Burch Minow
14 Published Stories
Burch Minow's Books and Stories
He Proposed With Prop Money
Billionaires My Thanksgiving engagement party was supposed to be the start of my perfect life.
My fiancé, Ethan, beamed, arm around me, announcing our future to millions of live-stream followers.
He presented a shimmering "10-carat" diamond and a suitcase supposedly stuffed with $250,000 cash, a dream come true.
But days later, that dream shattered.
I walked into our new apartment and found him with Chloe, my best friend, my maid of honor.
They weren' t even sorry.
The "engagement gift" cash? Mostly prop money, "FOR MOTION PICTURE USE ONLY" stamped on the bills.
Then they flipped the script.
They screamed I was the thief, that I' d swapped the money.
Their brutal social media campaign painted me as a gold digger, a liar.
Legal fees bankrupted me, friends vanished.
The world turned its back.
Anxiety became my shadow.
In a desolate, snow-covered parking lot, Ethan' s radicalized fans, convinced I had destroyed their idol, emerged from the swirling snow.
The last thing I felt was the cold, then a sharp, searing pain, then nothing.
A life unjustly stolen, a future erased by a con artist and a betrayer.
I woke with a gasp, heart hammering.
Sunlight streamed through my old bedroom window.
The date on my phone: Thanksgiving morning.
The day of the engagement party.
The trauma was real, but so was the second chance.
This time, I wouldn't be the victim.
This time, they would pay. From Rejected Rogue to the Supreme Alpha's Queen
Werewolf Three years after being rejected for having "no wolf," I returned to my old pack's territory.
I wasn't the pathetic human girl anymore; I was the Luna of the Supreme Alpha. But to test them, I wore plain grey clothes and blocked my scent.
My ex-mate, August, took the bait instantly.
He cornered me at the Alpha Summit, mocking my appearance.
"We need a nanny to wash diapers," he sneered in front of the dignitaries. "Since you're a starving Rogue, I'll offer you the job. You can sleep in the servants' quarters."
When I refused, he turned his venom on my three-year-old son, calling him a "bastard."
My son bit him in defense.
That was when August’s new mate grabbed a lethal silver knife and lunged at my child.
I threw myself in front of the blade. It pierced my shoulder, the silver burning like acid.
August laughed, thinking he had just rid the world of a weak human. He didn't know he had just drawn the blood of the legendary White Wolf.
The entire hall fell silent as the ground began to shake.
My husband, the Supreme Alpha, kicked open the doors, his eyes glowing with murderous intent.
He didn't look at the trembling Council. He looked at the knife in my shoulder.
"You drew Royal blood," he whispered, the sound terrifyingly low. "Close the doors. No one leaves alive." He Promised Forever, Then Left Me
Modern After the crash that killed my parents and stole my voice, my childhood friend Josiah swore he would be my voice. For years, I believed him, my silent world revolving around the boy who pulled me from the wreckage. I was even relearning to speak, just for him.
Then I overheard the truth. To his friends, I was just the "town tragedy girl," a burden he was tired of carrying.
The cruelty didn't stop. He let his new girlfriend publicly humiliate me, and when she faked an injury, he forced me to my knees to apologize in front of everyone.
The final betrayal came during a storm. He abandoned me in the woods, deaf without my hearing aids, leaving me to face the same terror that shattered my life years ago. He chose her.
He broke his promise. He broke me.
So I left. I found my own voice, my own strength. Three years later, I returned for my first art exhibition, and when I saw his face in the crowd, I knew he was about to hear everything he'd forced me to keep silent. Goodbye To A Toxic Love
Romance My seven-year marriage to Olivia Hayes, a powerful CEO, seemed perfect from the outside.
But then, a single photo on social media shattered everything: my wife, laughing intimately with her much younger personal assistant, Liam Thorne, proudly wearing the platinum cufflink I designed for our fifth anniversary.
When I confronted her, Olivia felt no shame, dismissively claiming it was "just a cufflink" and proposing an "open arrangement" where I could find someone else.
The humiliation deepened when I went to Hayes Enterprises, the company I helped build, only to be ambushed by Liam. He taunted me, flaunting his new status and claiming my office, before having me assaulted by security while Olivia watched, choosing to protect her lover' s image over mine.
