Contemporary Setting Novels

I woke up in the hospital with severe amnesia, completely forgetting my boyfriend of three years, Ethan Cole. My best friend told me he was a toxic billionaire who treated me like a pathetic doormat, constantly humiliating me while obsessing over his ex-girlfriend. Realizing the memory loss was a gift, I blocked his number, walked away from his empire, and built my own successful baking brand from scratch. I even met Noah, a powerful man who truly cherished me. Ethan tried to buy my submission with a ten-million-dollar check, but I returned it unopened. Enraged, his new girlfriend stole my life's work and launched a vicious smear campaign to destroy my reputation. Worse, a sudden fainting spell revealed a devastating truth. I was eight weeks pregnant with Ethan's child from before the accident. When Ethan found out, he burst into my hospital room like a madman. He threw punches at Noah and roared at me. "She is my woman! And that is my child!" Looking at his furious, possessive face, I felt no love, only profound disgust. He thought he could treat me like disposable garbage, erase my identity, and then violently claim the one good thing that came from the wreckage. "Get out," I said calmly, pointing at the door. "My child has nothing to do with you."

Evelyn Beaumont signed the heavy divorce settlement, severing her marriage to billionaire Kalen Sterling. She thought giving up her title as his wife would finally save her family's empire from his hostile takeover. But Kalen didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to completely destroy her. He orchestrated a media circus, letting his rumored new mistress humiliate Evelyn in front of a swarm of paparazzi. When Evelyn fought back and secured a critical business deal to ruin his plans, Kalen's retaliation was devastating. He crashed her high-society birthday gala and plunged the massive ballroom into darkness. "But, as your former husband, how could I show up tonight without bringing you a very... special gift?" Under a blinding spotlight, he unveiled a grotesque statue of a naked, chained woman wearing Evelyn's crown, begging at the feet of a faceless master. The base was painted in dripping red letters: To my loyal ex-wife, who always kneels for the wrong master. A wave of horrified gasps swept through the elite crowd. Evelyn's pride was publicly crushed into dust as hundreds of eyes burned into her skin with sick amusement and pity. She couldn't understand this absolute psychopath. He had already used their marriage as a bargaining chip to steal her shares. So why was he looking at her with such dark, twisted hunger? Why was he so obsessed with humiliating her? Driven by pure, homicidal rage, Evelyn broke into his pitch-black penthouse that night with a steel golf club. But instead of a fight to the death, Kalen pinned her to the sofa and smashed his mouth against hers with a brutal, desperate hunger.

For three years, I played the perfect, submissive housewife to billionaire Julian Harrison. But right after an intimate night together, he coldly threw a divorce agreement onto the bed. "Scarlett landed an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back." That same night, I ended up in the emergency room and discovered I was pregnant with twins. When Julian found out, he didn't show a shred of joy. Instead, he stormed into my hospital room, threw a blank check directly at my face, and ordered me to get rid of them. He accused me of using the babies as a sick game to trap his assets. Then, his ruthless lawyer kicked me out of our penthouse, confiscating the jewelry he gifted me and tossing my worn-out notebook onto the floor like garbage. Standing in the freezing rain, my heart completely died. I had swallowed my pride, managed his life, and cooked his meals to his exact standards for three years, only to be thrown away the second his first love returned. But he didn't know that the notebook his lawyer discarded contained the secret formulas of Aura Beauty, a billion-dollar empire I built in the shadows. I tore his check into pieces, blocked his number, and left in a Maybach sent by my associate. Logging into my global CEO database, I looked at his company's fragile stock chart with a predatory smile. The docile Mrs. Harrison died in the rain. It was time to crush his empire.

I woke up alone in a cold hospital room after a near-fatal car crash. My husband of three years, Bryant, claimed he was too busy with back-to-back meetings to visit me. But when I dragged my bruised body into the hallway, I caught him pinning his pregnant mistress against a vending machine. "As soon as my company IPOs next month, I'm dumping my useless wife." "She's so pathetic. She'd be living on the streets if it wasn't for my charity." For three years, Bryant and his mother had humiliated me for being an orphan, treating me like a penniless burden while he secretly bought a multi-million-dollar townhouse for his new family. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I had almost died in that wreckage, yet my husband was disgusted by my very existence, eagerly waiting to throw me away. But Bryant didn't know about the damp, sealed envelope the paramedics had recovered from my wrecked car. The DNA report inside proved I wasn't a nobody from the gutter. I was the biological daughter of the Beaumonts—New York's wealthiest, most ruthless billionaire dynasty. I didn't scream or confront them. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone, recorded their affair in high definition, and dialed a Wall Street financier I hadn't spoken to in years. "I'm done playing the happy housewife. Pull his algorithmic backdoors and drain the accounts."

