Harman Lowry
11 Published Stories
Harman Lowry's Books and Stories
The Abandoned Wife's Cold Revenge
Billionaires I was bleeding out on the cold ER table, my body failing, while the hospital’s blood bank sat empty.
My husband, Clayton, stood just outside the glass doors, watching me die with the terrifying indifference of a man deciding on dinner.
When the doctor begged him to sign the transfusion consent form to save my life, he didn't hesitate. He took the pen, slashed his signature across the Refusal of Treatment form, and turned his back on me to answer a call from the woman he truly loved.
As my heart monitor flatlined into a long, piercing scream, I watched him walk away to comfort his mistress over a thunderstorm, leaving his legal wife to rot in a body bag.
I was nothing to him—a vicious, disposable obstacle in his perfect world—and he ensured I left with absolutely nothing, freezing my accounts and cutting off my life.
But he made one fatal mistake: he left me alive.
I survived, and as I lay in the dark, the pathetic flame of my love for him snapped and died, replaced by a cold, broken promise.
If I survived this night, I would make sure he bled for every second of the hell he put me through.
I ripped the IV from my arm, stood up on my prosthetic leg, and walked out to start my war. From Neglected Wife To Empowered Heiress
Romance For six years, my husband, Corbin, used his severe mysophobia as an excuse for why he could never touch me. I believed him, until I saw him tenderly caress another woman-his ex-girlfriend, Annis. When I was later left bleeding on the pavement after saving her life, he walked right past me to comfort her, his eyes filled with a fury I'd never seen.
He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't call for help. He just looked at me with disgust and said, "My priority is you," to her, before walking away.
The final blow came when Annis smugly revealed the truth: Corbin only married me for my family's connections. He called our marriage a "contract."
I wasn't his wife; I was a business deal.
So, while he was distracted by Annis's "anxiety" in my hospital room, I had him sign a document he thought was a template for a friend. It was our divorce agreement. He's about to find out he's not just single-he's also broke. Because I just gave away every last cent of the fortune he gave me to win me back. Her Only Sin: Loving Him
Romance For two years, I lived in hiding, a ghost. But they found me. When Liam Stone' s team locked down the hospital, I lay there, a skeleton. What was coming had finally arrived.
He stood in the doorway, my husband, his handsome face a mask of indifference. "You deserve this," he said, his eyes devoid of pity. The man I loved still hated me.
He wouldn' t let me die. He spent a fortune keeping me alive, just to torment me. Every bone in my body felt corroded by poison. It was a living hell. Even my own mother, driven to despair by Liam' s relentless persecution of our family, plunged a knife into me.
"Why are you still alive? It would be better for everyone if you were dead." Her words echoed louder than the pain. My family, the people I had tried so hard to protect, betrayed me. My only sin, I murmured to myself, fading, was falling in love with him.
Liam' s words, a brutal reminder: "Only by living a life worse than death can you comfort my sister' s spirit in heaven." But Ella' s death had nothing to do with me. I never envied her relationship with him; I cherished it.
My love for him burned with a purity he never saw. Now, it must end. On the rooftop, overlooking the city, I prepared to leap. Soon, I would be free. The Truth She Couldn't Tell
Romance Eight years ago, I gave up everything to save the man I loved.
I was an award-winning investigative journalist, Ava Miller, and I put Marcus Thorne in prison - a choice that broke us both.
I promised myself he' d be safe, even if it meant he' d hate me forever.
But the truth was far more complex than a simple betrayal.
A cruel family secret, a hidden illness eating away at my mind, turned me into a stranger even to myself.
Now he' s back, richer and colder, engaged to my former best friend Chloe, and determined to make me pay for a crime I didn' t commit.
He thinks I' m a liar, a gold-digger, broken and pathetic.
He doesn' t know the real reason I did what I did, or that my memory is failing, turning my past into a terrifying blank.
With nowhere left to turn, and my mind slipping away, there' s only one way I can tell him the truth, one last desperate message before I lose it all… or myself.
I have to make him understand, even if it' s the last thing I ever do. Too Late, Mr. Scott: She's Someone Else's Wife
Romance Five years Maria waited, raising their daughter Lily alone, believing their arranged engagement was still her future.
