Eileen
9 Published Stories
Eileen's Books and Stories
His Regret, Her Unstoppable Rise
Romance My seven-year marriage to the heir Kobe Kidd began as a contract. I was the respectable placeholder wife he needed. In exchange, I got the stability I'd craved my whole life. I kept my side of the bargain perfectly, except for one mistake: I fell in love with him.
Then, his first love, Felicie, came back into the picture. Suddenly, I wasn't a wife; I was an obstacle. After our car crashed, he scrambled to save an unconscious Felicie from the wreckage, leaving me trapped inside the smoking vehicle without a second glance.
I survived the explosion, only to face something worse. When Felicie was stabbed by her own violent ex after using me as a human shield, she told Kobe I’d hired the man to kill her.
He believed her instantly.
He didn't check the cameras. He didn't ask me a single question. He just looked at me with pure, undiluted hatred and had me thrown into the mansion's cold, dark basement.
I was locked away for days, screaming for a man who had already left me to burn. I finally understood. It didn’t matter what the truth was. I wasn't her, and that was the only crime that mattered.
So I finalized our divorce, walked away without looking back, and started a new life. But months later, he found me. He showed up in my small café an ocean away, his eyes full of regret, begging for a second chance.
He said he finally knew the truth.
He said he loved me. Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison
Mafia Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift—a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept." His Possession, Her Escape
Mafia I was the wife of Brennan Johnson, the head of the Sterling Syndicate. For years, I was the perfect partner, helping him climb from a young enforcer to the undisputed boss, believing he was the man who had once saved my life and promised to protect me forever.
That illusion shattered when I overheard him promising that same protection to a young art student he was sleeping with.
When I confronted him, he called me tainted and complicated. When I asked for a divorce, he cut my cheek with shattered glass and snarled that I belonged to him. He publicly gave my foundation and a necklace meant for me to his mistress, declaring her his "one and only" in front of the entire city.
The ultimate betrayal came when we were both kidnapped. The kidnappers held a knife to each of our throats and told him to choose.
He looked at me, his wife, and said, "I choose her."
He abandoned me to be assaulted and killed, walking away with his new love without a backward glance.
But I didn't die. An old family loyalist saved me.
I faked my death, escaped the country, and built a new life from the ashes of the old one. I was finally free.
Until tonight, when he walked into my restaurant, a ghost from a life I had buried. He found me. And he wants me back. Eight Years, A Twisted Play
Romance "Ava, are you sure about this? The Venice project is a huge commitment. Two years is a long time." My boss asked, as I looked out my office window at the New York skyline, a view I'd worked my whole life to earn. "I'm sure, Mark. I've made up my mind."
That's when he casually asked if my wedding to Ethan Hayes was on hold. "No," I said, "There is no wedding." The truth was, my fingers, slick with blood, were fumbling to open Ethan's laptop, hoping to find answers.
Instead, I found a folder labeled "C," filled with thousands of photos of Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart. There wasn't a single folder for me. I searched for photos of us and found a mere handful from a company party two years ago. For eight years, I'd made excuses for him, believing his charming lies. The excuses I'd built, the little walls around my heart, all came crashing down.
That wasn't the worst of it. On his social media, Ethan had just posted: "The whale is back in the ocean." Chloe was his Moby Dick, his obsessive pursuit, and she was back. He had used our engagement, our wedding, to win her back. I was a prop in his twisted play.
Then, Mark, Ethan's best friend, called, saying Ethan was a mess at The Black Rose. And Chloe was there. I arrived to see Ethan with his arm draped around Chloe, whispering in her ear. "She's not my fiancée!" he slurred, "I'm not marrying anyone." He never really wanted to claim me. I was just a placeholder until the real thing came along.
He didn't love me. He never had. My eight-year gamble had failed. I had put all my chips on him, and I had lost everything. The relationship was over. It had been over for a long time; I was just the last one to know.
I cancelled the wedding and flew to Venice. But he followed, a ghost from my past, still trying to control me. He even lied, claiming Chloe was faking her illnesses for attention. Then, in a car crash, I fumbled for my phone, desperate for help, and called him. My call went straight to voicemail.
I survived, but he wasn't there. When he finally showed up, he apologized, claiming Chloe had a panic attack. "Chloe. Always Chloe." I realized I had made a terrible mistake, relying on him. "We're over, Ethan," I whispered, "This has to stop."
I had to put an end to it, once and for all. The $3 Million Escape
Modern For fifteen years, my wife Sarah' s complaints were the soundtrack of my life.
"Eight thousand dollars," she' d whine, always about the paltry dowry my mother gave us.
It was a constant, low-level hum, punctuated by her rants about her cousin Jessica' s lavish gifts and exotic vacations.
Tonight, after a call with Jessica, it escalated.
"Hawaii again," she fumed, eyes burning with a strange, calculating fire.
Then, the unthinkable: "What if we get divorced?"
A fake divorce, she clarified, a scheme to extort money from my mother.
She envisioned millions, and my mother' s precious jewelry.
I stared at her, stunned by the audacity, the naked greed.
My phone buzzed.
A text from my boss: `$3 million bonus. Wire transfer tomorrow.`
A strange calm washed over me.
The words silenced Sarah' s relentless complaining, the past fifteen years of bitterness.
I looked at her, truly looked at her, and a plan of my own began to form.
This wasn' t just about the money anymore.
It was about quiet, about peace, about freedom.
