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Once Discarded, I Married His Dearest Daddy

Once Discarded, I Married His Dearest Daddy

Romance
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-08
By:  Winnie ElOngoing
Language: English
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Synopsis

Winning Back the Wife

Independent

Age Gap

Forbidden Love

Protective

Betrayal

Goodgirl

Contemporary

Dark Romance

They say the past shows you the truth. Mine lied. Two years of loving a man who couldn’t even say my name when it mattered. Two years of standing beside Marcus Voss while he climbed his way to the top—late nights, silent sacrifices, swallowing every doubt just so he could shine. And the night he finally did? He destroyed me. In front of five hundred people… and the entire world watching, he called another woman his future wife, it was not me…never me and then he served me the divorce papers on a cold platter. That should’ve been the end of me but it wasn’t. Because the man who found me that night… wasn’t a stranger. He was Damien Voss. Marcus’s father. Cold. Untouchable. I should have been afraid…Maybe I was. Now the world is watching again. Only this time, I’m not the woman being humiliated on stage. I am the one standing beside the man who owns it. I am the woman who seeks revenge in the most painful way ever. And when my ex-husband looks at me now—really looks—he finally sees what he threw away. Well, too late, loser. I’m not yours anymore. I’m becoming something far more dangerous. And this time? I won’t be the one who breaks.

