
Too Late To Want Me Back, Ex Husband!
For five years, Elara was the "peasant" wife, the woman who gave her kidney to save Shawn's life, only to be rewarded with his cold indifference and his family's verbal abuse. She was the dutiful housewife, hiding her true identity as the world's most feared cybersecurity genius, and the secret heiress to a global empire. She stayed for love. She stayed for the hope of a family.
But hope dies in a cold swimming pool.
When Shawn pushes a pregnant Elara into the water to save his mistress, he not only breaks her heart, he kills the only thing she had left to love.
Waking up in a hospital bed with an empty womb and a frozen heart, Elara is done playing nice. As Shawn prepares to discard her for his mistress, he's met not with a weeping wife, but with the arrival of five of the most powerful men in the world-Elara's brothers.
Now, the "peasant" is the predator. While Shawn's empire begins to crumble under a mysterious cyber-attack, he finds himself desperately chasing the woman he once despised. But Elara has already moved on to a man who never had to be taught her value.
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Chapter 3
ELARA
I smoothed the invisible creases on the red gown I wore, my eyes catching the steady tick of the clock on the wall.
7 p.m. And Shawn wasn't here yet.
Did he seriously forget?
The birthday dinner had been scheduled to start around 5:30 p.m. We were already almost two hours late!
I picked my phone up from my clutch purse, uncrossed my legs, and dialed his number.
Surely, he couldn't choose Miranda over his own grandfather? Not tonight at least...
There was no answer the first time. None the second.
Impatience bloomed into a restless, prickling heat beneath my skin. I got to my feet, my fingers tightening around my clutch as I paced the sitting room and dialed again.
My eyes caught my reflection in the mirror of the west wing of the sitting room, and I couldn't help but smile at the transformation. I wondered, for a brief, fleeting second, what he would say when he finally saw me.
Would he rethink things? Would he-
Idiot. I cursed myself. I stomped both the thought and the dying embers of love that tried to swamp me. I didn't need his approval. And I definitely didn't want his love anymore!
I had to be strong. For me. And for the baby.
Finally, he answered on the fourth dial.
"Shawn..."
Music throbbed in the background of the call. Laughter. Then his mother's voice drifted through the line, clear enough to cut.
"Where is that peasant you call a wife? Did she forget what today was?" A pause, followed by a conspiratorial hiss. "I have told you to divorce her already... you are still going on with the plans, right..."
I inhaled slowly, forcing the oxygen into my lungs even as my chest tightened with a cold ache. So they all knew. The whole family was in on the plan to ruin me.
I ended the call without waiting for him to speak.
But he called back instantly.
"Elara, where are you?! Did you forget what today was?"
I snorted softly, the sound bitter in the quiet room. The fool didn't even suspect I might have overheard. He must be quite confident in my supposed stupidity.
"You mentioned we'd be going together," I said coolly. "Did you forget?"
A pause on the other end. Then Miranda's sickly sweet voice floated into the receiver, dripping with fake innocence.
"Oh, Shawny, come on, let's go see Grandfather. They're already bringing out the gifts..."
Shawny?
I scoffed. It sounded like the name for a lapdog-which, frankly, was exactly what he was to her.
"You went with Miranda?" I baited him, my curiosity thriving over my common sense. I wanted to see how far he would go to cover his tracks.
He cleared his throat, sounding slightly flustered, the sound of a man caught in a web of his own making. "We met at the office, so I came with her since she mentioned you invited her..."
I nodded slowly to the empty room. I never invited Miranda. In fact, I had started avoiding her months ago, ever since my instincts began screaming that she wasn't the "best friend" I'd known in high school.
"All the same, start coming," he continued, his tone turning dismissive and cold. "Grandfather is getting anxious. Should I send an Uber, since you can't drive?"
"No, don't worry. Enjoy the party. I'll be there in about ten minutes..."
Then he ended the call, leaving me with the dial tone.
Inhaling deeply again, controlling my emotions, I slipped my phone back stiffly into the purse, strolled to the dining area, and collected the meticulously packaged gift I had for Grandpa Max. Then, I walked out of the house.
On second thought, I turned back, headed to the basket of keys in the hallway, and picked the one for the red Porsche, Shawn's personal baby.
Might as well confuse them.
The compound was filled with a sea of guests when I arrived at the mansion ten minutes later. There wasn't a single place to park, but because the Porsche gleamed, one of the security guards-assuming I was some visiting dignitary or high-society heiress-cleared a path immediately.
I felt the weight of a hundred gazes as the guests turned to see who had arrived two hours late.
The guard respectfully pointed me toward a parking space right near the entrance.
