Janna Lemay
10 Published Stories
Janna Lemay's Books and Stories
The Billionaire's Stand-In Wife Is A Genius
Romance I woke up in a silk-sheeted penthouse, the lingering warmth of my husband’s body still on the bed. But by the time the sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows, Chadwick Dyer had already transitioned from the passionate lover of the night before into a cold corporate executioner.
He didn't say "good morning." He placed a blue folder from his family’s elite legal counsel on the nightstand and told me his childhood sweetheart, Ansley, was back in town. Our three-year marriage was being terminated as a "strategic move" to ensure the stability of his family’s multi-billion dollar trust.
He shoved a settlement check for millions into my bag, sneering that it was enough for me to live "happily ever after" with the man named Jay I supposedly called for in my sleep. I walked out with nothing but my old suitcase, returning to my hidden life as a master art conservator, only to be blackmailed back into his world forty-eight hours later. His grandfather threatened to ruin my career and my mother’s home unless I played the devoted wife for the cameras while Ansley staged a fake suicide attempt to reel Chadwick back in.
Standing in a VIP hospital wing, I realized the sickening truth: I was never the lead in my own marriage. I was just the understudy, a working-class girl picked because I was a dead ringer for the blonde socialite he truly desired. I was a placeholder for a ghost, a cheap replica used to fill a void until the "real" version returned.
"You can have him," I told her, finally seeing through the high-society rot. "He's hollow anyway."
I walked away from the hospital and the Dyer legacy, ready to disappear for good. But as I sat in a taxi, a notification on my phone stopped my heart. The man I thought had drowned three years ago—the Jay who haunted my dreams and the only man I ever truly loved—wasn't a ghost at the bottom of the Atlantic. He was the heir to a rival empire, he was back in New York, and he was the only one powerful enough to burn the Dyer family to the ground. His Love, My Hell, Her Justice
Modern My wedding day was ruined by a crazed woman named Isolde, who claimed my husband, Ezekiel, was her soulmate from a past life.
Then, after a car accident, Ezekiel faked amnesia, siding with her and putting me through hell.
He let Isolde murder my mother, forced me to face my deepest fears, and poisoned me in public.
When I finally had Isolde arrested, Ezekiel's revenge was swift and brutal. He kidnapped me and, in a final act of cruelty, snapped the neck of my puppy, Muffin-the only comfort I had left.
He thought he had broken me, that he had destroyed every last piece of my soul.
He was wrong. He had just unleashed a monster.
Now, from the shadows, I will dismantle his empire, ruin his life, and make him pay for every tear I shed. My revenge has just begun. His Empire Crumbles, Her Love Soars
Billionaires My son Leo's panicked cry ripped through our Queens apartment. He was seizing, turning blue, his little body rigid. I dropped everything, scooped him up, and raced to the hospital, only to be told the closest ambulance was twenty minutes away.
My only hope was my sputtering ten-year-old sedan, a humiliating relic from before my real estate mogul husband, Franklin West, declared bankruptcy. But traffic was a nightmare, and a detour spat me out into Times Square, where hundred-dollar bills were fluttering from the sky.
And there he was, Franklin West, on a rooftop stage, arms outstretched like a king, beside a young, beautiful, and very pregnant Janel Morales, his cruel real estate agent. My "bankrupt" husband was literally making it rain money, orchestrating an obscene publicity stunt.
I called him, desperate. "Franklin, it's Leo! He's sick, he can't breathe. I'm stuck. I need you." He dismissed me, claiming he was hiding from creditors in a Jersey motel, then hung up, turning to kiss his mistress tenderly.
He didn't love us. He was standing on a rooftop with his pregnant mistress, throwing away more money than I had seen in a year, while our son struggled for every breath. The rage and betrayal felt like acid in my stomach.
How could he lie so brazenly, so monstrously, while our son was dying? How could he choose a public spectacle and a new family over his own child?
A dam inside me broke. The love, the trust, the years I had dedicated to this man-it was all gone. He had made his choice. Now I had to save our son. Alone. The Wife They Left Behind
Modern For twenty years, I, Sarah Miller, was the devoted wife, mother, and household manager, blindly enduring a marriage crumbling from unspoken resentments.
Then, my husband, Mark, casually tossed out my expensive, medical-grade skincare to make room for his golf shoes, while my daughter, Emily, dismissed my distress with a sneer.
