Beatrice Wells
10 Published Stories
Beatrice Wells's Books and Stories
The Day I Vanished
Romance The doctor's words sealed Amelia Hayes's fate: aggressive, stage four ovarian cancer.
Consumed by overwhelming guilt for her best friend Liv's tragic death years ago, Amy numbly embraced the diagnosis as a deserved end, refusing treatment and signing away her organs.
Her penance wasn't over; Liv's grief-stricken brother, Ethan Carter, who viciously blamed Amy for his sister's demise, still dictated her every move.
He meticulously orchestrated her public humiliation, forcing her into back-breaking tasks and enduring his cruel fiancée's sadistic games, watching Amy weaken, every ounce of suffering a grim reminder of Liv's absence.
Amy accepted every degrading act, every physical pain, enduring it all as a desperate attempt to atone for her relentless survivor's guilt.
Yet, even as her body failed, the gnawing question lingered: was her self-destruction truly a sacrifice for Liv, or simply a prolonged, theatrical torment orchestrated by Ethan for his own twisted closure?
Finally, broken and desperate, Amy sought ultimate release, calling 911 from atop the George Washington Bridge, her final wish to donate her organs to give life even as hers ended.
But a secret ally pulled her back from the brink, allowing her to fake her own death and forge a new identity, unaware that her "demise" would drive Ethan, consumed by his own guilt and pain, to the verge of madness, setting the stage for an explosive, unforeseen reunion years later that would challenge everything they believed about love, hate, and forgiveness. Not Just An Incubator: The Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge
Modern Ten minutes. That was how close I was to handing my fiancé the keys to a three-hundred-million-dollar empire built on my code.
But when I walked into the office, his mistress was sitting in my chair, spinning the pen I bought him for our anniversary.
Caleb didn't even look up. He told me the investors wanted stability, not a pregnant woman. He called our unborn child a "liability" and ordered security to escort me out of the building I paid for.
I went home to pack, only to find a burner phone hidden in the closet. The texts were brutal. He called me an "incubator." He said once the deal was signed, he’d take the baby and dump the "nerd."
When he caught me with the phone, he didn't apologize. He dragged me by my hair and threw me into the soundproof panic room to keep me quiet until the deal closed.
"Caleb, please! I'm bleeding!"
I pounded on the steel door until my hands were raw. But he just locked it and went to eat pizza with his mistress.
Alone in the dark, on the freezing concrete, I felt the life inside me slip away. He hadn't just stolen my company; he had killed my child.
He thought I was broken. He thought I was just "the help." But he forgot one thing: I built the security system he was trying to sell.
Three days later, I rolled my wheelchair into his victory press conference, flanked by his biggest rival.
"Do you trust your new code, Caleb?"
"Because I wrote the backdoor. And I just opened it." The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge
Modern My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call.
While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora.
The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her.
Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress.
I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me.
They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator. Our Marriage: A Twisted Revenge
Modern My husband, Aiden, brought his mistress to a gala. She was carrying my clutch bag, a gift from him. He was laughing, daring me to make a scene.
But the ultimate cruelty wasn't the affair. It was when he brought up my kidnapping from ten years ago, using my deepest trauma as a weapon to publicly shame me.
His mistress, Ember, piled on, her voice dripping with false pity.
"Oh, Julia, I just can't imagine what you went through. Aiden told me everything. How you were… so damaged."
I suddenly realized who she was: the daughter of the man who had orchestrated my kidnapping. This wasn't just an affair; it was a long-con revenge plot to destroy the company I had sacrificed everything to save.
Aiden, the man who once swore to protect me, was her willing pawn. His cruelty had already cost me our unborn child years ago.
In that moment, the last bit of love I had for him turned to ice. He thought he was breaking me.
He had no idea he was just handing me the keys to his destruction. Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns
Romance To my husband, I was just a political bridge, a treaty with a heartbeat.
While I sat alone in our cold estate, hiding the child growing inside me, Dante spent his days comforting his late brother's wife, Vanessa.
He treated her like porcelain and me like furniture.
The breaking point came the night I went into labor.
Dante didn't hold my hand.
He ran out of the clinic to comfort Vanessa over a fake emergency, leaving me and his unborn heir alone in the cold sterile room.
So, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved: a ghost.
I staged my death in the storm, leaving behind nothing but signed divorce papers and a tiny, mud-stained onesie.
When Dante returned, he was told I died screaming his name.
He spent months digging through the wreckage of the lighthouse with his bare hands, sobbing into the mud, finally realizing he had sacrificed his diamond for a stone.
He discovered too late that I wasn't just a submissive wife—I was the secret daughter of Don Stefano, the most dangerous man in Europe.
It took him three years to find me again.
He fell to his knees at my feet, covered in grime, begging to meet his son.
"I will fix this," he wept. "I will give you everything."
I looked down at him from the steps of my private jet, flanked by my own army.
"You can't fix what you broke, Dante," I said coldly.
"If you ever come near my son again, I won't send a lawyer. I will send a war." His Daughter, His Mistake
Modern My husband, Austin Rogers, had been missing for five years, only to return with a royal illegitimate child.
The first thing he did was burst into my daughter Joanna's room, wrap her in a blanket, and throw her into the sauna.
His sister, Rosita, sneered as she poured a whole box of leeches inside and locked the door.
I rushed over, begging them to let my daughter out.
They glared at me with malice.
"How dare you plead? The little princess bruised her leg yesterday. If her mother finds out, we'll all be in deep trouble. You're just envious! You want us to stay trapped in this miserable place with you forever."