When I turned off the ignition, I removed my sunglasses slowly. I was fully aware of the attention-on the car, on the flash of red, on the woman driving a machine worth more than most of their homes.
I could already see Shawn's mother approaching from the entrance, her spine stiff, preparing to act like a gracious hostess to a guest she didn't recognize.
This would be fun.
Another deep inhale. Gift and purse in my right hand, I pushed open the door and stepped out.
The guard bowed, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink as he hurried aside at the matriarch's approach.
He hadn't recognized me. None of them had.
Interesting.
"Hello! Welcome, welcome!" Linda beamed, actually looking beautiful in her own way as she waved me forward with a fake, practiced smile.
I couldn't help the smug smile that slithered across my lips. "Good evening... Mother..."
I watched the transformation happen in real-time, and it was glorious.
I watched her smile dry up and wither the second she realized who was standing before her. I watched the confusion taint her face as her gaze dragged over me from head to toe, taking in every expensive inch of the silk and the terrifying confidence in my eyes.
"Elara?"
"The one and only," I mused lightly, then looked past her at the watching crowd, my chin tilted high.
The whispers were already reaching my ears like the buzzing of a disturbed hive.
"Is that Elara Lindays?"
"I can't believe it. Has she always been this beautiful?"
"Is that an Areso gown? And those killer heels... oh my goodness..."
"Shawn really hid this beauty at home, and for what?"
"She's still a peasant though... from the countryside. What's the use of her beauty then..."
I tuned them out. Ignoring Linda's shocked silence, I started toward the heart of the party, where I was sure Grandpa Max would be waiting in his seat of honor.
But my movement snapped her out of her daze. She reached out and grabbed my arm, her grip tight and claw-like.
"Where do you think you're going? Why are you coming at this time, you stupid girl!"
I cocked my head slightly, staring at her intensely, but said nothing.
She must have been unsettled by the sheer coldness of my gaze, because she blurted out, "Do you think dressing to the nines will change who you are? Will it detract from the scolding you will receive from Shawn?"
How had I tolerated this for five years? I wondered, looking down at her hand on my sleeve with a sense of clinical detachment.
Slowly, I removed her hand from my arm, finger by finger. Then I glared at her-smiling faintly when she took a step back, shock flashing in her eyes at whatever cold steel she saw reflected in mine.
Then I walked away. I had to see Grandfather.
He was exactly where I expected, under a mini canopy where the elite guests stepped forward to present their offerings. When he saw me, he beamed, his face lighting up with genuine warmth as he called me over.
"My dear, you look gorgeous!"
I smiled, fully aware of Shawn staring at me from across the lawn, standing with Miranda, with the rest of his judgmental family. I was aware of Linda stepping into the canopy behind me, her face red with fury. Aware that we had suddenly, violently, become the center of everyone's attention.
"Thanks, Gramps. Happy birthday!"
I was just about to hand him my gift when Miranda closed the distance between us, her arms lifting as if to pull me into a sisterly hug.
I raised my hand, stopping her dead in her tracks with a single gesture.
"Stay away," I said coolly, the words loud enough for everyone nearby to hear clearly. "You smell like shitty perfume."
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9.3
On her wedding night at The Plaza Hotel, Clara went looking for her husband.
Instead, she found him in the dimly lit parking garage, passionately pinning down her bridesmaid.
She couldn't even scream or expose them. Just hours before the ceremony, Julian had tricked her into signing away her twenty percent shares of their co-founded company, leaving her completely penniless and unable to pay her grandmother's life-saving medical bills.
Fleeing in absolute despair, a sudden hotel blackout plunged her into a second nightmare. She was dragged into a pitch-black room and brutally violated by a heavily drugged stranger.
When a shattered Clara returned to the office to audit the books and reclaim her power, Julian demoted her to a dusty desk by the trash cans.
He flaunted his mistress in the executive suite and deliberately sent Clara into a horrifying trap. He arranged for vicious clients to drug and assault her, demanding high-definition blackmail photos so he could divorce her with absolutely nothing.
"Since you want to play rough, you can service Mr. Petrocelli tonight," the thug sneered, locking the VIP room door.
Clara was pushed to the brink of hell. Why was the man she devoted three years of her life to trying to destroy her so completely? And why did the freezing cedarwood scent of the stranger who ruined her in the dark perfectly match Conrad Vance, the ruthless CEO and Julian's untouchable uncle?
Rather than let Julian win, Clara smashed a glass bottle, held the jagged edge to her own throat to force the men back, and threw herself off the second-floor balcony into the freezing night.
But the bone-crushing impact never came. A massive figure shot out from the shadows and caught her, and her brutal counterattack finally began.

