Ariel Bruckman
9 Published Stories
Ariel Bruckman's Books and Stories
The Day I Sold My Husband
Romance My husband, Captain Mark Olsen, just returned from deployment, his uniform sharp, his smile fake.
I looked at him and said, flatly, “We need to separate.”
It was the only way to escape the nightmare that haunted me.
My five-year-old son, Leo, dead.
Because of Mark.
Because of his sister-in-law, Jessica.
That future, that premonition, could not happen.
Mark poured all our money into Jessica’s lavish spending, while our own son, Leo, wore hand-me-downs.
He'd promise Leo the world, then cancel for Jessica’s 'emergencies.'
The final straw: Leo burnt with fever, but Mark raced off to tend to Jessica’s perfectly healthy daughter.
My son lay dying, just like in the terrifying vision, while Mark, a military hero to others, coldly dismissed my screams.
How could a father abandon his own flesh and blood for a woman who manipulated his every move?
The injustice, the rage, burned a hole inside me.
But then, Jessica, emboldened, asked Mark to father *her* next child.
She wasn't just taking my husband's money; she wanted his legacy.
I saw my opportunity, a twisted, desperate path to freedom.
I wouldn't just leave.
I would sell him.
For a cold, hard sum, I would hand over my husband, giving Jessica what she desired and freeing myself and Leo forever.
This was my vow.
My future, and my son's, depended on it. The Heiress He Threw Away
Romance For five years, I poured my life, my talent, and my unpaid labor into building Ryan Blakely' s dream. I was his graphic designer, his strategist, his every support, believing our shared struggle would culminate in a shared future.
Then, live on a pixelated stream, bathed in the glow of his multi-million dollar success, he smiled, that brilliant, camera-ready smile. "I'd like to announce my engagement to the brilliant and beautiful Stella Lawrence."
The name hit me like a physical blow. But he wasn't done. He then publicly dismissed me as a "clout-chasing groupie," "good for the struggle, but not for the high life."
My world went silent. After everything, he called me trash, then marked me one last time before discarding me with a morning-after pill. The next day, his new fiancée, Stella, called me a "charity case." When I dared speak back, Ryan stormed over, slapped me, and then abandoned me as thugs, hired by Stella, stabbed me in an alley.
How could the man I loved, the man I gave everything to, not only humiliate and betray me, but physically harm me and leave me to die? Was our entire five years a lie, or was there something more sinister at play?
Just as I lost all hope, a powerful hand shoved Ryan aside. My protector, Andrew Scott, stood over me, instantly revealing my true identity: Gabrielle Fuller, heiress to a tech empire. Now, it was time for Ryan to face the real world he had so carelessly discarded. The Girl He Called Practice
Modern I turned down a full scholarship to Stanford to follow my boyfriend of ten years to Columbia.
I thought my sacrifice was an act of love, until I heard him laughing with his best friend in the kitchen.
He was speaking French, confident that his "simple" girlfriend couldn't understand a word.
"Elle était juste une pratique," he sneered. "She was just practice. A training session. That' s all."
My blood ran cold.
He went on to explain that I was just a "safety net" to keep his bed warm while he pursued his real target, a famous model named Bella.
He claimed I was pathetic, loyal, and would never leave him.
The irony?
I had spent years secretly mastering French to impress his grandmother.
I understood every single insult.
I didn't confront him.
I didn't make a scene.
I simply walked into the bedroom, withdrew my application from Columbia, and accepted the offer from Stanford.
By the time he realized his "safety net" was gone, I was already across the country, and he was blocked on everything. Wired For His Betrayal
Sci-fi The cold silver wires felt like ice against my skin, a stark contrast to the familiar warmth of my lab.
Three years of my life, three years of marriage, were supposed to lead to our shared triumph, not this.
Not me strapped to a chair in our penthouse, the neural interface humming ominously as it pressed against my temple.
This was Mark' s project, but it was my creation.
The MindSync algorithm was my soul, coded into existence.
I, Ava Green, a software engineer who believed in technology that could connect people, had designed it to personalize user experience on a level never seen before.
I gave it to my husband, Mark, the brilliant tech CEO I loved, the man I thought loved me.
He re-engineered MindSync to extract a user\'s deepest desires, their most private emotional data, turning human feeling into a commodity he could monetize for unparalleled market control.
And I never knew.
"Ava, Sophia\'s condition is agonizing," he said, his voice flat. "Only your personalized MindSync can truly help her. Your emotional core is the key."
He didn\'t look at my tears.
He watched the monitor, tracking the progress of the extraction.
The machine whirred to life, and a piercing pain shot through my skull.
It felt like my thoughts were being ripped out one by one, my memories shredded, my feelings siphoned away into the humming device.
Tears streamed down my face.
"Mark, why?" I begged, my voice cracking.
He looked at me like I was a piece of hardware.