My world crumbled as the video of the assault went viral, and Olivia, facing public backlash, demanded I sign over my company shares to Liam as an "apology" for my "unhinged behavior."
The sheer audacity and betrayal left me hollow, but I refused to be manipulated.
I tore up the share transfer agreement, signed the divorce papers, and walked away from everything, planning to start anew in New York.
But Olivia, ever the master manipulator, convinced me to stay for a "truce," only to publicize her affair with Liam at a family gala, where he cruelly tricked me into stepping into hot coffee.
The final straw came when Olivia fussed over Liam's fake injury, then dismissed my actual second-degree burn with a casual "Go home and put some toothpaste on it."
I drove straight to LAX, bought a one-way ticket to New York, and left everything behind-my marriage, my company, and the toxic remnants of a life that was never truly mine.
Little did I know, this agonizing end was just the beginning of reclaiming my true self and finding a love I never thought possible. When Family Destroys, Love Redeems
Modern The air in the Miller family living room was thick and heavy, like quicksand under my worn-out sneakers.
My adoptive brother, Brandon, looked at me with feigned pain, gesturing to expertly forged documents accusing me of selling company secrets.
"This is a mistake," I croaked, the first words I' d said in ten minutes.
My adoptive father, Richard, rumbled about betrayal and corporate espionage.
Sarah, my ex-fiancée, ripped off the ring I'd saved two years for, calling me a "traitor" and a "common thief."
Then Chloe, my adoptive sister, held up her phone, live-streaming my humiliation to millions. It was a perfectly orchestrated execution.
Brandon whispered, "You were always in the way," before shoving me down, my wrist screaming as I fell.
My adopted mother, Eleanor, looked at me with pure revulsion, demanding I be removed.
Richard declared me disowned, my shares forfeited.
They sentenced me to a "wellness retreat" indefinitely, a "death sentence" they called it.
But I smiled. A strange, serene smile.
"A wellness retreat?" I asked, my voice steady. "Away from all of this? No work? No family obligations?"
I looked Richard straight in the eye.
"Thank you," I said, my smile widening. "Honestly. Thank you."
The silence in the room was sharp, crackling with their disbelief.
"This isn' t a vacation, Alex," he snapped, his composure slipping.
"I know," I said. "It' s better. It' s freedom."
They thought they were sending me to prison, but they just handed me the key. They thought they were punishing me, but they had no idea they' d just given me the greatest gift of all. The Unseen Queen
Mafia I thought I had New York exactly where I wanted it. As the hidden power behind my half-brother, Caleb, the city's new Don, I pulled all the strings from my penthouse, careful to avoid the chaos that once consumed it.
But Caleb' s obsessive love, a sickness I'd nurtured for years, exploded, transforming my gilded cage into a literal one. He kidnapped me, locking me in a lavish fortress to keep me to himself, his madness threatening to burn down the empire I built.
Then, a ghost from my past reappeared. Ethan Scott, the man I once loved, returned claiming his rightful place, and with it, me. He orchestrated Caleb's downfall, seizing power under the guise of rescuing me, marrying me to consolidate his reign. Everyone saw a love story, a hero claiming his bride.
But kings and heroes were just pawns in my game. What happens when the queen refuses to be a prize? With my wedding gown stained by the blood of the two men who dared to control me, a hidden empire stirred. The city will awaken to a new dawn, under a ruler they never saw coming. Because sometimes, the silent architect is the only one left standing. When the Queen Returns
Romance I built Liam Carter's political career from nothing, forging him into a powerful Senate candidate. Our engagement gala, a critical fundraiser, was set to crown us as D.C.'s ultimate power couple.
But on that perfect night, the doorbell rang. It wasn't the catering staff; it was Brianna, a junior aide, clutches her very pregnant stomach. "It's Liam's," she whispered.
Liam burst in, canceling the gala to manage the "crisis," his eyes colder than ice. He ordered me to stay silent, to protect his career, then swiftly blacklisted me from every connection I had built.
Even my own parents sided with him, more concerned with appearances than my broken heart, dismissing his betrayal as a "man's needs." Isolated and professionally ruined, I watched my carefully constructed life unravel.