Then Ryan returned, not with an embrace, but a summons to a chic café where he introduced his true love, Maria's own sister Gabrielle, and their daughter, Chloe.
He offered Maria a humiliating "deal": marry him on paper for family business, but live as a "family manager" while he played husband to Gabrielle.
The ultimate betrayal shattered Maria's world when, at a party, Ryan witnessed Lily being pushed, and without a second thought, slapped their own daughter across the face.
Faced with a monstrous stranger, and seeing Lily nearly drown while Ryan prioritized Chloe, Maria knows she can't just walk away; she has to destroy him. Burn It All: A Woman Reclaimed
Modern My husband, Ethan, always told me my grandmother' s priceless Martin guitar was "just an old guitar." My heart, a delicate melody, had spent years devoted to his dreams, sacrificing my own.
Then, at his startup' s glitzy SXSW party, he gave it away. As a "bonus" to his new intern, Sabrina, a girl barely out of her teens. I watched, helpless, as she fumbled, faked a fall, and the antique wood shattered on the marble floor.
Ethan didn't even glance at the rubble. He cradled Sabrina, his eyes cold daggers aimed at me, his "supportive wife." He then called my cherished legacy "just an old guitar," spitting venom that my Bluegrass grandmother was "just some hick musician." My world imploded.
That night, the betrayal deepened. His phone, answered by Sabrina' s smug purr, confirmed the affair. "You really need to learn to let things go, Jocelyn," she taunted. The next morning, a frantic call: Sabrina had a severe "anxiety attack" and needed blood from my rare O-negative type. He abducted me, forcing a transfusion, making me miss a life-changing music meeting.
Drained and helpless, I discovered a year-long scheme: my designs, my songs, my entire future-all stolen, registered in Sabrina' s name, and now she was calling herself a songwriter. Every piece of my identity, my dreams, twisted into a cruel mockery.
How could the man I loved, the partner I built a life with, systematically dismantle my existence with such cold precision? I was erased. But in that sterile clinic room, bleeding from a forced donation for his mistress, a new, chilling resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had left me with nothing. They had only given me everything I needed to burn their world to the ground. A Billionaire's Second Chance
Modern My last breath was a gasp of pure, stupid shock.
The sterile white room, the doctor' s flat voice delivering my death sentence-a massive coronary, brought on by stress.
But it wasn't stress. It was betrayal.
My wife, Jennifer, stood over me, her sweet mask replaced by a cold, triumphant sneer.
"The baby?" she hissed, her voice dripping venom. "It' s Ryan' s. It was always going to be Ryan' s."
Ryan. Her childhood sweetheart. The man whose limp I pitied, whose medical bills I paid, fueling their luxurious life.
She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "I came to your room right after I finished with Ryan. We planned it all, you pathetic fool. I never loved you. I despised you. Thanks for the easy life."
The pain in my chest wasn't just my failing heart. It was the crushing weight of my own idiocy. My billions bought me the most elaborate, painful death imaginable. My vision tunneled, Jennifer' s hateful face the last thing I saw.
Then, a roar filled my ears. The Texas sun on my neck. I was on one knee, a diamond bracelet glittering in my hand, facing Jennifer Smith.
This was it. The exact moment I sealed my doom. The grand, public proposal that had cost me everything.
But this time, I knew. I knew about Ryan' s fake limp. I knew they' d slept together less than an hour ago. I knew this was all a carefully staged play.
This time, things would be different. This time, I' d rewrite my ending. Too Late, Mr. Morris: She's Mrs. Blakely Now
Romance Five years ago, I stood alone in my simple white dress, abandoned at the altar by my high school sweetheart, Ryan Morris, for another woman. Heartbroken, I fled to Paris, found my passion, and built a new life as Jocelyn Blakely, wife to the powerful heir, Andrew.
Now, three months pregnant, I returned to New Orleans, only to be met at the airport by none other than Ryan, who had become a petty valet. He and his new girlfriend, Sabrina, reveled in mocking me, physically shoving me to the ground, causing a sharp pain in my abdomen.
