Cascade
12 Published Stories
Cascade's Books and Stories
The Scumbag CEO's Secret Genius Wife
Modern I was the internet's most feared vigilante, famous for exposing toxic men to millions of live viewers. With one click, I was supposed to take down a local scammer, but the screen glitched.
Instead of a petty liar, the face of Kristopher Schaefer-the most powerful billionaire in New York-appeared on the broadcast, branded with a massive red stamp that read: SCUMBAG.
The internet went into a frenzy as I called the city's richest man a "leech" who had no spine. Within minutes, my studio was breached and my network was hacked. I fled into the rain, only to be cornered by a fleet of black SUVs. The man I had just publicly humiliated stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning with a terrifying, cold fury.
He didn't just want an apology; he wanted me. Because legally, on a piece of paper buried in a safe three years ago, this "scumbag" was actually my husband. He dragged me back to his sprawling estate, stripping me of my secrets and forcing me into a life of luxury that felt more like a prison. He threatened to ruin me for the billions in stock value I'd wiped out, yet he refused to let me go.
I didn't understand why he was protecting me from my own treacherous family or why he looked at me with such starving intensity. I was a forensic accountant who had just declared war on his empire, so why was he putting his mother's priceless emeralds around my neck? Was he trying to silence me, or was there a deeper game at play within his crumbling company?
When he finally found the encrypted drive containing his company's darkest financial secrets, the deal changed.
"Play the perfect wife," he commanded, pinning me against the wall. "Save my merger, and I might just forget you tried to destroy me."
Now, I have to decide if I'm going to finish the takedown, or if I'm the only woman who can save the man I'm supposed to hate. The Magnate Who Claimed My Heart
Modern To help my fiancé's tech startup, I poured my entire inheritance into his dream and even underwent ninety-nine humiliating hymen reconstruction surgeries to satisfy his bizarre fetish.
But just one procedure away from our wedding, I overheard the truth. He called me his "cash cow" and the surgeries were just "pure theater" to lure in investors with a virgin fetish.
He never loved me. He never even touched me.
Instead, he drugged me with "protein shakes" to keep me compliant and paraded me in front of old perverts.
His plan was to publicly humiliate me at the altar, expose my most private medical secrets, and then marry his childhood sweetheart, Kimberli.
He was going to destroy me, dance on the ashes of my dignity, and leave me with nothing.
But if he wanted a show, he was going to get one. Just not the one he planned. I picked up my phone and texted the one man I had blacklisted, the ruthless East Coast magnate Constantine Russell: "Crash my wedding. I need you." A Wife's Fight for Justice
Billionaires My five-year marriage to Dallas Fischer, a tech billionaire, was a blur of high-society parties and fake smiles, until the fifth year ended with the death of our first child.
The official story was a miscarriage, a tragedy, but then I overheard Dallas confessing to his mistress, Alanna, that he had paid a doctor to induce an abortion and dispose of our son's ashes.
He revealed his plan to humiliate me by leaking an intimate video on our anniversary, claiming I was responsible for his ex-fiancée Hannah's suicide five years ago. He had orchestrated our entire relationship as an elaborate revenge plot.
My world shattered. The man I loved, the life we built, was a lie. He hated me, had murdered our child, and was now going to destroy me.
But I wouldn't let him. The game had just begun. Betrayed Wife, Burning Revenge
Romance My husband, Craig, got the promotion. After three long years stuck in a small town, we were finally going home to corporate headquarters.
But when I went to file our joint relocation paperwork, the HR administrator gave me a pitying look. Craig, she explained, had already filed a single-person relocation, listing a different spouse: his high-school sweetheart, Chanel Murphy.
A single, numb phone call to the county clerk's office revealed the devastating truth. I had signed my own divorce papers two months ago, tricked by Craig, who claimed they were investment documents.
He had remarried the very next day.