The final blow: Brianna flaunted my hand-knitted scarf, a symbol of our struggles, now a dog bed for her new puppy.
That scarf wasn't just fabric; it was a piece of my soul. Seeing it desecrated ignited a rage so pure and hot, it shattered any remaining pretense of civility.
This wasn't just politics or business anymore; this was about my life, my history, everything I held sacred.
I called Liam. "I want you to lose," I told him. "
I want you to feel what it's like to have everything you've ever worked for turn to ash." With a new alliance by my side, I walked out, ready to reclaim my name, my power, and rewrite my future, no matter the cost. Divorce by Deception
Modern I worked double shifts, saving every penny, convinced our family was barely making ends meet.
My husband, Mark, managed a struggling car dealership, but for Thanksgiving, he booked a table at The Grand Steer.
I arrived, envisioning a rare, happy family meal with Emily and him.
Instead, Mark was there with our seven-year-old daughter, Emily, and his visibly pregnant high school sweetheart, Jessica.
My heart froze as I overheard him casually explain he'd "taken care of" our beloved dog, Buster, because Jessica found him an inconvenience.
When I confronted him, Emily, my daughter, shockingly screamed, "I wish Jessica was my mom! You always cared more about that stupid dog than me!"
Utterly decimated by their betrayal, I filed for divorce and, in a moment of raw despair, told Mark to take full custody of Emily.
Weeks later, a frantic call: Emily was in a severe car accident, needing a critical A-negative blood transfusion.
But I'm O-negative, and Mark always claimed O-positive.
The doctor's next words chilled me: "O-type parents cannot have an A-type child."
The horrifying truth crashed down.
My entire motherhood, the difficult IVF, Mark's secret files calling Emily "their legacy"-it was all a lie.
She wasn't my child, but Jessica's, a cruel deception orchestrated through an embryo switch.
My world exploded, but from the ashes, a cold, unyielding fire of revenge ignited. We Ate Our Daughter
Modern Thanksgiving.
The smell of roast turkey usually fills me with warmth, but not this year.
My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, wasn't at the table. She was supposedly at my sister-in-law Jess' s mother' s house for a spontaneous sleepover with Jess' s son, Kyle - a plan that immediately set my maternal alarms ringing.
My husband, Mark, dismissed my concerns, utterly captivated by the pumpkin pie Jess brought.
My unease festered, especially after Mark' s tender whisper in his sleep: "Jess… oh, Jess…"
The affair was real.
Days blurred into anxious searching and growing fear, until a casual phone call Mark took on our landline - a line we barely used anymore - jolted me.
He scoffed, "Telemarketers. Trying to sell cemetery plots by saying our kid' s ashes are lost. Sickos."
"Ashes." The word hit me like a physical blow.
My mother' s intuition roared. I sped to the only crematorium in town.
There, I learned the horrifying truth: Lily was brought in by Jess, already dead, cremated. All that remained was her friendship bracelet, a tiny testament to a life brutally cut short.
The shock gave way to pure, unadulterated horror when Detective Reynolds came.
Brenda, Jess's mother, had confessed. Lily' s ashes were mixed into the Thanksgiving pumpkin pie.
We had eaten our daughter. The police, swayed by Mark who called my pleas a "domestic dispute," provided no immediate help, deepening my furious despair.
But this unspeakable act ignited a fire within me.
Justice, if not served by the law, would be found.
I would unravel every thread of Jess' s monstrous plot, including the fate of her son, Kyle.
This was no longer just about grief; it was about a mother' s relentless pursuit of truth and vengeance, no matter the cost, to expose the pure evil that had consumed my family. My Wife, The Killer's Keeper
Modern My life was simple, if not exactly thrilling.
An ex-Army Ranger, now a mechanic, living with my CEO wife, Cassie, in a world miles from my own.
Then the call came, shattering everything: my mother, an intrepid investigative journalist, brutally murdered, dismembered, her eyes gouged out, her tongue cut.
The police couldn't find a lead until security footage revealed the custom-engraved hunting knife – and then, I saw it, advertised for auction by my own wife's company.
My wife, Cassie, bought the very weapon for her charismatic executive assistant, Marcus Vance – the man my mother had been investigating.
