Gavin
3789 Published Stories
Gavin's Books and Stories
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Mafia I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Mafia I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. The 100-Point Divorce Plan
Romance For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure. Thirty-Eight Divorces, One Betrayal
Modern Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time.
He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price.
For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs.
Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay.
But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case.
That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan.
He rejected my call.
I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow.
This time, there would be no 39th remarriage.
This time, I would disappear. Unwanted by Him, Chosen by the Stronger Alpha
Werewolf I was the Pack’s shame, a twenty-year-old "Runt" who had never shifted. Yet, I clung to the desperate hope that Alpha Marcus, the man I had loved my entire life, would finally claim me at the Full Moon Gala.
Instead, he stood before the entire Pack with Izzy, a woman who looked at him with hunger rather than love. With eyes as cold as stone, he didn't just ignore me; he destroyed me.
"I, Marcus Thorne, reject you, Olivia Hayes."
The rejection snapped our bond, but the nightmare was just beginning. When Izzy framed me for poisoning her, Marcus didn't hesitate. He chained me in the dungeon and wielded the silver whip himself. Each lash burned like liquid fire, tearing through my skin as he demanded a confession I couldn't give.
I woke up in a pool of my own blood, only to hear the nurse whisper the truth I was never meant to know.
The silver toxicity hadn't just broken my body; it had killed the unborn pup I didn't even know I was carrying.
Marcus had whipped the mother of his own child to protect a liar. He had killed his heir for a woman who was faking her own pregnancy.
That night, as I crawled through the mud to escape, the weak Runt died. In the freezing waters of the river, my bones snapped and reshaped. I didn't just shift; I became the legendary White Wolf.
And when Marcus finally realized the truth and came begging on his knees, I looked at him with my new, violet eyes and prepared to give him the rejection he deserved. Just A Substitute: The Don's Lost Love
Modern I returned to the manor after four years, handing Marcus Thorne an invitation to my wedding.
He looked at me with cold eyes, his arm around his fiancée, Chloe—the woman I was molded to look like.
But the real blow came at lunch.
A waiter tripped, sending three mugs of scalding coffee flying toward us.
Marcus didn't move to protect me.
He lunged to grab his phone from the table because Chloe’s face was on the screen.
The boiling liquid splashed across my chest, burning my skin instantly.
While I screamed in agony, Marcus simply checked his notifications.
"I have to go," he said, stepping over me as my fiancé, David, desperately poured ice water on my burns. "Chloe broke a nail. She's hysterical."
He walked out of the restaurant without looking back, leaving me writhing in pain.
At the hospital, the doctor dropped another bombshell: I was pregnant.
Marcus didn't know.
He didn't know I was carrying another man's child.
Just like he didn't know about the baby of his I had lost three years ago—the one I miscarried while he ignored my calls to close a business deal.
I wiped my tears and looked at David.
"Get the plane ready," I whispered. "We leave tonight."
When Marcus finally came looking for me, all he found was a medical report of the child he killed with his neglect, and a note saying I was gone forever. Love, Lies, and a Vasectomy
Romance At eight months pregnant, I thought my husband Derek and I had it all. A perfect home, a loving marriage, and our miracle son on the way.
Then, while tidying his office, I found his vasectomy certificate. It was dated a year ago, long before we even started trying.
Confused and panicked, I rushed to his office, only to hear laughter from behind the door. It was Derek and his best friend, Edison.
"I can't believe she still hasn't figured it out," Edison chuckled. "She walks around with that giant belly, glowing like some kind of saint."
My husband's voice, the one that whispered words of love to me every night, was full of contempt. "Patience, my friend. The bigger she gets, the bigger the fall. And the bigger my payout."
He said our entire marriage was a cruel game to destroy me, all for his precious adopted sister, Else.
They were even running a bet on who the real father was.
"So, the bet is still on?" Edison asked. "My money's still on me."
My baby was a trophy in their sick contest. The world tilted on its axis. The love I felt, the family I was building—it was all a sham.
In that moment, a cold, clear decision formed in the ruins of my heart.
I pulled out my phone, my voice surprisingly steady as I called a private clinic.
"Hello," I said. "I need to schedule an appointment. For a termination." He Promised Forever, Then Left Me
Modern After the crash that killed my parents and stole my voice, my childhood friend Josiah swore he would be my voice. For years, I believed him, my silent world revolving around the boy who pulled me from the wreckage. I was even relearning to speak, just for him.