8.4
For twenty years, I lived as the adopted daughter of the wealthy Hill family.
But today, they forced me to sign a severance agreement and kicked me out so their precious biological daughter, Malia, could marry my fiancé.
To ruin me completely, they framed me for stealing Malia's engagement bracelet, threatening me with prison.
I calmly exposed the "sapphire" as cheap glass, then rolled up my sleeves to show the reporters my scarred, punctured arms.
For two decades, I wasn't a daughter. I was Malia's living blood and bone marrow bank.
They drained my health to keep her alive, even ordering doctors to ignore my failing organs just so she could attend a gala.
"Take this million dollars and shut your mouth," my adoptive father sneered, throwing a check at my feet.
My ex-fiancé looked at me with disgust, and Malia screamed that I was a crazy, vindictive liar.
They had stolen my life and my health, yet they still looked down on me like I was garbage.
I ripped the check into pieces and threw it in their faces.
Just as they ordered the butler to drag me out, a group of men in black suits shattered the chaos.
The heir of the untouchable Montgomery dynasty stepped through the door, ignoring the Hills' fawning, and handed me a DNA report.
I wasn't a disposable blood bag. I was the long-lost true heiress of old New York money.
And now, I was going to take back everything they stole from me.

9.8
Adeline's stepmother had secretly drugged her for years, turning a child genius into a drooling, mentally disabled laughingstock just so her stepsister could steal her life.
But when her greedy father sold her off to Griffin Herring—a violent, untouchable billionaire psychopath—to save his company, things took a deadly turn.
Before the wedding, Griffin attacked her in a dark alley, nearly snapping her neck before stealing her grandfather's silver necklace.
That necklace held a micro-drive with her family's deepest secrets, and without it, she had nothing.
Back at the estate, her situation only worsened. Her stepsister Damaris paraded around in the Herring family's diamond engagement gifts, trying to force-feed Adeline wet dog food on an Instagram live stream.
When Adeline's calculated "clumsiness" ruined the video, her furious father locked her in a damp, rusted basement.
"Give her to the psycho," her stepmother hissed through the door. "Let him lock her away forever."
Listening from the shadows, Adeline's fists clenched until her palms bled.
Her supposed mental fog wasn't a tragedy—it was a calculated assassination of her mind. They had destroyed her childhood and were now throwing her to a monster just to keep the billions.
The dull, empty look in Adeline's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp, chilling clarity.
She pulled a thin surgical needle from her messy bun and picked the heavy iron padlock in ten seconds. It was time to break into the billionaire's penthouse, take back her necklace, and tear them all apart.

9.7
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."

7.5
Elena Vale's life is carefully controlled, molded by strict family expectations and an arranged marriage she never wanted. But the night before her wedding, a shocking betrayal turns her world upside down. One scandalous mistake leaves her publicly humiliated, her engagement broken, and her future uncertain.
Just when all hope seems lost, Adrian Blackwood, a powerful and enigmatic billionaire, offers her a lifeline: a contract marriage. Thrust into a world of wealth, power, and danger, Elena must navigate his dominance, protect her independence, and confront those who seek to destroy her.
As tension and attraction build between them, Elena discovers her own strength and resilience, while Adrian reveals sides of himself he has long kept hidden. Together, they face betrayal, ambition, and jealousy, learning that love can emerge from the most unexpected circumstances.
In the end, Elena claims her dignity, her future, and a love forged on her own terms.

9.3
Charlene was locked in a Swiss asylum by the wealthy Gay family, force-fed antipsychotics until her hands shook violently.
Her adoptive brother, Columbus, dragged her out of the psych ward merely to parade her as a prop for the paparazzi.
He had locked her up to get a psychiatric evaluation, ensuring she was declared legally insane and unable to claim her massive trust fund.
The moment she returned to the estate, the torment worsened.
Her other brother, Antwan, kicked her to the ground and shattered her wrist on the gravel.
"You lost your legal rights, you stupid bitch," he sneered, while the staff blindly ignored her agony.
Her childhood bedroom was completely gutted and given to a distant cousin.
Worse, she discovered Columbus was secretly sleeping with Isabela—the fake heiress who had framed Charlene in the first place.
Every trace of her existence in the family was being violently scrubbed away.
She had lost her dignity, her health, and the baby the doctors claimed had died in the delivery room.
She couldn't understand why the family she loved hated her so viciously, stripping away everything she had.
That was until she saw a little boy in the hospital hallway, a perfect, miniature replica of her own face.
Clutching the gold-crested cufflink he dropped, she realized the asylum's doctor had stolen him.
Her baby was alive.
With her heart turned to stone, Charlene made a silent vow to crawl out of hell and burn the Gay family to the ground.