He taunted me with vivid details of her torture, laughing as he had me beaten, then imprisoned in our home' s steel-reinforced panic room, my own wife convinced I was simply 'unstable.'
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, Marcus brought in an urn.
My mother' s ashes, he casually explained, would make a 'strong, durable, permanent' foundation for our driveway.
The ultimate desecration, a final, horrifying insult that crushed me.
How could my life, my family, have fallen to such depravity?
But in that moment of absolute despair, something shifted.
A Ranger doesn' t break.
I escaped, battered and bleeding, making a desperate pilgrimage to Washington D.C.
There, at the steps of the Department of Justice, I collapsed, but not before leaving my father' s Medal of Honor and a bloody handprint – a silent, defiant cry for justice against the monsters in my own home. The Heir and His False Queen
Romance I was the heir to a tech and real estate empire, living a life most only dreamed of. Yet, I felt a constant ache, a longing for something pure. My father’s “Vanguard Program” was supposed to find me a wife, and I was infatuated with Ava Moreau, the ice queen he picked as a frontrunner. I thought she was my future.
Then, my world shattered. I overheard Chloe Bishop, one of the Vanguard women, openly mock my "pathetic devotion" and call my near-drowning "staged." Moments later, I witnessed Ava and her supposed "younger brother," Liam, in a passionate embrace, betraying everything I believed.
Their intricate scheme began to unravel. Liam faked an injury to frame me. Ava deliberately sabotaged my horse's saddle during a polo match, leaving me bruised and broken. Then, she humiliated me publicly at a charity gala, hijacking an auction and smirking as she gifted my prized item to Liam. The final blow came at my own engagement party: a deepfake video of me, making lewd comments, broadcast to hundreds. The crowd gasped, whispered, judging me. My reputation, my honor, publicly shredded.
How could people I nearly married, people embraced by my family, plot such elaborate deceit? Why the constant humiliation, the relentless sabotage, to destroy me? Their betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound.
But their arrogance was their downfall. I had secretly installed surveillance. And as the fake tape played, exposing me as a pervert, I pulled out my phone, ready to expose *them* and tear down their web of lies, no matter the cost. The Billionaire's Wife: A Death That Wasn't
Modern Sarah Thorne, née Miller, lived in a glittering New York penthouse, the wife of tech billionaire Marcus Thorne.
Everyone whispered it was a fairytale, but Sarah was trapped, a silent prisoner in a gilded cage.
Her world crumbled when Marcus, the man who’d allegedly ‘saved’ her, began using her parents’ struggling diner as ruthless leverage, threatening them with prison.
Then, his mistress Tiffany arrived, turning Sarah’s home into a stage for relentless humiliation.
Marcus’s cruelty escalated: from gaslighting his infidelity to forcing Sarah into a childhood trauma trigger – a dark, rat-infested root cellar.
He even publicly shamed her with leaked childhood photos and doused her in greasy dishwater at a high-society event.
The betrayal was absolute.
How could the man who promised her the world become her tormentor?
Why did he constantly break her down?
In despair, Sarah decided she couldn't escape him alive.
She contacted her childhood chemist friend, Evie, for an untraceable substance.
Her grim plan: a final, shared exit.
But Evie's "poison" wasn't what Sarah thought.
It was a reversible sedative, designed not for an end, but for Sarah's ultimate freedom and Marcus's brutal, surprising reckoning. You might like
I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father
Temple Madison I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires.
Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world.
My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets.
I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her.
The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money.
I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table.
"Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead." The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle
C.D I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me.
Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years.
The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought.
I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction.
With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun. SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes
Annypen Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace.
But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge.
A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart.
Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn.
But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left?
A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again?
She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.
Craving The Wrong Brother
Elysian Sparrow She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend.
~~~
Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart.
But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong.
Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side.
Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him.
Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world.
What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost.
CONTENT WARNING:
This story is strongly 18+.
It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters.
While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.
A Divorce He Regrets
Alissa Nexus The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever? Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye
Cait I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant.
But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over.
"Sign it,"
He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise.
I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth.
"It's just cramps,"
I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could.
Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus.
Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down.
He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach. 
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