Who Killed Mrs. Westaway In 'The Death Of Mrs. Westaway'?

I gave my husband five years of loyalty, he repaid me with betrayal in my own bed. So I walked away with my pride, silence, and a secret that could ruin him. I thought that was the end with that family until another Weston stepped into my life. Xavier Weston offered me a deal I couldn’t ignore: his name, his protection, and a chance to watch my ex-husband lose everything he ever fought for. All I had to do was become his wife. It was supposed to be that simple. A contract to sign and a role to play. But nothing is ever simple about the Westons, and Xavier is the most dangerous of them all. Escaping might not be an option for me. Because the man I thought was just a mistake, a cold arrangement I thought I would one day walk away from… is slowly becoming the only place I feel safe. And when the truth finally came out, I had to face the one thing I never planned for, What if the man I married for power and protection… turns out to be the one I was always meant to love?

This is thriller where the killer murders with put leaving a detail and you wont ever feel bored i guess all of you guys will enjoy reading this

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

The night before her wedding, Mira Castellan discovered the truth hiding behind the man she loved. There was never one fiancé. There were two. Damon and Killian Wrexley, identical twins, had shared her bed, her trust, and her heart in turns, swapping places so seamlessly she never noticed the difference. Her father died protecting their family's darkest secret, and marrying her was never love. It was a cage built to keep her quiet, and keep her close. Betrayed at the altar and left with nothing but the wreckage of a lie she never saw coming, Mira vanished that same night. The Wrexleys buried an empty casket and called it grief. Three years later, she's back. Not as Mira. As Wren Calloway, untouchable, ruthless, and carrying secrets of her own that neither brother is ready for. She's no longer the woman who knelt on the floor begging for the truth. She built an empire in the dark, and now she's brought it home. Damon doesn't recognize the woman dismantling his company piece by piece. Killian can't stop staring at someone who looks exactly like the ghost that's haunted him for three years. And somewhere between revenge and the truth neither twin is prepared to face, Mira will discover that the secret her father died for, and the twins she's sworn to destroy, are tangled together in ways that could undo everything she's planned. The dead bride is back. And this time, she's the one writing the ending

A secret society of widows. A cold billionaire with a deadly past. One woman sent to seduce him... and destroy him. When Genevieve Holloway buries her husband, she thinks the worst is behind her. But the black-veiled woman at the funeral of her husband says otherwise. “You’ve been chosen.” Drawn into a shadowy society of grieving wives turned silent assassins, Genevieve is given one final task before she can walk free: infiltrate the life of Dominic Rourke—the enigmatic tech billionaire tied to her husband’s mysterious death—and expose the truth. Her mission is clear: seduce him. Infiltrate him. Ruin him. But Dominic Rourke is nothing like she expected. Cold. Calculating. Unreachable. And he’s never let any woman get close—until her. Worse still, his five-year-old daughter clings to Genevieve like a lost soul, whispering secrets she shouldn’t know. Secrets about her dead mother… and the club Genevieve now serves. The deeper Genevieve sinks into Dominic’s world, the more dangerous her own becomes. The women she trusted have blood on their hands. The man she was sent to destroy might be innocent. And the lies that bind them all go deeper than any grave. Genevieve begins to develop feelings for the man she’s sent to ruin, and he sees himself letting go of his cold nature to make her happy and find her husband’s killer. In a game of power, seduction, and betrayal, only one can survive. And Genevieve must decide: Is she the hunter or the hunted? Will she be Dominic’s ruin, or will she become his everything?

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest friends teasing her. "Emmy, how much longer are you planning to keep up this fake-death act?" A familiar voice answered, one I could never mistake, that was tinged with indulgence and amusement. "As soon as Corbin Ellery's heart condition is cured. Back then, if Grayson hadn't insisted on sending the butler to the destruction plant, Corbin wouldn't have needed to pretend his system malfunctioned. And I wouldn't have had to fake my death to help him disappear completely." Another friend clicked her tongue. "Still, nobody expected you to go this far. Having Corbin wear a custom synthetic skin suit and pose as a robot butler right under your husband's nose all those years? That's insane." Fake death? Corbin? The blood drained from my face. The woman I had mourned for five years was alive. And the robot that had stirred her desire had never been a robot at all. It was my closest friend. A passing server accidentally slammed into me, sending a tray crashing to the floor. The conversation inside stopped instantly. Emmy turned toward the doorway, and our eyes met.