Culprit
10 Published Stories
Culprit's Books and Stories
The Jilted Heiress And Her Protector
Romance I am the sole heir to the Beaumont empire, engaged to Julian for three years to secure our families' alliance.
But on the night of my 24th birthday, he left me waiting at a crowded bar for three hours. I called him twelve times, and he ignored every single one.
The next day, he claimed he was busy saving his ex-girlfriend, Abby, from an eviction. He promised to make it up to me at my wedding dress fitting. Yet, right before I stepped out in my gown, he ran off again. He even outsourced accompanying me to buy our wedding rings to my father's imposing Chief Operating Officer, Alex.
When my friend sent me a live video from a nightclub, I realized the humiliating truth. Julian had abandoned me at the bridal shop to get into a bloody street brawl over Abby. Even after I rushed to the club and used my family name to save him from being arrested, he still hesitated when his ex-girlfriend grabbed his arm.
"Julian, please don't leave me."
Hearing Abby's manufactured cries, he chose to stay by her side instead of following me. I stared at his bloody knuckles in pure, unfiltered disgust. Why was I ruining my pride for a man who constantly put another woman first?
Without looking back, I walked out of the club and got straight into Alex's waiting car. This time, I am canceling the wedding. Reborn To Swap Husbands With My Sister
Fantasy 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. Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum
Modern I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin.
There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress.
Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son.
Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination.
My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me.
For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir.
Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity.
They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting.
They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness.
I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light.
"Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter.
"I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son."
The game is over, Carter.
I' m not here to reconcile.
I' m here to burn your empire to the ground. Her Smile, My Burning Hell
Fantasy The new penthouse apartment, meant to be a monument to our future, felt like a tomb.
In my hand, a medical report confirmed my fiancée Chloe' s secret lover, Liam O' Connell, was dying from a highly contagious, deadly illness.
A brutal memory tore through me: In my last life, my fury over this same betrayal led to Liam's accidental death. Chloe, consumed by grief, retaliated by orchestrating a fiery car crash that killed my parents and me.
I still smelled the gasoline, heard my mother' s screams, watched her smiling face as we burned.
How could this be happening again? I was back, at the very same moment, holding the very same report.
This time, I wouldn't scream. I wouldn't rage. I would simply shred the proof and let nature take its course. Justice would be cold, patient, and meticulously planned.
My phone rang. It was Chloe, her voice sharp and demanding about a declined credit card. Then, she uttered a chilling phrase: "Is this about Liam? Are you really going to be this pathetic? I thought we were past you trying to use his health to ruin my life."
My blood ran cold. She knew. She remembered. She was reborn too.
This wasn't just a breakup. This was war, and she had just made the first move. Broken But Back: My Sweet Vengeance
Modern My life was a carefully built sanctuary, a thriving business, a loving home with the man I adored, Mark, and my best friend, Jessica, by my side.
Then, a phone call, sharp and unwelcome, shattered it all-a memory from a past life I wasn't supposed to recall.
In that nightmare, Mark and Jessica weren't my allies; they were parasites. They drained my company, forged my signature, cooked the books, leaving me with a mountain of debt. My parents, heartbroken, wasted away. I was left with nothing but betrayal, ultimately sold to a loan shark, my legs brutally broken, my life extinguished in a dark, cold basement.
How could the two people I trusted most harbor such bottomless greed, such a complete lack of soul? Why would they meticulously plot to destroy the very person who had given them everything?
But I remember it all now, every cruel word, every calculating glance. This time, I' m back, and the debt won' t be mine. The Price of Humiliation: Ava's Return
Modern I was eight months pregnant, standing frozen at a street festival when the ground shook violently.
A piece of scaffolding broke loose, tumbling straight towards me.
My fiancé, Liam, was just feet away, but he lunged, not for me, but for his young intern, Chloe, shielding her from the debris.
I watched him go, then felt a sharp, blinding pain and a warm gush as my water broke.
His eyes found me then, twisted not with fear, but with disgust, as he muttered, "That's so embarrassing!" before pulling Chloe away, leaving me to collapse on the pavement.
Seven days later, I was discharged from the hospital; the baby was gone.
Back home, I opened a package meant for Chloe, inside was a positive pregnancy test; two different stories, one of life, one of death.
Liam acted annoyed by my absence, reeking of cheap perfume and sporting Chloe' s lipstick on his collar.
He offered a vile apology: he left me because it "would have been humiliating" for him if people saw his fiancée "pissing herself in public."
He thought I'd wet myself from fear, not from a devastating injury.
His phone buzzed with Chloe's custom ringtone, her giggling voice, "Boss, you have a call!"
Then I saw Chloe's Instagram picture from his office, her legs on his desk, captioned: "I just love making the boss smile. Wonder what he'd do if I ever left?"
