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Verena was about to share the joyous news of her pregnancy with her husband Colin, but instead, she witnessed him accompanying his mistress Sadie, who's also pregnant. After the shock, Verena was met with unprecedented humiliation at her mother-in-law's birthday party, and had a fierce argument with Colin, fueled by Sadie's scheming. Overwhelmed by these blows, she resolved to divorce and leave her past behind with the help of Darren, a man who truly loves her. But Colin and Sadie were not ready to leave her alone.

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband divorced me and I was publicly humiliated by his mistress. They said I wasn't worthy of being in their presence. Little did they know, I'm the daughter of the richest man in the States, and all of my ex-husband's resources came from me. Luckily on the same day, I accidentally ended up marrying a dashing billionaire. Now, I have wealth, leisure, a handsome husband, and another mysterious identity. Can anyone top that? Just wait.

The Divorced Billionaire Heiress* tells the story of Aurora Vance. On her third‑wedding anniversary, she is publicly abandoned and left penniless by her husband Marcus. In despair, she makes a contract‑marriage deal with wealthy heir Ryan Winslow. Meanwhile, she finds her true identity and takes back the Vance Group. They dig out the truth, bring mastermind Victor Kane to justice. After fierce struggles, the contract turns into genuine love. Aurora achieves self‑redemption and marries Ryan.

On their 10th anniversary, Erin overhears Ryan and his mistress Bella plotting to dump her penniless once his $200M offshore fortune is laundered, calling her marriage “ten years of maid service.” When caught recording them, Erin is injured. Ryan’s family then freezes her accounts, blackmails her with her family home, publicly humiliates her, and abuses her while pregnant Bella flaunts her status.

After three years of being married to Tristan Beckett and being his walking blood bank, Joyce Powell finally divorces him! Tristan thought Joyce was a vain girl who only married him for money, little did he know, she's a secret billionaire heiress! Will Tristan win back Joyce's heart? Or will she fall for a much younger cutie pie William Pope?

After three years of being married to Tristan Beckett and being his walking blood bank, Joyce Powell finally divorces him! Tristan thought Joyce was a vain girl who only married him for money, little did he know, she's a secret billionaire heiress! Will Tristan win back Joyce's heart? Or will she fall for a much younger cutie pie William Pope?

Heiress Eleanor hides as a tech lead for 6 years. When influencer Priya steals her project and cuts her $1M bonus to $10K, Eleanor plants a lock exposing Priya at launch. Priya impersonates Eleanor's identity, sells core code to a rival, frames her. Eleanor quits, buys the firm, reveals her identity. Priya arrested, execs fired, Eleanor takes over.

After her family’s ruin, Elena—once a proud noble—is forced to marry Kael, a man she despised. He endures three years of humiliation, then rises as the feared Black Dragon Duke. He binds her with a secret contract, making her his hidden mistress. But beneath his cold revenge lies a cursed bloodline and a love he never stopped hiding. When enemies close in, Elena must break through his mask and choose between her pride and the dragon who gave everything for her.

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.