At that moment, I finally understood that they intended to use my daughter's life to appease that Slaka Queen.
But their plan was doomed to fail.
The person being bitten by leeches inside wasn't my daughter.
They were about to face the consequences of their actions. When Good Wives Go Bad: A Revenge Story
Modern "Just turn here, Jennifer. It' s a shortcut." My mother-in-law, Debra, constantly dissected my driving, my life, everything.
My husband, Matthew, and his father, Anthony, always made me endure her. I was used to it, but her relentless criticism and reckless interference-like grabbing the steering wheel in heavy traffic-escalated our arguments.
Then, everything changed. One moment, her hand was on the wheel, the next, a screech of tires and the deafening roar of a semi-truck. The impact was a brutal explosion of metal and glass. My world shattered into searing pain and darkness.
Through the haze, I heard their voices.
Debra sobbing, "She tried to kill me." Anthony spitting, "That little bitch." Matthew, panicking, but asking, "Mom, are you okay?" Not me. And then, Anthony' s chilling whisper: "Let' s just… wait a minute. Make sure our story is straight."
They were letting me die, watching me bleed out, discussing their alibi.
The coldness of their betrayal was more agonizing than the crash itself. My life faded away to the sound of their lies.
Then, a gasp. My eyes flew open. My hands clenched the steering wheel. "Debra, please, just let me drive…" The words tasted like ash. It was the day before the crash. I was back.
I was whole. They took my life without a second thought. Now, I had a second chance. This time, I would be the one in control. And I was going to make them pay for what they did. From Ashes, A New Empire
Romance The cool, conditioned air of the St. Regis suite was the first thing I noticed when I gasped awake, my head throbbing from that familiar chemical fog – the drug my brother, Mark, used to set me up with Chloe, the woman I once foolishly loved.
Then, the memories slammed into me like a physical blow: the terrifying fire, Lily' s desperate screams, the sickening smell of gasoline, and the crushing heat – this wasn't a nightmare, it was real, a past I had just escaped, and across the king-sized bed sat Chloe, my murderer, my executioner.
My throat clenched, a raw, primal scream trapped within as my heart hammered against my ribs, recognizing this as the night, the precise moment everything twisted into a lifetime of agonizing obsession, cruel betrayal, and the inferno that ultimately consumed my first life and my precious daughter.
How could I have been so utterly blind, so completely duped, so willingly walked into a meticulously set trap that not only cost me everything, but also my child, leaving only a cold, sharp rage simmering within, refusing to be a helpless victim again?
I had a choice now, a real chance to rewrite my fate, and with shaking hands that barely obeyed, I found my phone, scrolled straight to Ryan' s number in Chloe' s contacts, hit dial, and rasped into the receiver, "Come get your girlfriend, St. Regis, Suite 1412; she' s waiting for you," knowing that this time, I would burn her world down first. The Ultimatum at Thanksgiving
Romance My wife, Sarah, and I built Innovatech Solutions from scratch, fueled by late-night pizza and big dreams.
She was the charismatic CEO, I was the nuts-and-bolts guy as Head of Sales and Product Development.
We were partners, co-founders, and deeply in love-or so I thought.
Then she hired Kevin Young, a young, eager intern who seemed to know how to play the game.
Suddenly, Sarah's focus shifted entirely to him, showering him with undeserved praise and opportunities, completely ignoring company values and our shared principles.
Kevin got a company Tesla, a corner executive office usually reserved for VPs, and even a speaking slot at a prestigious tech conference I deserved.
Sarah put him in charge of our most critical project, the Phoenix initiative, undermining my entire experienced team.
The final straw came when she took him on a "strategy retreat" to Napa and posted a selfie showing off my engagement ring on her hand with him in the background for the whole company to see.
The office was rife with whispers, speculation that I was being replaced, that they were together.
My anger slowly froze into a cold, profound disappointment.
How could the woman I' d built everything with betray me so completely, publicly choosing this manipulative intern over our company, our marriage, and me?
Her blindness was staggering, her choices inexplicable, yet devastating.
That night, I knew I had to plan my exit, not just from Innovatech, but from her.
I quietly activated my secret weapon, my Uncle Mike, and began a meticulously calculated operation to take back everything she had carelessly thrown away.
What she didn' t know was that while she was busy playing favorites, I was building a new empire, ready to reveal itself at the perfect, most humiliating moment. The Day He Asked for My Kidney
Romance My family owed the Vances, a debt etched invisibly deep into our lives. Years ago, I’d even donated bone marrow to Julian, Richard Vance’s son, the boy I once hero-worshipped. It felt like a small repayment, tying me deeper into their world.
Then Julian came to me, his handsome face etched with worry. “Mia,” he urgent, “It’s Cassandra. Her kidneys are failing. You’re a perfect match.” He was asking for another piece of me.
In that suffocating moment, a brutal vision slammed into me: Cassandra dying, Julian’s monstrous rage, my life systematically destroyed, culminating in my suspicious death from his calculated revenge. The horror of this terrifying premonition stripped away every shred of naivety.
How could the man whose life I’d saved, whose family saved mine, be capable of such monstrous malice?
Survival became my only thought. I looked at him, not a hero, but a potential destroyer. “Alright, Julian,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll do it. But I have conditions. This will be the final repayment. A legally binding contract for complete severance of all ties, and a substantial sum for my complete disappearance. My ticket to freedom.” 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. 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. The 100-Point Divorce Plan
Valeria For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure. 
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