Falstaff
6 Published Stories
Falstaff's Books and Stories
From Prison to His Perfect Regret
Modern I sacrificed five years of my freedom to save my husband' s billion-dollar empire.
I walked out of prison expecting gratitude, but instead, I found his assistant wearing my life like a second skin.
And when his company faced a new crisis, he didn't look to me for support-he looked at me as the prime suspect.
Jasper thought a luxury suite at The Plaza could erase five years of silence.
He claimed he was "protecting" me, while Candice, the woman who orchestrated my fall, blocked my letters and managed his heart.
But the moment his laptop was wiped, his mask of devotion crumbled.
He accused me of sabotage instantly, blind to the real enemy standing right beside him.
I didn't argue. I just walked away.
He screamed that I' d be destitute without him, that I was throwing my life away for a "nobody."
Instead, I found Cohen, the inmate who had protected me inside when Jasper abandoned me.
Months later, Jasper called, sobbing. He' d finally found the security footage proving Candice' s guilt.
"I'll wire you ten million dollars," he begged, his voice breaking. "I'll even give Cohen a construction job. Just come home."
I looked at Cohen, who was gently painting a crib for our unborn child in our warm, safe home.
"Keep your money, Jasper," I said.
"We're already taken care of." Unforgivable Love
Romance I came with a mission to kill the Lord of Eric. "Lilah, I am pleased with you." The fireworks bloomed for me, and I looked down at Eric, who was kneeling on one knee. The knife hidden in my sleeve involuntarily shrank back. "Are you willing to marry me as your wife, from now on, for a lifetime?" "Yes." The system's alarm sounded repeatedly in my mind, but I still went ahead without hesitation. However, reality slapped me hard. "Lilah, as Eric's wife, you must not leave for three years and gracefully step down." "Okay." I replied lightly, just as I had agreed to his proposal. At night, a fire burned down my yard and freed me from my misery. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day he proposed to me. But this time, he cried and said, "Lilah, don't go." Pregnant And Rejected: The Omega He Cast Aside
Werewolf My hands trembled as I smoothed my dress, waiting for Alpha Arthur to return. He had survived the transplant. I thought our Fated bond would finally be sealed.
But when the heavy doors swung open, the warmth I expected was gone.
Arthur walked in clutching another woman, Diana. He looked at me like I was a stain on the rug.
"The Moon Goddess played a trick," he sneered, his eyes glazed with a chemical devotion. "My donor's blood chooses her. The blood bond overrides some archaic fate."
He didn't just reject me; he made me a servant in my own home. When Diana framed me for breaking a ring, Arthur didn't hesitate. He ordered the Silver Whip.
"Arthur, please! I'm pregnant!" I screamed, shielding my stomach.
"Stop lying to save your skin," he spat.
He lashed me ten times with wolfsbane-dipped leather. I lay in the snow, feeling the warm blood of my miscarriage soak the ground, while he walked away to comfort his mistress.
He killed his own son for a lie.
That night, I signed my rejection in blood and vanished into the darkness.
Five months later, I returned. Not as a weak Omega, but as the legendary White Wolf, holding the hand of the most powerful Alpha in the region.
Arthur fell to his knees in the mud when he saw me, weeping. "I'll do anything. I'll give up the title."
I looked down at him coldly and handed him the whip.
"Ten lashes," I whispered. "For the baby you killed." The Program Coordinator's Revenge
Modern I was Sarah, a dedicated Program Coordinator at Hope Community Initiatives, genuinely good at my job and deeply committed to our mission.
My life was professional, orderly, and I was well-respected.
But then Chloe arrived, our new intern, seemingly fresh-faced and innocent, assigned directly to me.
What followed was a cascade of bizarre "accidents"-a simple email became a three-hour typo-ridden mess.
A crucial grant review meeting was rescheduled to 9 PM, nearly jeopardizing our youth program's lifeline.
Then came the staff lunch incident, a severe nut allergy completely disregarded, almost sending a colleague to the hospital, all thanks to Chloe' s "good intentions."
The climax dropped like a hammer: bursting into our most critical donor meeting, Chloe, with practiced tears, pointed a shaking finger and wailed that I was bullying her.
My own boyfriend and colleague, Mark, shockingly stood up, not to defend me, but to confirm her story and accuse me of disloyalty, of planning to leave for a rival non-profit.
