Eduino Aitchison
17 Published Stories
Eduino Aitchison's Books and Stories
The Woman He Almost Killed Lives
Modern I spent three years as the perfect girlfriend to Silicon Valley's "Ice King," August Armstrong, only to overhear him call our entire relationship a "training exercise" to win back my estranged stepsister, Caroline.
He used me, then cast me aside, framing me for attacking Caroline at their engagement party after she deliberately broke my late mother's necklace.
August's men beat me half to death and left me in an abandoned warehouse. "You're just a problem to be solved," they sneered.
Lying broken on the concrete floor, I found August's phone. A text from Caroline glowed on the screen: "They dealt with her. She won't bother us again. See you at the wedding, my love."
They thought they had buried me, but they only planted a seed.
At their wedding, as they stood at the altar, the giant screens behind them flickered to life.
Instead of their smiling faces, the entire world saw a video of Caroline, perfectly healthy, laughing with another man in Europe, followed by security footage of her shoving me into the path of a crashing car. From Beloved To Battered: Her Reckoning
Modern My husband, Chase, was having an affair. But when I confronted him, he didn't just admit it-he told me he was tired of my ambition and that his new lover, a diner waitress, was everything I wasn't: simple and undemanding.
Then he pushed me down the stairs.
The fall cost me our unborn child. As I lay broken in the hospital, his mistress, Joy, visited. Under the guise of care, she forced a foul soup down my throat, whispering it was the "blood and flesh" of my dead baby. When I fought back, Chase walked in, saw Joy on the floor, and ordered his bodyguards to beat me for hurting her.
One hundred slaps. Each one chipping away at the nine years of love I had for him. He had promised to be my anchor, but he had become the storm that wrecked me.
Why did the man who once cherished my brilliance now despise it? Why did he protect the monster who tormented me while destroying me and our child?
Lying on the cold hospital floor, bruised and bleeding, I finally understood. The love was dead. And with it, the woman who had ever loved him. I picked up my phone and made a call. It was time to burn it all down. From Unwanted Ward To Unattainable Queen
Modern I was the orphan Marcus Thorne took in. He was my guardian, my savior, and the man I foolishly fell in love with.
But when he caught me sketching his portrait, he didn't see devotion. He saw a mess.
He called my feelings "inappropriate" and told his fiancée I was just a "minor household issue" before shipping me off to Italy to get rid of me.
He thought I would pine for him. Instead, I erased him.
I blocked his number, deleted his photos, and sent him a check for every single cent he spent on me with two words: *Debt paid.*
Three years later, Marcus showed up in Florence. He looked wrecked, desperate, and furious that his "property" had walked away.
He tried to order me home. He tried to claim he finally loved me.
He expected the girl who used to worship him to fall into his arms.
But I looked at the man who broke my heart and felt absolutely nothing.
"You don't love me, Marcus," I said, stepping back into the arms of a man who actually valued me.
"You just hate losing."
And for the first time, I watched him crumble while I walked away. Betrayed By Blood, Loved By None
Modern The valedictorian medal, cold against my skin, was a stark reminder of the ceremony an hour ago. My father' s face was a mask of disappointment, my mother fussed over my adopted brother, Alex, who sat slumped on the sofa.
My crime? Not mentioning Alex in my valedictorian speech. An academic speech, not a family showcase. But to them, it was a deliberate act of cruelty, a way to "overshadow" Alex, who had just failed two finals and wouldn' t even get a full diploma.
My mother accused, "Every success you have is just another way to remind him of what he isn't." My father added, "Family is supposed to support each other, not tear each other down. We are so disappointed in you." All my life, I'd craved their approval, but it was never enough. Alex was their sun; I, a distant, cold star.
I tried to offer a peace offering-a framed photo of us, genuinely happy, from years ago. My mother twisted in disgust, pushing it away. It shattered on the floor, echoing the breaking of my heart. My graduation gift, a car for my internship, was given to Alex instead. My punishment: exile to my uncle' s farm, five hours away.
