The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Genius Comeback
After being locked in a mental institution for two years, Arlie was finally brought back to the Mccormick estate.
But her billionaire husband, Killian, didn't bring her home out of guilt or love. He handed her a cold surrogacy contract.
Her biological son, Julian, now looked at her with terror, calling her a monster while clinging to Kaelynn—the very mistress who had framed Arlie and stolen her life.
Killian froze Arlie's assets, locked her in a high-rise penthouse, and threatened to send her back to the asylum forever if she refused to undergo IVF.
He claimed they desperately needed a new baby's umbilical cord blood to cure Julian's terminal illness.
But Arlie secretly contacted her doctor and uncovered a horrifying truth.
The experimental gene therapy she had received years ago meant any attempt at pregnancy would trigger a fatal organ shutdown.
Killian didn't care if the procedure killed her in agony; he just wanted to use her as a disposable breeding machine to harvest a "spare part."
Watching the media brand her a selfish mother who wanted her son to die, the last trace of the obedient wife vanished.
Arlie pulled out a hidden satellite phone and dialed a number she hadn't used in years.
"Ronan, it's Li," she said coldly. "Wipe my name from their servers and prepare a full-scale assault. It's time to destroy them."
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Chapter 4
She didn't make it five feet down the hallway.
A hand clamped around her wrist like a vise. The grip was bruising, crushing the delicate bones together. Arlie gasped as she was spun around and slammed back against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
Killian loomed over her. He was tall, broad, and furious. His chest was heaving, his face inches from hers. He planted his hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something sharp—washed over her, making her stomach turn.
"You think you have a choice?" he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can just say no?"
"I'm not your property," Arlie spat back, her chest heaving against his. "You can't force me to have your child."
Killian laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. "In case you haven't noticed, you have nothing. Your passport, your driver's license, your credit cards—they are all in my safe. You don't have a dime to your name. You don't even have the clothes on your back. Without me, you don't exist."
Arlie's defiance faltered. The reality of her situation crashed over her. He was right. She was completely and utterly dependent on him.
The fog in her head was still there, muffling everything. But the pain in her wrist where he gripped her—that was sharp. That was real. She held onto it. Pain meant she was still here. Pain meant her body was still fighting, even when her mind couldn't.
"Let me go," she said, her voice trembling despite her best effort.
Killian leaned in closer, his breath hot on her cheek. "You will agree to this, Arlie. One way or another."
The sound of the front door opening echoed down the hall. Voices drifted in from the foyer—guests arriving for the garden party.
Killian pulled back instantly. He straightened his tie, his face smoothing back into the impassive mask of the CEO. He looked at her, his eyes issuing a final warning. "The party starts in ten minutes. You will wear what I give you. You will smile. You will play the loving wife. And if you even think about making a scene, I will drag you back to Serenity Meadows myself and sign the papers to keep you there for the rest of your life."
He turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway, her wrist throbbing where he had grabbed her.
Thirty minutes later, Arlie stood on the edge of the garden patio. The night was cool, but the gardens were lit with thousands of twinkling lights. The sound of champagne corks popping and polite laughter filled the air. She was wearing the dress Killian's assistant had delivered directly to the powder room off the foyer—a tight, emerald green gown that felt like a straitjacket. She had changed mechanically, not looking at herself in the mirror. The dress was beautiful. It made her feel sick.
She was a ghost at her own party. People looked at her, then quickly looked away. She caught snippets of conversation. Mental breakdown... poor Killian... heard she tried to hurt herself...
She walked toward the bar, desperate for something to numb the pain, when she saw him. Julian was standing near the dessert table, holding a cupcake. Kaelynn was beside him, holding a glass of champagne, chatting with a group of women.
A woman in a pink hat spotted Julian and smiled warmly. "Oh, what a handsome little man! Come here, sweetie, give your mommy a kiss!"
She gestured toward Arlie.
Julian looked up. His eyes met Arlie's. The cupcake slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a soft thud. His face crumpled.
"No!" he screamed, the sound piercing the party noise. "No! No! No!"
He pointed a shaking finger at Arlie. The entire garden went silent. Every head turned. Every eye was on her.
"She's not my mommy!" Julian shrieked, tears streaming down his face. "She's a crazy lady! She made Kaelynn cry! I hate her! I want my real mommy!"
Kaelynn rushed over, dropping to her knees and pulling Julian into her arms. She looked up at Arlie, her eyes brimming with fake tears. "Julian, please, don't say that. She's your mother. She loves you, even if she's... sick."
It was a masterful performance. The crowd sighed in sympathy. They saw a grieving, loving stepmother protecting a traumatized child from an unstable woman.
Harrison appeared at Arlie's elbow, his face twisted in anger. "Look what you've done. You've ruined everything."
"You need to leave," Meredith hissed, grabbing Arlie's arm. "You're causing a spectacle."
Arlie stood frozen. The judgment of the crowd pressed in on her, a physical weight crushing her chest. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
Then, a hand closed around her upper arm. A grip like iron. Killian.
"I'm so sorry," Killian announced to the crowd, his voice smooth and apologetic. "My wife is having an episode. Please, enjoy the party."
He didn't wait for a response. He leaned close, his fingers digging into her arm as his voice dropped to a venomous whisper only she could hear. "Walk. Now." While his face remained a mask of concerned husband to the onlookers, he steered her through the crowd with unyielding force. Arlie stumbled in her heels, the pressure on her arm a painful reminder of her captivity. He pulled her through the house, out the side door, and shoved her into the back of a black SUV idling in the driveway.
