Contos de Romance com Bias e Romances com Revenge

I put three hundred million dollars into building a business for my brother's first love. They were finally getting married. But two hours before the wedding, the maid of honor suddenly went AWOL. To keep the wedding on track, I dropped a major international deal, booked the next flight out, and flew back immediately. When I arrived, my brother hugged me gratefully and handed me the wedding ring along with a gift box — inside was a necklace, a token he'd promised Celeste. "Sis, I'm counting on you to take care of Celeste's side. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you step in as maid of honor today?" But the moment I walked into the bridal suite, my brother's bride slapped me across the face. "You've got some nerve showing up here, you homewrecking bitch." "You think you can steal my husband at my own wedding? Are you out of your mind?" "Celeste, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I’m Alexander’s sister…" I tried to explain. "Who the hell are you kidding?! My sister-in-law runs a billion-dollar empire. A tramp like you could never." "You want to steal my husband? Fine. Let's see how tough you really are." And just like that, I was tied up and thrown into a pen with a vicious dog. Celeste Davenport — if that's how you want to play it, then enjoy your one-way ticket to the hell.

For three years, I was the only one allowed inside my husband, Matthew Carter's, secret room on the top floor. Until that day—when I walked in and found his young assistant there. "Matthew asked me to get things ready for his dinner party," she said, all confidence and no shame. I smiled. It turned out this was what it felt like to have my privileges as his wife trampled on. Fine. If the rules of the game had changed, then I would show everyone who the real player was. One by one, I dismantled the Carter family's most prized projects. That was when Matthew finally panicked. He demanded, "Why? We're husband and wife!" "Exactly," I said, tossing the divorce papers onto his desk. "And that's why betrayal comes with a steeper price, doesn't it?"

The most spineless heiress and the most arrogant heiress in Jindale happen to come from the same family. When my half-sister, Sienna Thomson, holds my head over a toilet bowl, the fleeing wealthy heir, Daniel Lowe, shoots clean through both of her hands. "She is the future mistress of Jindale! No one touches her!" Spiteful to her core, Sienna doubles down on tormenting me while sabotaging Daniel at every turn on his path to power. Daniel fights tooth and nail for ten years. On the very day he finally claims the throne of the Lowe family, he books a luxury suite to propose to me. Yet when I push open the door, I find him naked in bed with Sienna. Everyone gasps in shock. After all, it's no secret that Sienna is our common enemy. Sienna sneers, brazenly flaunting the red marks all over her body. "Daniel, don't tell me you mistook me for Charlotte again. You're as sharp as a tack tonight. You handed that Eastia project to me on a silver platter, didn't you? How long are you going to keep fooling yourself? You like a powerful woman. You can't stand a weakling like Charlotte." A faint smile stays fixed on Daniel's face, yet he doesn't deny it. Amidst collective gasps, he casually picks up the ring and tries to slide it onto my finger. But I hold back my hand. I just ask, "You once told me that the moment you were in charge, I could do whatever I wanted with Jindale. Does that still stand?" He freezes, assuming I will yield as I always have over the last decade, and nods with a smile. "Of course." I smile too.

I left Seaport for Crellan, thinking I was about to marry Bryson. Instead, I got drugged and kidnapped on our engagement day. Barely conscious, I caught him talking to his assistant. "Doctor and kidnappers—handled?" Bryson said. "Get her kidney. Lily's out of time." The assistant wavered. "She's not in great shape. This could ruin her." That gave Bryson a flicker of guilt—but it vanished quick. "She's not fragile like Lily. She's a broke student. If her kidney didn't match, she wouldn't be living like this. That's worth it." His face stayed ice-cold. I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug in, blood pooling in my mouth. So that was true Bryson—a monster in disguise. He thought I wanted to sell my health for some empty marriage. Too bad I never wanted it.

