Fritz Heaney
11 Published Stories
Fritz Heaney's Books and Stories
From Rejected Omega to the Supreme White Wolf
Werewolf I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion.
Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed.
"Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies."
I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor.
Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel.
Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out.
I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years.
He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back.
Or so he thought.
In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling.
I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison.
"You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back."
I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use.
"I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge."
I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared. His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Designer
Billionaires For six years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Wall Street titan Francis Castro. I suffocated my own ambitions to fit into his conservative world.
But while I waited alone at a Michelin restaurant, a news alert popped up. My husband had just dropped millions on an aquamarine diamond necklace for his "muse," Chanelle.
The real nightmare began when I rushed home to find our five-year-old son in severe anaphylactic shock. I frantically called Francis from the ambulance, but he manually rejected my calls. He couldn't leave the bidding war for Chanelle's PR launch.
When he finally arrived at the ER, Chanelle was right beside him, wearing that blinding multi-million-dollar necklace. He didn't ask about our dying son.
"Why weren't you watching him?" he demanded, his voice hard and accusing.
And when my son woke up, hazy from the drugs, he rejected my touch and reached for Chanelle instead. Francis just stood there, praising Chanelle for knowing exactly how to calm him down.
I stared at the three of them looking like a perfect, happy family. Six years of swallowing my pride, only to realize my husband would let our son choke to death just to buy another woman's smile.
The last thread of my heart snapped. I handed him the divorce papers, demanding zero alimony. Then, I drove to a hidden Brooklyn loft, cut off my hair, and unlocked my safe.
It was time to resurrect my true identity—the legendary fashion designer, Ember.J. I am going to burn her empire to the ground. One Night With The Possessive CEO
Billionaires Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web. Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Modern I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary." The Soufflé of Sweet Revenge
Modern I spent seven years sacrificing my own culinary dreams for my boyfriend, Collin. For our fifth anniversary, I baked his favorite soufflé and waited for him to come home to the romantic dinner I' d prepared.
He never showed. Instead, a video surfaced online of him at a party with his rival chef, Frankie. He was laughing as he mocked me to a crowd. "Emma's probably at home crying into her pathetic little soufflé," he slurred.
The next morning, he tried to apologize with a "make-up gift." It was a cheap silver necklace, an exact copy of one Frankie always wears.
He' d forgotten I'm allergic to silver.
In seven years, he never even learned that about me. I wasn't his partner; I was just a dress rehearsal for the woman he really wanted.
I packed my bags and flew home to Chicago. When Collin texted, demanding to know what "stupid designer bag" I wanted to make things right, I sent my final reply.
"I'm engaged. And trust me, he's everything you're not." Betrayed By His Cruel Lies
Romance I finally picked out the perfect gift for Jake, a vintage watch, for our third anniversary. I believed he loved me unconditionally, despite his busy schedule and our private relationship.
But that night, at our favorite restaurant, I overheard his voice from the booth next to mine. He called me a "dog" and laughed, telling his friend that he' d never marry me. He was marrying heiress Chloe Peterson; it was "good for business."
The words shattered me. He had bought me love and a career, only to discard me. I was publicly shamed, my career destroyed by his blacklisting and Chloe' s malicious smear campaigns. I went from a rising actress to an unemployable pariah, even my agent believed I was a gold-digger.
I couldn' t understand how the man who once whispered sweet nothings could turn me into a cruel joke overnight. What had I meant to him? Was I truly just a plaything, easily replaced by a better "investment" ?
Just as I felt completely defeated, an anonymous invitation to a high-society gala with a cryptic note: "Your enemies will be there. You should be too. Sometimes the only way out is through," ignited a fierce resolve in me. I would prove them all wrong. The Betrayal at West Point
Modern The suffocating darkness of the barracks was my constant companion, a heavy blanket of dread thick with the smell of sweat and fear.
Every whispered threat, every sneer from Caleb Blakely, my squad leader, was a reminder of the impossible secret I carried.
I wasn't "Matthew Johns," a plebe at West Point; I was Molly, a woman masquerading as my injured brother, desperately clinging to his scholarship to save my family from financial ruin.
Then came the night in the communal showers. A broken water main meant no privacy, nowhere to hide my true identity from fifty other men. Caleb had me cornered, his cruel smile promising public humiliation and the end of my impossible dream.
I pictured the headlines, the disgrace, my family' s hope shattering before my eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a frantic plea for an escape that didn't exist.
Just as panic threatened to overwhelm me, a defiant spark ignited. I couldn't let him win. I couldn't let him break me. My voice, surprisingly steady, cut through the night: "I have a proposal for you, Sir. A bet."
I challenged him to West Point's most brutal endurance course, the "Recondo," wagering my entire future on a desperate gamble.
Either I finished, and he' d keep my secret, or I' d publicly expose myself and surrender everything.