Liam had already liked it, replying, "Don't you dare! He'd have to track you down and handcuff you to your desk!"
They were mocking me, celebrating my pain.
My hand trembled, but my voice was steady as I dialed our wedding venue to cancel everything.
I packed my last bag, leaving the life I thought I had behind.
I' m done being his architect, his model, his forgotten fiancée. This time, I' m building my own empire. The Unwanted Wife's Billion-Dollar Comeback
Billionaires My phone's blue glow pierced the dark nursery at 3 AM. Our son, Leo, slept peacefully, while I, on maternity leave, was scrolling LinkedIn. Recovery and bonding were the goals, but instead, I found betrayal.
That' s when I saw it: A post from my husband, Ethan Reed, CEO of Nexus. He was smiling beside Chloe Jensen, a young MBA intern. The caption announced Chloe was taking the lead on Project Chimera – my revolutionary AI, the project I' d spent three years building from scratch. My baby, almost as much as Leo.
My numb fingers typed a text: "What the hell is this LinkedIn post?" Ethan' s dismissive reply was instant: "It's 3 AM, Kat. You' re emotional, it' s the postpartum stuff. Get some rest. For Leo." He was gaslighting me, twisting my health and our son against me. He just handed my life's work to an intern.
The cold, sharp anger that flooded me wasn't about tears; it was about clarity. He thought I was weak, sidelined by motherhood. He thought I'd just let him replace me with a twenty-four-year-old.
He was dead wrong. I deleted his message. My next call wasn't to him, but to Mark Strahan, the EVP of Global Logistics at AmeriCorp. "There have been unforeseen technical leadership changes on Project Chimera," I calmly stated, knowing the nine-figure deal would now grind to a halt. This was war, and I was just getting started. The Midas Touch Betrayal
Fantasy My Midas Touch wasn't just a gift; it was my life's foundation, turning my husband, Ethan, into Bishop Consolidated's CEO in three short years.
We had it all: a grand estate, a perfect marriage, and a secret I cherished-the tiny life growing within me, our future.
Then I heard them.
Ethan's urgent voice, Dr. Finch's chilling reply.
They planned to transfer my unique gift to Seraphina Vance, Ethan' s old flame.
The condition?
"No living descendants for the Midas Touch to anchor." My unborn child.
Ethan was trading our baby for ambition.
He held my mother hostage, forcing me into agonizing "donations" that drained not just my power, but my emotions, leaving me a blank slate.
Seraphina, vibrant with stolen energy, gloated.
On the third day, the final injection came, a clear liquid from Ethan himself. A tearing pain. My baby was gone.
How could the man I loved, the father of my child, orchestrate such cold, calculated cruelty? The betrayal was absolute, the grief a silent scream trapped within a body now devoid of feeling.
But as darkness consumed me amidst the flames engulfing my wing, one flicker remained: the will to survive, to ensure they reaped what they sowed.
I made one call. It was time for a different kind of gold. No Longer Your Errand Girl
Billionaires My life was a constant payment, a humiliating exchange for my sister Chloe's next breath.
Julian Vance owned me, casually tossing wads of cash that paid Chloe's astronomical medical bills, but bought him the right to my endless compliance.
He'd send me on midnight errands miles away after I'd nearly collapsed from a health crisis he ignored, or force me to decorate a rooftop in a blizzard while I was still sick, leaving me to freeze.
His girlfriend Tiffany delighted in tormenting me, once orchestrating a salon "makeover" that involved a chemical burn to my scalp, ruining my hair, while Julian dismissed my agony for "a little tingle."
They even projected a montage of my most vulnerable, humiliating moments at a crowded public gala, expecting my total breakdown.
But something shifted when Chloe's final, critical surgery bill was finally paid; the humiliation wasn't a payment anymore, it was just... noise.
When Julian, seeing my chilling indifference instead of tears, dragged me home in a fury, I knew my obligation was met, and a cold resolve quietly set in.
The next morning, after Tiffany tried to frame me with a fake allergic reaction, I calmly looked at Julian, devoid of fear or defense, and simply said, "I'm leaving. For good."
He was stunned, convinced I was playing a game for more money or attention, but then he saw the truth on the security footage: Tiffany's setup, my quiet endurance, his own casual cruelty.
He chased me to my small, forgotten hometown, offering apologies, money, even marriage, desperate to reclaim his 'possession'.
But standing before him, I poured out years of suppressed revulsion, detailing every humiliation he inflicted, and when the words were too much, my body reacted instinctively, violently expelling the lingering poison of his presence.
I was finally free, leaving his gilded cage for the comforting scent of fresh bread in my own small bakery, while Julian remained trapped, forever misunderstanding what he had truly lost. You might like
Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
Whisper 119 She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him.
