APKDock Logo
Chapters
share
The Betrayed Wife's Spectacular Sweet Revenge Novel Cover

The Betrayed Wife's Spectacular Sweet Revenge

Alia bought her four-million-dollar Manhattan townhouse in cash the day before she married Jerel. For three years, she worked eighty-hour weeks as a top architect to build their life, until an anonymous text shattered her reality. It was a high-definition photo of her husband kissing his junior partner, followed by an eight-week ultrasound. Alia didn't scream. She went home, only to find her mother-in-law throwing IVF brochures at her, screaming that she was a selfish, barren workaholic for not giving the family an heir. Jerel played the perfect, gentle husband, wrapping his arms around her and urging her to rest. But later that night, Alia caught them on a secret call with a lawyer. They were plotting to blindside her with a divorce, claiming his minor financial contributions entitled him to the property, aiming to kick her out with a measly fifty-thousand-dollar settlement. They wanted to steal her hard-earned home to raise his pregnant mistress's child. Alia's jaw tightened until her teeth ached. She had paid for every single inch of that estate. Did they really think her dedication to her career made her blind, weak, and easy to destroy? She didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she walked into the office of the city's most ruthless private equity billionaire and struck a dangerous deal to lock away all her assets in an irrevocable trust. Days later, when Jerel handed her the settlement with a fake, sympathetic smile, Alia poured cold black coffee directly over the ink. "Tell Tiffany she is never stepping foot inside my house," Alia said smoothly. "I'll see you in court."
Chapters
share

Chapter 3

The next morning, Alia walked through the glass doors of Legatum Designs.

She wore a tailored black suit. The sharp cut of the blazer matched the hard line of her jaw. Her heels clicked against the polished concrete floor in a fast, aggressive rhythm.

Employees in the hallway took one look at her face and immediately stepped out of her way, lowering their eyes to their phones.

Nina jogged to keep up with her.

"Ms. Garner," Nina said, her voice tight. "Shane Boggs didn't submit the compliance report for the city bid."

Alia stopped walking. Her heels skidded slightly on the floor. She turned her head. Her eyes were completely flat.

"Pull all of Shane's project data from the last six months," Alia ordered. "Bring it to the conference room. Now."

Alia pushed open the door to the main conference room. She walked to the head of the long glass table. She dropped her leather portfolio onto the surface with a loud smack.

The rest of the team filed in silently. They took their seats.

Ten minutes passed. The door swung open.

Shane Boggs walked in. He held a paper coffee cup in one hand. He pulled out a chair, the metal legs scraping loudly against the floor. He slump into the seat and crossed his arms.

"Traffic was a nightmare," Shane said, smirking. "Had a late dinner with some city planners."

Alia did not look at his face. She pressed a button on the remote in her hand. The projector screen dropped down behind her.

A massive Excel spreadsheet filled the screen. It was the cost analysis for the municipal planning bid.

Alia picked up a laser pointer. The red dot hit the screen, circling three different cells.

"Explain these data gaps," Alia said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. "These are severe compliance violations. If this went to the city, Legatum would face a million-dollar fine."

Shane shifted in his chair. He waved his hand dismissively.

"It's standard industry padding, Alia," Shane said. He leaned back. "You women in management get so hung up on the paperwork. You don't understand how the real networking happens."

The room went dead silent. No one breathed.

Alia smiled. It was a cold, terrifying stretching of her lips.

She looked at Nina and nodded.

Nina walked around the table, dropping a thick, bound file in front of every person in the room.

Shane opened his copy. His face lost all its color.

The file contained a log of his missed deadlines. Behind that were copies of his expense reports, cross-referenced with his personal credit card receipts.

"You expensed a weekend in Miami to the St. Metas project," Alia said. She placed both hands flat on the glass table and leaned forward. "You embezzled company funds."

Sweat broke out on Shane's forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"You can't do this," Shane stammered. He pointed a shaking finger at her. "Griffin Hinton is my uncle. The Chairman is my family. You touch me, and you're done in this industry."

