APKDock Logo
Chapters
share
Too Late For Regret: The Ghost Wife Novel Cover

Too Late For Regret: The Ghost Wife

I survived five years of hell as a captive in a Middle Eastern warzone and finally made it back home to my husband. But when I stood at the gates of our estate, I found him married to another woman, holding a five-year-old daughter. The timeline meant he had betrayed me long before I ever deployed. Worse, he had declared me legally dead and secretly drained my family's massive trust fund. When I demanded answers about my parents, he coldly told me they had burned to death in a highly convenient fire. He then had me strapped to a hospital bed, letting his new wife humiliate me as a delusional mistress. To maintain his perfect Wall Street image, he offered to buy me a hidden apartment to live as his secret whore. I was legally a corpse, stripped of my identity, my family, and my dignity. But what tortured me most wasn't his betrayal—it was how perfectly timed my disappearance had been. How did the terrorists know my exact classified route? In the freezing rain, the mercenary who had held me captive suddenly appeared and delivered a chilling truth. "You were betrayed by your own people. Someone at your hospital sold your GPS coordinates." Staring at my dead colleague's bloodstained notebook, the horrifying realization hit me. It was my beloved mentor. They thought I was just a dead doctor. Now, I am going to tear their entire empire to the ground.
Chapters
share

Chapter 8

The police cruisers' red and blue strobe lights turned the ruined estate into a chaotic, flashing nightmare. The screech of tires on the wet gravel was deafening.

Deanna sat slumped in the mud, the freezing rain beating down on her face. She stared blankly at the dark bushes where Erik had disappeared. Inside job. Sold out. Trust no one. The words echoed in her skull, louder than the sirens.

Four heavily armed Seaport City police officers jumped out of their cruisers. They swept the ruins with tactical flashlights, the bright beams cutting through the rain. One of the beams hit Deanna's pale, mud-streaked face.

"Over here! We found her!" an officer shouted.

Seconds later, a massive, black, bulletproof SUV tore into the driveway, stopping inches from the police cars. The rear door flew open before the vehicle even fully stopped.

Joseph Cole stepped out, surrounded by three men in black suits holding umbrellas.

Joseph saw Deanna sitting in the mud near the cliff edge. His face instantly contorted into a mask of absolute panic and heartbreak. "Deanna!" he yelled, his voice cracking with emotion as he shoved past the police officers.

The cops, recognizing the wealthy, powerful man who had filed the missing person report, stepped back and lowered their flashlights.

Joseph sprinted through the mud. He dropped to his knees right in front of Deanna, ruining his bespoke suit pants. He reached out, throwing his arms wide, intending to pull her into a desperate, loving embrace.

A few hours ago, Deanna would have collapsed into his chest and wept.

But now, Erik's warning burned in her veins like battery acid. Trust no one. Especially the people closest to you.

As Joseph's hands brushed the wet fabric of her sleeves, Deanna's entire body violently recoiled. She threw herself backward, her hands scraping against the sharp rocks, treating his touch like a lit match against her skin.

Joseph's arms froze in mid-air. A flash of genuine shock crossed his face, quickly masked by deep concern. "Deanna? Honey, it's me. Are you hurt? What happened?"

Deanna slowly raised her head. She looked at Joseph. Really looked at him. She bypassed the handsome face and the worried eyes, searching for the rot underneath.

She thought about Candy flaunting the trust fund money. She thought about her parents dying in a highly convenient fire. She thought about the hospital board leaking her coordinates to terrorists.

A wave of pure, physical revulsion hit her stomach. Deanna turned her head to the side and dry-heaved, her body rejecting his presence.

Joseph's jaw tightened. He dropped his hands and leaned in closer, his voice losing its soft edge, replaced by a hard, commanding tone. "We are leaving. I'm taking you back to the Cole estate. You need a doctor."

Back to the Cole estate? To sleep under the same roof as his mistress and his five-year-old bastard?

Deanna pushed herself up off the ground. Her legs shook, but she locked her knees, standing tall. She looked down at him kneeling in the mud.

"I will never step foot in that house again," Deanna said. Her voice was no longer a broken whisper. It was cold, raspy, and dead.

