HARRIET CLARK
12 Published Stories
HARRIET CLARK's Books and Stories
Reborn: A Love For Herself
Romance The small, intricate knot of red silk and jade dangled from David Chen' s fingers.
He was about to hand it to me, just like he always did.
This was the moment that began a lifetime of misery in my first life.
"Sarah," he began, his voice the same smooth tone that once soothed me.
But this time, I pushed his hand away, a sharp, instinctive motion.
His gentle look vanished, replaced by confusion, then irritation.
He turned, and without hesitation, offered the charm to my stepsister, Chloe.
I watched Chloe' s triumphant little smile, the memory of my death fresh in my mind.
My sweet dog, Lucky, had died.
My husband, David, had then lost his mind.
He' d claimed Chloe looked just like my dead dog and brought her to our friends' gathering.
"Sarah, let' s get a divorce," he' d shrieked, eyes wild. "I want Chloe to be my wife."
He then killed me, and took his own life before my fading eyes.
His obsession wasn't with a woman; it was with a ghost.
And now I was back, at the charity gala meant to celebrate our arranged engagement.
The outcome was supposed to be set in stone, a merger of families and fortunes.
But this time, I had changed the script.
I would not ignore Mark Evans.
This time, I would live for myself. His Cruelty, Her Ruin
Modern My home, once a sanctuary, became a nightly carnival as my husband, Ethan, turned it into a themed party house, leaving me a ghost in my own life.
Just as I believed my pregnancy might bring change, Ethan demanded I shave my head to "amuse" Chloe, a sick child he sponsored, whose hair had fallen out from treatment. My long hair, once cherished by him, fell in clumps to the floor.
Then, on our fifth anniversary, he forced me, pregnant and a professional snowboarder, to be Chloe's "human cushion" on a snowy slope. The impact was brutal, resulting in a devastating stillbirth. He blamed me,
accusing me of lying as he walked away, comforting Chloe while I bled on the snow.
Ethan's cruelty escalated, turning my grief into a public spectacle. His friends bet on my child's life, Chloe confessed to intentionally causing my miscarriage, and Ethan, in a fit of rage, destroyed my deceased brother's grave.
Why did he hate me so much? What had I done to deserve such unending torment? Why was I, his wife, subjected to such monstrous acts while a manipulative girl held all his empathy?
The pain became a dull throb, and I sought refuge in numbness, deciding to end it all. A desperate plan formed, a final act of agency in a life consumed by his cruelty. The Perfect Lie: A Wife's Awakening
Romance My marriage to Liam was supposed to be a dream, a glossy magazine cover come to life.
He was the charming tech CEO, I, the brilliant data scientist.
But behind the facade of our perfect life, three years passed without him ever touching me, a supposed victim of extreme OCD.
Then, at his company gala, a spilled champagne tray revealed the monstrous truth: he didn' t pull me to safety.
He shoved me.
My head hit the marble, and as I lay dazed, he frantically wiped a champagne drop from his suit, feigning concern that painted him a tortured husband, not the brutal one.
The real horror unfolded when I woke, drugged and paralyzed, to his casual laughter just outside the door.
He hadn' t panicked; he' d deliberately pushed me.
And then, the names: Jake, Ben, and finally, Chloe-my best friend.
"Why do you think I married Ava in the first place? It' s the only way to stay in Chloe' s orbit."
Every lie, every excuse, every moment of his supposed suffering, shattered into dust.
I wasn't his wife; I was a pawn in his sick game, drugged and left vulnerable for his friends' crude "entertainment."
How could I have been so blind, so naive, to give my heart to a monster who used me for sport?
The sheer audacity, the cold calculation of it all, burned through me.
I had to escape this gilded cage, expose the man who had turned my life into a cruel joke.
I needed to reclaim my life, and I knew exactly how to dismantle his. The Wedding Night Bite
Romance The rented cabin was supposed to be my honeymoon suite, the culmination of years of devotion to Jocelyn.
But on our wedding night, my bride, dressed in white, sat on the bed wearing a red bandana over her mouth.
She tearfully confessed it was to honor her first kiss, shared with her ex, Ryan Blakely, insisting she preserve that memory.
When I gently tried to remove it, she flinched, then bit my hand, screaming I was disrespectful and only wanted what I wanted, before storming out.
The next morning, she posted a picture with Ryan on social media, implying I gave her the silent treatment and calling him a "real friend."