He used my talent as a top software architect to secure his promotion, all while orchestrating this cruel deception. I had sacrificed my own career opportunities for our future, a future he was already building with someone else.
The pain was suffocating, but then rage burned through my grief. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady. I called Elek Preston, the VP of Engineering, the man who had offered me a lead role on a high-stakes project.
"Is the offer still open?" I asked, my voice clear and hard. Eight Deaths, One Life
Sci-fi Alex Carter was supposed to be my protector, my ex-boyfriend whose job it was to keep me safe. But his heart, his entire world, orbited Chloe Davis, his childhood sweetheart and a rising social media influencer.
Then came Chloe's fiancé's yacht party, a night I' d lived through eight times before, where masked men stormed the deck and dragged us both below. The kidnapper's satellite phone rang, and Alex' s voice, frantic and raw, filled the small cabin.
"What do you want?" he demanded. The voice on the other end was gravelly. "A choice, Mr. Carter. We only have room for one return passenger. Your call. The influencer or the other one." There was no hesitation, not a single agonizing second. "Let Chloe go. Take the money, just let her go."
The words hit me harder than any bullet, crushing me with the weight of my own worthlessness as I was untied, dragged to the edge of the yacht, and pushed into the icy water.
I had died eight times before, each "favor" Alex cashed in to rewind time, always for Chloe. But the ninth time, as darkness consumed me, a cold, sterile light bloomed behind my eyelids.
`...DESPERATE PLEA FOR SELF-RELIANCE DETECTED...` `...OVERRIDING OPERATIVE CARTER'S AUTHORITY...` `...ACTIVATING HIDDEN PROTOCOL...` `[SELF-RESCUE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED]` I wasn't just being revived; I was being granted administrative access to my own mission file, my own life. This time, I' d save myself. The Wife Who Died For Me
Romance The sterile hum of the hospital room was my last lullaby.
I was Alex Miller, a game developer, fading away after a hit-and-run crash.
My wife, Sarah, had spent three years turning my life into a living hell, her words sharper than any blade, all to push me away.
Divorce papers, a constant reminder of my failures, sat untouched on our counter.
I believed her staged betrayals and cruel jabs until the very end, telling the nurse to ensure Sarah knew I was finally gone, free from my burden.
But death offered no escape, only a spectral front-row seat to my own funeral.
I watched Sarah, her face a mask, her eyes raw, remain long after everyone left.
Then, a terrifying truth unfolded: she hunted down my killer with relentless fury, breaking his limbs before calling the police.
A week later, at my grave, under a full moon, she whispered words that tore through the veil of death.
"Alex, I'm here to stay. I'm so sorry. I just wanted you to live, to be happy, without me."
She revealed a medical diagnosis: Glioblastoma. Terminal.
Then, she climbed into my casket, swallowing pills, choosing to die with me.
The world fractured, then slammed back together.
I gasped, sitting at our kitchen table, the scent of coffee and Sarah's perfume filling the air.
She slid divorce papers across the table, her voice flat.
"I've found someone else, Alex. He's successful. He can give me what you can't."
It was the day it all started, her cruel, self-sacrificing performance beginning anew.
But this time, I knew the script.
With trembling hands, I ripped the papers to shreds, then pulled my terrified, lying wife into my arms.
"Are you crazy?" I whispered, tears welling. "Hiding a terminal illness? Do you think that's cool?" Betrayed By Love, Reborn By Fate
Sci-fi The cheap cotton sheets felt real, too real for a man who' d just died a brutal death in a remote facility.
My eyes snapped open to my familiar apartment, the one I shared with Sarah, a place I hadn' t seen in over a year.
Then I saw my reflection: unmarred, clear-eyed, not the skeletal, scarred figure I' d become.
It was the day.
The day my life was systematically dismantled by the two people I trusted most: my cousin, Liam White, and my ex-fiancée, Chloe Davis.
Liam, my supposed brother, had twisted Chloe' s love for me into hate, then moved into her mansion, living the life that was supposed to be mine.