The humiliation deepened at Andrew's grandfather's gala. Ryan and Sabrina publicly shamed me, shattered a precious sugar sculpture I crafted, and stole the locket Andrew gave me. Ryan even slapped me, sneering, believing I wanted him back, leaving me crumpled, violated, and utterly powerless.
How could he, the man who once claimed to love me, stoop to such a depraved act? Why did he believe I was still that desperate girl, when everything about me screamed independence and strength?
Just as I believed I might lose everything, the ballroom doors burst open, and Andrew Blakely strode in, his eyes blazing. He saw the wound on my cheek, the shattered gift, and his once-quiet fury was now a thunderous storm, ready to unleash retribution far beyond anything Ryan could ever imagine. No More Chances, Mr. Thorne
Fantasy My world shattered when Julian Thorne repaid my ultimate sacrifice with cold betrayal.
For nine agonizing times, I, Elara, a Life Weaver, poured my very essence into saving him from death, only for him to credit his scheming lover, Cassie Dane.
After my ninth, desperate act of healing, he heartlessly ripped my family's sacred amulet from my neck, leaving me to die, forgotten.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans, and I found myself gasping alive in my remote Ozarks cabin for a second chance.
When Julian’s deadly illness re-emerged, and his desperate family came knocking, I calmly delivered my firm "No," refusing to become his victim a tenth time.
Yet, Julian, now deeply ensnared by Cassie, wouldn't accept my refusal, escalating his malice beyond measure.
He married Cassie, then, with savage glee, knowingly drove his ATV through my vital medicinal garden, shattering my rare healing plants.
His malevolence reached its horrific peak when he commanded his guards to systematically destroy my hands, the very conduits of my healing power, then pinned my hand to the porch with a hunting knife while Cassie livestreamed my screaming agony.
How could the man I sacrificially loved become such a monster, so blind to truth, so twisted by a toxic parasite he called love, that he would try to utterly obliterate my very essence?
Just as he raised the knife again to disfigure my face, the very earth rebelled.
An ancient chandelier, a symbol of his family’s past, crashed from the ceiling directly onto him, a swift and brutal karmic judgment that finally, truly, set me free. Her Heart, His Life: A Final Exchange
Modern My artificial heart was failing, a ticking bomb in my chest, bought for the woman on the screen, my brilliant ex-fiancée, now a CEO accepting awards.
She called, her voice cold, asking if I regretted abandoning her for money, an accusation that felt like a knife twisting in my chest, a wound from a lie I’d told to save her life.
Despite my desperate pleas for $50,000 to survive, she and her ruthless boyfriend, Liam, twisted my struggles into elaborate scams, publicly shaming me, and branding me a despicable liar.
How do you tell the woman you gave your heart to that the machine keeping you alive is dying, when she believes you wickedly abandoned her, a lie you nurtured for her sake?
Just as I had made peace with buying my own grave, a long-buried secret about my anonymous heart donation began to surface, forcing a final, desperate confrontation that would either expose the truth or bury it forever. The Princess In Male Attire
History Sure! Here’s the translation:
---
I am the crown prince of Hadrait, but I am a woman.
On the day I was born, my mother turned me over and over, yet she still couldn't find that thing.
Finally, she glared at me and gritted her teeth, saying:
"Whether it's a boy or a girl, it must be a boy!"
So I bound my chest and dressed as a man, pretending to be the crown prince for seventeen years.
But no matter how wise I was, or how skilled in both literature and martial arts, when my identity was discovered, I could not escape death.
Watching the once loyal old ministers filled with righteous indignation, I drew my sword.
"Who says a woman can't be an emperor?"
Later, my classmates Landen and Phil, who taught me martial arts, both vied for my favor.
I put an arm around each of their shoulders:
"What are you fighting over? In the future, there will be more newcomers in the palace; you two need to unite!"
---
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Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle — the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street — elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
“Call her Aunt.” No More Your Scorned Wife: The Medical Empress Returns
Ela Osaretin "Sign it. Save her, and I'll give you anything."
For four years, I was Damian Wright's 'invisible wife'.
While I played the pauper, he poured his soul into his dying first love. Desperate, he blindly signed a stack of papers to buy the 'Gifted Doctor's' time.