Alia stared at him. She felt nothing but absolute disgust.

"Legatum Designs does not employ dead weight who can't even balance a spreadsheet," Alia said.

She reached out and pressed the intercom button on the center console.

"HR. Send security to Conference Room A," Alia said into the speaker.

Shane jumped up. His knee hit the table. His coffee cup tipped over, sending hot brown liquid spilling across the glass.

"You bitch!" Shane yelled. "I'll ruin you!"

"If you say one more word," Alia said, not moving an inch, "I will have legal file criminal charges for the embezzlement before you reach the lobby."

The door opened. Two large security guards walked in. They grabbed Shane by the arms and pulled him backward.

Shane kicked the doorframe as they dragged him into the hallway. His curses echoed down the corridor until the elevator doors finally closed.

Alia pulled a tissue from the box on the table. She wiped the spilled coffee off the glass, her movements slow and deliberate.

She threw the wet tissue into the trash. She looked up at the terrified team.

"Fix the data. I want a perfect proposal on my desk by eight tonight," she commanded.

The room emptied in seconds. Alia sat alone in the quiet room. She rubbed her temples. A dull throb pulsed behind her eyes.

Her phone buzzed on the table. The caller ID read: Arthur Kingston - City Planning Commissioner.

Her stomach tightened. She picked up the phone.

