Too Late, Mr. Vanderbilt

Seven years. That's how long I'd been with Sarah, building a future, planning our wedding. Meeting her parents formally was supposed to be a joyous step, a celebration of us. But at dinner, Sarah casually suggested a terrifying plan: mortgaging or selling the townhouse-the one I paid for-to fund her deceased brother's friend's dubious startup. Her parents enthusiastically agreed, openly admiring the 'visionary' friend, David. They dismissed my shock as "selfishness," accusing me of caring "always about money." Sarah herself rolled her eyes, questioning my "support." Then, they ambushed me at my college, publicly humiliating me with baseless accusations of emotional abuse and fraud. My career, built on years of hard work as an adjunct professor, hung by a thread. How could the woman I loved betray me so utterly for mere convenience and blind family loyalty? Were my life savings, my future, so easily disposable to them? The injustice burned, revealing a deep-seated contempt I never truly saw. I cancelled the wedding, ready to fight for what was mine. But just as her CEO prepared to reprimand me, a sleek black car pulled up, and a quiet man stepped out, about to expose a secret that would shake their world to its core. They had no idea who they were really dealing with.

My marriage to Mark seemed solid, our life comfortable, until his college reunion. I was there as the supportive wife, trying to ignore a growing unease. Then I saw him, too close to Jessica, his high school sweetheart and now his sister-in-law. The "Ten-Year Love Blueprint" he' d detailed for her-not me-was just the first blow. That night, I found Jessica kissing my drunk husband in our home, then overheard the devastating truth: her son, Kevin, was Mark' s, not his brother' s. My perfectly constructed life imploded as Mark dismissed my pain and his mother furiously defended his affair. A reckless car crash, caused by Jessica, led to my miscarriage; Mark, shockingly, blamed me, then his mother coldly announced, "You weren't strong enough." Even my own parents, dependent on Mark's generous support, disowned me for daring to expose his betrayal. Abandoned and broken, the injustice was crushing: how could everyone I loved betray me so completely, leaving me a disposable substitute in a life that was never truly mine? The agony of losing everything, especially my baby, felt unbearable. But a fateful accident unexpectedly offered a dark opportunity for ultimate escape and rebirth, transforming me into a vengeful phantom armed with a meticulous plan for absolute justice.

My life was perfect. I was Sarah, a loving mom, taking my sweet six-year-old Lily to Kids' Kraft Korner, all smiles and glitter castles. In an instant, my world shattered. A bloodcurdling scream. I raced back inside to find Lily' s lifeless body, her head gone, crafting shears beside her. My heart died. The real nightmare began. My best friend, Jessica, shrieked, pointing at me. Detective Harding arrested me. My own husband, David, abandoned me, highlighting my past postpartum depression. The media branded me a monster; "Suburban Mother Snaps, Murders Daughter" screamed headlines, bolstered by manipulated footage and a janitor's twisted testimony. Under relentless accusations, I plunged into a torturous haze. Dr. Peterson, a psychologist David suggested, hypnotized me. Horrifying images flooded my mind: me, holding the shears, filled with rage, striking Lily. I confessed, truly believing the implanted memory, convinced I was a child killer. The "recalled" physical evidence-Lily' s head, found exactly where I "remembered" it-seemed to seal my monstrous fate. I was lost in self-loathing. Still, even through the despair, a tiny flicker of inner doubt persisted. Could I really have done this? Then, as I was dragged to court, I saw Jessica in the crowd. She wasn't yelling. She was smiling. A small, smug, triumphant smile. It wasn't my madness. That hateful smile ignited something raw. "You did this, Jessica! You set me up!" I screamed, tearing at my restraints. "She's having an affair with my husband! David is the father of her son!" My desperate accusation, fueled by rage, finally started to unravel the terrifying conspiracy, pulling me from the abyss of my false memory.

Just a week after my son Leo was born, as I navigated the raw grief of losing my parents and the overwhelming exhaustion of new motherhood, a seemingly innocuous email landed in my inbox, poised to shatter the quiet sanctuary of my inherited Boston home. Addressed to "Ms. Sarah Connelly, parent of Maya," it was a welcome message from the city's most prestigious charter school-for a child I didn't know, shockingly enrolled using my name and my address, a stunt orchestrated by none other than my own husband, Mark, for his colleague Brenda's daughter. His casual dismissals-"She' s a struggling single mom," "She' s vital to my team," said with infuriating nonchalance-masked outright gaslighting, culminating in a public display of affection where Brenda flaunted the custom anniversary watch I'd bought him, proving his betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. How could the man I loved, the partner who once climbed an icy fire escape to comfort me in my darkest hour, betray me so audaciously, choosing a manipulative colleague over his wife and newborn son, then abandon us when she needed him again? But betrayal cannot break what is truly yours. My house, my name, my son. The first call was to my lawyer. This was no longer just about anger; it was about reclaiming my life, exposing their manipulative scheme, and building a new future on my terms, brick by painful brick.