He fabricated lies about my gambling debts and mistresses, even selling Chloe' s prized vintage Porsche and blaming me.
Her wealth and influence became the weapons she used to destroy me.
The final blow came with Olivia Reed, Chloe' s best friend, pregnant with Liam' s child.
They faked a fall, blamed me for her miscarriage, and used Chloe' s power to have me locked away in a hellish facility.
I remembered the sharp pain, my own blood pooling on concrete, and then… nothing.
Until now.
My phone rang, cutting through the silence.
Chloe Davis.
In my past life, I' d pleaded, begged, and been ruined.
"Ethan Miller, you piece of trash! Where is my husband?" she shrieked, venom dripping from her voice.
But the man who feared her was dead.
With a newfound calm, I ended the call.
The silence that followed was a declaration of war, and this time, I knew all the moves. My Sweet Revenge: An Heiress's Reckoning
Modern My name is Gabrielle Fuller, and I died today.
It wasn't an accident, or a tragic twist of fate. It was a cold-blooded murder, staged to look like a suicide by the two people I trusted most: my fiancé, Caleb, and the girl I called my little sister, Molly.
The same Molly who "saved" me from a mugging just a week ago, charming her way into my life, setting the stage for their systematic destruction of everything I held dear.
When I woke up this morning, gasping for breath in my Pacific Heights condo, the vivid memory of their hands on me, the icy shock of betrayal, was so visceral it made me sick.
The date on my phone confirmed it: I was back. Back to the very day they started picking apart my life, piece by sickening piece.
The girl who' d spent her first life unknowingly thanking her killers, showering them with gifts, had been a fool. But this time, when my phone buzzed with Molly' s syrupy voice, my veins ran with ice, not naivety.
They thought they' d won. They thought I was a puppet. They had no idea I already held the strings. Salem's Scorn: The Witch Reborn
Fantasy My eyes opened in a Beacon Hill mansion, a rich prison of silk and scorn.
They called me "Hope," but I was Gabrielle Johns, a witch hanged in Salem, reborn into this timid girl's body.
Their daughter, Molly, staged a dramatic fall down the stairs, shrieked "She pushed me!" and directed her theatrical terror right at me.
Immediately, Molly's parents and fiancé rushed to her side, their faces masks of disgust, calling me a "trailer park animal" and a "disgrace."
They slapped me, starved me, and locked me inside the dark mansion, expecting me to break, groveling for their forgiveness.
But their cruelty didn't just fuel my ancient rage; it ignited the deep, quiet misery of Hope, a girl bullied and dismissed her whole life.
How could they be so brazenly wicked, believing they had untouchable power over me?
They thought locking me away was their control, but they just handed me the key to my vengeance. The Heiress's Second Chance At Revenge
Billionaires I grew up spoiled, flying first class and dreaming of million-dollar handbags.
But for once, I wanted a "real American experience," something my elite family would scoff at.
So, I booked a Greyhound bus ticket, planning to save a fortune and prove I wasn't just a pampered rich kid.
Then the nightmare jolted me awake, cold sweat gripping my back.
It wasn't a dream; it was a memory.
A grim, horrifying memory of that other life where my simple act of kindness on this very bus led to unspeakable horrors.
I saw her again, "Mama" Darlene, with her sickeningly sweet smile and homemade cookies.
I remembered the darkness that followed, waking up in a filthy room, my money gone.
I remembered Cletus, Darlene' s son, dragging me into the mountains, bringing me to a shack.
The things he did to me, the pain, before they left me for dead in a ditch.
To be here again, reliving the beginning of that hell, felt like a cruel joke.
Why was I given this second chance, only to endure the terror of knowing what was coming?
My stomach clenched as I saw Mama Darlene, already beside my seat, her repulsive grandson pawing at my backpack.
Was this nightmare destined to repeat, or could I break free?
My hands trembled, but my mind was crystal clear.