Joseph stood up, brushing the mud off his knees. He glanced nervously at the cops watching them. He stepped close to her, lowering his voice to a threatening hiss. "Do not make a scene in front of the police, Deanna. Think of the family's reputation."

Deanna's lips curled into a grotesque, mocking smile. She turned her back on him and limped directly toward the lead police officer.

"Officer," Deanna said, her voice steady. "I want a car to take me to a hotel in the city center. Now."

The officer looked uncomfortable. He glanced over Deanna's shoulder at Joseph. In the eyes of the law, Joseph was the powerful citizen paying the bills, even if the marriage was technically dissolved.

Joseph realized he was losing control of the narrative. To maintain his image as the devoted, grieving ex-husband, he let out a loud, dramatic sigh of defeat. He nodded at the officer. "It's fine. She's in shock. I will personally escort her to the hotel to ensure she's safe."

Deanna didn't argue. She needed a roof over her head, and she had no money. She walked straight to the black bulletproof SUV, pulled open the heavy door, and slid into the far corner of the leather backseat.

Joseph climbed in after her. He tapped the glass partition, signaling the driver. The SUV pulled away, heading toward the city. As soon as they were moving, Joseph pressed a button, and the thick, soundproof privacy partition rolled up, sealing them in the back.

The silence inside the cabin was suffocating.

Joseph reached into the center console and poured a cup of hot black tea from a thermos. He held it out to her, his eyes pleading. "Drink this. You're freezing."

Deanna didn't look at the cup. She kept her eyes locked on the rain streaking across the tinted window.

Joseph's patience snapped. He slammed the cup into the cup holder. "You are being completely unreasonable, Deanna! You have no idea what I've been through! The pressure from Wall Street, the grief of losing you-"

Deanna slowly turned her head. She looked at him with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing a rat in a maze.

"My parents..." Deanna interrupted, her voice trembling, fracturing under the weight of her grief and suspicion. She clutched her arms tighter around herself, rocking slightly. "Their money... the trust fund... what did you do with it, Joseph? Where did it all go when they burned?"

The question was a sniper bullet.

Joseph's hand, which was reaching for his tie, jerked violently. His elbow hit the cup of hot tea. The cup tipped over, spilling scalding liquid across the expensive leather seat.

Joseph scrambled to wipe up the tea with his handkerchief, his face flushed red. He refused to look her in the eye. "That's... that's a complicated financial matter. The lawyers handled it after the fire. We can talk about money when you're healthy."

Deanna watched his trembling hands. The final piece of the puzzle locked into place. He didn't just cheat. He stole everything.

Deanna closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold glass, refusing to speak another word. The SUV sped through the storm, carrying two enemies trapped in a steel box.

Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
Open the Official Website

You may also like

From Rejected Omega to the Supreme Alpha's Queen Novel Cover
8.3
I stood before a polished black headstone, tracing the gold letters of my own name. Five years ago, my Fated Mate, Clayton, rejected me in a blizzard because I was a "useless Omega" who couldn't shift. He left me to freeze to death so he could mate with my sister, Ainsley, claiming it was necessary for the pack's genetics. Now, Clayton stood behind me, trembling as he dropped a bouquet of wilted lilies. He thought I was a ghost. But when he realized I was alive, the shock turned into arrogance. He tried to use his Alpha Command to force me to my knees. My family was even worse. When I walked into the pack house, my father accused me of treason for "faking my death." My aunt tried to slap me for being disrespectful. They demanded I donate my blood to save my father's life, still treating me like a disposable resource. They didn't realize that the pressure crushing the room wasn't coming from them—it was coming from me. They had thrown away a Royal White Wolf to keep a human pretending to be a shifter. The irony was suffocating. I didn't flinch when they threatened me. I just smiled and let my true aura explode, turning the air to ice. "You rejected me for being weak," I whispered, my eyes flashing silver. Then, the doors blew off their hinges. My husband, the Supreme Alpha, walked in and grabbed the elders by the throat. "You just declared war on the Blood Moon Pack."
He Erased Me, I Erased Him First Novel Cover
8.3
On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.
Her Neglect, My Undying Haunted Soul Novel Cover
8.2
I was the biological daughter, yet my mother looked at me with disgust while worshipping my adopted sister, Carina. When I vanished for two months, my mother laughed it off as a "tantrum" designed to ruin my grandmother's jubilee. She only stopped laughing when the detective slammed a forensics report on the table. "Your daughter didn't just die, Mrs. Fowler," the officer said, his voice cold. "She was buried alive by the elements. It took her three days to suffocate in that ravine." My mother turned pale, stammering that she never got a call for help. The detective' s eyes narrowed. "Oh, she called. Five times. Someone answered the last one, listened to her scream, and then deleted the log to cover it up." The room went dead silent. Slowly, my mother' s horrified gaze turned toward Carina, the "perfect" daughter, who was trembling violently in the corner. My ghost watched from the shadows of the interrogation room as the realization finally hit her. She hadn't just neglected me; she had raised the monster who left me to die.
Mated to Three Handsome Nightmares Novel Cover
8.1
After being jilted by her Fated mate, beaten and pursued by her Father, and then hit by a reckless driver, Lyra finds herself two thousand miles away from her former pack In a new body, before she can thank the goddess for new beginnings she is thrust into a world of confusion and heartbreak when she realizes she is nothing but a pawn to be forced into an unwanted marriage. Her only source of hope – she is mated to three handsome men; one hates her guts, one is irritated by her presence, and the last of them is the same bastard who jilted her in her previous life.... "Oh Goddess, is my life a joke?" Follow Lyra as she paves her way through the hate and pain to settle either on love or revenge.
No More Submission: The Heiress Strikes Back Novel Cover
9.0
I spent five years acting as the perfect, invisible caretaker for my wealthy family, meticulously managing their health and social standing while they treated me like a ghost. Then, my nightmare became reality when my brother Alon shoved me out of bed, forcing me to apologize to our adopted sister, Fallon, for a jealousy I never felt. My parents and brother stood over me, their eyes filled with unfiltered disgust, demanding I play the servant to a girl who was actively plotting my social destruction. They froze my accounts, stripped me of my dignity, and mocked my existence, fully expecting me to crawl back to them in tears like I did in my other, broken life. I stared at their entitled faces, feeling a cold, sharp clarity wash over me; they were so obsessed with status that they didn't realize they had just handed the keys to their own ruin to a complete amateur. Why was I still playing the martyr for people who would watch me burn without blinking? I stood up, walked away from their chaos, and cut the final tie, leaving them to face the ruthless social elite with a liability they couldn't control.
Sheltered By The Coldhearted Billionaire Boss Novel Cover
7.6
Overnight, Ella lost her family, her home, and her entire life. Discarded by the foster system, she was left shivering in the freezing mud outside her ruined estate. That was when Javier Shepherd appeared. The terrifyingly cold, powerful billionaire pulled her from the dirt, threw her into a massive glass penthouse, handed her an unlimited black card, and vanished overseas, leaving her in the hands of a cruel caretaker. The caretaker treated Ella like garbage, feeding her cheap, processed meals while using the black card to buy designer bags. The toxic food triggered a severe allergic reaction. Ella collapsed in the dark hallway, her throat swelling shut, gasping for air while the caretaker locked the door and turned up the TV. She almost died on that cold hardwood floor. When Javier found out, he ruthlessly destroyed the caretaker and sent her to prison. He guarded Ella's hospital bed with terrifying intensity and even moved into her apartment to stop her panic attacks. Yet, when Ella finally broke down crying over her dead parents, his eyes turned to ice. "Losing emotional control over a juvenile past is an inefficient waste of energy." He sneered, treating her grief like a bad financial investment. Ella was completely bewildered. Why did this dangerous man protect her so fiercely, yet hate her past so deeply? It wasn't until his cousin visited the hospital that the cruel truth was revealed. Javier wasn't saving her out of kindness. He had been obsessed with Ella's mother—his family's adopted daughter who ran away years ago. To him, Ella wasn't a person to be loved. She was just a replacement asset, a ghost of the woman he never got over.