I just closed a fifty-million-dollar deal for Innovatech Solutions, the company I co-founded with my wife, Jess. My team, the Trailblazers, cheered as Jess, our CEO, hugged me, promising a "really special bonus." That bonus was a crudely drawn Sharpie watch on my wrist and a flimsy "next year" promise. Later, my blood froze seeing Liam Walker, her incompetent "Executive Assistant," beaming with keys to a company-leased Porsche, courtesy of Jess. His Instagram: "Real love means exclusive pampering. #BestBoss." Humiliation burned as Jess frantically spun excuses, then offered me the baby I' d always wanted if I' d "unlike" the post. When I refused, she retaliated, punishing my loyal team while Liam' s cronies went untouched. "You'll get over it," she snapped, hanging up. The Porsche was just the latest, undeniable symbol of her two-faced hypocrisy and a years-long affair. My love for the woman I married had completely evaporated, replaced by a profound, weary exhaustion. I was done enabling her narcissism, done absorbing her endless betrayals. "Let's just get a divorce," I told her, my voice flat and final. Then, I called Innovatech' s biggest competitor, ready to secure not just my future, but my entire team's, forcing her to finally face the consequences.

My world with Chloe revolved around our eagerly awaited baby, our future taking happy shape with every nursery plan. An Instagram tag from her popped up then, a seemingly innocent ping. I opened it, and the image delivered a brutal, physical blow, vaporizing my reality. Chloe lay pale but smiling in a hospital bed, holding hands with her ex-husband Mark, in the bed beside her. The caption read: "This time, I'm choosing to be brave for love." My mind reeled: a bone marrow donor? Where was our baby? Comments hailed her a hero, oblivious to the life she'd just ended, never telling me. She returned, demanding comfort, yet casually dismissed my silent agony over our lost child. Her shocking nonchalance toward our baby' s life ignited a silent, seething rage deep inside me. I finally grasped that my unwavering kindness had enabled her, teaching her that monumental betrayals carried no real consequences. How could she expect recovery meals after such a horrific, selfish act? Staring at the stranger in my wife's eyes, the illusion shattered. "I want a divorce," I declared, beginning my fight to reclaim my shattered life.

Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"

Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"

After three secretive years of marriage, Eliana never met her enigmatic husband until she was served with divorce papers and learned of his extravagant pursuit of another. She snapped back to reality and secured a divorce. Thereafter, Eliana unveiled her various personas: an esteemed doctor, legendary secret agent, master hacker, celebrated designer, adept race car driver, and distinguished scientist. As her diverse talents became known, her ex-husband was consumed by remorse. Desperately, he pleaded, "Eliana, give me another chance! All my properties, even my life, are yours."

Three years of marriage couldn't melt Theo's frozen heart. When an art gallery collapsed on Lena, he was off romancing another woman-lavishing her with a private jet. Three steel pins held Lena's shoulder together, but her heart remained broken. She filed for divorce and told everyone that he was impotent. Rising from the rubble, Lena blazed onto the design world's A‑list. She expected him to sail off with his true love-until Theo reappeared at her runway, pressing her against the wall. "Impotent, huh? Care to give it a try?"

"I knew he was trouble the moment I walked into our shared house. The way his hands gripped my waist when no one was looking, the way his voice dipped when he said my name, it wasn't just wrong, it was dangerous. He wasn't just my stepbrother, he was my undoing." **** All Evie Hayes wanted was to finish her college degree in peace, far from the chaos of her past. But when she moves into her stepfather's house near Ravencrest University, she finds herself stuck with Ryder Kingsley, her stepbrother and the school's golden boy. Ryder is everything she's sworn to avoid, arrogant, infuriatingly handsome, and completely off-limits. When late-night arguments turn into stolen touches, their forbidden connection becomes impossible to ignore. But in a world where secrets don't stay hidden, someone's bound to uncover the truth. And when they do, Ryder and Evie will have to decide if the risk is worth the ruin.

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary—but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.