Khloe was pinned inside a crushed car, cold metal piercing her abdomen as she slowly bled to death on the highway. Desperate and fading, she called her fiancé, Brenton, for help. But the call connected to the sound of an orchestra and a cheering crowd. He was marrying a billionaire heiress that very day, standing at the altar in the custom suit Khloe had spent six months tailoring for him. "I was in an accident... Please help me," she begged, coughing up blood. "Don't play these games," Brenton hissed with pure venom. "It would be better for everyone if you just disappeared. Die, for all I care." The line went dead. The silence was heavier than the twisted metal crushing her. As she flatlined in the back of an ambulance, memories of her pathetic life flashed before her. She was just the orphaned daughter of their driver, a charity case they bullied, used, and discarded. His sister stole her designs, and Brenton's love was nothing but a manipulative chain to control her. She had given that family her entire life, her talent, and her heart. Why did her absolute devotion only earn her a cruel, lonely death while he celebrated his new marriage? When Khloe opened her eyes again, the agonizing pain was gone. She was standing in the Waldorf Astoria suite, wearing the pristine white silk gown from her engagement party a year ago. Staring at the drugged champagne Brenton expected her to drink, she picked up a heavy crystal decanter instead. This time, she would make the rules.

I sat in the corner booth of a high-end restaurant, clutching a velvet-wrapped box to celebrate the multi-million dollar funding I had just secured for our company. My boyfriend, Wayne, finally walked in forty-five minutes late, but he wasn't alone. My best friend Jessica was clinging to his arm, her hand resting protectively over a twelve-week baby bump. "We’re breaking up, Lana," Wayne said, refusing to even look at me. "Jessica fits the image of a CEO’s wife better. Investors want pedigree, and your orphan background is a liability for the IPO." When I refused to hand over my patents for a measly severance check, the betrayal turned physical. His mother called me a "gutter rat" and threw a bowl of scalding soup onto my neck, while Wayne threatened to sue me for corporate espionage to ruin my reputation. They threw me out of the apartment I helped pay for, laughing as I stood on the sidewalk with nothing but a duffel bag and a burned shoulder. I couldn't wrap my head around the cruelty. How could the man I built a pharmaceutical empire for treat me like a disposable parasite? Did they honestly believe I was a nameless nobody they could just erase after stealing my life’s work? But as Wayne stepped out to mock me one last time, a fleet of silver Rolls Royces pulled up to the curb, boxing in his car and stopping traffic. A man in white gloves stepped out and bowed deeply toward me. "Welcome home, Miss Delacroix," he said, his voice echoing across the street. "Your parents have been waiting twenty years for this moment." Wayne watched in frozen horror as I stepped into the luxury car, finally realizing that the "orphan" he had just discarded was actually the long-lost heir to the most powerful family in the country.

Eleanor Sinclair always knew her stepmother and stepsister were leeches, but she never expected their betrayal to reach into her private study. In the dead of night, she caught the family's trusted nanny of twelve years photographing confidential trust documents. The mastermind paying her off was Lillian, Eleanor's stepmother, who had been secretly embezzling estate funds and bribing tutors to deliberately ruin the academic future of Eleanor's younger brother, the only legitimate heir. Emboldened by their deceit, the parasites grew arrogant. Her stepsister, Isabelle, deliberately flaunted her secret affair with Eleanor’s billionaire fiancé, sobbing fake tears while waiting for Eleanor to suffer a humiliating nervous breakdown. When the tension finally peaked, Lillian played the victim so perfectly that Eleanor's own father, a powerful U.S. Senator, stormed into the room with a raised hand, ready to strike his own daughter. "You will apologize to your stepsister immediately! I will not have this family harmony destroyed by your petty jealousy!" They actually expected her to be a weeping, heartbroken girl. They thought cheap hotel affairs and stolen pennies could outsmart the true Sinclair bloodline. Did they really believe a few fake tears and a weak-willed father could strip her of her empire? Eleanor didn't feel anger; she felt the cold, detached fascination of a biologist observing doomed insects. She calmly pulled out the forensic audits, locked down the estate's exits, and prepared her stepmother's psychiatric commitment papers. The merciless purge of her family had officially begun.