"Drive," he ordered the driver.
The car sped off into the night. Arlie clutched the door handle, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Where are we going?"
Killian didn't look at her. He stared out the window, his jaw clenched tight. "Somewhere you can't hurt anyone. Somewhere you can think about the agreement."
The city lights blurred past. The car descended into a dark underground parking garage, the concrete pillars flashing in the headlights. It stopped in front of a private elevator.
Killian pulled her out of the car and into the elevator. They rode up in silence, the numbers climbing higher and higher. When the doors opened, they stepped into a penthouse apartment. It was huge, minimalist, and completely sterile. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, but the glass was thick, soundproof.
Killian walked over to the front door. He placed his thumb on the biometric scanner. The lock clicked shut.
"Until you sign the agreement," he said, his voice echoing in the empty space, "this is where you'll stay."
He turned and left. The door sealed behind him with a final, definitive thud.
Arlie ran to the door. She pressed her palm against the cold metal. She looked around the apartment. The windows didn't open. The door needed his fingerprint. She was fifty stories up in the air, surrounded by millions of people, and she was completely alone.
She sank to the floor, her back against the door, and pressed her palms against her eyes until she saw stars. The fog in her head was so thick now she could barely form a thought. She was trapped. She had nothing. She was no one. Killian was right. She couldn't fight him. She didn't even know how to begin.
Somewhere, buried under the exhaustion and the medication residue, a small voice whispered that the old Arlie would have known. The old Arlie would have had a plan. But the old Arlie felt very far away, and she was so, so tired.
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9.7
Eliana Rivera is the firstborn daughter of business tycoon Cassian Rivera. When her father's company falls into debt, he marries her off to the arrogant and ruthless billionaire, Alexander Grayson, as part of a business contract and under the threat of blackmail.
Alexander, the billionaire CEO, never planned to marry, but the pressure of blackmail forces him into a union with a woman he barely knows. Although Eliana doesn't see Alexander as her ideal partner, she agrees to the marriage out of a sense of duty.
Once engaged, however, he barely acknowledges her presence and harbours disdain for her because of her father's actions and their relationship. But as they navigate their newfound relationship, the unexpected desire for each other's touch ignites-a twist neither of them planned, leading them toward an unforeseen love.
9.4
Six years ago, Breanna was shoved into a pitch-black hotel suite by her own uncle.
She was forced to endure a brutal night with a drugged stranger just to keep her grandmother's ventilator running.
Nine months later, she gave birth in a cold underground clinic.
But her uncle immediately snatched the crying newborn from her trembling hands, coldly announcing the baby had died.
For six years, Breanna lived in agonizing grief, working as a lowly hotel cleaner just to survive.
But a cruel setup threw her directly into the path of Elliot Finch, the arrogant billionaire from that dark night.
He did not recognize the woman whose life he had completely ruined.
Instead, he looked at her like she was rotting garbage, had his guards drag her into a wet alley, and mercilessly got her fired.
"If I ever see your face again, I will make sure you cannot get a job cleaning toilets."
Breanna was suffocating from the injustice, stripped of her dignity and her family's only lifeline.
Yet, when she instinctively protected a traumatized little boy from bullies, she discovered he was Elliot's son.
The boy clung to her neck, crying and desperately begging his father to let her stay.
But Elliot just threw a massive check at her chest, violently accusing her of brainwashing a sick child for a meal ticket.
Looking at the toxic disgust in his eyes, something inside Breanna finally broke.
She picked up the check, ripped the millions into tiny shreds, and let them rain down on his expensive shoes.
"Keep your dirty money."
She turned her back on the crying boy and the stunned billionaire, deciding she would no longer be their victim.
8.4
Elia was an orphan from the rust belt, taken in by the wealthy Chapman family in New York.
To them, she was just a shameful charity case.
The parents shoved her into a dusty storage closet, treating their other daughter Geri like a delicate princess, and mocked Elia as uneducated trash.
When Elia secured her own admission to Manhattan Elite Prep, Geri's jealousy turned vicious.
Geri orchestrated a massive smear campaign, posting anonymously on the school forum that Elia was a violent dropout who sold her body to a sugar daddy to pay tuition.
In the cafeteria, the school's elite dumped dirty milk on Elia's food.
They called her a whore and told her to go back to the streets, while Geri watched from afar with a victorious, innocent smile.
They thought she was just a helpless stray dog who would easily break under their high-society cruelty.
They had no idea she was actually "L", the dark web's most feared hacker, and "The Surgeon", a genius medical anomaly.
They also didn't know she was currently tracking a dying Wall Street billionaire who had stolen her only necklace in a dark alley.
What made these arrogant rich kids think they could destroy a girl who played with international firewalls for fun?
Instead of crying, Elia calmly pulled out her phone.
Within seconds, she breached the school's server, locking every screen in the building onto a blood-red skull.
As Geri's own recorded voice plotting the fake rumors blasted through the PA system, Elia grabbed her bag, stepping back into the shadows to reclaim what was hers.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
9.5
Jennifer, a fiercely independent entrepreneur, never imagined that running her company would put her in the orbit of Joseph, a reclusive billionaire with a dangerous agenda. Their professional clashes ignite a forbidden attraction, drawing them into a passionate affair that threatens to unravel everything Jennifer has built. As corporate sabotage, hidden heirs, and dark secrets from Joseph's past begin to surface, Jennifer's world spirals into a web of betrayal, desire, and moral peril. In a story where power and love collide, nothing is as it seems and every choice could be lethal.
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.