Stolen Locket, Stolen Heart: Her Revenge

To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive. But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory. Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky." That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead. But I survived. Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness. I took back what was mine. "I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."

Chapters

Chapter 3

Ava POV:

Jaxon's anger simmered, a volcano ready to erupt. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I braced myself for the verbal assault I knew was coming. Just as his lips parted, a flash of movement outside the window caught his eye.

A figure stumbled through the downpour, drenched and shivering. It was a young woman, slender and pale, her blonde hair plastered to her face. Jaxon's fury instantly dissolved, replaced by a look of sheer panic.

"Ivory!" he gasped, his voice choked with alarm.

He turned to me, his face a mask of rage.

"Get out," he commanded, his voice cold and flat. "Now."

I didn't argue. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the torrential rain. The heavy drops instantly soaked through my thin dress, chilling me to the bone. Each impact was a small, stinging pain.

Jaxon followed, but he didn't spare me a glance. He opened an umbrella and hurried towards the shivering figure. He shielded her from the rain, his arm going around her shoulders. He pulled her towards the car, his movements possessive, protective.

"Come on, Ivory, you'll catch a cold," he said, his voice soft, almost tender. He led her to the passenger side, opening the door for her.

I heard her name again, a confirmation. Ivory. The Columbia student. The woman whose hair I found in his car. The woman he protected, while I stood abandoned in the rain.

Behind me, a young couple huddled under a small umbrella, laughing softly.

"Does it hurt?" the girl asked, her voice light. "That little tattoo on your wrist?"

"Only a little," the boy replied, his voice laced with affection. "But I did it for you. It's nothing."

My lower back began to throb, a dull ache spreading from my tattoo. It was a small, delicate hummingbird, a symbol of freedom and joy. Jaxon and I got matching ones when we were young, foolish, and deeply in love. He kept his covered, but I always felt mine, a constant reminder of a love that had died. Our romantic gesture, a secret shared between us, now felt like a brand of betrayal. It had lasted only three years into our first marriage.

I remembered the day I found out about the first one. It wasn't Ivory then, but his new assistant, a recent graduate with bright eyes and an eagerness to please. I walked into his office, a surprise visit with lunch, and found them. My world had shattered at that moment. The betrayal had been a physical blow.

Now, Jaxon led Ivory to the warmth of the car, his body shielding hers. He closed the door, shutting me out. He drove away, leaving me alone on the side of the road, the rain a cold, indifferent curtain falling around me.

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I was trapped in a velvet booth at Le Bernardin, Arthur Sterling’s hand crawling up my knee as he whispered that my father would be in handcuffs by morning if I didn't spend the night with him. Desperate to escape, I lunged at the only man more dangerous than Arthur—Gunnar Kirk, the "Butcher of Wall Street"—and kissed him in front of every camera in the room, thinking I was choosing the lesser of two evils. I was wrong; Gunnar didn't just play along, he took possession, forcing me into a cold-blooded contract to be his fake fiancée to save his corporate image from an SEC investigation. While my greedy stepmother and sister were busy fighting over the diamonds he sent, I was living in terror, trying to hide the one thing that truly mattered: my infant son, hidden away with a nanny in a cramped Queens apartment. When my baby suffered a febrile seizure and I rushed to the ER, I looked up to see Gunnar standing in the doorway, his glacial eyes boring into me as he realized the "ruined" socialite was hiding a child from her past. I tried to sabotage the wedding, setting up my fame-hungry stepsister as a decoy bride so I could flee to Switzerland with my son, but Gunnar caught me on the fire escape before I could take a single step toward freedom. He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and told me that if I didn't walk down that aisle, he would personally ensure my father rotted in prison. We stood at the altar and exchanged vows in a ceremony built on blackmail and lies, but as we walked out as husband and wife, Gunnar didn't look at me with affection; he turned to his assistant and ordered a total deep dive into the medical records I had spent a year trying to erase. "Find out exactly what happened during those nine months in Switzerland, and tell me who that baby really belongs to."

Action Modern Romance

9.6

Claimed By The Ruthless Lycan Warlord

9.6

Areli was the hardest-working medic in the Blackridge Clan, but her efforts only earned her the title of a useless burden. Her supposed lover, Eugene, and her senior mentor, Gloria, lured her to the edge of the deadly Blackwind Cliff and shoved her straight into the abyss. She miraculously survived the freefall, only to return and find Gloria standing before the entire clan, wearing a mask of fake sorrow. "Look! The traitor is back! She eloped with wild males!" Gloria shrieked. Eugene stepped up, looking heartbroken, and publicly accused her of betraying his love. The crowd erupted, raining hisses and boos upon her, completely ignoring the horrific, life-threatening bruises that covered her battered body. They blindly believed the lies, treating her like garbage while Gloria secretly plotted to poison her water and destroy her completely. Areli felt a chilling sense of betrayal. How could the man who claimed to love her watch her fall with such cold eyes? To make matters worse, her modern biochemist instincts revealed a terrifying truth: she was unexpectedly pregnant with the child of a savage Warlord she had encountered in the wild. In this brutal, primitive world, showing any weakness was an absolute death sentence. But she wasn't going to cower or run away. Refusing the Warlord's offer to simply rescue her, Areli calmly placed a highly toxic herb on her drying rack and left her tent flap open. The bait was set. Now, she just had to wait for the screams.

