Bella Youngman
11 Published Stories
Bella Youngman's Books and Stories
Beyond The Empty Altar, My Reign
Werewolf I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war. From Death to Divorce: Her Rebirth
Fantasy A sharp pain shot through my head, pulling me from a deep darkness. I opened my eyes to my luxury penthouse, but I shouldn't have been there. I remembered dying.
The memory was cold and sharp: my protégé, Dustin, sold me out, and my husband, Graves, watched our company crumble, leading to my fatal heart attack.
Then, Graves appeared, his charming, empty smile unchanged. But he wasn't alone. A young woman, Alex Salazar, stood behind him, clutching her cheap handbag. Graves introduced her as an intern, saying she had nowhere to stay and would be living with us. My eyes fell to her neck, where a dark hickey was partially hidden.
The date on the nightstand confirmed it: I had traveled back in time to the exact day Graves brought Alex home in my previous life, the beginning of my long, painful nightmare. Last time, I had screamed and thrown things, starting my humiliation.
A strange calm washed over me. I had been given a second chance, not to win him back, but to escape.
"Of course," I said, my voice even, "The poor thing. We should take care of her." Graves looked surprised, then relieved. He thought he had won. "In fact," I continued, pulling out divorce papers, "I'll make sure she's comfortable. You just have one small thing to do for me." I wanted the Malibu property. "Give me that, and I'll walk away quietly. You can have your new life. You can take care of this... orphan." The CEO's Substitute: Love In London
Modern My husband Kamden and I were the most powerful couple in New York, an unbreakable alliance of wealth and influence. To the world, we were perfect, especially with our new baby daughter, Penny, waiting for us at home.
But the illusion shattered at the Jasper Stone gala when Cason Vincent walked in. He wasn't just a rival; he was a dead ringer for Kamden—a cruel, predatory mirror image who seemed to know the secrets of the year I spent in London.
In front of the city’s elite, a socialite screamed that I was a fraud, accusing me of using Kamden as a "substitute" for the man I truly loved. The music stopped, and the room turned into a sea of judgmental whispers.
I expected my husband to shield me, but the paranoia in his eyes was sharper than any rumor. He grabbed my scarred left hand—the one I had ruined to save his life years ago—and squeezed it until I winced in pain.
"Am I just a replacement?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying insecurity. He didn't see the wife who had sacrificed her world-class piano career for him; he saw a woman who had settled for a copy.
The injustice of it felt like a physical blow. I had destroyed my body and my future to keep him safe, yet he was ready to believe a stranger’s lies over three years of marriage. He didn't want the truth; he wanted me to beg for his forgiveness for a sin I never committed.
I realized then that my silence wasn't an admission of guilt, but my last shred of dignity. I pulled my hand away and walked out of the gala alone, leaving Kamden standing face-to-face with the man who had come to dismantle our lives. The Wife Who Vanished: His Eternal Regret
Modern The champagne was still bubbling in my hand when a five-year-old boy ran onto the ballroom floor and screamed "Daddy" at my husband.
Then his mistress, Hayden, walked in wearing a dress that cost more than my car, announcing to the stunned crowd that they were a family.
Instead of kicking them out, Emilio protected them.
The next day, when I confronted them, Hayden lied and claimed I tried to hurt her.
Without hesitation, Emilio shoved me hard to "protect" his real family.
I fell backward onto the concrete curb.
While I lay there bleeding, losing the baby I had wanted for years, he didn't even check on me.
He stepped over my body to comfort his mistress and illegitimate son, leaving me to wait for the ambulance alone.
In the hospital, I learned the sickening truth: he had only married me years ago because he thought I was terminally ill and would die quickly.
Now that I had survived, I was just an inconvenience blocking his happy ending.
He even tried to force me to sign away my assets to save his company from a scandal caused by his mistress.
"You're nothing without me," he sneered.
I looked at the check he offered to buy my silence and tore it up.
If he wanted me gone so badly, I would grant his wish.
I arranged for a one-way ticket to Zurich and left a single white tulip on his pillow—the flower of the dead.
To the world, Elana Acosta died on that pavement.