You may also like

A Mirror Too Honest  Novel Cover
7.0
‎ ‎ ‎Sophia Hayes has perfected the art of control. In the high-pressure world of The Metropolitan, she's the youngest senior journalist ever hired-an achievement built on ruthless discipline, flawless execution, and a reputation that makes even seasoned reporters double-check their facts before speaking to her. She is sharp. Unshakeable. Precise to the bone. Her life runs on deadlines, color-coded calendars, and emotional walls tall enough to withstand anything. ‎ ‎Dean Mercer is everything she isn't-and everything she doesn't have time for. A wildly successful illustrator whose comic series Love Is a Mess has a cult following online, Dean lives in a world where structure is optional and inspiration is everything. His apartment is chaos. His sleep schedule is chaos. His heart is chaos. He creates brilliance in messy strokes but hides his deepest truths behind humor, charm, and a smile that masks more wounds than he lets on. ‎ ‎So when the magazine pairs them for a high-stakes project-a revolutionary feature blending investigative journalism with illustrated storytelling-everyone expects disaster. Sophia expects worse. ‎ ‎Their assignment: explore modern love through real stories across the city. Raw, unfiltered, unpredictable love. ‎ ‎Exactly the kind of assignment that makes Sophia want to run. ‎ ‎Dean arrives late to their first meeting with coffee stains and excuses. Sophia arrives with a binder thick enough to double as a weapon. Dean studies her timeline like it's written in a foreign language. Sophia studies Dean like he's a problem she needs to solve before he derails everything she's built. ‎ ‎Their partnership begins in sparks-sharp, heated, dangerous sparks. ‎Arguments disguised as discussions. ‎Discussions disguised as power struggles. ‎Power struggles disguised as creative differences. ‎ ‎But tension has a habit of twisting into something else when the nights grow long. ‎ ‎As they dive into the city-interviewing strangers whose love stories survived decades, storms, heartbreaks, second chances-something shifts between them. Slowly. Quietly. Against both of their wills. ‎ ‎Sophia begins to see past Dean's easy humor to the man underneath-the one who fears failing the people he cares about, who draws comics because it's the only way he knows how to tell the truth. And Dean sees the cracks in Sophia's armor-the vulnerability she protects like a secret, the softness she doesn't show, the fire in her that the world misunderstands as coldness. ‎ ‎Their conversations deepen. Their arguments soften. Their laughter blends. ‎And the chemistry-the kind they both pretend not to notice-tightens around them like an invisible thread. ‎ ‎But the closer they get, the heavier the air becomes. Because both of them are hiding something. ‎ ‎Sophia hides her fear of losing control. ‎Dean hides his fear of being the reason someone gets hurt. ‎ ‎And the feature they're creating-meant to uncover the truth about modern love-begins exposing truths they never meant to reveal. About each other. About themselves. ‎ ‎Their late-night work sessions grow intimate, electric. Their stories blur with the stories they're collecting. Dean sketches Sophia without meaning to-capturing expressions she never lets the world see. Sophia writes notes about him she can't bring herself to delete. Something real starts forming in the space between them, fragile but undeniable. ‎ ‎Until the past they both buried finds them. ‎ ‎A mistake from Dean's life-one he thought he'd left behind-reaches the editorial floor at the worst possible time. A detail with enough weight to derail the feature, shatter their progress, and wound the one person who finally saw him clearly. ‎ ‎Sophia's instinct is survival. Run before she gets hurt. Seal her heart before it cracks open. Dean's instinct is retreat. Protect her from the version of himself he fears is still true. ‎ ‎Deadlines tighten. Trust fractures. ‎Their work stalls, their communication splinters, and the connection they've been dancing around threatens to snap under the strain. ‎ ‎But desire doesn't listen to logic. ‎And hearts don't obey deadlines. ‎ ‎Even as they pull away, they keep orbiting each other-drawn back together by an ache neither can extinguish. Their arguments deepen into something rawer, heavier. Their silence holds more meaning than their words. ‎ ‎They must choose: ‎fight for the story that could define their careers... ‎or fight for the connection that could rewrite their futures. ‎ ‎And when an unexpected message, a truth revealed too late, and one irreversible decision collide, they're forced to confront the question their feature was meant to answer: ‎ ‎What does love look like today- ‎and can two people living at opposite rhythms find it before it slips through their fingers? ‎ ‎On the edge of losing their partnership... ‎their second chance... ‎and each other... ‎ ‎
After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival Novel Cover
8.9
The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost. Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal. This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline. I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.
Buying The Exiled Heir: He Is Mine Novel Cover
9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him. She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort. But Benton didn't take the charity. Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him. When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face. Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician. Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below. Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her. She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man. But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion. How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power? "You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you." Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
Dying, I Left His Ruthless Bed Novel Cover
7.7
The Cameron family clinic smelled like lemon polish and impending death. For three years, I'd been a vessel in a cold, forced marriage to Underboss Kade Cameron. But today, the doctor's words would shatter everything. "No heartbeat," Dr. Finch declared, then, "Stage IV gastric cancer. Terminal." A double death sentence. As the world tilted, a news alert flashed: Kade, my husband, parading his mistress, Carla Shaw, across Europe-"a love that defies family lines." Dying and carrying his dead child, I overheard nurses gossip Kade wanted me gone for his "true love." I chose to feel the D&C agony, cleansing him from my soul. Stumbling out, Kade accused me of killing his child, then rushed Carla, feigning illness, to OB/GYN, ignoring my bleeding and dying state. Back at the mansion, I vomited blood, my body failing. Kade watched with disgust, dismissing my terminal diagnosis as a "performance." He called me "collateral," a "debt payment," then left me for his mistress. The last shred of loyalty shattered, replaced by chilling clarity. I signed the divorce papers he dismissed as a "tantrum," leaving his ring. No longer a Cameron, no longer his possession. With Fluffy, I made one call, choosing to die on my own terms, finally free.
Forbidden Desires (short erotical stories) Novel Cover
8.0
Mature content (18+) Readers discretion is advised Different stories. Different desires. Unforgettable experience Each story peels back to different layer of longing: forbidden, tender, dangerous, wild, rough, reminding you that pleasure can be thrilling.
Prince Loses His Protector Novel Cover
8.1
Prince Kaelen has always relied on his legendary guardian, Sir Alaric, to shield him from the shadows of a fractured kingdom. However, when Alaric vanishes under mysterious circumstances, the sheltered heir is forced to confront a deadly conspiracy alone. As ancient magical threats resurface and political rivals close in, Kaelen must master his own hidden powers. To save his throne, he must uncover the dark truth behind his protector's sudden disappearance.