I was a top hand model, just weeks away from marrying billionaire Chase Strong. But my life was destroyed when my hands were severely burned by an exclusive cream recommended by my bridesmaid, Karis. The chemical burns ruined my career and cost me a three-million-dollar contract. When I cried in agony, Chase just frowned in annoyance, calling my pain a dramatic tantrum. He fiercely protected Karis, claiming she was worried sick about my accident, while his mother openly mocked me as a cripple unfit for their family. He even crossed my name off our first-class honeymoon tickets and wrote Karis's name instead, telling me it was compensation for her stress. I didn't understand why the man I loved was so cruel, until I secretly investigated the salon. I found out the cream was an unlicensed, corrosive chemical Karis deliberately used to disfigure me. And Chase knew. He was actively covering up her crime, treating me as a convenient placeholder while he protected the woman he truly wanted. I didn't scream or beg for his love anymore. On the morning of our multimillion-dollar wedding, I left the ten-carat diamond ring on his nightstand and vanished on a private jet. As he stood panicked at the altar in front of New York's elite, I sent him one last text: "I left you everything you ever gave me. Including this wedding."

I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen. But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg. She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini. "I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog." Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull. Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage. She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic. "He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!" When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever. My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust. I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle. I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes. This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.

My father was facing immediate arrest for embezzlement, and my stepmother's first reaction was to kick me out. The local boss gave me a sickening ultimatum: marry the town's terrifying, disfigured ex-con, or my father rots in jail and my little brother's future is ruined. Left with no choice, I walked into the freezing woods. I was so desperate that I stripped off my jacket, offering my body to the scarred beast just to stay warm. But Harrison looked at me with absolute disgust, threw my bag into the mud, and locked me out in the cold. When I crawled back home, my stepmother threw me onto the lawn. The local boss then attacked me in the dirt, deciding to sell me to a notoriously abusive family instead. Just as I was beaten nearly unconscious, Harrison appeared with a steel axe, brutally crushing the attackers. "She stays with me. I'll marry her tomorrow to settle the debt." But as I recovered inside his cabin, nothing made sense. He claimed to be a starving, penniless outcast, yet he wore immaculate custom leather boots and a fortune in authentic sandalwood beads. When I tried to put a blanket over his shivering shoulders, he nearly choked me to death in a blind, traumatized night terror. Who exactly was this incredibly dangerous man, and why was he pretending to be a worthless stray? As he turned his back and coldly ordered me to leave his property by sunrise, I wiped the dirt from my bruised face. I wasn't going anywhere.

Ten years as childhood friends and three as husband and wife ended in her husband's betrayal, and her brothers' indifference. Diagnosed with mid-stage stomach cancer, Roselyn saw the truth of her life. She walked away from everything, rising from an overlooked office worker to a leading figure in the tech world. She outplayed her husband into signing divorce papers. When they met again, he begged, "I was wrong... take me back. I'd give you my stomach if I could." Her once arrogant brothers pleaded too, but she felt nothing. After all, love that arrived too late meant nothing to her now-she simply didn't care anymore. As they stood desperate, a man stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. "Why waste time on them? Look at me instead."

I ruined my marriage and abandoned my billionaire husband for the man I thought was my true love. But instead of a romantic escape, I found myself cornered on the edge of a yacht by three mercenaries. Through a burner phone on speaker, my lover casually ordered my murder. "Finish the job cleanly. No bodies, no evidence." In the background, my own cousin giggled. My supposed best friend chimed in, demanding they strip the diamond bracelet off my wrist before tossing me into the freezing waves. They were celebrating a massive trust fund payout built entirely on my death. As I was brutally thrown into the churning black abyss, the freezing saltwater filled my lungs. Sinking into the crushing darkness, I realized I had blindly trusted venomous snakes. My dying thought was of Barrett Kensington-the husband I had tortured with my rebellion, and the only man who truly loved me. If the universe granted me one more breath, I swore a blood oath to tear my betrayers apart piece by piece. Then, the freezing water suddenly vanished, replaced by stifling heat. I opened my eyes and found myself pinned against a silk mattress by a furious Barrett. I was back three years ago, on the exact night I first tried to escape him. This time, instead of fighting him, I relaxed my wrists, looked into his paranoid eyes, and softly whispered. "Hubby."