"Okay," I said, my voice steady, surprising even myself. "Let' s do it."
Her triumphant grin missed the cold resolve settling deep in my gut.
This wasn' t her fake divorce.
It was my real one. From Prison Bars to Platinum Stars
Modern The blue and red lights flashed, and the wail of the siren cut through the Nashville night.
My husband, Ethan, stood over me, his face a mask of concern, but his eyes were cold as he painted me a dangerous, jealous woman.
The police officer' s notepad was out, a white sheet covered something on the road, and my vintage Mustang was mangled. "No," I whispered, "I wasn't driving. Sabrina was."
But Ethan smiled, whispering a chilling confession: "You're pregnant, you see. You get... confused." He twisted my pain into a weapon, using my own history against me, and I was thrown into a nightmare of accusations.
My biological parents, the Clarks, disowned me, my "sister" Sabrina watched with a triumphant smirk, and soon I was signing a confession, my only hope to save my unborn child from the ordeal of a trial.
I ended up in prison, losing everything-my freedom, my reputation, my child. Every day was a fight, and my only solace was writing songs, pouring my betrayal and injustice onto paper.
I even built a fragile connection with a music blogger, a lifeline in my despair.
Yet, after my early release, when I returned home, I found Ethan and Sabrina celebrating, living the life I'd lost.
Then came the ultimate betrayal: Sabrina abusing Melody, the sight igniting a forgotten fury.
And just when I clawed my way back, building a tentative connection with my estranged daughter, Ethan, the man who claimed to love me, orchestrated the theft of my life's work-my entire album, proudly debuted by Sabrina.
He wanted me broken, dependent, stripped of everything.
Why would he push me to this absolute edge?
What dark twisted game was he truly playing?
One thing became brutally clear: I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back, not for answers to his madness, but to burn his world down and reclaim my daughter, my music, and my name. The Playboy's Hidden Empire
Billionaires Reckless playboy Alex Sterling was back in New York, straight from his Alaska 'sabbatical,' finally ready to claim his inheritance: his grandfather's multi-billion dollar tech empire.
But my greedy parents, Richard and Victoria, along with my plotting half-brothers, Marcus and Leo, were already circling like sharks, eyeing Sterling Innovations for themselves.
They wasted no time. At dinner, they openly challenged my competence, a performative prelude. Then came the emergency board meeting, where they tried to oust me as 'unfit,' propped up by bribed board members and even a seemingly damning testimony from brilliant engineer Chloe Davis, whom my father had pressured.
It looked like a clear victory for them. Everyone bought their narrative: the unstable playboy heir, easily removed. But they knew nothing of the deeper game; they didn't see the meticulously gathered evidence I held, or their own years of hidden treachery.
Their attempt to commit me to a 'wellness retreat' was the final straw, and the ultimate bait. What they thought was their triumph was actually a meticulously planned trap. Now, it was time to reveal who the true puppet master was, expose their attempted murders, and the dark secrets they'd kept hidden for decades. On Our Tenth Anniversary, I Found His Other Life
Modern My husband, Mark, was always busy building his AI car startup, NovaDrive. As an engineer sidelined by an accident, I clung to the hope that our upcoming tenth anniversary would bring him home, back to the man I married.
But then, I found his work tablet. A message thread with "Sweetheart S." revealed not just a months-long affair, but secret plans for a romantic trip to Paris—a trip he told me was a crucial business meeting.
His mistress, a woman named Sophia, then brazenly sought me out, revealing she was pregnant with Mark's child and scoffing that my accident had made things "complicated." Meanwhile, Mark was systematically stripping me of everything—our joint assets funneled into offshore accounts, my precious family heirlooms stolen from a safe deposit box and gifted to Sophia. He even called me a "liability."
The pain wasn't just the affair; it was the calculated cruelty, the meticulous betrayal I'd endured while he painted me as the clinging wife. How could the man who held my hand in the ER become someone who wanted to erase me completely, leaving me with nothing?
Just when I thought I was utterly alone, broken and financially ruined, a desperate Sophia arrived at my door. She’d finally seen Mark for the cold, manipulative user he was. Now, we're forging an unlikely alliance, ready to bet that two wronged women can bring down an empire built on lies. You might like
He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. The Disowned Wife's Revenge: Buried Secrets and Billionaire Love
Rabbit Eleanor Vance had spent a lifetime trying to earn her family's love, offering them her heart, her talent, and her quiet devotion. But on Cassandra's birthday, her peace offering was met with a vicious lie and a stinging slap across the face. In that single, shattering moment, Eleanor realized she had been buying tickets to a bus that would never come, and something inside her snapped.
Her adopted sister, Cassandra, always commanded their parents' adoration, leaving Eleanor a perpetual shadow. So when Cassandra theatrically dropped Eleanor's painstakingly restored emerald brooch, blaming her, Eleanor's mother, Vivian, lashed out with a stinging slap. Her father, Robert, coldly demanded an apology, choosing a manipulator's tears over his own daughter's truth. The familiar ache in Eleanor's chest confirmed their twisted love was not for her.
A quiet, terrifying resolve settled within her. She knelt, not in humility, but with chilling purpose, tossed the emerald brooch into the roaring fireplace. ""You don't deserve it,"" she stated, devoid of warmth. Later, from a hidden compartment, she pulled out a sleek, black burner phone. ""It's time,"" Eleanor whispered. ""Initiate Phase One. Prepare the assets."" Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
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