Action Romance Werewolf

9.0

His Unwanted Wife Is A Dying Genius

9.0

The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live. It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders. "Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now." He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party. When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests. Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim. Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat. "I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime." A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed? Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.

Action Modern Romance

8.0

Into The Rival's Arms: The Decoy's Escape

8.0

I stood behind the velvet curtain, clutching a positive pregnancy test, waiting for the perfect moment to tell Dante our family was growing. Instead, I heard him laugh. "She is not the bride," Dante told his Consigliere, swirling his fifty-year-old scotch. "She is the bulletproof vest I wear until it is safe for Sofia to enter the city. When the bullets stop flying, we throw the vest in the trash." My world shattered. When Sofia arrived that night, she didn't just take my place; she boiled my beloved cat for dinner. Dante didn't defend me. He told me to clean up the mess or face punishment. To prove his devotion to her, he had his men drag me to "The Pit"—an underground fight club. I was thrown into a cage with a starving Doberman. I looked up at the VIP box, begging the man I loved to save me. Instead, Dante pressed the intercom button, his voice booming over the speakers. "One million dollars on the dog," he said. "She won't last three minutes." He covered Sofia's eyes to protect her innocence while the beast tore the flesh from my arm. That night, Elena Vance died in the dirt. One year later, the grieving Dante Moretti attended a gala for a mysterious new artist in New York. He dropped his champagne glass when he saw me on stage, alive, wearing a dress that revealed my ruined, scarred arm. "I didn't leave you, Dante," I said into the microphone, my voice cold as ice. "You killed me. And now, I'm here to collect my winnings."

Action Modern Romance

9.1

Rebirth Over the Deep

9.1

I had thalassophobia, a condition rooted in an incident ten years ago when I saved Alec Johnson from a dangerous undertow. He once held my shivering body and swore he would never let me near the ocean again. Later, his first love, Rosalyn Martin, known as the "Mermaid Dancer," injured herself before a crucial underwater documentary shoot. Unable to find a stand-in, he turned to me. He locked me in a swaying cabin, his eyes bloodshot as he pleaded, "Maeve, your build is the closest to hers. Please, finish this last underwater ballet scene for her. This is her lifelong dream. I'm begging you." They forced me into a diving suit and pushed me into the dark, icy depths that had nearly claimed my life once before. When I surfaced, driven by sheer survival instinct, I saw him cradling a tearful Rosalyn, soothing her gently. "Rosalyn, don't cry. Your dream is complete." No one noticed I had nearly died down there. He didn't know that every investment in his thriving company came from me. What he was about to destroy wasn't just my love but his entire future.

Action Modern Romance

9.7

Rejected By Five Alphas: Watch Me Thrive

9.7

Agent Alivia Sanford opened her eyes to the suffocating stench of wild animal musk and raw sex. She hadn't just transmigrated into a savage beastman world; she had woken up in the body of a 300-pound, diseased, and universally despised woman. Worse, the original owner had just drugged the tribe's strongest warrior, trying to force a mating. Now, the warrior pinned her to the cave floor with murderous fury. "You think you can trap me, you disgusting pig?" he snarled, ready to rip her throat out. After kneeing him and escaping, a "Super Charm AI" bound to her mind demanded she conquer her five designated mates to survive. But these men treated her like a walking plague. They mocked her bloated face, threw bloody raw meat into the mud for her to eat, and publicly announced they would starve her to death. Even her own family looked at her with utter disgust. In her past life, she was a legendary survivor who could have crushed these arrogant men with her bare hands. Now, she was trapped in a weak shell, threatened with soul erasure by a system if she didn't grovel for their affection. Why should she beg for love from beasts who wanted her dead? Looking at the five "-100" hostility scores on her system panel, Alivia coldly drew a mental cross over each of their faces. Enduring agonizing pain, she forced her bio-manipulation ability to violently purge the toxins from her fat body. She wasn't going to play their twisted game; she was going to find her own resources and make them pay.

Action Fantasy LitRPG Romance Sci-Fi

Stolen Locket, Stolen Heart: Her Revenge

Chapter 3

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