This was my last stand, my only shot to reclaim control and prove that even a scrawny plebe could fight back. The Fifty Million Dollar Secret
Billionaires I just won fifty million dollars, enough to finally shed my quiet librarian life and embrace true freedom.
Bursting with generosity and eager to share the news, I rushed back to my childhood home, the beautiful house my deceased mother had left to me.
But instead of a warm welcome, my stepbrother and his pregnant girlfriend treated me like a parasitic squatter, demanding rent and arrogantly claiming my house was theirs.
Then, my world truly shattered when I overheard my stepmother hiss about "getting rid of the problem" – me – with the same slow-acting "supplements" they'd used on my mother, whose fatal "accident" was, in fact, a calculated murder.
My own father, complicit in my mother's death and now mine, was poisoning me daily.
The naive Chloe died in that musty basement; a cold, calculating survivor emerged, armed with fifty million dollars to expose their deadly conspiracy and ensure justice for my mother and myself. The Discarded Heir: A Self-Made Empire
Billionaires Prologue: Echoes of a Shattered Past, Seeds of a New Beginning
Ethan Miller dedicated his life to his beloved wife, Isabelle, and the Montgomery industrial empire, believing he was building a shared future.
Then, in his sixties, his world crumbled: Isabelle, with cold eyes, confessed their Ivy League son wasn't his, but his rival Liam' s.
Decades of unwavering loyalty and sacrifice were shattered, the betrayal so crushing it literally killed him.
But death was not the end.
He woke up younger, back on the very day his arranged future with Isabelle was about to be sealed.
The cold animosity in her eyes confirmed his worst fear: she remembered their past life too.
Refusing to relive the heartbreak, Ethan chose a different path, pulling out of the Montgomery family entirely.
His choice only fueled Liam' s malicious glee, who orchestrated a public spectacle.
Stripped of every possession, Ethan was forced to cycle away from the mansion on a rusty old bike, his humiliation broadcast to the entire city.
How could such profound devotion lead to such public disgrace, twice?
Was he destined to suffer under Isabelle's shadow forever?
Just as despair threatened to consume him, a sleek black Maybach materialized, offering an unexpected lifeline from a New York titan of industry.
This time, Ethan Miller vowed to reclaim his destiny and build an empire of his own, leaving the specter of his past firmly behind him.
Ethan Miller had dedicated his life to two things: Isabelle Montgomery and Montgomery Industries.
He was the protégé, the one they said was brilliant, the one who would carry the family name forward even though he wasn't born with it.
He married Isabelle, the love of his life, or so he thought.
He poured his soul into the business, transforming it, making it a powerhouse in their Midwest city.
Decades passed, filled with work, with a quiet devotion Isabelle rarely seemed to notice.
Then, in their sixties, the world shattered.
Isabelle stood before him, her eyes cold, a stranger.
She wanted Liam Walker's name added to the Montgomery family foundation's main charter.
Liam, the other protégé, the one who vanished years ago after a scandal, now "posthumously rehabilitated" in her mind.
She wanted Liam's name to replace Ethan's.
Then came the final blow.
"Alex isn't your son, Ethan," she said, her voice flat.
Their Ivy League son, the boy Ethan raised, was Liam's. Conceived before their marriage, a secret kept for a lifetime.
Decades of lies, of a stolen life.
The betrayal was a physical force, crushing his chest.
Ethan Miller clutched his heart and fell.
Darkness.
Then, light.
Confusion.
He was younger. Much younger.
He knew this day.
The day the Montgomerys would formally announce Isabelle' s chosen husband.
The day his first life truly began, and also, the day it was all a lie. The Dice That Tamed A Tyrant
Billionaires My dad and I always dreaded Christmas Eve at Uncle Tony’s mansion, a yearly spectacle of his over-the-top wealth, always making us feel small.
Tony, owner of a modest pizzeria chain, never missed a chance to mock Dad's bus driver past or my "grease-monkey" mechanic job.
This year, however, Tony’s arrogance reached a new low.
He brazenly set up a high-stakes craps game, demanding $500 a throw, openly intending to publically humiliate his working-class family and assert his dominance.
His cutting remarks about our "small wallets" and direct jabs at Dad’s sacrifices hit hard, watching my father shrink.
Even my first few dice rolls, intentionally clumsy, led to quick losses, only intensifying Tony’s cruel mockery and predictions that I'd be "begging for bus fare home."
The decades of quiet disrespect and open disdain for our honest lives boiled into an unbearable fury.
Was family just a stage for his ego?
This wasn't a game; it was an insult to everything we stood for.
But as his taunts echoed, I remembered Sophia’s secret dice control lessons.
Tonight, enough was enough.
I stepped forward, voice steady, ready to use my hidden skill to make Uncle Tony pay—not just for tonight, but for years of casual cruelty. The Senator's Unexpected Bride
Romance My wedding day. Hundreds of guests, media vans outside. The Sterling family chapel, hushed, expectant. I was finally marrying Jackson Sterling, scion of a powerful political dynasty, the man I’d loved since childhood. It was meant to be my perfect happily ever after.
