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
Share
Chapter 4
The harsh morning light sliced through the gaps in the guest room blinds, burning Alyson's dry, sleepless eyes.
She sat up slowly, her muscles aching from the tension of the night before.
The phone on the nightstand was vibrating violently, the screen flashing with her mother Eleanor's name for the twelfth time.
Alyson let out a slow breath, her chest tight, and pressed the answer button.
Eleanor's shrill voice immediately pierced her eardrum.
"Alyson! Why weren't you at Kenton's birthday party last night? Tonight is your sister's welcome back dinner, and you need to get your ass back to Long Island right now!"
Before Alyson could form a single word of refusal, the line went dead.
She stared at the black screen, her stomach churning with a familiar, sickening dread.
She got out of bed and pulled on a minimalist, unbranded black silk shirt from a niche Belgian designer and matching trousers-a subtle testament to a refined taste she’d cultivated as Kenton’s wife—a polished armor provided by his wealth to mask the years of grime from the slums.
She walked out of the guest room into the silent penthouse.
Kenton was already gone, likely at the office, and the black card was exactly where he had left it.
She grabbed her car keys from the counter and took the elevator down to the garage.
An hour later, her car idled in front of the massive wrought-iron gates of the Holt family estate.
The gates swung open slowly, welcoming her into the nightmare she had been discarded from as a child, only to be dragged back into as an adult.
She walked into the grand French-style dining room.
The long mahogany table was covered in fresh white roses and polished silver.
Sitting near the head of the table, bathed in the light of the crystal chandelier, was Chelsea.
She wore a pristine white lace couture dress, looking every bit the delicate, cherished princess.
Warren Holt sat at the head of the table, his face softened into a rare, affectionate smile as he listened to Chelsea talk about her time in Europe.
The moment Alyson stepped into the room, the warm air turned to ice.
Eleanor marched over, her eyes raking over Alyson's black outfit with pure disgust. To Eleanor's untrained eye, the exquisite draping and silent luxury of the fabric were entirely invisible.
"Today is a happy day for your sister. Why are you dressed like you're going to a funeral?"
Alyson swallowed the bitter lump in her throat.
She walked to the far end of the long table and pulled out a chair.
"Sorry. This is all I have."
Chelsea immediately placed a hand over her collarbone, her eyes widening in perfect, practiced innocence.
"Mom, don't be mad at my sister. She's probably just in a bad mood."
Warren slammed his coffee cup down on the saucer, the porcelain clattering loudly.
"A bad mood? She stole your fiancé and three years of your life. She has no right to be in a bad mood," Warren snapped, his voice hard and unforgiving.
Alyson's hands dropped below the table.
She dug her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke.
"Father, that drugged glass of champagne was handed to me."
"Enough!" Eleanor slammed her hand flat against the table. "Are you still trying to lie? If you weren't so jealous of Chelsea, none of this would have happened!"
Alyson looked at the two people who shared her blood—the same people who had signed the papers to abandon her to the foster system the moment she became an inconvenience.
The last fragile string connecting her to this family snapped, leaving a hollow, echoing void in her chest.
Warren cleared his throat, adjusting his posture.
"Chelsea is preparing to enter the Manhattan charity circle. You will use your title as Mrs. Whitaker to introduce her to the core board members."
"And," Eleanor added smoothly, "you need to create more opportunities for her and Kenton to be alone in public. You need to slowly give her position back."
A raw, ugly laugh ripped out of Alyson's throat.
The sound bounced off the high ceilings, sharp and completely out of place in the elegant room.
"You want me to pimp out my own husband to my sister?" she asked, pronouncing every word with deadly precision.
The crude word made Warren and Eleanor's faces turn a mottled red.
Chelsea's eyes instantly filled with tears. She bit her lower lip, looking utterly devastated.
"Sister, how could you say something so awful... I just want to make up for lost time."
Warren pointed a shaking finger directly at Alyson's face.
"You shameless, ungrateful brat! I don't know why we ever brought you back from the gutter!"
Alyson stood up so fast her chair scraped violently across the expensive rug.
She looked down at her parents, her eyes colder than the winter rain.
"Since the sight of me disgusts you so much, I won't stay here and ruin your appetite."
You may also like
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.