Two hours into the drive, my phone buzzed. It was my mother, not to apologize, but to ask for my student ID for Alex's summer school discount. Then, she demanded I forget my internship and return to tutor Alex. As she listed his needs, a deer appeared. I hit the brake. Nothing. The pedal went straight to the floor.
The last thing I heard was the sickening screech of metal against an old oak tree. Time became fluid, I was floating, watching my body in the wreckage. Ten days passed. No one came. My family didn' t notice I was gone. The letter from my internship, rescinding the offer, finally reached them. My father' s brow furrowed, "He's probably trying to punish us." That' s when I saw myself-a faint shimmer. I was a ghost. They couldn' t hear my screams, my explanations.
My mother called my physical phone, miles away in the wreckage. Her voicemail, dripping with fury, not fear, echoed in my spectral ears: "This childish tantrum is over. Your brother needs you!" Anguish, cold and sharp, pierced through me. They only thought of Alex.
What happened to us? And why was I, who worked so hard, always the family problem? What twisted delusion allowed them to ignore my efforts, my needs, my very existence, all while lavishing adoration on Alex? Why did they choose to be blind, even in my death?
The answer would come, slowly, agonizingly, as my spectral presence clung to the home that no longer recognized me. And the truth, when it finally surfaced, would shatter their world just as irrevocably as my body had been shattered on that dark highway. Finding My Star Within
Romance My twenty-fifth birthday was three weeks away, and if I wasn't married by then, a rare genetic condition would claim my life. My fiancé, Liam, the man I' d loved my whole life, was supposed to be my savior.
But then, at a charity auction, Liam publicly awarded Sarah Jenkins-his assistant, whom I had personally recommended for the job-with a diamond necklace he knew I adored, calling her the "brightest star in his sky" right in front of me.
The whispers and pitying glances were unbearable. He later showed up, acting as if nothing happened, and offered me a marriage of convenience, telling me, "It' s just a title, Chloe. I' ll give Sarah the public recognition… but I' ll give you my love. My life. You' ll be Mrs. Davis. Isn' t that what you' ve always wanted?"
When I refused, the charming mask dropped. He sneered, "Don't be stupid, Chloe. What other choice do you have? You need me. You know you do." He even twisted my family' s genetic condition against me, declaring, "If you walk away from me, you' ll be damaged goods, Chloe. A ticking time bomb. No one will marry you."
His words hit harder than any slap. I had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away, not just my heart, but potentially my life, all for a woman I had brought into his orbit.
But as I walked away, leaving him stunned and bewildered, a new resolve solidified within me. He had destroyed my future with him, but he hadn't destroyed my future. I had three weeks. I would find someone. I had to. My Husband Fall In Love With That Sponsored Student
Romance Friday nights used to be perfect. The smell of roasted chicken, Liam' s smile across the dining table-five years of DINK bliss, just us, no kids, no pets.
Then, he dropped the bombshell: a sponsored student, Sarah, was pregnant. And it was his child.
He swore it wasn' t an affair, a bizarre tale of stolen sperm and his powerful, bloodline-obsessed family. But the consequences were brutally real: Liam, who "didn't like kids," transformed, devoting himself to Sarah and their unborn child. He stripped our shared office to build a nursery, his tenderness reserved for her. My home became haunted by a happiness that was no longer mine.
The final insult came during a fire. Trapped, I screamed his name, but Liam scooped up a cowering Sarah, whispering, "Our little family will be safe." He left me, choking on smoke, as a burning beam crashed down on my back.
I survived, barely. But when I woke, he was asking for a temporary divorce. "It's just for the birth certificate," he said. "Then we'll remarry." Was I really supposed to wait for him while he built a life with another woman, using my name for their child?