My childhood crush's first night is put up for auction after her family goes bankrupt. Instead of paying an exorbitant amount of money to save her from her predicament, I choose to remain on the sidelines and do nothing. Later, I also call off our engagement and move abroad. I act this way because, in our past life, she assumes that I'm expecting her to repay me after I save her. She gives me the cold shoulder for years after we get married, but she gives birth to a pair of twins who belong to her first love. She even allows her twins to poison me. The four of them stand before me when I'm lying on my deathbed. "Our family can finally reunite." My heart burns with hatred when I take my last breath. When I'm given another chance at life, I decide to leave before they can hurt me, fulfilling their wishes.

After I become pregnant, Mason Clarke suddenly becomes incredibly attentive to me. He cancels all his social engagements and personally cooks for me every day. Everyone envies me for finding such a devoted and caring husband. Until one day in his study, I accidentally discover a document titled "Prenatal Blood Donation and Cord Blood Donation Agreement". My name and social security number are clearly written on it! In the beneficiary column is Chloe Reid, his first love, whom he has been supporting abroad for seven years. From outside the door comes his gentle, doting voice. "Chloe, don't worry. I'm personally monitoring her. Her nutrition and daily routine are held to the highest standards to ensure the baby is born perfectly healthy. Your life-saving treatment is absolutely guaranteed!" So all those pregnancy meals he carefully prepares for me, the mountains of expensive supplements, none of it is ever out of love. It's all to fatten me into nothing more than a walking blood bank!

On the day of our engagement, as we were driving to the banquet hall, a man holding a few-month-old baby stepped in front of our car. My first thought was that it was some kind of scam. I was about to get out and deal with him when I saw the panic on his face. "Cassidy," he said desperately, "our baby won't stop crying. Do you think something's wrong?" The moment she heard that, my fiancée shoved me out of the car. She took off with them without a single glance back. I just stood there in shock. So this was the truth. She'd been hiding a child with her ex all along. Alone, I went to the banquet hall to handle what remained of our celebration. Later, she called. "I feel terrible about this," she said. "I thought if I gave him the baby and gave you the marriage, it would balance things out. But when Stanley showed up today, I realized—he's the only one I want." I was done with her games. If that's how she felt, I'd walk away. So I made a simple phone call. "Grandma, I'm coming home. I'm ready to run the family business now."

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

After I quit my job to become a full-time househusband, my wife, Brooke Lowell, left me with nothing but a bank card capped at 1,000 dollars a month. She said children had to be raised with hardship to grow up strong, and was always worried I might secretly give our daughter special treatment. But 1,000 dollars was nowhere near enough to cover a household's monthly expenses. Every time the kindergarten asked for nutrition fees, I could only swallow my pride and beg for leniency. "She's just a child. Why does she need that much money? You've got some nerve, living so comfortably on 1,000 a month." I had thought Brooke's harshness was meant to temper our daughter's character. That illusion lasted until I asked Brooke for 300 dollars to buy clothes for our daughter's Children's Day performance. What I received instead was humiliation and ridicule from everyone. Brooke accused me of acting like a spoiled rich kid, wasting money on unnecessary clothes. My mother-in-law complained that I dressed too poorly, like a beggar bringing shame to the family. Even my daughter blamed me for embarrassing her, saying I had ruined her Children's Day and damaged her props. I bowed my head, apologized, and paid compensation. Only then did I discover that my bank card had been frozen. The very next moment, Brooke's crush posted on social media about his son receiving a luxury mansion. 'Already a house-owner at three! Who'd believe she's not his birth mother?' Only then did I understand. People who truly loved someone would never be stingy when spending on them.

My husband, Matthew Glover, fabricates a scandal to help his childhood sweetheart, reporter Melanie Reed, boost her numbers. "Mrs. Glover Sleeps Around—Multiple Affairs Lead to Repeated Miscarriages." He uses it as a gimmick to grab attention. Next thing I know, my name's in the mud and the internet's tearing me to pieces. When I bring up divorce, Matthew says I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Melanie just started at the TV station. If she doesn't deliver, her coworkers will laugh at her. You're just doing her a favor. It's not like you're actually losing anything." I don't even bother arguing with him. I simply push the divorce agreement toward him. "If you want to help her, go ahead. But we're getting divorced!"