Years of sacrifice-a football scholarship, a dream business, my friends-all for her, felt like a lie.
I looked at the bite mark, a small wound that felt like a gaping chasm in our entire relationship, and knew something was fundamentally broken.
The old Caleb would have chased her, begged for an apology, desperate to fix things.
But this time, something snapped, and I called my friends to officially start the hunting guide business I had abandoned for her.
My life with Jocelyn was over, and I was finally going to live for myself. My Sweetest Escape
Modern My last breath was a ragged gasp at 48, my heart giving out from sheer exhaustion.
The final image burned into my mind: my husband, Matthew, laughing at a lavish birthday party with Stella, his mistress, who had gotten rich from a real estate boom built on my stolen money.
Then, I woke up, 23 again, weeks before my wedding to that very man.
In my first life, I was a trusting fool, sacrificing everything for a man who drained me dry and used my inheritance to fund his mistress's rise.
I realized the cruel irony: his opulent life was built on my hidden sweat, my endless labor, while I toiled for a family that wasn't even truly mine.
This time, things would be different. This time, I would protect what was mine and claim the life they stole. The Discarded Woman's Rise
Romance I was just a paralegal, Ava Miller, trapped in a life I didn't choose, yet owed everything to Ethan Vance.
He' d swooped in years ago, paying off my crushing student loans and mom's medical bills, making me his "savior."
My job at his company and the lavish apartment he provided were constant reminders of my dependence, a gilded cage I' d willingly entered.
Then, the termination letter landed on my desk.
Fired. Effective immediately.
No warning, just a cold "restructuring."
But I knew the truth: his ex, Chloe Davenport, the one he never got over, was back in town.
It felt like a deliberate, cruel punch, a betrayal so sharp it knocked the air out of me.
Just hours after I learned Chloe was back, my entire life was snatched away, leaving me adrift.
When I tried to return the money he'd "invested" in me, hoping for a clean break, his eyes glinted: "You belong to me."
Chloe's friends attacked me, but Ethan, blind and infatuated, only asked me not to "cause trouble for Chloe's sake."
His family's texts sealed my humiliation, confirming I was "that paralegal," easily replaced by "the right kind of girl."
The injustice burned, a white-hot fury against the man who claimed to save me, only to hold me captive.
How could I be so good at my job, so dedicated, and it meant nothing against his obsession and control?
I was trapped, owned, facing physical illness exacerbated by stress, while he paraded his new life with Chloe.
But as I watched Ethan plan his public proposal to Chloe, a cold, clear resolve hardened inside me.
He wouldn't let me walk away clean, so I would find another way, a way that would make him regret ever thinking he owned me.
The game had changed, and Ava Miller was about to change the rules, orchestrating a final, devastating farewell. Too Late For Her Affection
Romance Ethan Miller, a young, uniquely talented fashion student, tirelessly juggled a demanding barista job with the immense responsibility of supporting his ailing mother, all while secretly sketching couture designs, dreaming of a runway far removed from his cramped Queens apartment and mounting medical bills.
His arduous life took a breathtaking turn when Victoria Devereaux, the formidable CEO of a global fashion empire, seemingly plucked him from obscurity, offering a coveted paid internship that promised entry into the exclusive, glittering world he yearned for.
However, this dazzling opportunity quickly unraveled into a waking nightmare; Ethan soon discovered he was merely a malleable "pet project," ruthlessly exploited in Victoria's twisted power games with her manipulative ex, Marcus Thorne, culminating in public humiliation, the destruction of his treasured family memento, and his chilling imprisonment in a dark storage unit.
How could the woman who showered him with lavish attention and proclaimed him a prodigy so heartlessly discard him, dismissing his talent and dignity in front of the very elite she introduced him to, all while choosing the calculated lies of her toxic ex over his desperate pleas?
Fully comprehending his crushing insignificance as a disposable "toy," Ethan, broken but fiercely determined, ultimately chose self-preservation over lingering hope, making the agonizing decision to board a one-way flight to Paris and painstakingly rebuild a life where his dreams, and his heart, could truly belong to him alone. His Unwanted Family: A Wife's Revenge
Modern I woke up in the same rotting trailer, the familiar smell of damp and despair assaulting me.
My head throbbed, not from pills, but from the searing pain of a life lived twice.
Next door, my frail mother-in-law Carol coughed weakly, and my son Leo whimpered, burning with fever.