David, my boss, instantly fired me, without a second thought.
My career, my reputation in the entire local non-profit world, was instantly, brutally destroyed.
The accusations, Mark' s shattering betrayal, the loss of everything I' d worked for-it was an unbearable weight.
I sank into a profound despair, unable to eat or sleep, feeling myself fall into an endless void.
How could a single intern, my supposed protégé, and the man I loved, orchestrate such a complete, devastating undoing of my life?
The sheer injustice of it gnawed at my soul; I had been perfectly good at my job, only to be cast aside for a lie.
Then, with a jolt, I blinked.
I was back at my desk, the familiar hum of the air conditioner, my computer screen showing Chloe' s first day.
A do-over.
The nightmare was real, but this time, the rules had changed, and I was ready to play. The Price of Jealousy: A College Nightmare
Young Adult My parents dropped me off at college like a princess, with a platinum card and no worries.
My new life, full of independence and excitement, was just beginning.
My roommate, Sarah, seemed sweet at first, a quiet girl with kind eyes.
But her sweetness quickly turned sour, poisoned by resentment over my privilege.
She' d sneer at my new laptop, comparing it to her brother' s grueling factory job.
Then, the unthinkable happened: my emergency debit card, with over a hundred thousand dollars, vanished.
A bank alert confirmed my worst fear: a $5,000 withdrawal attempt blocked.
I knew, with a sickening certainty, who the thief was-the quiet girl consumed by jealousy.
The betrayal shattered my idyllic college dream, leaving a bitter taste.
I called the campus police, my hands shaking with fury.
Sarah was arrested, my card found in her bag, and my sense of home was destroyed.
I moved into a new apartment, seeking peace, but my mom' s well-meaning housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, brought a new kind of terror.
She started with subtle criticisms, then tried to turn me into her domestic servant.
Her demands escalated, culminating in an outrageous proposal: she wanted to control my finances and marry me off to her unemployed son, Kevin.
The audacity of her plan, the sheer delusion, made my blood run cold.
When I fired her, she called my mom, trying to slander me, but my mom shut her down cold.
As she stormed out, my grandmother's silk scarf, a cherished gift, was found crumpled in her bag.
Just like her daughter, she was a thief and a liar.
I thought the nightmare was over when Kevin, her "good, strong boy," was leaning against my apartment door.
His sneer, his entitlement, and the reek of stale cigarettes chilled me to the bone.
He raged about his family, about how they were entitled to my money, our money.
The fear was sharp, but my own anger surged.
Then, I came home to a ransacked apartment, my belongings destroyed, and Kevin sitting in my armchair, drinking my dad's scotch.
Mrs. Davis was there too, silently watching, complicit.
My phone was shattered.
They laid out their plan: I would empty my accounts, sign over my car, give them everything.
Then, maybe, they' d let me go.
Trapped, I feigned submission, my mind racing for an escape.
In a desperate, reckless moment, I grabbed my heavy coffee pot from the kitchen.
With a surge of pure, unadulterated rage, I swung. The Platinum Bands of Betrayal
Romance Ten days from our wedding, I planned a surprise for Izzy: custom platinum bands.
For five years, I' d been her "supportive husband," putting my own life on hold for her skyrocketing marketing career.
Then I overheard her Instagram Live.
"Ethan? He' s sweet, but he' s basically my well-kept house husband.
My career pays for this lifestyle, he just makes good coffee."
The rings crashed to the floor.
Five years of sacrifice.
Five years reduced to a sarcastic joke.
Her intern, Liam, was far more than just a colleague.
Soon, his arrogant social media posts confirmed my worst fears: their late-night "work sessions" and private jokes.
She repeatedly lied to my face, dismissing me while planning our wedding.
A vast, cold emptiness settled in my chest.
My entire life with her felt like a cheap movie set, and I was merely an uncredited extra.
How could I have been so utterly blind to her contempt and betrayal, to the true nature of the woman I was about to marry?
But the emptiness became a catalyst.
I typed a text to my estranged billionaire father: "Dad, I' m ready to come home.
I' m in on the merger.
Cancel Izzy' s company' s contract with us."
This wasn't the end; it was my beginning. You might like
No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray’s text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband's Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn't find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn't even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father's legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn's party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara's health and managing every detail of Caden's empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I'd drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause-if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I'd forgotten. 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!" 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 Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." 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." 
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