That day, the dam holding back two decades of swallowed words burst, and I declared, "I want a divorce."
They dismissed it as a "dramatic episode," then deliberately excluded me from their first-class seats on a celebratory trip I' d paid for-leaving me to sit alone in economy like a forgotten piece of luggage.
My attempt to confront them only led to Mark threatening to have me removed by a flight attendant, followed by my mother-in-law, Brenda' s, veiled venom and physical assault, a constant reminder of their calculated cruelty.
The final straw came when, after a seafood dinner they ordered despite my life-threatening allergy, Mark froze my credit card, leaving me stranded and penniless in a foreign country.
How could these people, my own family, treat me with such utter contempt and disregard?
In that moment of absolute abandonment, a cold fury solidified: I would not beg, I would not yield, and I would not be their victim any longer. His Dying Heart, Her Fatal Betrayal
Modern "You have stage four glioblastoma, Ethan. It's inoperable."
The doctor' s words hit me like a physical blow, stripping the air from my lungs. Just hours earlier, I was on the brink of a breakthrough with my new social media algorithm, the one that would change everything for Harrison Tech. Now, everything had changed for me.
Before I could even process the diagnosis, less than an hour later, I was brutally assaulted in an alley, my life's work ripped from my hands. My adoptive family, the Harrisons, treated my assault with cold indifference, preoccupied with celebrating their biological son, Noah, who was receiving an award-an award for my stolen algorithm.
Then, the final betrayal: my girlfriend, Chloe, announced her engagement to Noah, a public display of affection with the very people who had just orchestrated my ruin. The business trip, the award, the assault-it all clicked into place, a sickening tableau of calculated cruelty.
How could the family I had given everything to, the woman I loved, abandon me so completely, so callously? Why was my impending death met with such a chilling lack of empathy, traded instead for shallow ambition and a stolen legacy?
With nothing left to lose, and perhaps only months to live, I resolved to cut all ties, walking out on the Harrisons and the life I thought was mine. But some betrayals run deeper than blood, and the final act of this twisted family drama was yet to play out. The Cartel Queen's Revenge
Mafia I loved Andrew with every part of my being, my adoptive brother, the golden son of the Clark family.
My world shattered when my whispered confession, "I love you," was met with his icy disgust and a chilling declaration: "You are my sister. That' s disgusting."
He orchestrated my exile, marrying me off to Luis Martinez, a man rumored to be a dangerous cartel leader in Miami, deeming me a "stain" he had to "fix."
Two peaceful years later, with Luis, I found a real home and unwavering love, even carrying his child-a life Andrew viciously tore apart in a bloody raid, telling me he had killed Luis "to save me."
Why did he destroy everything I cherished, everything that finally made me happy, and why did he brand me a familial disease to be cured?
Consumed by grief and a vengeance colder than Andrew' s betrayal, I will rise from the ashes of my ruined life to make him pay for every drop of blood he spilled. Their Perfect Girl, My Perfect Revenge
Sci-fi I was barely surviving, cleaning sticky tables at the diner, praying my scholarship exam would be my ticket out of this dead-end town and away from my foster mom Maria' s mounting medical bills.
Then, they walked in: the Parkers, my biological parents, followed by a girl my age who was sickeningly sweet, Ashley.
They said they'd been looking for me, but that saccharine smile on Ashley's face was a lie.
Suddenly, glowing text appeared in mid-air, a live stream comment: "[Ashley is so kind! Good thing she has the 'Luck-Siphon System' bound to the villain, or we wouldn' t have our perfect girl.]"
My blood ran cold when another comment flashed, this one a chilling red: "[The foster mom is so tragic. Her eventual death in a house fire is an 'unfortunate accident' that the villain (Hailey) shouldn't blame Ashley for.]"
Villain? House fire? My kind, hardworking Maria, just collateral damage in some twisted plot?
This perfect girl, my "sister," was stealing my future, my talents, even my mother' s life, all for her own twisted glory.
I was the villain in her story, the one destined to be stripped bare and then discarded.
But if they wanted a villain, I would give them one far worse than they could ever imagine.
I would move into their pristine mansion, get close to Ashley, and take back every single thing she had stolen from me.
I decided right then: Hailey, the hardworking student, was gone.