But Elana Valeri was just getting started. My Husband, The Monster
Sci-fi The world shattered in a flash of white-hot light, and the screaming began. My husband, John, once the living proof of my life' s work, a hero reborn, transformed into a monster right before my eyes.
He wasn't just violent; he was unrecognizably enraged, tearing at reinforced barriers with superhuman strength given by the very neural chip I designed to heal his mind. In the ensuing chaos, a heavy stanchion swung, hitting me.
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, a hollow ache where my baby bump used to be. Our child was gone. John, who had caused this, sat nearby, his face a battleground of conflicting emotions.
He blamed me, "Our child is dead because your work wasn' t good enough, Eve."
His words twisted the dagger. Not only had he stolen our child, but he also accused my life's dedication, corrupted by my shrewd rival, Vivian Thorne, whose name on his lips felt like the ultimate betrayal.
They stripped me of everything-my project, my license, my credibility-a public execution at my hospital bed. Then, Vivian, with a sickeningly sweet smile, proposed using my dead son's genetic material, combined with my stolen neural map, to create her "perfect" being.
The horror paralyzed me. This wasn't just theft; it was a profane violation. I was forced to concede, typing out the master password to my life' s work.
But then, a flicker of something new ignited within me. "You have no idea what you' ve just done," I whispered.
Trapped, tortured, alone, a faint whisper echoed in my mind from the depths of despair. It's not over. It was my own voice-clear, strong, a promise of retribution. Building Love, Breaking Hearts
Romance The studio lights were blazing, but a different kind of heat spread through me-the fizzing anticipation of finally revealing my four-year secret with Liam, my celebrated architect boyfriend. He was "ArchitectGod," I was "ChefSweetheart," and our in-game mansion, "Evermore Estate," held the truth of our love. Tonight, on the "Building Love" finale, I' d log in live and propose.
Just minutes before the broadcast, I found a quiet corner backstage. My thumb hovered over the familiar game icon, a smile touching my lips. But instead of our virtual home, a sterile system notification popped up: "Your partnership with 'ArchitectGod' has been terminated. You have been removed from the shared property 'Evermore Estate.'"
My mind went blank. My message to Liam, "What's going on?" was met with three chilling words: "It's over, Ava." Then, a 10,000,000 gold coin transfer. A severance package. My secret life, dismissed with meaningless game currency. The online forums exploded: "ArchitectGod just dumped ChefSweetheart!"
Before I could breathe, I was ushered onto stage. The host announced Liam's "new partner"-Chloe Green, a rival designer. Liam, the man I loved, stood beside her, his face a mask of cool indifference. My blood ran cold as Chloe announced they' d been "collaborating secretly in the game for a little while now."
They had stolen my life, online and off. My stomach clenched. This wasn't just a breakup; it was a public execution. I stood frozen under the hot lights, their betrayal burning into my soul. Why? How could he do this? I had to fight back. The Second Chance She Stole
Fantasy My mother' s voice, thick with religious fervor, announced her latest decree for SAT season: 100 days of no secular music, no TV, no internet.
This wasn't the first time.
I remembered falling down the stairs, Molly's raging accusations still ringing in my ears, right before the darkness consumed me.
Now, I was 16 again, trapped in the same suffocating reality, but with the chilling knowledge of how it all ended for me.
My twin sister, Molly, quickly embraced Mama's extreme rules, her 'pious' facade masking pure laziness, while I quietly perfected my escape plan.
As Molly spiraled into isolation at school, earning the nickname "Amish Girl," my mother, Debra, only tightened her grip, even forbidding basic hygiene.
The SAT scores revealed my 1580 against Molly's dismal 850, shattering Mama's carefully crafted image, especially on live stream.
Instead of facing reality, Mama demanded I sacrifice my Duke acceptance, "for Molly's sake," a sister who had literally killed me in my past life.
How could my own mother expect me to give up my entire future, again, for the one who destroyed me?
Why was I back?
This time, I wouldn't argue, I wouldn't compromise, and I certainly wouldn't die for their delusions.
This time, I was getting out, even if it meant watching them burn their own lives to the ground. The Orchid's Dying Breath
Modern Ethan swirled his whiskey, convinced, "Relationships, marriage, it's all a game, and the one who cares less, wins."