No. Not anymore. I pulled out my IV. I was leaving. For good. From Fiancee to Free
Romance The hospital lights hummed as I leaned against the cold wall, my body aching from a long shift, but my stomach coiled with a deeper anxiety.
My fiancé, Dr. Mark Jensen, the rising star surgeon, was an hour late for dinner, consumed by his revolutionary new device.
I decided to surprise him in his lab, a small romantic gesture to end a grueling day.
But the smile died on my lips as I found him too close to Emily Carter, his research assistant, her hand tracing patterns on his arm, their heads bent intimately over schematics.
"The prototype is almost perfect," she murmured, "Just us."
The air between them was thick with a betrayal that had nothing to do with medicine.
Mark' s head snapped up, his face shifting from unguarded affection to pure shock as he saw me.
He tried to dismiss it, to blame his monumental work, but Emily' s saccharine sweetness painted me as a jealous fiancée, and Mark latched onto her excuse.
He twisted it, making my hurt seem like an attack on his ambition, until I saw the truth: this was a secret partnership, one that excluded me entirely.
When Emily whispered, "He needs someone who supports his dreams, not someone who holds him back," my world shattered.
How could the man I was to marry in three months, the man who preached integrity, be so blind, so callous?
His words – "You're either with me, or you're in the way. Decide." – were a brutal ultimatum.
He had chosen his ambition, and her, over me.
I ripped off my engagement ring, the symbol of a broken promise, dropping it onto the floor between us.
The small clatter was the sound of our future shattering.
With a final, decisive tap, I blocked his number and drove away from the building, leaving behind a life that felt like a lie.
I was heading home, towards my waiting family, knowing one thing with chilling certainty: this was over, and a new, terrifying chapter of my life had just begun. Cannon Fodder No More: A Baby's Plan
Billionaires My name is Madisyn, and my story began in a dirty alley in Los Angeles.
I was just a baby, a "cannon fodder" character in someone else's tragic script, destined to be a footnote in the tragic ruin of Ethan and Nicole Clark, the self-destructive heirs to a Hollywood fortune.
Their parents were absent figures, leaving them in a gilded cage, completely unaware they were about to be ensnared by Jennifer Chavez and Andrew Morris, two ambitious grifters ready to bleed them dry and turn them against each other.
I knew their dark future, how Jennifer would prey on Ethan's buried hero complex, and Andrew on Nicole's desperate need for affection, ultimately leaving them broken and estranged.
My tiny, innocent form was supposed to be irrelevant, easily discarded by these teenagers hardened by neglect.
But I wasn't just any baby; I was a baby with a plan, a knowing narrator stuck in an infant's body.
I screamed and cried to force their reluctant bond, giggled to melt their facades, and strategically withdrew my affection to expose the insidious poison the grifters were injecting into their fragile relationship.
When an actress framed Nicole for assault and a musician's charade of heroism was revealed, everyone expected Ethan to side with the "victim."
But he remembered my tiny cries of terror whenever the actress touched me, my pointed coldness towards the musician, and Nicole's sudden awareness after my clumsy toddler words: "No owe life, sissy."
I had broken the script, and I wouldn't stop until their future was rewritten. My Foster Parents' Fatal Mistake
Fantasy An MIT acceptance letter lay on my desk, a full-ride scholarship, my ticket to a dazzling future far from my foster home.
But my foster father, Rufus, scoffed, his voice flat: "You're not going."
Instead, he' d arranged a "tech internship" out West, promising big money and opportunities, while my foster mother, Sylvia, faked a panicked "premonition" about a bus crash to dissuade me.
They were lying. I knew it. All of it.
Because I had lived this day before, died a horrific death on a cold metal table, betrayed by the very people who claimed to be my family.
This time, I was ready. I swallowed my fury, faked compliance, and prepared to rewrite my destiny. His Secret, Her Doom: A Silent Betrayal
Romance For five years, I was Senator Ethan Scott' s dirty little secret, a songbird locked in his penthouse overlooking the Capitol.
