Ashley Till Divorce

On my wedding day, my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart arrived, wearing the exact same custom wedding dress as me. They stood together, greeting guests, while I smiled and praised them as a match made in heaven. Humiliated, she left the venue in tears. In her defense, my fiancé publicly accused me of being petty and unreasonable. After the wedding reception, he left with her for the honeymoon we had planned together. I didn’t cry. Instead, I called my lawyer immediately.

My husband, Clement Norman, promised to make up for our missed honeymoon. It was five years late, but I was still excited. I got ready and really looked forward to it. But right before we boarded the plane, I realized there was someone extra in our group—Clement's childhood friend, Madison Bowen. He explained half-heartedly, "Madison's never been abroad before. I figured we could bring her along." I wasn't thrilled, but when I spoke up, he made it sound like I was being dramatic. "Are you jealous of our relationship because you didn't grow up with a proper family? I see her as a sister. You wouldn't get it—you grew up an orphan." I chose to stay quiet, not wanting to ruin our honeymoon. But we encountered an avalanche halfway through the trip. My leg got stuck deep in the snow, and I couldn't move. And the first thing Clement did was grab Madison's hand and run. He didn't even look back.

My husband slept with my best friend, then hit me with divorce papers all within a day. So I ended up in bed with his father–didn't realise it at first, but now his dad's handed me a contract: be his consort and I get my revenge. Who am I to turn down fate? Dahlia Dalmante has spent five years fading into the background of her own marriage–always loyal, always silent, hiding the filthy fantasies she only ever had about her husband. None of them mattered. By the time she discovers him in bed with her best friend, she realises she was never more than a place holder to a man that never wanted her. That night, Dahlia ends up in a dark bar and lets herself do the one thing she swore she never would: leave with a stranger. But the night doesn't end in regret. The stranger–commanding and older–pushes her to the edge, and she lets go of everything she thought she knew about her body. By sunrise, everything is different. Her one wild night? Turns out he's Dominic Dalmante–her husband's father. The real power behind the Dalmante empire. When Dominic steps in to save her from ruin, Dahlia finds herself locked in a game of raw heat and high stakes: he'll give her revenge, power, protection–if she gives herself to him, body and soul. The deeper she tumbles into Dominic's world of contracts, secrets, and dangerous demands, the more Dahlia learns just how far desire can twist. And when the past explodes and blood-stained secrets threaten everything, does she really want to pull apart all the ugly secrets piling up around her, or just get lost in the kind of wild pleasure her marriage always kept out of reach?

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

My husband has stepped out on me countless times, but he refused to divorce me. Meanwhile, his family called me a disgraceful tramp. Five years ago was the first time I asked for a divorce. Terrence Fulton did not say anything. He locked me up in the villa for a whole month instead. After that month, I found out that I was pregnant. Three years after that, I asked for a divorce for a second time. That very night, Terrence returned to his family home at Fulton Manor. After that, I was allowed to see my son only once a week. Today was my third attempt to get a divorce, and I could finally leave. I discovered that my son did not love me and that my marriage to Terrence had been fake all along. I was just like one of the women he messed around with.

This was the sixth time Dante Falcone had slammed that damned divorce agreement down in front of me, forcing me to sign. This time, I did not resist. He set down the pen. In that instant, a suffocating silence filled the room. His deep brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to see straight through my soul. "Why so obedient this time, Sofia? Or are you planning another trick? Don't forget who you are. Mrs. Falcone." I removed the ruby ring that symbolized the mistress of the family, the one he had placed on my finger when he proposed to me in Sicily. I set it gently on the desk, a surface stained with both blood and money. My voice was calm, lifeless. "No, Dante. I'm just... tired. Your world is too loud."

On the third day after my death, Eliza Sutton received the call to claim my body. She was resting in another man's arms. She said nonchalantly, "He's dead, huh? Just cremate it and call me afterward." My body was fed to the flames and reduced to ashes. When the staff were done, they contacted Eliza again. Irritation flashed in her eyes as she snapped, "I heard you. I'm on my way."

To prepare for a baby, my wife, Daphne Sinclair, suggested we start working out together and keep each other accountable by tracking our daily step counts. While I was away on a two-week business trip, she ranked first on our Fitbit leaderboard every single night. Then one day, my neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag showed it was filmed right in the parking lot beneath my apartment. "Bro, impressive. Your wife's even hired a personal trainer for her workouts now? That Maybach suspension really hits different." In the video, a pink sports bra I had never seen before hung from the driver’s side window. The car rocked rhythmically, accompanied by Daphne's restrained yet excited breathing. I dialed her number. "Where are you?" Her voice turned soft and coy. "On the treadmill, sprinting. Honey, I'm working so hard for our baby." "Really?" I chuckled. "You've worked so hard the entire neighborhood knows about it." Holding the phone, I said slowly, word by word, "Open the door. I'm bringing you a towel."

Alpha Brent Wilson looks breathtaking in his three-piece dark suit as he waits at the altar. He’s smiling and I smile back. Only for that smile to vanish when I realize he isn’t smiling for me. He stopped smiling for me the day he realized I was his mate. I follow where he is looking and bite my lower lip when I see that his gaze lands on the tall, blonde woman standing on the front pew, the lucky woman who owns his heart. Rosie. I know that if he could choose, without a doubt, he would choose to marry her in a heartbeat. However, as an alpha, he has duties and responsibilities that can only be fulfilled with an omega by his side. It doesn’t mean he has given her up though. Because there she is, smiling gracefully and beautifully. I’m the one marrying the alpha, but she’s the one with the winning smile, glowing more than the bride. Can’t he hear it? Can’t he feel anything? The howls of our wolves. Their broken pleas. The screaming straight from our souls. Because I hear it all. I feel it all. But he remains looking at her. Just her. That day, I walked straight into the flames and let myself burn, believing my mate will realize my worth one day… which never happened. I gave and gave until I had nothing more to give. Until I grew tired of fighting for the mate who didn’t want me. Until I snapped. Until I was strong enough to finally reject our bond and walk away. But when I did, something unexpected happened. He hunted me. He chased me. And this time, he was the one who refused to let me go.

I accidentally stumbled upon numerous explicit videos on my husband's computer while tidying up his desk. The videos showed him in bed with my unmarried best friend. The relationship between my husband and me had been platonic ever since I gave birth 40 years ago. His reason was that he was no longer capable of physical intimacy. Now, it felt like my entire life had been a sham, despite all my efforts for my family.