He' d often said it, casually dismissing his wife, Chloe, and believing she loved him too much to ever leave.
Then came Mark's hushed words, cutting through the bar's noise like a knife: "She's dead, Ethan."
Dead? Ethan laughed, a harsh, unnatural sound, certain it was a twisted prank.
Chloe was just at Olivia's, throwing a tantrum, he' d even mocked her "vacation" in a text.
He meticulously cleaned, cooked her favorite meal, and replaced her drooping orchid, waiting for her triumphant return.
But the food grew cold, the silence deafening, as his delusion deepened.
Then, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson stood at his door, their faces etched with a grief so profound it shattered his constructed reality.
"She is dead, Ethan!" Mr. Peterson roared, "Dead because of you! You killed her spirit long before that car ever touched her!"
Ethan swayed, his mind reeling.
Dead? But how? Why couldn't he remember?
Why did everyone look at him with such hatred, such pity?
Was he truly capable of something so monstrous that his mind had simply erased it?
A blinding headache pulsed behind his eyes, a terrifying void in his memory threatening to swallow him whole.
As the ceramic bird Chloe made finally fell from his numb fingers, the dam in Ethan' s mind broke.
Memories, cold and brutal, flooded in: ignoring her calls during a storm, prioritizing a deal over her safety, her body under a white sheet, his blank stare at her funeral.
Months later, a diagnosis came: glioblastoma.
The doctor offered surgery, but warned it could erase his traumatic past.
"I won't forget her," he rasped, refusing the memory-erasing procedure.
He would cling to the pain, a constant reminder of the woman he destroyed, now the only thing left of her he deserved. The Swapped Heir
Modern For fifteen years, I poured every ounce of my being into raising my "brother" Billy-Joe, sacrificing my own dreams and college education to get him to his NFL draft party. He was my whole purpose after our parents supposedly died.
At Billy-Joe' s draft party, the festive air turned noxious. I saw them: Earl and Sue-Ellen, my "dead" parents, alive and too prosperous, doting on a jeweled stranger named Tiffany. My blood ran cold when they confessed the brutal truth: I was a mere "swap," used to raise their biological son, while their true daughter Tiffany lived in luxury as the Governor's child.
Fifteen years of my life, my sacrifices, were just a "business decision." "She was useful," Sue-Ellen hissed, "Now you're a loose end." Before I could process their betrayal, pain exploded, and darkness claimed me.
I woke up gasping, not in the afterlife, but in my old trailer bed. It was the day of their fake funeral. My body was intact, yet I had been brutally murdered. How could they fake their deaths, then try to kill me for their monstrous secret, leaving the world to pity them? This wasn't grief; it was a cold, sharp fury.
This was no nightmare. This was a second chance. And I knew, with chilling clarity, every single payback I was going to exact. They thought they had disposed of me? They were about to pay. The Billionaire's Blind Devotion
Romance Ethan Caldwell, the silent, brooding man I hired to protect me, became my world. I’d found him battered and broken in an alley, a lonely art student extending an impulsive hand. For months, he was my quiet guardian, his intense gaze a constant comfort.
Then my stepsister, beautiful, fragile-looking Chloe, entered our lives. She spun a story of childhood bravery, of saving a boy, clinching it with a cheap, painted whistle she swore was a cherished memento. Every word was a lie.
In an instant, Ethan’s loyalty mutated. His icy stare, once a barrier to the world, turned on me, accusing. Chloe, his supposed childhood savior, became his singular, toxic obsession.
His "protection" transformed into a relentless torment for me. My art, my passion, systematically obliterated. My masterpiece, ruined by her "clumsy" accident. My painting hand, my Achilles tendon, deliberately shattered to cripple my future, all dismissed as "an unfortunate incident." My own father and brother, swayed by Chloe’s manipulative pleas, turned their backs, echoing accusations of my "jealousy" and "instability." Ethan—the man I saved, the man I trusted—suppressed undeniable evidence of Chloe's deceit, even orchestrating her winning a prestigious art competition with *my* stolen designs.
I lay physically broken in a hospital bed, isolated, bleeding internally from my stepsister's calculated cruelty. How could the man I saved—the man who claimed to protect—become my ruthless tormentor? Was his devotion to Chloe’s fabricated innocence so profoundly blind he’d sacrifice *everything* for her: truth, justice, even my life?
