Calista

My marriage died the day I walked in on my husband jerking off to my stepsister's underwear.
I blamed myself—thought I'd failed him somehow. Then he destroyed everything: my belongings, my keepsakes, even my dead mother's jewelry. That's when the truth hit me like a freight train: the real sin wasn't what I'd done. It was simply not being loved.
I filed for divorce. They all looked... excited. Eager, even.
Then came the court hearing. I stepped through those courtroom doors with my attorney and the billionaire mogul who'd adored me since we were kids. My ex's expression? Priceless. Pure terror mixed with disbelief.
I squeezed my fiancé's hand and gave my ex one last look: "Thanks for setting me free. Turns out, losing you was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"My dearest readers, I'm so sorry, but I have to delay today's update. I've just undergone a C-section. All is well, and I'm planning to resume our regular updates tomorrow. Thank you for your patience and support!"

At the press conference, my husband Thaddeus Getty publicly declared his love for his first love in front of all the media.
In an instant, the whole world knew I was a wife who wasn't cherished by her husband.
Heartbroken but not defeated, despite my deep love, I chose to leave.
Months later, Thaddeus looked at my belly and snarled through gritted teeth: "Tell me, whose bastard child is this?"

On the day of my engagement, I died in the sea.
The last scene I witnessed before death was the silhouette of my fiancé protecting his first love as they walked away.
Perhaps it was resentment and unwillingness that allowed me to be reborn on the day of my engagement.
In this life, I will rewrite my destiny!

I was the real daughter nobody wanted. After years of searching, my wealthy family finally found me—only to treat me like a pawn in their games.
My birth parents doted on my adopted sister. My fiancé cheated on me with her. I learned to expect nothing.
But my fake sister wasn't satisfied with just stealing my life. She had to destroy what was left of me. She drugged me at a party.
I woke up pregnant with no memory of that night. No idea who the father was.
Two years later, I came back with my little girl. And the most powerful man in the city—the one married to my sister, the one everyone whispered about in fear—locked eyes with my daughter. His face went pale.
"Why..." His voice cracked. "Why does she look exactly like me?"