It was all a lie.
No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way.
But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret.
Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again. The Silent Heiress's Million Dollar Gambit
Maui My stepmother’s bodyguards were seconds away from dragging me back to a life that was essentially a prison cell wrapped in silk. I couldn't even scream for help because the words always died in my throat—a clinical condition called selective mutism that felt like drowning on dry land.
I had just discovered the sickening truth: my father was planning to sell me to a sleazy investor named Sterling to cover his company’s bankruptcy. They were going to drug me, ship me off to a private island, and strip away the only thing I had left—my late mother’s multimillion-dollar art trust.
When I arrived at the manor, my stepmother Lydia handed me a glass of wine laced with bitter sedatives, her smile sharp as a razor.
"Drink up, darling. It’ll make the transition to Mr. Sterling much easier."
My stepsister Harper stood in the corner, wearing a dress bought with my mother’s stolen money, mocking my inability to speak. My father didn't even look me in the eye as he calculated my price tag, treating his own daughter like a piece of damaged, mute inventory.
They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't hear them laughing about the "accident" that killed my mother or how they planned to burn her final restoration work. They assumed my silence was a sign of surrender, a white flag waved by a broken girl who would never fight back.
How could the people who were supposed to be my family treat me like a commodity to be traded? Did they really think my silence meant I was weak, or that I didn't know every dirty secret they were hiding in their ledgers?
I didn't drink the wine. Instead, I burst into the VIP suite of Carlisle Pierce, the most cold-blooded billionaire in New York, and slammed a crumpled napkin on his table with a desperate, last-second gambit.
"MARRY ME. NOW. $1 MILLION." While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. The Neglected Wife's Vicious Comeback Game
Xiu Luo On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency.
I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist.
The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed.
He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset.
"I'm going to make him wish he had never been born."
After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground. Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. The Ice Captain's Stolen Fiancée
Jasper Wren I was carefully folding a new silk nightgown, ready to fly to New York and surprise my fiancé of several years, Donald.
Then my phone pinged with a photo from my stepsister, Cindy. It was a high-resolution image of her and Donald, tangled together naked on messy bedsheets.
On his arm was the one-of-a-kind silver bracelet I had custom-designed for his birthday last month.
Cindy was staring right at the camera with a triumphant, provocative smile.
A second message popped up: "Omg, sis, so sorry! Sent that by accident!"
It was a blatant, mocking slap in the face.
Later, I even intercepted a call where Donald laughed with his mother about how my declining family was just a worthless stepping stone for them.
He called me a "boring, good girl" who was easy to manage, bragging that he would just go back to having his fun with Cindy right after our wedding.
They really thought I was just a naive fool who would either come crying to him or quietly swallow this humiliating betrayal.
They thought my silence meant I was weak and defeated.
But I didn't shed a single tear, nor did I scream.
A cold, sharp anger shot up my spine, extinguishing every last ember of heartbreak.
I threw the silk nightgown into the trash, opened my laptop, and used my MIT computer science background to hack straight into their luxury hotel suite's smart system.
I wasn't going to New York to cry.
I was going to broadcast their filthy affair to the entire city at the most prestigious charity gala of the year. Fake Dating the Secret Billionaire Hockey Star
Fallen Nimbus My sister-in-law didn't want me to marry for love.
She wanted me to marry rich-so she could turn my husband into her personal ATM.
So I did the one thing guaranteed to ruin all her plans.
I got myself a broke hockey player.
At least, that's what everyone was supposed to believe.
Beckett Hayes needed a girlfriend badly. The Chicago hockey star had a reputation problem, angry sponsors, and too many headlines painting him as arrogant, reckless, and impossible to settle down. I needed a man convincing enough to stop my family from arranging my future for me.
Our solution was simple: fake date.
His rules were even simpler. Live in his shabby apartment. Help sell the struggling-player act. Smile for the cameras. No real feelings.
Easy.
Until my family showed up to mock the "loser" I'd chosen-and Beckett stepped between us like they had insulted something that belonged to him.
Until he put a no-limit black card in my hand and told me to stop sacrificing my dream of becoming an artist just because I was afraid to spend money.
Until our fake dinners started feeling domestic, his hand started finding mine under the table, and I began forgetting that every protective look and possessive touch was supposed to be part of the contract.
Then Beckett's grandfather arrived at our tiny apartment wearing cashmere, flanked by bodyguards, carrying a priceless Hayes family heirloom for me.
Apparently, pretending to be broke was the easy part.
Pretending I wasn't falling for my fake boyfriend was becoming impossible.
Especially when his grandfather took our only bedroom and left Beckett and me with one pullout sofa, one night, and absolutely nowhere left to hide. 
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