Escaping His Cage: The Phoenix Wife Returns

Two minutes before midnight on the eve of my wedding, my phone buzzed.

I expected a sweet text from my groom, Liam.

Instead, I received a photo of him with his lips inches from another woman's neck.

The caption read:

"He's celebrating his last night of freedom. Are you sure you want to be the jailer?"

I didn't scream. I didn't cancel the wedding.

I walked down the aisle the next morning and looked at his handsome face.

I saw the scratch on his wrist—a souvenir from his mistress, Ava.

Later, I overheard him tell his best man that I was just the "safe bet," a boring broodmare to provide an heir while he had fun with her.

He thought I was a naive girl who believed in fairy tales.

He thought he had secured his perfect life when I said, "I do."

But he was wrong.

When I discovered I was pregnant a few days later, I didn't celebrate.

I realized this baby wasn't a blessing; it was a lock on my cage.

Liam wanted a dynasty? He wanted a legacy?

I looked at the positive test in my hand and made a cold, hard choice.

I wasn't going to just leave him.

I was going to destroy him.

I wiped my tears, packed my documents, and prepared to burn his entire world to ash.

The war had just begun.