When they demanded a public apology from me for Chloe's lies—a condition for receiving life-saving medical care—something inside me snapped. At a high-society gala, facing their public condemnation, I finally hit back. I raised my cane. Not at Chloe, but at my own mending leg, deliberately inflicting fresh horror to expose every lie, every betrayal. This was my fight, and I would make them see the truth, no matter the cost. The Returning Ex: A Post-Breakup Love Story
Modern Here’s the translation:
In our next encounter, he had become a top celebrity.
Meanwhile, I was still at the village entrance catching geese.
Someone mentioned me and asked,
"Do you still keep in touch?"
Zhou Sinian glanced down at me and replied,
"No contact, not familiar."
Three years ago, he said I was too clingy and that there was no way we could be together.
After hearing that, I deleted his contact information, threw away his gifts, and walked away.
I thought he was still the same.
But I didn’t expect that from the very beginning of participating in the dating show, he was there for me. You might like
Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King
Da Lanlan For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess.
Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world.
Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna.
Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee.
Immediately after, my mother called to gloat.
"Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?"
She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue.
I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die.
But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom.
I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent.
If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one. Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King
Rabbit As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me.
Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King.
My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss.
His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
Rejected by the Heir, Claimed by the Lycan King
Annabell Seto I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin.
But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up.
Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America.
To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye.
The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray.
They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry.
But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim.
I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself.
"I demand a replacement. I choose him."
I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen.
Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away.
It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with. The Rise Of The Ugly Luna
Syra Tucker Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone.
Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved.
It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years.
Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from.
Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes.
Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with. In Bed With My Ex's Brother-in-Law
Ady Daniels He left her on the streets. His brother-in-law picked her up. and made her his wife.
On the day her ex, Mark, married the wealthy socialite Bella, Elena was thrown out with nothing but the clothes on her back-humiliated, broken, and utterly alone.
Until Eric Thompson appeared.
Bella's older brother. Mark's powerful brother-in-law. And the most feared Alpha in the city.
He offered her a hand when no one else would. Then, he offered her a deal:
A marriage in name only. A shield against her past. A chance to rebuild.
Elena accepted, expecting a cold arrangement between strangers. But behind closed doors, Eric's carefully guarded control unraveled-and so did hers. Their chemistry was explosive, their nights intense, and the lines between business and pleasure blurred beyond recognition.
He was the one man she could never have. and the only one she couldn't resist.
But when Mark realizes what he truly lost, and Bella discovers the secret behind her brother's bride, Elena must decide:
Is this just a contract?
Or is this the love she was always meant to fight for? Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Lycan
George B I was the Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, bound in a political marriage to Alpha Jace for three miserable years.
But because I was a "wolfless" runt, he never touched me. Instead, he moved his late brother's widow and her bratty son into my wing, publicly treating her as his true mate.
He let her son destroy my parents' only surviving photograph and demanded I apologize to the boy. When my cruel grandmother summoned us to the Winter Solstice Conclave—a deadly trial—Jace knew I would be brutally tortured if I arrived without my Alpha.
Yet, he chose to stay home to comfort his mistress over a fake stomach ache.
"I never wanted a wolfless mate," he had sneered, abandoning me.
He handed me over to the Blackwood Pack's Terrace of Correction. Forced to my knees, the silver-laced stone burned my flesh while the blizzard froze my blood.
As my vision darkened, I realized he had intentionally sent me here to die. I had swallowed my pride for three years, hiding my true identity and the signed rejection papers I had tricked him into signing, only to be thrown away like trash for another woman's fake tears.
Just as I prepared to let the darkness take me, the impenetrable iron gates of the Keep were obliterated by a massive black Maybach.
Baron, my terrifying Lycan cousin, stepped into the storm and scooped my scorched body into his arms.
"Short every stock tied to the Silvermoon name," he ordered into his phone, his eyes locked on my abusers. "I want Jace begging on his knees by sunrise." Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate
Only_Shila For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love.
But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night.
Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine.
Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love.
And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim.
But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go.
"Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away."
He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door.
And when I finally left his pack.
I took more than just my broken heart with me. 
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