Gray Matter

Gray Matter's Books and Stories

Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the Wolf King

Werewolf

5.0

I was the unshifted fiancée of the Alpha, working eighteen-hour days to design his kingdom while waiting for my wolf to finally wake up. He told me we couldn't be intimate until I shifted, claiming it was to "conserve my energy." I believed him, right up until I saw the email notification on his open laptop. It was an invitation to the baptism of his two-year-old son. The mother was Hayden, the "fragile" Omega he claimed was just like a sister to him. He wasn't waiting for me to shift. He was waiting for me to finish his fortifications so he could replace me. When I tried to freeze the construction funds, he sabotaged my climbing gear, hoping a "tragic accident" would silence me forever. When I survived, he froze my bank accounts and humiliated me at the pack auction, using the money I had saved to buy a diamond necklace for his mistress. They thought I was powerless without a wolf. They thought they could broadcast intimate videos of me to shame me into submission. But they forgot that as the architect, I built the very security systems they felt safe behind. I walked into the ceremony not as a victim, but with the rival Alpha by my side and a decrypted USB drive in my hand. "You want to talk about secrets?" I smiled at the terrifying silence of the hall. "Let's show the pack who the real father of your 'heir' is."

The Alpha's Lie, The Omega's Uprising

Werewolf

5.0

After a 36-hour shift at the healing center, I brought my mate, Alpha Damien, his favorite meal, eager for a quiet moment together. But I found him in a secret manor on the edge of our territory, laughing with another woman and a little boy I never knew existed. Hiding in the shadows, I heard him call me his "Omega placeholder," a political tool he would publicly reject once a new treaty was signed. My adoptive parents, the Alpha and Luna, were in on it. My entire life, my fated bond, was a carefully constructed lie. Just then, he sent me a mind-link, "Miss you, my sweet." The casual cruelty of it burned away my tears, leaving only cold, hard rage. They were planning my public humiliation at a grand dinner. But I prepared a gift for his son’s birthday party, set to be delivered at the exact same time. Inside was a data crystal containing every one of their secrets.

Unmasking Their Lies

Modern

5.0

The sharp, chemical tang of turpentine used to smell like hope, but not today. I woke up eighteen again, just weeks before my art school scholarship deadline-the one my mother "helped" me meet by giving me paint stripper instead of turpentine, ruining my masterpiece. My family, ever the loving wolves, had blamed me, calling me ungrateful and a failure, twisting the knife until I believed I deserved the heartbreak and a lifetime of mediocrity in a cold, lonely apartment. I spent years internalizing their gaslighting, wondering why I was never good enough, always the villain in their self-serving narrative. But this time, as my mother chirped, "Good morning, sweetie. I brought you something to help you finish up," I knew. This was my second chance, and they had no idea who they were dealing with.

My High School Sweetheart, Reimagined

Romance

5.0

The preacher' s voice echoed in the barn as I stood at the altar, ready to marry Jocelyn, my high school sweetheart. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but all I saw was the twisted metal of a Ford Explorer. In another life, our 25th wedding anniversary ended with a phone call: "Your wife... she didn't make it. She wasn't alone, sir. A man was with her. Ryan Scott." The grief was a physical wound, but the betrayal poisoned twenty-five years of my life. Now, miraculously, I was back. Reborn on this very day, given a second chance. Not to fix it, but to end it before it began. "No," I declared, cutting through the vows like a gunshot. Jocelyn' s smile faltered, confusion widening her perfect eyes. A cold fury fueled me as I told her I didn' t love her anymore, then leaped from the loft, limping away from the life of quiet misery I refused to live again. But despite my escape, she kept coming back – cleaning my apartment, charming my parents. It had to be about money, I reasoned, rumors of her family' s debt swirling. I even offered her a financial bailout, demanding she leave me alone. "You think this is about money?" she whispered, tears streaming. "I came back, too! I came back for you!" Her words shattered my carefully constructed reality. She came back, too? Impossible. She collapsed, and I later saw her with Ryan Scott, the man she died with. Rage confirmed my initial suspicions. But then, she found me, telling a story of an entity, a parasite, that controlled her in our past life, leading to the crash. And then, she collapsed again, sick. I finally learned the truth: Glioblastoma. My cancer, from my old life. She had taken my fate. This wasn't just a second chance, but a cosmic correction. And now, reborn again, I stood before her in high school. "Hi," I said, my voice filled with a love that had crossed lifetimes. "I'm Ethan Lester. It's nice to meet you. For the first time. Again."

The Senator's Blind Spot

Modern

5.0

Senator Harrison believed he understood my ambition: a seat at his influential table, maybe even his bed. He was utterly mistaken. My aspirations were far larger, rooted in the unseen, ruthless power that truly governed D.C. It all started with a public humiliation from a new-money donor' s entitled daughter, which I subtly handled through my estranged, powerful father, Marcus. Then, the calculated retaliation escalated into horror: my apartment engulfed in flames, a shadowy figure in my doorway, and me barely escaping certain death. My temporary life, along with the identity of Chloe Cheney, was completely erased, officially declared a tragic accident. The cold dread settled in, the unsettling question of whether my own father, Marcus, had ordered the attack, considering me a disposable "loose end" in his shadowy world. That gnawing suspicion, coupled with the immediate need for survival, transformed me. Chloe Cheney had died, but Ava was reborn, stepping into Washington D.C. with a meticulously crafted new identity. This new persona was not a disguise, but a calculated opportunity to find my would-be killer and claim the power I truly deserved.