I'm eight months pregnant, and I suddenly go into early labor. But my husband, Aldrich Lohan, locks me up in the basement and gives me a tocolytic injection to stop my labor instead. He does all these just to ensure that his sister-in-law's baby is born before mine, so that my child won't fight for the inheritance rights. "Anton saved my life," Aldrich says, referring to his elder brother. "But now, he's gone, succeeded only by the baby in Chrissy's womb. I must let her baby inherit all the rights. Chrissy lost everything, but you're still here, enjoying everything I'm giving you like you're entitled to them. So what if you compromise a little bit for her sake?" The contractions in my lower body are hurting more than I can bear. I'm on the verge of passing out as I grab on to the hem of his pants and beg, "I swear that I won't let my child claim his inheritance rights! Please, just send me to the hospital. My child will die otherwise!" However, Aldrich just kicks me aside. "Chrissy has been pregnant for nine months. How can you be giving birth in just eight months? How would I know whether or not you're just inducing birth on purpose? I don't care. I won't let anyone steal the inheritance rights from Chrissy's baby, even if there's just a minuscule percentage of it happening." In the end, Chrissy successfully gives birth to her child, and it's only after that that Aldrich finally remembers me in the basement. "Bring Kelsey to the hospital and make them bring out the best medical equipment to ensure the safe birth of my child." His personal assistant, Edgar Salome, shivers as he says, "But Mr. Lohan… Mrs. Lohan and her child have both died…"

When our teacher caught my desk mate, Avery Collins, and me stealing mock exam papers just before the college entrance exam, he shouted, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner! What was the point of stealing the mock exam papers? Tell me, who was the mastermind?" In my previous life, I took the blame without hesitation. My father nearly beat me to death for it. Avery and I attended the same university, got married after graduation, and raised a daughter, spending thirty years together. I believed I had the perfect life. Then, on the day of my daughter, Emma's wedding, I was thrown out of the venue. Emma told me, "You have no right to be here. Caleb Morgan is my real father." Avery looked at me coldly. "After you got drunk, you already signed the divorce papers. The company, the house, and all the assets belong to me now. You're leaving with nothing. From this day forward, we're strangers." Lost in a daze, I wandered into the street and was crushed beneath a speeding truck. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day everything began. This time, I told the teacher directly, "Avery was the one behind it. I gave her the papers, but I never looked at them. My score belongs to me."

My boyfriend, Terry Bolton, comes from a rich family. He has a female childhood friend. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven, but he swore he only loved me and Sarah Horst was just his simp. He asked her to buy us condoms in the rain, but when he saw her soaking wet, he kicked me out. "Why did you take so long to open the door? You know she gets sick easily." My graduation thesis was ruined by Sarah's clumsiness. I asked her to apologize, but he yelled at me. "She's just a little clumsy. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" In the four years that I dated him, I endured again and again until, one day, a DUI hit-and-run case made headlines. Terry kicked my door open while hugging the distressed Sarah. "If you take the blame for her, I'll find the best doctors from all over the world for your mother. After all, you still have me, but if she goes to prison, her life is ruined." Looking at his anxious face, I chuckled. Did he forget that I'm a Harvard law graduate? Screw this relationship. I decided not to endure it anymore. She's going to prison for sure.

Three years into my marriage to Vivian Rhodes, I've suffered three separate accidents. In the first year, my art studio mysteriously catches fire, and a falling easel crushes both of my hands. In the second year, I am involved in a car accident that damages my reproductive system, leaving me infertile. In the third year, I am attacked and suffer a severe head injury. When I wake up, I develop serious vision problems. The doctor tells me that my corneas are severely damaged and infected. To save my life, they have to remove one of my eyes. Devastated, I chase the doctors and nurses out of my room and flee from the hospital. But then I overhear my wife talking to her best friend, Hailey Dawson. "Vivian, you ruined Julian's hands and made him infertile for Andrew. Now you're working with the doctor to deceive him and take his eye. If Julian finds out, he'll hate you." Vivian's expression darkens, but her voice remains firm. "If Julian can still paint, Andy will never win any award. And I promise Andy that all my love and everything I own will go to Cece. So I can only have one child. Only by making Julian blind can I bring Cece home without arousing suspicion. She looks so much like me." So the happy marriage I think I have is nothing but a carefully constructed lie. All three "accidents" over the past three years are her doing. I can no longer accept a marriage that has cost me my life.

My grandfather is hit by a car, and his skull is shattered. I take the driver to court. That's when I find out my husband, Stuart Creed, who was supposedly abroad on a business trip, is suddenly at the hospital. He looks at me coldly and snaps, "Do you have any idea how important Maddy’s valedictorian announcement is? Her future can't be ruined by some car accident! Drop the case right now, or I'll cut off all your credit cards and have your grandfather kicked out of the VIP ward!" He slams the door and storms out. Before that, he snarls, "Come home when you agree. Until then, forget about calling yourself Mrs. Creed!" While I'm out desperately trying to gather money for my grandfather's surgery, a team of lawyers contacts me. Turns out the patent my grandfather once authorized to Creed Group has expired. And now, I'm the new legal owner.

The sole heiress of a wealthy family, Amanita Wallace, had seven prospective husbands, taken in from childhood to potentially wed her one day. All of them fulfilled her every wish, except Marcus Channing, who was cold and mean to her. Due to this, Amanita fell for him and even became his lapdog. Then, one day, she saw him pin his supposed sister against the wall and confess his feelings to her.

My half-brother, Jim Sullivan, pushed me down a snowy mountain, leaving me with a fractured spine. My mom, Doris Moore, and my wife, Julia Stone, rushed me to the hospital in a panic. Later, they learned that I might be permanently paralyzed. To put my mind at ease, Julia held up a ring and swore that she would take care of me for the rest of my life. Mom also cut ties with Jim, saying she would make him pay for what he had done. They told me Jim fell off a cliff while trying to escape, and they never found his body. I believed them. That was until three years into my marriage, a friend sent me a video. In the footage, Jim, who was supposed to be dead, was holding a child in his left arm and had his right arm around Julia. "Julia, thank goodness you helped me fake my death. Otherwise, I'd be in prison right now!" Jim said. "Has Mom said when we can get the inheritance Joshua's dad left him? "I really can't stand living in hiding like this anymore!" "Jim, I know these past few years haven't been easy for you," Julia said. "If it weren't for that inheritance, I wouldn't have married that cripple. "As soon as we get that money, the three of us can be together again!" It turned out that what I thought was my salvation was just another terrible betrayal. The two women who mattered most to me had never truly cared about me. If that was the case, I wouldn't show them any mercy.

My boyfriend of six years, Liam Sherman, proposes to his long-time crush, Vivi Johansen, on my birthday. With that, the passionate love between us is a thing of the past. I come to my senses and distance myself from him, choosing to put our relationship behind us. As such, I decided to go along with the arranged marriage my family has planned.

On the day I miscarried and suffered from haemorrhage, my husband posted a photo of a newborn’s tiny feet on his Instagram Story. The caption read: “Welcome, little angel. Daddy will always protect you.” With trembling hands, I called him. “The baby’s gone. Can you come to the hospital?” On the other end, I heard a baby crying, followed by the man’s impatient voice. “In that case, take good care of yourself. Louise just gave birth and needs someone to care for her. I can’t leave. “Besides, the dead shouldn’t compete with the living for affection. Got it?” He hung up right after. I broke down alone on the hospital bed, and when I finally wiped away my tears, I dialed the number of his sworn enemy, Levi Snow. “Marry me, and the entire Wright Corporation will be my dowry. All I want is for you to bring Finn Yeaton down. Do we have a deal?”