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76 Chapters
The Mirror Lied. 
It was finally the day she had always imagined. Diane stood in front of the full-length mirror in their luxurious bedroom, adjusting the strap of her silver gown one last time. The fabric hugged her figure perfectly, catching the light like liquid moonlight. She had spent hours on her hair and makeup, wanting tonight to be flawless.Two years of marriage. Two years of supporting Marcus through every late night, every risky deal, every moment of doubt. Tonight was the victory party for the biggest merger of his career—the one that would catapult him into the top tier of the business world. She had played her part quietly, perfectly. She smiled at her reflection, heart fluttering with pride. “You did well, Diane ,” she whispered. “He’ll finally see it tonight.”Her phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: Hurry down. They’re waiting.She took a deep breath, grabbed her clutch, and headed to the Grand Imperial Hotel ballroom.The moment she entered, the glamour hit her. Crystal chandelier
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Rain and Ruins
Diane stumbled out of the Grand Imperial Hotel into the pouring rain, silver gown clinging to her skin like a second, freezing layer. She didn’t call for a cab. She didn’t have the strength to speak to anyone. Instead, she started walking the twelve blocks back to the penthouse she had once called home. Heels slipped on wet pavement. Rain mixed with the hot tears streaming down her face.Every few steps, giant digital billboards lit up the night sky above the city streets.The video was already everywhere.Marcus’s confident voice echoed from the massive screens: “Sophia has been my rock… She’s going to be my wife.”Then the close-up of Diane frozen mid-step, face pale with shock as Sophia glided onto the stage instead. The crowd’s gasps. Marcus holding up the envelope. Her name spoken like it was nothing.“Ordinary.”The word flashed in headlines beneath the looping clip on every major billboard: *Billionaire Heir Publicly Dumps Wife at Victory Party – Watch Live!*Pedestrians stopp
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The Cold Hand of Mercy
Diane dragged the small suitcase behind her, wheels catching on the wet pavement as she stepped out of the apartment tower into the relentless downpour. The silver gown was still plastered to her body, heavy and cold, her hair hanging in limp strands that dripped into her eyes. She had managed to stuff only a few changes of clothes, some documents, and a single photo of her and Marcus from their wedding day—now probably ruined—into the bag. Everything else belonged to the new life she was no longer part of.The rain stung her face, mixing with fresh tears she couldn’t stop. Thirty minutes. That was all he had given her. Thirty minutes to erase Two years .She stood on the curb, shivering violently, one arm raised weakly for a taxi that never seemed to come. Passersby hurried past under umbrellas, some stealing glances at the drenched woman who looked like she had just crawled out of a nightmare. Her phone buzzed again in her clutch—the same unknown number. She didn’t answer. She coul
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New Skin, Old Shadows
Two months had transformed everything.Diane stood before the full-length mirror in the master suite of Damien Voss’s Monaco penthouse, the Mediterranean Sea glittering like scattered sapphires beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.The woman staring back was no longer the drenched, mascara-streaked wife who had begged on her knees in a rain-soaked penthouse.Her hair, once long and softly styled for Marcus’s approval, was now cut into a sleek, sophisticated bob that framed her face with sharp elegance. A team of stylists handpicked by Damien had reshaped her wardrobe: tonight she wore a midnight-blue gown that skimmed her curves with quiet power, not the desperate sparkle of silver. Diamond studs gleamed at her ears—subtle, expensive, chosen without fanfare. The ordinary girl from before had vanished. In her place stood a woman who moved with measured grace, whose eyes held secrets instead of pleas.She was Damien Voss’s personal assistant now.He had flown her out the morning after
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Ashes and Vows
The moment the words left Diane’s lips the terrace seemed to tilt. Marcus’s face drained of color, then flushed crimson with pure rage. Sophia clutched his arm, her crimson gown suddenly looking cheap under the flashing cameras that had spilled out from the ballroom.“You gold-digging bitch,” Marcus spat, lunging forward only to be stopped cold by two of Damien’s security men. “You think you can just spread your legs for my father and steal everything? After everything I gave you?”Diane didn’t flinch. The old Diane would have cried. The new one simply lifted her chin, the diamond on her finger catching the moonlight like a blade.“I didn’t steal anything, Marcus. You threw it away on live television. Remember? ‘Ordinary.’ ‘Comfortable.’ ‘Never meant for this level.’” She smiled, cool and composed. “Turns out the view from the top looks much better from your father’s side.”Damien’s voice cut through the night like frost. “Enough. Get them out of here.”“What? Father, you can't possib
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The Head of the Table
The air inside the Voss International headquarters always felt a few degrees colder than the rest of the city. It was the smell of old money and expensive air filtration. Diane stood in the private elevator, her reflection staring back from the polished brass. She looked different. A week ago, she was a ghost in the hallways. Today, she wore a tailored navy suit that felt like a second skin, her hair cut into that sharp, unforgiving bob. She kept twisting the diamond on her finger, the cold metal a grounding weight. Beside her, Damien stood perfectly still. He didn't need to check his reflection. He was the sun this entire building orbited around."They won't like it," Diane said, her voice barely a whisper as the floor numbers climbed. "The board. They’ll see me as an intruder."Damien didn't look at her, but his hand found the small of her back, a brief and steadying pressure. "Let them. Their likes and dislikes are irrelevant to the bottom line. You aren't there to be liked, Dian
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Fractures
The noise was constant. It didn't matter if the windows of the penthouse were triple-paned and soundproofed against the city. The digital roar leaked through the screens, vibrating in Diane’s palm every time she made the mistake of looking at her phone. The internet had split down the middle. One side called her a mastermind, a woman who had played a long, cold game to trade up from the prince to the king. The other side treated her like a tragic heroine in a gothic novel. They debated her life over coffee and during lunch breaks. They dissected the way she walked out of that hotel in the rain as if they were analyzing a crime scene.Damien watched her from across the breakfast table. He didn't scroll. He didn't check the tags. He just sat there with the financial Times and a cup of black coffee, looking as unbothered as a mountain."Do you think they all hate me, Damien?" Diane asked, setting her tablet face down. She hadn't touched her eggs. Damien finally looked up. His eyes wer
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Bitter Scheming
Sophia Lang was pacing restlessly. The air in Marcus’s temporary apartment felt stale, thick with the smell of expensive scotch and the kind of sweat that only comes from panic. On the massive wall-mounted television, Diane’s face was everywhere. She looked... different. That was the thing that was eating Marcus alive. She didn't look like the woman who used to worry about the thread count of his sheets or make sure his favorite dinner was warm when he stumbled in at midnight. She looked like someone who could buy and sell him."Look at her," Sophia hissed, her voice cutting through the silence like a jagged blade. She was pacing the length of the living room, a glass of champagne in one hand and her phone in the other. Her hair was a little messy, a far cry from the sleek red-dress perfection of the gala. "Look at that pathetic, rehearsed face. She’s playing them, Marcus. She’s playing the whole world."On the screen, Diane was mid-sentence, her eyes soft and full of that "control
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More Than Wedding Plans
Monaco in the spring feels like a postcard designed by someone who hates the poor. Everything is too bright. Too blue. The air smells like expensive salt and jet fuel from the helicopters constantly buzzing the coastline.Diane stood in the center of the grand ballroom, surrounded by people who cost more per hour than she used to earn in a month. There was a French planner with a sharp bob and an even sharper attitude, two florists debating the structural integrity of white peonies, and a woman holding a tray of silk swatches that looked like flayed clouds. They were all staring at her. Waiting."The lilies, Madame," the planner said, her voice a soft, insistent purr. "They must be imported from the valley. Anything else would be... pedestrian."Diane looked at the lilies. She thought about the flowers Marcus used to buy her. Cheap grocery store roses that he’d hand over without looking up from his phone, usually because he’d forgotten an anniversary or stayed out too late. She’d al
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The Salt in the Wound
Sophia couldn’t stop moving. The apartment felt too small, even though it was three thousand square feet of prime real estate. She paced the length of the marble floor, her heels clicking like a countdown. Every time she saw Diane’s face on the news, she felt a physical surge of nausea. It was the "icy grace" everyone kept talking about. The way the press had turned that little mouse into a martyr. It was disgusting. It was wrong. Marcus was a mess, sure, but Diane? Diane was a nobody. She was a placeholder who had somehow convinced the King of Monaco to give her a throne."I won't let it happen," Sophia muttered. She stopped in front of the window, staring at the city lights. "I won't lose to a housewife."She knew how the world worked. It didn't matter what was true. It only mattered what people were willing to believe. And people loved a fall from grace. They loved it even more when it involved a scandal so dirty it made the "real love" narrative look like a cheap lie.She picked
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