My gilded cage shattered the Tuesday his engagement to Sylvia Chavez broke on the news – a political merger, solidifying two powerful dynasties.
The next day, Sylvia' s team swept in, professional erasers, dismissing staff and purging assets, and I knew I was next on their list.
A week later, the doctor arrived, claiming it was a vitamin shot to protect my voice.
I knew it was anything but, and the next morning, no sound came out; my voice, the one thing Ethan cherished about me, was gone.
He assumed my silence was an act of defiance, a petty rebellion of a jilted lover.
He didn't know that my silence was a weapon, and this entire charade was just the first step in a revenge plan five years in the making.
He didn't know I wasn't just Maria Fuller, his disposable mistress, but David Fuller' s daughter, meticulously collecting every piece of his carefully hidden corruption.
He was about to learn that some ghosts don' t stay buried, and a politician' s secrets can bring down an empire. Fifty Million Secrets: A Daughter's Revenge
Billionaires Fifty million dollars.
My cracked phone screen showed the winning Powerball numbers, confirming an impossible match.
Twenty years a ghost, living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny Brooklyn apartment, and now, I held the key to a new life.
But the buzz of my phone pulled me back to a familiar nightmare.
It was Brenda, my "adoptive" mother, calling with fake sympathy, quickly turning to thinly veiled greed for money for my "father's" liver transplant.
When I calmly told her I had won the lottery, her manufactured panic vanished, replaced by an ugly, avaricious gasp.
My refusal to hand over a single cent unleashed a public tirade; soon, I was plastered across every news channel, dubbed the "Powerball Parasite," buying Birkin bags while my "dying dad" lay in a hospital bed.
The world hated me, calling me a monster.
Every comment was a venomous stab, every headline a condemnation.
They didn't understand the icy calm behind my eyes, the cold precision of my actions.
They saw heartless cruelty; I saw the meticulously laid foundation for a justice long overdue.
Why would I invite such public scorn?
Why play the villain?
Because this wasn't some selfish whim.
This was a calculated strike.
And when the invitation came from 'The Dr. Grant Show' – Brenda's last desperate plea – I knew it was time for the world to see the truth.
Not just my truth, but their truth. His Stolen Legacy: The Code That Built Billions
Modern My world was a cracked apartment ceiling, water dripping into a rusted pot, somewhere in a forgotten Rust Belt town.
I was Ethan Miller, the man Sophia called her "rock," tirelessly coding the core of her tech empire, Elysian, from this grim solitude.
I believed her promises of a shared future in California, even as she lived it up in Silicon Valley with her Head of Marketing, Leo.
But the last thing I saw before my chest seized with a sharp, final pain, was Sophia' s face, laughing not with me, but with him.
Her divorce papers, a "formality," lay discarded nearby, purchased with the money she' d supposedly sent for my living expenses-money that actually funded Leo' s Tesla and his glittering Palo Alto condo.
I died knowing the brutal truth: her affair, the stolen millions, the calculated lies that had festered over years.
Anger and crushing regret were my only companions in that ultimate betrayal.
Then, a jolt.
I sat bolt upright in my lumpy bed, the calendar on the wall showing yesterday's date-the day after Sophia had called, her voice smooth, assuring me about a "divorce for show."
I knew everything now.
Every lie, every betrayal, every stolen cent.
This time, things would be drastically different.
My hands were steady, my resolve chillingly clear.
With just a bus ticket in my worn wallet, I was going to Silicon Valley.
My intellectual property, my years of unpaid labor, my shattered life – I was coming to reclaim every single piece of it, and they wouldn't know what hit them. Too Late, Mr. Billionaire
Romance My life as Sarah Miller, an architect flourishing in New York, felt divinely blessed after marrying the charismatic Michael Thompson.
But this dream quickly twisted into a grotesque nightmare when Michael’s twin brother, David, tragically died, prompting his formidable mother to demand he father an heir with my sister, Jessica – David’s grieving widow – to secure their prestigious lineage.