His Brother's Ghost, My Captor

Romance

5.0

The positive pregnancy test signal was a secret in a three-year marriage built on a silent debt. My husband, Ethan Cole, asked for a divorce again this morning-his ninety-ninth time. I married him because I owed him, after he supposedly saved me from a capsized canoe years ago. Then the news broke: Ethan's older brother, Marcus, was dead from a boating accident. Ethan miraculously survived, feigning severe injuries and memory loss, now believing he was Marcus. But I overheard them. "The memory loss is perfect, Mother," Ethan whispered. "Olivia will finally be mine. Marcus is gone. And Sarah… Sarah will be easy to get rid of now." My blood ran cold. The man I married, the supposed hero, was a monster. My pregnancy? An "inconvenience." He was using his brother' s death, manipulating everyone. The debt wasn't paid; my life was being stolen. I made a horrifying decision. I terminated the pregnancy, desperate to break free. But my nightmare was just beginning. Framed for a hit-and-run, I found myself in county jail, then stabbed in a brawl, ending up in a hospital bed. Ethan, still playing Marcus, hovered, his concern a sickening lie. Soon, his mother, Eleanor, offered me juice. My nursing instincts screamed: she was drugging me. Later, "Marcus" slipped into my room, his eyes predatory, confessing their plan for me to bear the Cole heir. Adrenaline surged through the fog in my brain. As nurses rushed in during the chaos, I grabbed my phone, and with trembling fingers, dialed an international number. My last resort. "Ben," I sobbed, "Help me!"

The Jilted Storm Weaver's Return

Fantasy

5.0

Tonight, I, Sarah Miller, stood ready to claim my birthright as a Moon Bay Guardian, destined to command the skies as a Storm Weaver. But my power died to a nervous breeze, and amidst the elders’ scorn, my fiancé Richard publicly rejected me, proposing instead to my adopted sister, Olivia. Humiliation burned, yet worse was the invisible force that slammed into me, stripping every last shred of my abilities, leaving me hollow. In my despair, the powerful leader, Ethan Blackwood, offered me his name, his protection—a lifeline I desperately grasped. But my savior was my ultimate betrayer. I soon discovered Ethan had deliberately sabotaged my Awakening, using me as a conduit to siphon Olivia's ritualistic burdens—her “Cleansing Curses”—so she could rise. His promises of love were cruel lies masking a sinister plot. Worst of all, Olivia, with a smirk, confessed she engineered my parents’ ritualistic deaths, and Ethan, the man who married me, had not only known but covered up her crime. He watched me suffer, using me as a shield, all for her. My entire life was a lie, a sacrifice for his twisted ambition for Olivia. Cold rage replaced my shattered heart. If they desired my end, they would instead find my beginning. I meticulously faked my own gruesome death, disappearing into the bayou's shadows. My tormentors believed me gone, but from the depths of betrayal, I would rise, no longer just Sarah Miller, but a force of nature reborn, ready to unleash a storm far more devastating than they could ever imagine. They wanted to strip me bare? Now, they would face the thunder.

The Day They Erased Me: I Came Back

Romance

5.0

My mother’s impossibly sweet voice confirmed the usual: another polite banishment to an "art program." My life, I knew, had always been transactional, a mere "spare part" after I saved my sister Jessica's life. But this time, as I numbly agreed, a full-body shock pulsed through me. I remembered dying. The screech of tires, the shattered glass, the red bloom on a wedding dress. I was back. Reborn. On the very morning they first tried to erase me. My past was a relentless betrayal. Jessica, the golden child, had stolen my identity, my connection with Ethan—the man who once called me "Wren." My parents enabled her, labeling me jealous. At their engagement party, a staged "accident" left my hand bleeding, ignored. Then, my own father publicly struck me, and Ethan, the man I loved, stood by, his face utterly cold. How could they be so blindly cruel? How could my own family always choose their lies over my existence? And Ethan, who once knew my quiet soul, believed every falsehood, watching me break without mercy? The pain of betrayal was suffocating. No more. As the ultimate humiliation settled, a terrifying resolve hardened. I wouldn't fight for their approval. I wouldn't scream. I would agree to their terms, but internally, I would sever every tie. I would disappear, truly free, and build a new life where they held no power.

The Maxwell Secret

Modern

4.2

My three-year marriage to Ethan Vanderbilt, New York's golden heir, was a carefully managed illusion of high-society perfection. Publicly, we were the power couple; privately, our Park Avenue apartment echoed with cold silence. I had clung to the belief that, unlike other men in our rarefied circle, Ethan was at least impeccably discreet. That fragile peace shattered when I found an AmEx receipt from a Hamptons hotel I'd never visited. A quick call confirmed "Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt" had enjoyed a romantic weekend there. I, however, was not that Mrs. Vanderbilt. The betrayal felt like a cold knife twisting in my gut. Days later, the situation escalated horrifically when his college-aged mistress, Chloe, stormed my home with her screaming friends. She publicly denounced me as an "old, barren hag," claiming Ethan was leaving me for her, right before they physically assaulted me. When Ethan finally arrived, he didn't shield me; he shielded *her*, his little plaything. He actually told me Chloe was "just a kid" and that I, being "older," should "know better" than to cause a scene. To add insult to profound injury, he later casually mentioned he wouldn't even care if I sought my own "diversions." His blatant dismissal of my assault, my dignity, his casual cruelty, was more painful than the affair itself. He'd give me permission to cheat after allowing his mistress to attack me in my own home? Our entire marriage felt like a sick, twisted joke. That night, a text message illuminated my phone's screen: "Thinking of you. - N." It was Noah, the handsome, kind-eyed stranger from my own impulsive night of rebellion just after I first discovered Ethan's betrayal. Ethan's careless, cold words – "I wouldn't even care" – echoed in the sudden quiet of my mind. A reckless, defiant spark ignited deep within my bruised soul. "My place. One hour," I typed back, my fingers trembling slightly. My silent suffering, my role as the perfect, accommodating Vanderbilt wife, was officially over.