The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Revenge Comeback
For three years, Alyson endured a suffocating marriage, while her biological family treated her like a stray dog compared to her sister, Chelsea.
She thought her husband Kenton would at least show her basic human decency.
But during a horrific car crash in a freezing storm, Kenton used his own body to shield Chelsea.
Meanwhile, a massive, out-of-control truck slammed into Alyson, throwing her broken body into a muddy ditch.
With shattered ribs and blood blurring her vision, she reached out a trembling hand to him for help.
Kenton just stared at her coldly through the rain.
"Stop faking it. It's just a scrape."
Without another glance, he wrapped his arm around the completely uninjured Chelsea and drove away, leaving Alyson to bleed out in the mud.
Hours later, after being saved from the brink of death by a mysterious stranger, her phone rang.
It was Kenton, furiously demanding she bring Chelsea's anxiety medication to the hospital.
He didn't even care to ask where she was, let alone realize she was severely injured.
Alyson couldn't understand how the man she loved could be so blindly cruel, or why her own parents constantly orchestrated her destruction.
The pathetic hope she had clung to for three years finally shattered into dust.
She dragged her battered body back to their penthouse, hiding a divorce settlement inside a stack of tedious charity documents.
When Kenton arrogantly signed his name without reading a single line, Alyson turned her back on the toxic family for good.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
"Why isn't your gold-digging wife here suffocating you tonight?"
Carter Finch's voice bled through the crack of the heavy mahogany doors, accompanied by a chorus of harsh laughter and the thick scent of premium cigars.
Alyson stopped dead in her tracks on the thick Persian carpet of the Waldorf Astoria hallway.
The dark blue velvet box in her hands suddenly felt like a block of lead.
She had been walking with a nervous, light rhythm, her heart beating fast against her ribs at the thought of seeing her husband.
Now, her hand hovered in the air, inches from the brass handle of the VIP lounge.
She shifted her weight slightly, peering through the narrow gap between the double doors.
Kenton Whitaker sat in the center of a tufted leather sofa, a crystal glass of whiskey resting in his hand.
The light from the chandelier caught the sharp, cold lines of his jaw.
He looked devastatingly handsome, and completely untouchable.
"She knows she doesn't belong here."
Kenton's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, carrying easily into the quiet hallway.
The words hit Alyson's chest like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs.
Carter let out another loud, grating laugh.
"If she hadn't drugged your champagne that night, Chelsea would be the one sitting in the Whitaker estate right now."
Alyson's teeth dug into her lower lip so hard she tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood.
The memory of that burning champagne sliding down her throat clawed at her throat.
She had been tricked into drinking it, yet she was the one wearing the permanent stain of a predator.
Another man in the room chimed in, his tone dripping with disgust.
"Women from the slums will do anything for a payout."
Alyson stared at Kenton's mouth through the crack in the door.
Her stomach twisted into tight, painful knots.
She waited for him to say something, anything, to defend her after three years of marriage.
Kenton slammed his whiskey glass down on the glass coffee table.
"Why are we talking about that disgusting woman? It ruins the mood."
The air in the hallway vanished.
Alyson's vision blurred at the edges as a freezing numbness spread from her chest down to her fingertips.
She took a blind step backward, her body acting on pure survival instinct.
The heel of her shoe struck a tall brass decorative vase against the wall.
A dull, hollow thud echoed through the corridor.
The laughter inside the room died instantly.
Kenton's sharp, predatory gaze snapped toward the crack in the door.
Alyson did not run.
She pushed her hand against the heavy mahogany wood and shoved the door wide open.
The noisy lounge fell into a suffocating silence.
Carter and the other men shifted in their seats, brief flashes of guilt crossing their faces before settling into defensive sneers.
Kenton stared at the woman standing in the doorway.
He adjusted his cuffs, his brow furrowing deep with irritation and unfiltered disgust.
Alyson ignored the heavy stares of the other men.
She walked straight toward the center of the room, her spine rigid, her heels clicking against the marble floor with a steady, unhurried rhythm.
The pathetic, eager wife who had walked down the hallway was gone.
She stopped in front of the glass coffee table and placed the velvet box right next to Kenton's hand.
Inside was the antique Patek Philippe watch she had spent months tracking down.
"Happy birthday, Kenton."
Her voice was completely steady, lacking even a tremor of the panic tearing her apart inside.
Kenton did not spare a single glance at the box.
"Who gave you permission to come here?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous chill.
Alyson looked directly into his eyes.
A small, self-deprecating smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, and the last flicker of warmth in her eyes died out completely.
"This is the last time," she said softly.
The absolute finality in her tone made the air in the room feel heavy.
Kenton let out a short, dismissive scoff, clearly thinking this was just another one of her desperate ploys for attention.
Alyson did not waste another second looking at him.
She turned on her heel and walked toward the open door, keeping her shoulders pulled back.
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7.7
My fiancé always told me he loved me. But not long after our engagement, I woke up suffocating in the dark.
He was pressing a pillow over my face, his eyes cold and dead, while my half-sister stood by watching with fake pity.
They had orchestrated everything just to steal my trust fund.
It all started with a massive hotel scandal. They had drugged me, thrown a cheap escort into my bed, and brought a mob of paparazzi to ruin my reputation.
When my fiancé broke through the crowd, playing the heartbroken victim, he knelt down with a massive diamond ring.
"I know things have been hard, but I love you. If you come home with me, I will forgive all of this."
In my past life, I cried tears of gratitude and let him slide that ring onto my finger.
That ring sealed my death warrant. I lost my company, my dignity, and eventually, my life.
Until my lungs burned and my heart stopped, I didn't understand.
How could the people I trusted most plot my murder so ruthlessly?
Why did they have to tear my entire life apart?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the hotel scandal, exactly one year ago.
But the man lying bare-backed in my bed wasn't a random escort.
It was Johnathan Chase, my family's biggest corporate rival and the most ruthless predator on Wall Street.
Listening to the paparazzi pounding on the door, I smiled coldly.
7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
7.4
Clara Davis was trained to seduce, deceive, and destroy.
Her mission is simple: infiltrate billionaire Jeffery Rothwell's life, gain his trust, and help seize his empire in exchange for the freedom she has always craved.
But the deeper she slips into his dangerous world, the more the lines between mission and desire begin to blur. Falling for him was never part of the plan and neither was discovering that the man she was sent to manipulate may not be the real Jeffery at all.
Now trapped in a deadly web of obsession, power, and hidden identities. Clara is caught between the organization that owns her, the monster who remade her, and a love that has turned into vengeance. Clara must survive a man who sees everything, controls everything, and may be far more dangerous than the organization that created her.
Because in this game of seduction and revenge, love might be the deadliest trap of all.
9.0
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?
9.6
When a global anomaly awakens dormant powers within them, a neuroscientist, a physicist, and an artist discover they are connected by a force that defies time itself. Mert sees the memories of strangers. Elena witnesses the fabric of reality crack. Kai paints symbols from a past he never knew. Thrown together by fate, they are not alone. Across the globe, others are awakening too-gifted with extraordinary abilities. But they are not the only ones. A powerful cabal-a ruthless financier, a tech mogul, and a charismatic influencer-sees the anomaly not as a warning, but as a weapon. Their ambition shatters the timeline, scattering the group across history: from the smog-choked streets of Victorian London to a transhumanist future, and into a terrifying parallel present. Broken into three teams, the group must hunt their enemies through time itself. To survive, they must master their new powers and forge bonds of love and loyalty strong enough to bend the laws of physics. Their final battle will not be fought in any single era, but at the crossroads of all realities, where the key to existence-the very heart of time-is at stake.