
The Jilted Wife's Ruthless Wall Street Return
For three years, Adriene Rodgers gave up her brilliant Wall Street career to be the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Dallin Morales.
But one night, she overheard him talking to his lawyer, a confession that shattered her world.
"Adriene is exactly what I need her to be. A perfect social shield to keep the cameras busy so Elaina can live in peace."
Elaina was his late brother's widow. Dallin coldly admitted that touching his wife made him physically sick, and he only stomached it by closing his eyes and thinking of Elaina.
From that moment, the nightmare escalated. Elaina framed Adriene at every turn—slashing Adriene's beloved dog to death and throwing herself into a pool to play the victim. Dallin blindly believed the widow. He shoved Adriene so hard she cracked her head open on the marble deck, leaving her bleeding on the ground while he tenderly carried Elaina away.
The ultimate betrayal came when Adriene's father went into sudden cardiac failure. Desperate, she begged Dallin for the life-saving hospital funds.
Instead, Dallin ruthlessly froze every single one of her bank accounts.
"Go get on your knees and apologize to Elaina. Do that, and I will unfreeze your cards."
Standing in the freezing rain while Dallin's Rolls-Royce sped off to comfort Elaina's fake panic attack, Adriene's heart finally turned to ice. How could she have wasted three years of devotion on a man who would use her dying father as a bargaining chip for a manipulative parasite?
She didn't shed another tear. After borrowing money to save her father, she secretly signed the divorce papers and left them in a Hermès anniversary box on his desk. Then, she pulled out her old resume and sent it directly to his biggest corporate rivals. The submissive wife was dead, and it was time to burn his empire to the ground.
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Chapter 3
Adriene gripped the backup phone tight against her ear. She kept her voice low, her words coming out in rapid, icy clips as she explained the night's events to Kaia.
Through the speaker, Kaia was screaming. She called Dallin every filthy name in the book, her voice shaking with rage. "I'm calling the best divorce lawyer in New York right now," Kaia promised.
"Make sure the divorce papers are disguised as commercial trust documents," Adriene instructed, her tone completely steady. "Dallin can't suspect a thing."
She hung up the phone and shoved it back into its hiding place. She walked over to the large bay window and stared out into the pitch-black estate grounds. She took a deep, slow breath, trying to steady the racing of her heart.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, agonizing squeal pierced the silence of the night. It came from the direction of the glass greenhouse in the backyard.
Adriene's chest violently contracted. Her breath caught in her throat. It was Max. The purebred Golden Retriever her father had given her before his bankruptcy. Max was the only living thing in this massive estate that actually loved her.
She didn't even think about the bleeding cut on her leg. She ignored the sharp pain shooting up her calf, grabbing a heavy wool coat and snatching a heavy metal flashlight from the desk, and sprinted out of the bedroom. She ran down the dim corridors, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors, her limp turning into a desperate, uneven run.
She shoved open the side door leading to the gardens. The freezing wind hit her face, carrying with it a thick, metallic smell. Blood. Adriene's breathing turned ragged.
She stumbled across the wet grass, her legs shaking, and reached the glass doors of the greenhouse. She flicked on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness and hit the center of the room.
Adriene's brain short-circuited.
Max was lying in the middle of the rare white orchids. His stomach had been sliced wide open. Thick, dark blood soaked the pristine white petals. His chest was completely still.
Adriene's knees hit the dirt floor. The flashlight slipped from her fingers, rolling away and casting crazy shadows against the glass. She reached her trembling hand out, her fingers hovering over Max's fur, but she couldn't bring herself to touch his cold body.
A wave of grief so heavy it felt like physical pressure crushed her lungs. But before the first sob could rip from her throat, the opposite door of the greenhouse burst open.
Elaina stood there in a thin, white silk nightgown. She looked at the dead dog, threw her hands over her mouth, and let out a deafening, theatrical scream of absolute terror.
The scream shattered the quiet of the estate. Within seconds, the heavy footsteps of bodyguards and staff echoed across the lawn. Flashlight beams bounced wildly as people flooded into the greenhouse.
Elaina collapsed into the arms of a terrified maid. She pointed a shaking finger straight at Adriene. "She did it!" Elaina sobbed, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "Adriene lost her mind! She killed the dog!"
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. The staff stared at Adriene, their eyes wide with fear and deep disgust.
Adriene slowly pushed herself off the dirt floor. She didn't look at the staff. She looked straight through the crowd, locking her eyes onto Elaina's face.
Elaina was crying, but Adriene saw it. Right beneath the fake tears, Elaina's eyes were shining with a sick, twisted excitement. She was enjoying this.
Adriene didn't scream. She didn't defend herself. A single, hot tear of pure rage cut a path through the grime on her cheek. The grief didn't vanish; it crystallized into something harder, colder. A promise. Her mind became terrifyingly clear. The sheer magnitude of her hatred pushed her brain past the initial shock and into a hyper-focused state of calm.
She let her eyes sweep over the scene, using the scattered beams of the flashlights to scan every inch of the space.
Then, she saw it.
Down at the very bottom hem of Elaina's white silk nightgown. A single, tiny, bright red drop of fresh blood.
Adriene didn't react. She smoothly pulled her gaze up, and the corner of her mouth twitched into a slow, chilling smile. It was a smile so devoid of humanity that Elaina actually flinched, taking a tiny step backward.
The head butler stepped forward, reaching out to grab Adriene's arm. "Mrs. Morales, please come with me. We need to wait for Mr. Morales to deal with this."
Adriene violently slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me," she commanded. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a whip. "Nobody touches anything. Keep this scene exactly as it is."
The raw authority radiating from her froze the entire room. Even the butler stopped dead in his tracks, too intimidated to move.
Adriene turned around. She took off her heavy wool coat and gently, respectfully draped it over Max's mutilated body, hiding the gore from view.
She stood up and walked slowly toward Elaina. She didn't stop until she was standing inches away, invading Elaina's space.
Adriene leaned in. "You made a fatal mistake," she whispered directly into Elaina's ear.
Elaina's face lost a fraction of its color. She tried to maintain her innocent act, letting out another pathetic whimper and shrinking back.
Heavy, furious footsteps pounded against the stone pathway outside. Dallin's massive frame filled the doorway of the greenhouse. His chest was heaving, his face dark with absolute rage as he marched toward them.
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8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.

