind her.
"Then tell me to leave," she whispered, her lips trembling inches from his. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. And in that moment, she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
Fiona Harry has lived her whole life in a golden cage of wealth, reputation, and suffocating rules. University was supposed to be her escape, her first taste of freedom. But nothing could prepare her for the moment she came face-to-face with Professor Jalen Hart, her father's best friend. One reckless night changes everything. A drunken mistake turns into an irresistible obsession, pulling her deeper into Jalen's forbidden world. But secrets don't stay hidden forever. Between Jude, her possessive friend who knows too much, Marian, Jalen's wicked wife, and the dangerous power of desire, Fiona is about to risk not only hers and her family's reputation but her entire future.
And what happens when the truth comes out especially to Marian?
8.9
The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below.
I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty.
Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first.
I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated.
Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child?
I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.
9.1
The best way to get back at a cheating bastard? Make him sick to his stomach for the rest of his life!
Days before her wedding, Corinne caught her fiancé cheating with his coworker in what she thought was their future home.
Furious, she tore everything apart, ended the engagement, and decided on a bold revenge plan.
To make him regret it for life, she set her sights on marrying his powerful uncle. Confident in her scheme, she tried to win over the cold, untouchable man, only to realize too late that she had mistaken his identity.
The man she married was far more dangerous than she imagined!
Corinne decided to make a quick escape. "Let's get a divorce. We're clearly not right for each other... "
He cornered her with a knowing smile, "Not right for each other? Funny, that's not what you said last night in bed. Want me to remind you how wrong you are?"