Though Michael publicly pledged loyalty to me, I soon discovered him secretly entwined with Jessica, their nightly affair mocking my marriage.
I was systematically gaslighted by both families, accused of selfishness, and forced into excruciating public humiliations, culminating in a fabricated "miscarriage scare" engineered by Jessica, leading me to be physically beaten and then compelled to give blood to my sister, who was carrying Michael's child.
The man who'd made me feel seen and cherished now personified betrayal, his "duty to David" a vile justification for his actions, leaving me isolated and utterly broken.
How could my own husband and sister inflict such deliberate, soul-crushing anguish and still expect my compliance?
Consumed by cold fury, I secretly filed for divorce, fled to Florence, and when Michael, oblivious, inevitably pursued me, I initiated my own meticulously crafted, jaw-dropping scheme: I announced I would be bearing a child for another man, a cruel mirror to his own betrayal, ensuring he would finally feel the agonizing depth of his sins. A Sister's Unyielding Fury
Modern My parents and brother were heroes, decorated with Medals of Freedom and a Medal of Honor for their profound sacrifice to this country.
After their deaths, all my sister Isabella and I had was each other, and the fragile hope that she’d find happiness with her seemingly dependable fiancé, Ryan.
But that hope shattered when a frantic call sent me to the ER: Isabella was brutally beaten, Ryan claiming she "fell," though the doctor confirmed blunt force trauma.
The real horror began when Ryan’s wealthy mistress, Victoria Jenkins, confronted me, admitting she was Isabella’s attacker and gloating about her power.
Ryan, the man who swore to protect Isabella, utterly betrayed her, backing Victoria’s "accident" lie and accepting her family’s blood money to dismiss the assault.
The system failed us: police ignored my pleas, lawyers found their hands tied, and Victoria, untouchable because of her family’s influence, literally threw money onto Isabella’s bruised hospital bed, mocking her.
Then came the kidnapping, the beating, the chilling blackmail: Victoria flaunted a vile video of Isabella and forced Ryan to confess an even darker secret—he’d previously pushed Isabella, causing a devastating miscarriage years ago.
My sister’s spirit broke, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in her eyes, leaving me rage-filled and desperate for true justice in a system that seemed utterly rigged.
How could the ideals my family died for be so easily trampled by the corrupt and powerful?
But as I looked at our heroes' medals, a cold, unyielding resolve ignited within me; Victoria thought she'd won, but she gravely underestimated a sister with nothing left to lose.
We wouldn’t disappear.
We would make ourselves impossible to ignore, demanding this country live up to the sacrifices made for its freedom. I Woke Up a Stranger to Myself
Romance I woke up in a hospital, my head pounding, five years of my life a blank.
The last thing I remembered, I was a free-spirited 21-year-old artist, alive and vibrant.
Instead, my best friend Chloe told me I was 26, married to a man I didn't know: Ethan Hayes.
A cold, impeccably dressed stranger who barely acknowledged my existence.
This nightmare marriage had erased me: my art, my motorcycle, even the phoenix tattoo on my back—all gone.
My husband publicly denied me, flaunted an affair, and when I desperately needed him, he was "too busy."
I lost our baby—a life extinguished by his chilling neglect.
Then came the ultimate betrayal: I, the rebellious artist, had been obsessed with him, forcing this very marriage, trapping us both.
My amnesia had protected me from the monster I became, the architect of my own gilded cage and his profound resentment.
How could I be this person?
How had I traded everything for a man who despised me?
Desperate and enraged, I challenged him to a death race for my freedom, but instead, I plunged off a cliff.
Then, I jolted awake, not in a hospital, but at a dinner table—five years in the past.
It was the night my engagement to Ethan was finalized.
This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake.
"No!" I cried, pushing back my chair. "I'm not marrying him!" You might like
Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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