For five years, I lived as a ghost in my own body, a replacement for the dead twin sister I never knew. My family held my dream of becoming a designer hostage, forcing me into a contract after they'd already sabotaged my future as a concert pianist. On the night the contract was set to end, my younger brother found my secret portfolio. In a blind rage, he tore my life's work to shreds and shoved me to the ground. I landed hard, my left hand slamming against a table with a sickening crack. It was my drawing hand. It was broken. When my parents arrived, they didn't see my pain. My father blamed me for provoking my brother. My mother accused me of trying to kill her. Then, my father's hand struck my face. "You monster!" he roared. "You are nothing but a vicious, manipulative creature!" The boy I had raised for five years screamed at me to get out, his eyes filled with a chilling hatred I finally understood they had fed him. I looked at my bleeding hand, at the wreckage of my dreams, and at the strangers who called themselves my family. I finally stopped trying to earn their love. I turned and walked out the door, leaving them behind forever.

Serena was pulled out of a filthy Appalachian trailer park by the wealthy Sinclair family, expected to be their perfectly obedient daughter. But to secure a pharmaceutical supply chain, her adoptive father demanded she sign a marriage contract with a known predator in the Manhattan social scene. When she flatly refused, the family she had tried to please for twenty years instantly turned on her. "You are nothing without us!" her father roared, threatening to freeze her accounts and throw her back on the streets. Her adoptive mother looked at her with pure disgust, praising her perfect sister before screaming at Serena to get out and never come back. Stripped of her jewelry and kicked out into the freezing night, she was treated like a disposable stray dog. To make matters worse, a vindictive socialite immediately hired four syndicate thugs to break her legs in a dark alley. They all thought she was just a helpless, penniless orphan who would eventually crawl back and beg for their mercy. They had no idea she was actually the elusive master pharmacist Elara, a genius with a massive underground bounty on her head. And they certainly didn't know she was already secretly, legally married to Lucas Sterling-the most ruthless and powerful billionaire in New York. As the thugs lunged at her, a black Maybach violently blocked the alley, and her fiercely protective husband stepped out into the shadows. Tearing her adoptive mother's hush-money check into tiny shreds, Serena looked at the man who had just offered her his entire estate. She wasn't leaving this city; she was going to stay right here and watch the Sinclair family completely fall apart.

To keep my comatose mother's heart beating in the ICU, I desperately needed two hundred thousand dollars. Instead of a loan, my aunt and uncle brought me a proxy marriage contract. They sold me to Julian Montgomery—a billionaire rumored to be a disfigured, ruthless monster—just to pay off their own bankruptcy debts. "Sign it, or they pull her plug right now." I was dragged to his gothic estate, where Julian nearly choked me in the dark on our first night. He trapped me with a fifty million dollar divorce penalty and transferred my mother to a fortress-like VIP hospital, taking absolute control of her life. He forced me to wear humiliating lingerie and play the role of a shameless gold digger to disgust his hostile family. But the most terrifying part was when he peeled off his scarred silicone mask, revealing a flawlessly handsome face underneath. Why was this manipulative psychopath spending millions on my mother's medical care? Why was he going to such extreme lengths to trap me in this hell, only to treat me worse than a maid? The answer came when his sister suddenly kicked open our bedroom door. "You think marrying this cheap whore will make you forget Luna Bloom? She's back in New York!" Feeling Julian's body instantly turn to stone at the sound of his first love's name, the truth hit me. I was nothing but a prop. But if he thought I would just lay down and be his victim, he was dead wrong.

Elsie stood completely alone in the pouring rain at her father's freshly dug grave. Before she could even mourn, a black SUV pulled up, and Roland Cantu shoved a marriage contract into her hands. He claimed her father had embezzled three billion dollars from the Carlisle group, leaving her with a massive debt. "Sign the marriage contract, and the debt is forgiven." When Elsie refused to marry a dying man, Roland threatened to instantly cut off her mother's life support and her own vital heart medication. Forced to sign, she was dragged to the Carlisle fortress, stripped of her clothes, scrubbed with harsh chemicals, and locked in a glass medical cage. Inside, she was guarded by Axel Stone, a ruthless proxy who treated her like a corporate assassin. When Elsie simply tried to give her dying husband a sip of water, Axel slapped the cup away and accused her of poisoning it. "Get on your knees and drink it." He violently forced her head toward the puddle on the cold floor, triggering a massive, near-fatal cardiac event. Even after she survived and proved her innocence, Axel still ordered her only warm meal thrown into the garbage disposal. Elsie didn't understand why her father was framed, or why she was trapped in this paranoid nightmare with a sadistic madman. But as she stared at the empty kitchen counter, her fear finally turned into burning anger. Since they desperately needed her alive to produce an heir and secure their trust fund, she would use their own leverage against them. She was going to demand a child through IVF, survive this prison, and tear this twisted family apart to clear her father's name.