When it was over, he detached the wires.
I slumped in the chair, a hollowed-out shell.
The vibrant world of emotions I once lived in was gone, replaced by a gray, empty void.
He handled the glowing data chip with more care than he had ever shown me.
I became a shadow, following him from a distance, a desperate attempt to stay connected to the last piece of myself.
Without the MindSync core, my cognitive functions were degrading.
My mind would fray, my thoughts would unravel, and soon I would be a vegetable.
Mark never offered to help.
"You\'re not human, how could you possibly understand her pain?" he said, his voice sharp.
Three years of marriage, and in his eyes, I was just a tool.
I managed to get inside the building, my movements stiff and uncoordinated.
I found them in the lobby.
Sophia, seeing me, feigned surprise and shrank into Mark\'s arms.
"Can I have my MindSync back?" I asked, my voice thin.
"That\'s just a shell now, it' s useless to you," he said dismissively. "It' s for the greater good."
My last hope, my only chance.
My decision was made.
I would take back what was mine. The Day I Became Free
Young Adult Thanksgiving was supposed to be a day of gratitude and family. I' d worked double shifts, saved every penny to buy my mom, Maria, a warm winter coat. I even clung to a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, today would be different, that she'd finally see my efforts.
But my brother, Caleb, saw a massive banner for a 'Gratitude Exchange' TV show, offering a new PSX-Pro console. Maria didn't hesitate. She looked at me, then at the gaming system, and declared, "Why spend money when you have all that gratitude? It's not like it does anyone any good." My heart shattered as she forced me to sign a contract, agreeing to trade "my gratitude for her" for a video game.
On live television, they hooked us up to a memory scanner. Maria and Caleb twisted my past, painting me as an ungrateful, destructive monster to the whole country. They exposed selective, ugly moments, cheering as the 'Approve Trade' vote soared, while I stood there, voiceless, watching my own mother publicly erase me.
How could she? How could my own mother weaponize my memories against me, fabricating a monstrous version of her daughter for a new gaming console? Was my entire existence, my endless sacrifices, truly worth less than a toy?
But then, it was my turn. As my memories flashed across the screen, the real story unfolded: my sacrifices, their manipulations, their true cruelty revealed to the world. And as the public' s outrage turned the vote decisively in my favor, I knew exactly what I had to do. This wasn't just about a console; it was about freedom. He Shattered Her Love, She Forged An Empire
Romance Ava Thompson, a Manhattan heiress, was poised for a pragmatic marriage to Ethan Sterling, uniting two powerful dynasties.
She'd always overlooked his indiscretions, prioritizing their monumental merger.
But after discovering his mistress, Lindsey, was pregnant, Ethan' s true nature surfaced.
In a private suite, he chillingly pressed a glass shard to Ava' s stomach, demanding she accept his illegitimate child as her own.
Shaken, Ava endured further degradation: Lindsey flaunting herself in Ava' s penthouse, her childhood mementos "donated," and overhearing Ethan dismiss her as an "unexciting business arrangement."
He then had Ava physically removed from her own home.
The man she' d known forever reduced her to a transaction, violently threatening her, stripping her of dignity.
The bruise on her temple was nothing compared to the cold, shattering truth: every ounce of love she felt for him was annihilated.
No longer clinging to a broken past, Ava instantly pivoted.
She called Noah Vanderbilt, her tech billionaire rival, for a ruthless new business proposal and a strategic, lightning-fast wedding.
On the day of her ex-fiancé's dramatic plea, Ava walked down the aisle to a man who truly respected her, leaving Ethan with agonizing, self-inflicted loss. Her Sister's Shadow, His Family's Downfall
Mafia For seven long years, I built my life in Las Vegas, brick by careful brick.
I was Ava, Marcus Thorne' s shadow, his loyal dog-cold, calculating, and feared.
But it was all a lie.
My true name burned deep inside: avenger.
My half-sister, Sarah, loved Marcus.
His family-wicked and powerful-took her.
A whispered ritual. A sacrifice.
Sarah, my sole childhood kindness, was brutally stolen.
I endured Marcus' s cruelties, cleaned his messes, and fought his women, all while he saw only Sarah' s ghost in my reflection.
I even staged public meltdowns and self-harm, meticulously crafting a dangerously obsessed image, solidifying my crazed devotion.
Why Sarah?
Why my kind sister for their unspeakable rituals?
The Thornes' dark whispers forged my grief into a precise, cold fire of revenge.
Her profound injustice and their unshakeable power fueled my every move.
I became pure darkness, plotting patient destruction.
I would burn their entire world down, as they burned mine.
Marcus Thorne, seeing his dead love in my eyes, would unwittingly light the match.
He just didn' t know it yet.
Seven years was a long wait.
For Sarah, I had eternity.
My trap is set, and they are already marching into the flames. You might like
He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.