This time, I was awake.
And this time, I was ready to turn their game into my personal battlefield.
I grabbed my phone, and with a cold resolve, started calling in favors that would turn their Appalachian nightmare into theirs. You might like
After Rebirth, The Strongest Beasts Are Obsessed With Me
Alibi Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone.
But death? Just her intermission.
She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down.
And her?
Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status.
But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power.
Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer:
Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world.
Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge.
Sounds simple? Think again.
A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him.
A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart.
A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure.
A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark.
A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her.
They all need her mark. They all want her.
And sharing? Not in their vocabulary.
Too bad for them-
She's not here for love stories.
She's here to survive.
To climb.
To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones.
And one day.
To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born. Reborn As The Alphas' Hated Mate
Ying Luo I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured.
Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence.
"In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates."
No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life.
I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out?
Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself. The Vampire Kings And Their Little Mate
Liz Barnet Being stimulated by three overly attractive vampires was the last thing I had ever imagined.
"Oh Jasmine, this is a sight to behold," Archer murmured,landing kisses all along my inner thighs.
Lucien broke the kiss, I could see the lust in his eyes.
Micheal took the turn to kiss me once I caught my breath and Lucien's fingers moved to spread my labia only for me to feel the unexpected lick of Archer's tongue on my clit.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
"Feel it..." Lucien growled into my ear, biting my earlobe, "Feel it how we pleasure you, little mate."
******
My whole life I have known my identity as a human but everything changed once I took the job in the Kings' palace as their maid and their attention fell on me.
Black Vale Dynasty was ruled by three powerful Vampire kings. Respected, Obeyed and feared they were the most dangerous predators on the earth. But when my life unknowingly gets entangled with theirs, soon the unimaginable happened—On the night of the full moon, I turned out to be their mate and this puts my whole existence under question.
They did not want to leave me but a human couldn't be the destined mate of a vampire, let alone three.
However, fate pulled the strangest game on me, linking my life to the eliminated Vaidel-Dynasty which was once ruled by the strongest vampire of all time before the rogue attack…that destroyed everything.
Reborn To Swap Husbands With My Sister
Culprit The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss.
As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family.
In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter.
I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate.
I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath.
Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again.
She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house. Reborn From Betrayal's Ashes
Gavin The champagne tasted like ash. My daughter, Lily, beamed beside my beaming husband, David, celebrating her university graduation-a picture-perfect moment I' d relived before.
In my previous life, it was on this very day that she had shattered me, screaming, "You're not my real parents!" after draining my retirement, all to fund the biological family who' d thrown her away.
That betrayal, that sickening realization of my life's savings gone, had led to my death in a car crash, a distraction of overwhelming grief.
I didn' t understand how the sweet girl we had doted on for twenty-two years could be so cruel, so utterly devoid of gratitude, bleeding us dry for people who saw her as nothing but a walking ATM.
But then, I woke up, back in my own bed, on the morning of this exact party. This time, there would be no selfless mother, no victim. This time, I was a survivor, and I was ready for war. Rebirth: A Sister's Betrayal
Sheelagh Sexton The sound of the front door opening was a nightmare come true-my younger sister, Emily, stood there, not alone, but holding a baby in a cheap pink blanket.
"Surprise! Meet Leo. He' s the newest addition to the Miller family legacy," she announced, her voice sickeningly carefree, echoing the very words that had derailed my life in a past I' d already lived.
My blood ran cold; this exact moment, this casual act of irresponsibility, had led directly to my death before.
My parents, blinded by affection, embraced the child and Emily' s monstrous lie, turning their backs on my desperate pleas for reason.
Consumed by a terrible sense of déjà vu, I remembered the blinding pain, the darkness that consumed me when Emily, armed with one of my own sculptures, ended my previous life for simply asking her to be responsible.
But this time, I wouldn't be the martyr-this time, the cycle would break, and Emily would pay.' 
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