Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe. On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring. Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger. Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family. When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence. "Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets." My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet. He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts. He was wrong. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use. Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed. *I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.* His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning. *The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?* I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me. I looked down and typed three letters. *Yes.*

The gunman pressed a Glock to my temple and gave my husband a choice. "One walks out. One stays. Choose, Mr. Underboss." I wasn't worried. I was Haven. I was his wife of ten years, his Consigliere, the woman who built his empire. Beside me sobbed Gemma, a fragile twenty-two-year-old he had known for six months. "Take Gemma! Leave Haven!" Connor screamed, his honor twisting into something unrecognizable. He walked out of the warehouse with another woman in his arms, leaving me to be butchered. I didn't wait for the bullet. I threw myself through a glass window into the freezing canal. I survived the fall, but the life inside me didn't. After five years of failed IVF, the miracle baby I hadn't even told Connor about was gone. While I lay in a cold hospital room, bleeding out the remains of our child, my husband was buying diamond earrings for the woman who had set me up to die. When the doctor tried to sedate me for the surgery, I grabbed his wrist. "No anesthesia," I commanded. "But the pain..." "I want to feel it," I said, staring at the ceiling. "I want to feel every scrap of him leaving my body." I burned that pain into my soul. Then, I went home, poured gasoline over our wedding bed, and lit a match. Two years later, I returned to the city. Connor thought I was dead. But when he saw me on the arm of his mortal enemy, wearing the crown of a rival Queen, he realized his mistake. He didn't just lose a wife. He started a war.

The night I reached the pinnacle of my career as a concert pianist, my husband was in a car with his mistress. Their argument caused the crash that crushed my hands, ending my future in an instant. In the hospital, my adopted daughter, Kennedy, stood over my bed and blamed me. "This is all your fault," she whispered, her eyes cold. Then, his mistress arrived with a bouquet of lilies, knowing I was deathly allergic. As I suffocated, my husband watched with annoyance while my daughter accused me of faking it. "Stop pretending, Mom. Aunt Christine's flowers are beautiful." I lost more than my hands that night. The last thing I heard before blacking out was a doctor shouting, "The fetus has a weak heartbeat!" I woke up to find my career gone, my baby gone, and my family vacationing with my replacement. So I vanished. For six years, I built a new life from the ashes, finding peace with a new husband and son. But now he's back, with an ultimatum: abandon my new life and return to his side, or he'll destroy everything I hold dear.

They found me days after the avalanche, a bloody canvas against the stark white snow. When my fiancé, Gabriel, finally arrived, I thought I was saved. But he wasn't there to rescue me; he was there to blame me. His mistress, Candace, clung to his arm with a tiny scratch while my leg was a mangled, frostbitten wreck. "What in God's name did you do?" he spat, his voice like ice. Back at the hospital, Candace and her therapist brother convinced him my injuries were minor. They secretly withheld my treatment, laughing at my silent agony while Gabriel accused me of faking it all for attention. He called off our engagement, reminding me I was just a burden he was forced to care for after my parents died saving his family. His disgust and her lies finally broke me. So I made a deal with a goddess. I threw myself from the hospital balcony, trading my love and all my memories of him for a new life. When I opened my eyes again, the man who had destroyed me was a complete stranger.

My ten-year marriage was a transactional lie, built on an astrologer's prophecy that my chart would ensure my husband's success. But on my birthday, he abandoned me to take his young intern, Anais, to the sci-fi festival I' d dreamed of for years. He came home smelling of her sweet matcha perfume, a green hair tie and a festival souvenir tucked in his pocket. He called me dramatic, said she was "fragile" and needed him. At our anniversary gala, meant to be his grand apology, I watched him kiss her passionately on the terrace during the fireworks display. He was still whispering promises in my ear, completely oblivious. That night, I left him the divorce papers and my wedding ring. But he tracked me down on my solo trip to Utah, finding me with my new guide, Casey. He punched Casey, then accused me of cheating. "You belong to me!" he roared. Just then, his phone rang. It was a video call from a hysterical Anais. "Howard, I'm pregnant! My parents are furious! They're demanding we get married immediately!"

The day my husband, a Mafia Underboss, told me I was genetically unfit to carry his heir, he brought home my replacement—a surrogate with my eyes and a working womb. He called her a "vessel" but paraded her as his mistress, abandoning me while I bled on the floor at a party to protect her and planning their secret future in the villa he once promised me. But in our world, wives don't just walk away—they disappear, and I decided to orchestrate my own vanishing act, leaving him to the ruin he so carefully built for himself.

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"

Ten years ago, Elizabeth Kaiser was abandoned by her biological father, cast out of her home like a stray dog. A decade later, she returned as a decorated general of Nation A, wielding immense power and wealth beyond measure. The onlookers waited eagerly for her downfall, only to watch in shock as the elite families of Capitol City bowed before her in reverence. Elizabeth smirked coldly. "Want to chase me? Better ask my fists for permission first!"

Everyone whispered about how Alexander's aunt had forced him into marrying Freya. When the old woman passed and his former love drifted back into town, people watched closely and expected Freya to be brushed aside. Freya shrugged. "Truth be told, I am eager for that day to come." They mocked her for it. Yet everything flipped when Alexander posted something that spread like wildfire. "For everyone asking, I am not ending this marriage. Not now, not ever." Freya stared at the screen, puzzled. What was he trying to pull now?

Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."

Omega Lyra, once betrothed to Alpha Kyle, is forced to sew his new Luna's wedding dress. On the wedding eve, an out-of-control Kyle violates her; the chaos that follows kills the bride, and Lyra is falsely branded a murderer. Kyle binds Lyra as his nominal Luna to torment her-for three years, she endures mockery and isolation, finding solace only in late-night piano playing. His coldness and closeness to the late Luna's sister Rhea shatter her hope. Humiliated at Kyle's birthday banquet, Lyra demands to end their bond. Fleeing, she awakens hidden Alpha powers but is attacked by rogues-Beta Darren, who secretly cares for her, saves her. Now, Lyra must evade Kyle's family, find her lost sister, and fight for a place in the wolf world, turning her painful escape into a journey of redemption.