Then I overheard the truth. To his friends, I was just the "town tragedy girl," a burden he was tired of carrying.
The cruelty didn't stop. He let his new girlfriend publicly humiliate me, and when she faked an injury, he forced me to my knees to apologize in front of everyone.
The final betrayal came during a storm. He abandoned me in the woods, deaf without my hearing aids, leaving me to face the same terror that shattered my life years ago. He chose her.
He broke his promise. He broke me.
So I left. I found my own voice, my own strength. Three years later, I returned for my first art exhibition, and when I saw his face in the crowd, I knew he was about to hear everything he'd forced me to keep silent. Ten Years a Ward
Modern For ten years, I secretly loved my guardian, Ethan Hayes. After my family fell apart, he took me in and raised me. He was my entire world.
On my eighteenth birthday, I gathered all my courage to confess my love to him.
But his reaction was a fury I had never seen before. He swept my birthday cake to the floor and roared, "Are you insane? I am your GUARDIAN!"
He then mercilessly tore the painting I had spent a year on-my confession-to shreds.
Just days later, he brought home his fiancée, Chloe.
The man who had promised to wait for me to grow up, who called me his brightest star, had vanished. My decade of desperate, burning love had only managed to burn myself.
The person who was supposed to protect me had become the one who hurt me the most.
I looked down at the NYU acceptance letter in my hand. I had to leave. I had to pull him out of my heart, no matter how much it hurt.
I picked up the phone and dialed my father's number.
"Dad," I said, my voice hoarse, "I've decided. I want to come be with you in New York." No Longer Your Bridge: The Heiress Awakens
Modern I thought I was the center of Michael’s universe, carrying the heir to his shipping empire. That illusion shattered the day I found his journal.
It turned out I was just a "vessel" to launder money, while his "cousin" Selena was his true love.
The cruelty peaked at lunch. When a tureen of scalding lobster bisque tipped over, Michael didn't lunge for his pregnant wife.
He threw his body over Selena to protect her silk dress.
The boiling soup soaked my stomach. As I screamed in agony, feeling the life slip from my womb, Michael only glared at me.
"Stop making a scene, Liv! It would have ruined her outfit."
That fall killed his son. But I didn't tell him.
Instead, I watched him panic when Selena went into kidney failure days later. He begged me to get tested as a donor.
"She's family, Liv. Please."
I asked him, "If it were me dying, would you ask her to cut herself open?"
"No," he whispered. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt her."
That was the answer I needed.
I agreed to the test just to distract him.
While he liquidated his entire fortune to buy her a black-market organ, I finalized the divorce, emptied the accounts, and vanished.
I left him with nothing but a medical report on his desk: *Fetal Demise due to abdominal trauma.*
He saved her dress. But he killed his heir. The Ninety-Ninth Goodbye
Young Adult The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave.
At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety.
As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers.
"Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in.
That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission.
Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away. You Chose Her: Now Watch Me Leave
Modern I was the Hayes heiress, the silent engine behind my husband’s startup, and the woman carrying his child.
But while I sat in the waiting room, rubbing my six-month-pregnant belly, Michael was on Instagram posting a photo of his "friend" Selena’s baby with the caption: *My little Prince, Michael II.*
He claimed it was a joke. He claimed I was hormonal.
But when Selena fell ill with leukemia, the mask finally slipped.
He didn't just ask me to get tested for a bone marrow transplant; he begged me to cut myself open for the woman who treated me like an intruder in my own marriage.
I asked him the only question that mattered: "If we were both dying, who would you save?"
He didn't hesitate. "Selena."
He lied to me about a business trip to Singapore so he could donate his kidney to her. He wanted to be her hero.
He didn't know that while he was under anesthesia saving her, I was alone in a cold hospital room, losing our baby.
When he finally woke up, expecting my devotion, he found the villa stripped bare.
On his desk sat a signed divorce decree and a medical report: *Fetal Demise.*
Underneath, I left one final note: *He would have had your eyes. But you were too busy looking at her.*
I didn't just leave him. I took my money, erased my existence, and vanished into thin air. The Runaway Wife: Hiding The Don's Heir
Mafia The combination to my husband's private safe was the date of his mistress's birth.
Inside, arranged beside his gun and stacks of cash, I found a legal document that shattered my world.
Clause 4: Upon the birth of the heir, my architecture firm is absorbed into the Moretti Trust.