On her second wedding anniversary, Althea waited in their luxury penthouse with a positive pregnancy test hidden in her pocket. But her husband, Darren, didn't come home to celebrate. He brought back Caroline-the woman he constantly protected-and her two twin boys. Caroline immediately played the helpless victim, taking Althea's designated seat at the dining table. When Caroline's spoiled son intentionally bumped hard into Althea's leg, Darren didn't even care. When the rich smell of food triggered Althea's severe morning sickness and she dry-heaved over the sink, Darren slammed his silverware down in disgust. "Stop using this childish fake sickness to get sympathy!" He glared at Althea, ordering her to show basic tolerance to Caroline or go back to her room. Althea stood frozen, her heart aching as she watched her husband patiently cut steak for another woman's child like a real family. Her two-year marriage was a complete joke. Why should she stay and be humiliated when he clearly didn't love her? She reached into her apron, but she didn't take out the pregnancy test. Instead, she pulled out the divorce papers, slammed them onto the table, and walked out into the cold night. Two years later, when Darren was trapped in a storm and forced to beg for shelter at her remote trailer, he had no idea his ex-wife was actually the ruthless corporate mastermind about to destroy his empire.

To escape my greedy stepmother, I signed a marriage contract with a cold, rigid construction manager, expecting a miserable life of poverty. But the moment the ink dried, I realized I had severely misjudged the man I just married. He wasn't a broke blue-collar worker. He lived in a multi-million-dollar penthouse, spoke flawless business French, and cooked gourmet meals while forbidding me from doing chores. Most bizarrely, he dodged my physical touch like it was a live wire. He gave me a massive separate bedroom. When a speeding bike nearly hit me on the street, he yanked me to safety, only to violently shove himself away a second later, seemingly terrified of holding a woman. I decided to test him, stating I wanted to delay having children for our fake marriage. "I will respect your wishes entirely and shield you from my family," he answered perfectly. The puzzle pieces snapped together in my mind. The immaculate apartment, the commanding presence, the absolute refusal to be intimate. I was absolutely certain: my wealthy fake husband was gay, and I was just his beard. Relieved that I wouldn't have to sleep with a stranger, I happily relaxed into my new role as his supportive best friend. But as elite job offers mysteriously began landing in my inbox, I started to realize my "gay" husband was hiding a much deeper, far more dangerous obsession.

Ciara had just found out she was exactly six weeks pregnant. Overjoyed, she immediately dialed her billionaire husband, Alexzander, to share the news. But before she could speak, a chaotic crash echoed through the phone, followed by his raw, panicked roar. "Ellie, hold on!" Stunned by his desperate tone for another woman, Ciara didn't notice the heavy medical cart hurtling towards her until it smashed into her body. Covered in blood and clutching her cramping stomach in the emergency room, she fought to stay conscious. Suddenly, Alexzander rushed past her stretcher. He was frantically carrying Elliana—the heiress he claimed was just a legal obligation. He was so consumed with terror for Elliana that he didn't even glance down to see his own wife lying there, broken and bleeding. When Ciara later demanded a divorce, he trapped her against the sofa, his eyes cold and calculating. "Without my trust fund, you will lose everything. Are you truly prepared to throw away such privilege?" For four years, Ciara had endured the mockery of high society, believing his cold demeanor hid a deep love for her. But as she sat in their massive penthouse with a broken arm, she realized she might just be a cheap placeholder in his golden cage. When he finally returned, swearing on his empire that Ciara and the baby were his only priorities, Ciara stopped fighting. She stroked her stomach and accepted the truce. But the naive, trusting wife was dead. She would stay, but the moment she caught him in another lie, there would be no more tears—only absolute destruction.

On the eve of my lavish New York wedding, my partner of ten years, Holden Ferguson, informed me the ceremony was just for show. The marriage license, he explained with a smirk while his mistress lay in our bed, was for her. He was leaving me at the altar, confident I was trapped after a decade of him systematically taking credit for my architectural brilliance. He called me his "dependent asset," a woman whose career and reputation were built on the platform he provided. "You have no choice, darling," he taunted, reminding me I'd given up my wealthy family for him. "You're nothing without me." He expected me to crumble, to play the part of the humiliated bride and wait for him to return after securing his new future. He thought he had planned my destruction perfectly, underestimating the quiet woman who secretly controlled a fortune. But as he left, I picked up my phone and dialed my fiercest professional rival. "Jaxon," I said calmly, "I need you to marry me. Today."