Now, only the villain remained, ready to dismantle their perfect world, piece by horrifying piece. The Dying Man's Legacy
Modern The steel door of the "behavioral correction facility" clanged shut, freeing me after five years of unspeakable torment.
I returned to my grand New England mansion, my face a roadmap of scars, my body wracked by a terminal illness.
Yet, my mother, Eleanor, and my wife, Olivia, greeted me not with solace, but with cold accusation, immediately blaming me for my younger brother Jake' s fabricated trauma.
Olivia chillingly presented divorce papers, her eyes devoid of warmth, sneering that my hundred cuts were nothing compared to Jake' s supposed suffering.
They dismissed my dying body as a manipulative ploy, my mother even admitting she orchestrated my brutal incarceration.
I was a walking, disfigured ghost of a man, haunted by memories of forced drain cleaner and relentless beatings, yet they still saw only a deceitful monster.
How could my own family abandon me to such horrors, actively participate in my torture, and then refuse to believe the undeniable evidence of their cruelty?
The final humiliation came at Jake' s lavish birthday gala, where he forced me to publicly apologize.
But then, a raw, hidden video from the facility, detailing my screams and brutal abuse, unexpectedly exploded onto the screens, momentarily shattering their facade.
Jake' s desperate, manipulative accusations quickly re-blinded them, sealing my fate once more.
With death approaching, I yearned only for escape from this family, whose belated remorse and desperate scramble for justice felt hollow and too late.
But the truth, once glimpsed, had a way of fighting back. My Secret Lover, Her Public Charade
Modern Ethan Miller, a dedicated software developer, thought he had it all—a promising career, a secret five-year relationship with the vibrant Maya Rodriguez, and a future he was finally ready to embrace. His parents’ constant nudges about marriage were just background noise to the passionate, whirlwind romance he shared with Maya.
But then, at a rooftop party, a casual overheard conversation shattered his world into a million pieces. He wasn't her beloved boyfriend; he was merely her "five-year intensive training program," her "driving school car," a disposable practice dummy for her "dream guy," Leo Vance.
Every whispered promise, every intimate moment, twisted into a grotesque lie. Maya’s manipulative charm, her blatant disregard for his feelings, and her astonishing choice to prioritize Leo even during her own critical accident, laid bare the horrifying depth of her betrayal. Humiliated and heartbroken, Ethan felt like a pawn in someone else's cruel game.
How could five years of his life be nothing more than an elaborate, cold-hearted charade? Was his unwavering love, his entire carefully constructed world, just a warm-up act for someone else’s main event? The pain was a raw, gaping wound; the humiliation, absolute.
From the ashes of betrayal, a steely resolve ignited within him. Ethan cut all ties, sold everything he owned, and moved across the country, seeking a fresh start and a genuine connection. He found it in Olivia Chen, a woman who offered not drama, but true companionship and healing. Now, as he stands at the altar, unexpected chaos erupts, threatening the quiet happiness he’s finally built. Will he conclusively break free from his past, or will Maya’s final, desperate attempt drag him back into her toxic orbit? Four Years and a West Village Watch
Modern I'd poured millions into Sophia Evans, transforming a waitress into a chic SoHo gallery owner.
For four years, I funded her life, her mother's life-saving medical treatments, her brother's MIT education.
All because she was the spitting image of Ava, my beloved fiancée, who died seven years ago in a sailing accident I still blame myself for.
Our wedding, a high-society spectacle, was set for the next day.
Then, I overheard the devastating truth: her childhood sweetheart, Jake, had threatened to jump from her gallery balcony if she married me.
And Sophia? She agreed to publicly humiliate me, leaving me stranded at the altar, just to appease his fragile ego.
My carefully constructed world, built on Ava's ghost, imploded.
Later, at a charity gala, Jake crashed the event, screaming I'd stolen her; when I was knocked down in the chaos, Sophia rushed to *his* side, not mine.
The betrayal was complete; she'd played me, using my grief and my money.
I was done.
I immediately cancelled the wedding, cut off every penny, and even aired her deceit to our stunned guests before escaping to Dublin to start fresh.
But months later, after her mother passed away and I learned Jake was still venomously manipulating her, I did something utterly unexpected, something that even shocked myself.
I offered Sophia a job in Dublin working directly for me. You might like
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. 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. 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. 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.
After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." 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. The 100-Point Divorce Plan
Valeria 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. 
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