Then he walked in. Not alone. A garish woman clinging to his arm, a wide, triumphant smirk on her face. "The wedding is off," Jackson announced, his voice steady. "I'm with Brandy now. We're leaving."
My world shattered. Jilted at the altar, in front of everyone. The whispers rose, a tidal wave of shock, pity, and cruel amusement. I was Emilia Winston, the society joke. The humiliation was a physical ache. Jackson and his new "wife" continued to taunt, publicly disgracing me and demanding my inheritance, treating me like discarded property.
How could the boy I adored become this arrogant, callous stranger? The endless insults, the blatant disrespect from him and his new flame. They sought to finish what they started, to grind me into dust and claim everything. I was left exposed, vulnerable, and furious.
Just as I thought I was utterly ruined, a figure stepped forward: Senator Alexander Sterling, Jackson’s formidable uncle. He held out a document, his steady gaze meeting mine. "Perhaps you would consider marrying me instead?" A madness. Or a miraculous lifeline. I said yes. And that was just the beginning. You might like
Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King
Da Lanlan For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess.
Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world.
Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna.
Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee.
Immediately after, my mother called to gloat.
"Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?"
She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue.
I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die.
But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom.
I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent.
If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one. Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King
Rabbit As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me.
Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King.
My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss.
His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
Rejected by the Heir, Claimed by the Lycan King
Annabell Seto I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin.
But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up.
Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America.
To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye.
The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray.
They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry.
But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim.
I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself.
"I demand a replacement. I choose him."
I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen.
Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away.
It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with. Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan
Kellie Brown When I woke up with a hangover, I found a handsome and naked stranger sleeping beside me.
---
I'm Tanya, a surrogate's daughter, an omega with no wolf and no scent.
On my 18th birthday, when I planned to give my virginity to my boyfriend, I found him sleeping with my sister.
I went to the bar to get drunk, and accidentally had a one-night stand with the handsome stranger.
I thought he was just an ordinary werewolf, but they said he was Marco, the alpha prince and the most powerful Lycan in our kingdom.
'You slut, you're pregnant! Fortunately, Rick is kind enough to let you be his mistress and save you from shame.' my stepmother said, tossing a pregnancy strip on the table.
Rick was an old pervert. No she-wolf could keep up with his sexual demand. No she-wolf could survive with him more than 1 year.
When I was in despair, Marco came to my rescue. He got down on one knee, took out a ring and said he would marry me.
---
I thought Marco married me because he loved me, but later I found that was not the truth... The Moonless She-Wolf: Rejected By The Pack, Desired By The Alpha
Canal In a world where weakness could cost someone their life, Ava Grey had been born without a wolf, and all she had ever faced was rejection and suffering. Her own kind had cast her aside, and a strange scar marked her with a secret she still didn't understand.
More than anything, she had wanted to break free from it all. Then, on the night of the Lunar Gala, everything changed.
It started with a single glance. One brief encounter. A bond formed against all reason and tied her to Lucas Westwood, the Alpha of the rival pack, the very man she should've stayed away from.
Surrounded by hatred, rising conflict, and a fate she couldn't escape, Ava came to realize that what made her different wasn't a curse at all. It was a power others both craved and feared.
As tensions grew, the packs moved closer to war. Alliances began to fall apart. In the middle of it all, one truth slowly revealed itself. The real danger wasn't the monster they thought they were fighting. His Rejected Omega, The Cruel Alpha King's Mate
Yi Shi I am the Fated Mate of Alpha Damien Blackwood, but because I was born a wolfless Omega, I was kept as his dirty little secret.
The constant rejection from my mate was literally killing me. The Pack Healer handed me my death sentence: Terminal Soul Wither. My life was ticking down to its final months.
While I sat in the dark, dying and gasping for air, Damien threw a twenty-million-dollar fireworks festival for his chosen future Luna, Isabelle. When he finally came home, reeking of her perfume, he only looked at me with eyes as cold as winter ice.
"It's your ovulation window. Let's get this over with."
He only wanted to use me to breed a powerful heir. He threatened to exile my only remaining family if I didn't comply, and even ordered me to draft a legal petition to invalidate my own existence so Isabelle could take my place. Even my adopted brother Jax, whom I suffered for years to protect, publicly threw me to the dirt just to ally with a powerful Pack.
I sacrificed my brilliant future as a top strategist to marry Damien, enduring three years of abuse and isolation. Why did I have to rot away in agony while they celebrated my replacement on glossy magazines?
I wouldn't let them watch me die in their golden cage. I signed the ancient Rejection petition, dropped the manor keys, and walked out into the freezing night.
This time, I chose to sever the bond myself. Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate
Only_Shila For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love.
But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night.
Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine.
Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love.
And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim.
But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go.
"Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away."
He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door.
And when I finally left his pack.
I took more than just my broken heart with me. 
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