Clause 5: Primary guardianship is transferred to the father and his proxy, Kaleigh.
Kaleigh is my step-sister. She is also the woman currently warming my husband's bed.
When I confronted Jacob, the Don of the city, he didn't offer a shadow of shame.
He simply gripped my chin, his eyes cold as ice, and whispered, "There is no divorce in this life. You leave in a coffin."
My lawyer betrayed me. The police were on his payroll. I was trapped in a gilded cage, waiting to be discarded.
Then came the final blow—an intercepted audio recording.
"The moment the head crowns, she is done," Jacob's voice said on the tape. "If she fights, she dies on the table."
They didn't just want my baby. They wanted to erase me completely.
I realized I couldn't win in court, and I couldn't win in a street fight.
To escape a man who owned the city, I had to cease to exist.
I drove my car to a desolate ravine and doused the leather seats in gasoline.
I took off my wedding ring, placed it on the dashboard, and lit a match.
I wasn't going to kill my son.
I was going to burn the world down for him. Jilted Pet Becomes The Mafia Queen
Mafia When I was eight, Dante Moretti pulled me from the fire that killed my family. For ten years, the powerful crime boss was my protector and my god.
Then, he announced his engagement to another woman to unite two criminal empires.
He brought her home and named her the future mistress of the Moretti family.
In front of everyone, his fiancée forced a cheap metal collar around my neck, calling me their pet.
Dante knew I was allergic. He just watched, his eyes cold, and ordered me to take it.
That night, I listened through the walls as he took her to his bed.
I finally understood the promise he’d made me as a child was a lie. I wasn't his family. I was his property.
After a decade of devotion, my love for him finally turned to ash.
So on his birthday, the day he celebrated his new future, I walked out of his gilded cage for good.
A private jet was waiting to take me to my real father—his greatest enemy. His Unwanted Mate, The Secret White Wolf
Werewolf My mate, Alpha Santino, brought another woman into our home. She was a pregnant Omega, the widow of his fallen Beta, and he swore to protect her above all others.
He gave her my seat of honor, left our bed cold each night to soothe her feigned nightmares, and ignored me completely. I was the Luna of the Blackstone Pack, but I was becoming a ghost in my own life.
The final betrayal happened in my own bedroom. She stood over my vanity and deliberately shattered my mother’s sacred moonstone necklace, the last piece of my family I had left.
When Santino burst in, he didn’t see my heartbreak. He saw only her fake tears.
“What did you do to her?!” he roared, his voice laced with the Alpha’s Command, a sacred power he used to crush my will.
Then, for her, he did the unforgivable. He raised his hand and struck me, his mate.
In that instant, the love I had desperately clung to turned to ice. The man I had sworn my life to had not only betrayed me but had defiled the sacred bond the Goddess herself had blessed.
As the pain of his betrayal ripped through me, something ancient and powerful awakened in my blood. I rose to my feet and spoke the words that would destroy his world and begin mine.
“I, Alessia Bianchi, reject you, Santino Moretti, as my mate.” Pampered By The Rival Mafia Boss
Mafia Ten years ago, I saved the life of New York’s most dangerous mob boss with a sewing kit. I gave Ethan Reed my youth, my loyalty, and my heart.
But the moment his ex-girlfriend Chloe returned, I became disposable.
It didn't matter that she had abandoned him. It didn't matter that she poisoned me, killing the unborn child Ethan didn't even know we had.
When Chloe needed a kidney transplant due to her drug abuse, Ethan didn't protect me. He strapped me to a gurney.
"It's just one kidney, Ava. You owe me."
He harvested my organ to save the woman who murdered his heir. And when he was done, he decided I was a loose end.
He dragged me to the edge of a bridge in the pouring rain.
"This is how it ends," he said, his eyes devoid of love. "A tragic suicide."
He pushed me into the freezing water, watching me drown to secure his happy ending.
He thought I was dead. He thought the canary had sung its last song.
But he forgot one thing. I was the chemist who built his empire.
When his greatest rival pulled me out of the river, I didn't pray for salvation. I prayed for revenge.
Three months later, I walked into his charity gala on the arm of his enemy, wearing a white suit and a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
Ethan dropped to his knees when he saw me.
But I wasn't there to forgive him. I was there to burn his house down. Five Years, One Devastating Lie
Romance My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage.
Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer.
An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss.
They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them?
The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind?
I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately." 
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