This was my second chance, a harrowing rebirth from an existence I’d tragically ended.
In my first life, I’d watched Leo succumb to a rare virus, his grandmother die of grief, utterly abandoned by my husband, Captain David Miller.
We’d been left to rot in rural West Virginia while he thrived on base with his mistress, Jessica.
Now, Leo was critically ill again, his only hope a prohibitively expensive, experimental antiviral.
When we finally arrived at Fort Devereux, David’s reaction wasn’t relief, but utter fury and embarrassment.
He lied to his commanding officer, pretending we were "church folks" whose house burned down, then raged at me for threatening his career.
We discovered the money David claimed to send was instead funding Jessica’s luxurious life and her daughter Lily’s private daycare.
But the ultimate betrayal came when he violently smashed Leo's desperately needed medicine, prioritizing his mistress and his perfect image over his dying son.
A guttural, animalistic scream ripped from my soul as our only hope for Leo shattered on the wall.
How could a father be so monstrous, so utterly devoid of humanity, to sacrifice his own child for a lie?
The decades of neglect, the constant starvation, the unfeeling silence from him—it all coalesced into a blinding rage.
My grief transformed into an unyielding steel.
As military police arrived, I clutched my feverish son, pointed at David, and my voice rang out.
“I am Sarah Miller, Captain David Miller’s legal wife,” I declared to the horrified onlookers.
“And he just destroyed our dying son’s life-saving medicine!” His Wife's Secret Son
Romance Ethan Miller, a dedicated architect, sacrificed his dreams for a decade to support his powerful CEO wife, Victoria, believing they shared a deep, quiet bond.
He loved her, despite a quiet sorrow about being told they likely couldn't have children.
Then, Victoria dropped a bombshell: she'd been drugged in Miami and slept with Liam, her young intern turned personal assistant.
Six months later, a shocking hospital visit revealed she was pregnant—with Liam's baby.
Instead of choosing Ethan, Victoria ruthlessly prioritized Liam and the child, systematically pushing her husband out of their shared life.
He faced public humiliation and false accusations, orchestrated by Liam, isolating Ethan further.
After their divorce, Liam's malice peaked with a brutal alley mugging, leaving Ethan beaten and alone, specifically told, "That's from Liam."
Just when he thought he'd hit rock bottom, a devastating cancer diagnosis struck, a cruel irony after such profound betrayal.
How could a man who gave everything be reduced to this, facing emotional ruin, physical assault, and a life-threatening illness, seemingly at his ex-wife's lover's mercy?
From this darkest hour, a surprising ally emerged: Scarlett Dubois, who not only saved him but stood by him through his grueling recovery, hinting at a future he never imagined. Stolen Identity, True Revenge
Fantasy Cold water hit my face, shocking me awake in the dingy back room of Oakhaven Eats.
My son Leo stood over me, a dripping glass in his hand, his child's voice sharp with accusation.
But I jolted awake with a searing memory: the Philadelphia alley in 2014, the freezing rain, Amelia’s triumphant smile as I drew my last breath.
Then, darkness—my death, nine years in the future.
My mother-in-law, Carol Bishop, stormed in, her face a familiar mask of disapproval, instantly demanding my meager tips and shaming me for being a ‘bum’ compared to her ‘hero firefighter’ son Mark.
The stench of stale grease and faded floral wallpaper confirmed this wasn't just a dream; it was indeed October 2005, a year after Mark's supposed heroic death.
Every memory flooded back: raising Leo alone, enduring Carol's daily abuse and theft, and ultimately discovering Mark was alive, thriving in Philadelphia with Amelia, my adoptive sister.
Amelia, the quiet girl I protected, who had systematically stolen my identity, my future, and even my heroic father’s legacy.
How could I be back?
How could this elaborate deception, this cruel future I’d already survived and witnessed, now be my past?
The echo of Amelia’s taunts—"I took your SAT scores, your UPenn acceptance, even your father’s story"—still stung with the force of betrayal.
My own son, Leo, had disowned me in that alley, poisoned by their lies, abandoning me to my final moments.
But in this inexplicable rebirth, the numbing despair I remembered was replaced by a burning fury, a cold, hard resolve.
I was back, I was alive, and this time, the truth I knew would not be buried—it would be meticulously unearthed, weaponized.
This time, they would pay for everything. You might like
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. 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. 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.
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. 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. 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. 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."" 
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