8.0
Abigayle was the proud heir to the Pena Group, living a perfect life and engaged to Jeffery Sullivan.
But the morning after a charity gala, she woke up drugged in a hotel room, blinded by paparazzi cameras. Her fiancé and her best friend stood at the foot of the bed, throwing a forged pregnancy report at her face to publicly frame her for cheating.
The betrayal was only the beginning of the slaughter. Before she could even clear her name, the Sullivan family ruthlessly bankrupted her family's company overnight. Her father was rushed to the ICU with a heart attack, her brother was run off the road into a coma, and violent repo men raided her penthouse. Just as she was thrown out into the freezing rain, Jeffery's terrifying uncle, Donovan Sullivan—the very mastermind who engineered her family's ruin—stepped in. He offered to cover the life-saving medical bills, but only if she agreed to become his personal plaything.
Abigayle's blood turned to ice. She couldn't understand how the people she trusted most could plot such a vicious, coordinated destruction just to break an engagement. How dared the man who destroyed her entire family stand there playing the savior, trying to buy her body with her own stolen wealth?
Facing a $100,000 hospital deadline and abandoned by everyone she knew, she didn't shed another tear.
"I will never beg him."
Clutching her last diamond bracelet, she hailed a cab straight to the biggest pawnshop in the Diamond District. The Sullivans thought they had buried her, but her counterattack was just beginning.

8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.

8.1
Desperate for a way out of rejection and poverty, Pearl Augustine accepts a nanny job with an outrageous salary-working for billionaire Ace Warren. What she doesn't expect is his daughter.
Mia Warren is spoiled, sharp-tongued, and feared by everyone in the mansion. Behind her cruelty is a lonely child longing for a mother. As Pearl becomes the only one who can reach her, walls begin to fall-especially those around Ace, a grieving man hiding behind wealth and control.
What started as "just a job" quickly turns into something dangerous: attachment.
Sometimes, healing begins where you least expect it.

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.

7.6
I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart.