I Kept Pressing The 100-million-year Button

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

They called her a Cheater. But Camille Laurent was the one who caught her husband in another woman’s arms. The night she found Marcus her husband with his mistress, she thought the truth would destroy them. Instead, it destroyed her. By morning, the scandal had a new story. Photos surfaced and headlines exploded. Camille was accused of having an affair with Adrian Steele. The husband of the Mistress her husband cheated on her with. One of the richest billionaires in Valmont. Marcus filed for a divorce during the scandal. While their spouses burned down their marriages, Camille and Adrian formed a dangerous alliance. What Valmont doesn’t know is that Camille left pregnant with twins. She isn’t just a discarded wife, she’s a long lost heiress.

After I was reborn, when Blake's childhood sweetheart Catherine cut a lock of my hair during a party dare — again — I didn't do what I did in my past life. I didn't shear off all her hair in front of everyone and turn her into a bald wolf. I didn't lose control and storm into the Council of Elders when Blake defended her, threatening to sever our mate bond. Instead, I calmly removed the Luna's crown from my head and placed it on Catherine's. "The crown's hers now. Have fun with her." I put on my coat and walked out of the estate without looking back. It wasn't that I wanted to bow to Catherine. But in my past life, after I severed the bond with Blake, things went horribly wrong. He threw me into a cell made of pure silver, like I was some irredeemable criminal, and left me there while the metal scorched my skin day and night. When I finally escaped, I was poisoned by a witch from a rival pack. Dying from the pain, I abandoned every shred of my dignity and crawled to the doors of the Temple of the Moon Goddess, begging him to let the witch give me the antidote. He was kissing Catherine. He didn't even tell his guards to let me in. I died from the poison — one day before my father, the Alpha King, came to find me. I refused to meet that fate again. So I was done with Blake.

My younger brother had opened a high-end beauty salon, so I took my mother there for a facial. We picked the most expensive package, but the moment the mask was applied, Mom's face began to burn. When we peeled it off, her entire face was covered in rashes. I called for the director, but she looked impatient. "Oh, that's just a normal detox reaction." I was stunned. "Her face is practically ruined! What products are you even using?" "Ruined?" She flared up like someone had stepped on her tail. "Your mom's skin is just too bad to handle premium nutrients! Once our products are opened, they're non-refundable—got it?" I pointed to the brochure. "It says right here—'gentle and non-irritating, full refund if any adverse reaction occurs.' Is this how Stellan Fallow taught you to run a business?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin high. "I am the boss! You and your mother look broke as hell—clearly here to mooch a free treatment. Now that it didn't work, you're trying to scam us for money? "Let me tell you something—this set costs 38 thousand, and with my emotional damages and lost wages, that's a total of 100 thousand. If you don't pay up today, I'll have the police take you both in!" A hundred thousand for a product that ruined someone's face? It was no wonder Stellan suddenly wanted to open a salon—it turned out he and his girlfriend were running a scam together! I was about to call Stellan, but before I could, she hit the video dial first. "Bubby, get over here—two broke idiots tried to freeload a treatment and now they're trying to shake us down for money!"

In my past life, I supported the bankrupt Clark brothers. However, after I became pregnant, they allowed a poor student, Kimberly Scott, to push me down the stairs, where I bled profusely and died while carrying my child. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the day I had brought them into my house. This time, I kicked them out without hesitation. To my surprise, Kimberly had teamed up with my grandmother to pretend to be the real heiress, painting me as the fake heiress who had taken over the family. The butler, Mr. Williams, who had watched me grow up, came forward and accused me of causing my parents’ death. Under the public backlash they had orchestrated, I remained calm and presented my evidence. Not only did I expose Kimberly’s fake identity as the heiress, but I also revealed the true faces of my grandmother and Mr. Williams. I avenged my parents and gave the wrongdoers the punishment they deserved.

To the world, I was Mrs. Ward—the untouchable queen beside the mafia king of New York, Elias Ward. But I knew my husband never loved me. His heart had always belonged to Harper Dinah. His nephew’s wife. And after that nephew conveniently died, Elias brought her into our mansion, “I just want to take better care of her,” he’d said. And his version of “care” was where he’d throw a man out of a party for daring to flirt with Harper and got her pregnant. Elias likes to praise me in public like I was the perfect wife to him. And I was. I helped build his empire. I was the one who smiled and played nice. I made his casino shine while he hid Harper away like she was something sacred. Because of all that praising, one of his enemies set his sights on me. They took me. Sent Elias a message soaked in blood and threats: Back off. Leave New York. Or your pretty wife dies. Of course, Elias didn’t choose to back off.. “Just wait,” he said over the phone, “They won’t hurt you, Noa. You’re leverage. Just hold on until Harper gives birth. Then I’ll come for you.” Eight months of being held in a filthy hole, starved, beaten, degraded. The gang leader raped me over and over again. And still, Elias never came. Finally, I escaped when they were all drunk. Went home, only find my twins sleeping in the maid’s room, eating scraps while Elias was too busy hosting a party for his newborn. I didn’t confront him, just packed my babies and disappear.

Kim Evelyn—known to those closest to her as Ivy—never imagined her third wedding anniversary would turn into a nightmare. Her husband, Rico, didn’t just betray her—he brought his mistress into their bed. The pain and humiliation scorched her heart, leaving her no choice but to walk away from the home that once symbolized their love. But Ivy’s escape led her into a night that would change everything. Beneath the glimmering lights of an upscale bar, she met Joshua Miller—a dangerously charming man with a captivating smile and an offer too tempting to resist. Revenge. Sweet, calculated revenge. But there was a catch: Ivy had to surrender herself to a game far more seductive than anything she’d ever imagined. As vengeance ignited and passion flared, the line between game and reality began to blur. Dark secrets loomed. Hidden dangers stirred. And Ivy was forced to make an impossible choice—move forward and risk losing everything, or retreat into the scars of her past. Can Ivy take control of this wicked game? Or will she end up the pawn—consumed by desire, ambition, and a betrayal more dangerous than the one she fled?

Helena Graves loved her husband the way most women only dream of being loved. Quietly. Completely. Without ever asking for more than he chose to give. For two years she built a home around Damian Graves, believing patience was enough to keep a marriage alive. Until the day his college ex, Camila Calloway, moved back to Velmont and everything changed. The late nights. The distant eyes. The phone he would not put down. Then came the words Helena never saw coming. “I want a divorce.” She signs the papers with dignity and walks away without begging to be chosen. What Damian does not expect is that losing her becomes the beginning of her rise. A chance audition turns into an acting career. The quiet wife he overlooked becomes a woman the whole city cannot stop watching. Confident. Desired. Unapologetically becoming. Meanwhile, the life he thought he wanted begins to unravel. Nostalgia fades. Regret settles in. And for the first time, Damian realizes he did not leave an ordinary woman. He left the love of his life. Now he wants her back. But Helena is no longer waiting. The Wife I Forgot to Love is an emotional second chance marriage crisis romance about divorce, regret, and the dangerous moment when a man realizes her worth only after someone else does.