He didn't read the fine print. Buried inside was our Divorce Decree.
"Congratulations, Damian," I said, stripping off my surgical mask to reveal the wife he never truly knew. "You're free."
The submissive Amelia is dead.
The legendary 'Ghost Surgeon'? That's me.
The blindfolded racing queen 'Raven'? Also me.
The shadow behind the global intelligence network V-Null? Still me.
I was ready to vanish, but Lucas Sullivan-the titan who makes the Wrights look like peasants-blocked my path.
When Damian tried to reclaim me, Lucas didn't just stop him; he brought an empire to its knees.
"They don't deserve to look at you," Lucas whispered, his touch a lethal mix of protection and obsession. "But if you crave the world, Amelia, I'll burn it down just to hear you say my name."
I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. Craving for My Tyrant Husband
Cosme Seidel I was cheated on by my scumbag boyfriend.
On the night I got blackout drunk, I married a stranger, and when I woke up, I only found a marriage certificate and a black card.
He took care of my scumbag ex for me, gave me a canary diamond ring, but refused to show his face-he only called me baby on video calls.
I ran to my best friend's house to hide, only to find that the billionaire next door, who made my heart skip a beat, had the exact same scent as him.
My best friend cried and begged me: "He's Augustus, a tyrant who eats people alive!"
But only I knew that the man who pressed me against the terrace railing, leaned down to kiss me, and whispered "I'll protect you" softly.
Fifty thousand dollars to sneak photos of his private office? I'll go.
Not for the money, but to ask him to his face-
Gus, how many secrets are you hiding? And how long have you been craving me? The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband
Xiao Wang The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business.
I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar.
They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream.
When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything.
I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse?
But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter.
"If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance." My Accidental Billionaire husband
Favor V April They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, mine didn't.
I came back with a marriage certificate bearing a stranger's name, a ring worth more than my parents' love ever was, and a son whose father I've never seen, never known, never remembered.
I went to Vegas for a racing competition. I won. I celebrated. And somewhere between the victory and the sunrise, my life changed forever.
For six years, I've lived with the consequences of one reckless night. I built an empire. I raised my son. And I searched for the man who changed my life without even knowing it.
Then fate laughed in my face.
My sister married my ex-fiancé-the man I was promised to since childhood. The man I was supposed to become Mrs. Windsor for. The man who now wears my family name... and looks far too much like my child.
Every time I'm near him, the past presses closer. Every glance feels like a question I'm terrified to ask. I shouldn't notice him. I shouldn't feel anything. He is my sister's husband.
But some secrets refuse to stay buried.
Because the truth about Vegas isn't just in the ring on my finger or the child in my arms.
It's standing right in front of me.
And when it finally comes out, it won't just destroy a marriage, it will burn an empire to the ground.
Her Secret Identity: The Tycoon’s Unplanned Wife
JESSICA KIRK My family arranged my marriage to Silas Thorne, a Wall Street titan. There was just one problem: everyone, including my powerful new husband, believed I was a crippled, helpless girl from the countryside.
On the day of my physical therapy, my father called, not to ask how I was, but to demand I give up the marriage for his illegitimate daughter, Chloe.
"You can barely walk without a limp," he sneered. "You are going to embarrass the Vance family."
My new husband treated me with cold duty, carrying me like a fragile doll but refusing to share a bed, citing my ‘soft tissue injury’ as a pathetic excuse. The rejection was humiliating. To make matters worse, Chloe tracked me down while I was shopping, eager to mock me in public.
"Silas doesn't value you," she said, flashing a cheap ring from my father. "You’re just a crippled placeholder."
They all saw a weak girl they could push around, completely blind to the fact that my limp was a carefully crafted lie.
So I took the unlimited black card Silas gave me and bought a fifty-seven-million-dollar pink diamond, crushing her in front of New York’s elite. When I returned to our penthouse, Silas was waiting for me, a dangerous smirk on his face.
"I heard," he said, his voice a low rumble, "that you bought a star with my money today?" Sexy Behind The Mask
Ellie Wynters She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you." 
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