Kao La
18 Published Stories
Kao La's Books and Stories
The Useful Tool's Revenge
Romance For two years, I lived a lie in a rundown apartment, risking everything for Matthew – the man I believed was my future. I was an elite undercover investigative journalist, but I became his 'freelance stringer,' gathering intel, dodging bullets, all to help him reclaim his detective career.
Then came the ambush. Shots fired, a bullet in my shoulder, another grazing my leg. As I lay bleeding, Matthew' s voice crackled over my comms: "She' s a useful tool... I' m feeding all this intel straight to Stella. My sister' s going to be the most powerful woman in this city."
My world shattered. The intel I' d bled for wasn' t for justice; it was a stepping stone for his sister' s social climbing. He wasn' t just using me; he orchestrated my attack, laughing at my sacrifice.
Returning to him, broken and exposed, Matthew offered a fake apology and a glittering necklace, trying to pull me back into his deception. He called it love. I knew it was a chain. How could I have been so blind, so stupid?
But Jocelyn Fuller wasn' t naive anymore. I let him think he still had me, but I reactivated a hidden bug. I watched as he and his sister, intertwined in my supposed "safe house," openly mocked me, celebrating their manipulative plot. That' s when the useful tool decided to break free and turn the game on them. The Lie He Called Love
Modern My fiancé, Jake, vanished a week before our wedding for a top-secret project. He promised to return in three years, and like a fool, I waited, believing our future was just on pause.
But when my mother was dying, I discovered the truth. All his calls and his entire hazard pay stipend had been diverted to his childhood friend, Britney, for her "emotional support."
After my mother' s death, I rebuilt my life and married a wonderful man. But a chance encounter at her grave turned violent. Jake shoved me, and I collapsed, bleeding, terrified I was losing the baby I was carrying.
I begged him for help, but he and Britney just watched, callously betting on whether I was faking it.
He was still staring as I bled out when a shadow fell over me. It was my husband, Davion Carpenter. The man who also happened to be Jake' s boss. His Cruel Obsession, Her Agony
Horror My younger brother, Ernesto, was strapped to a metal chair, convulsing, his face a ghastly blue. I was on my knees, begging Kalen Cooper, the man I once loved, to stop.
He looked down at me, his handsome face a mask of cold indifference, and offered a choice: a hundred lashes for me, or Ernesto takes my place.
He said Izabella, the woman who looked just like me and whom he was now obsessed with, needed to be appeased. He called her his "therapy," claiming my disobedience upset her. I reminded him Ernesto had cystic fibrosis, his body already so weak, but Kalen scoffed, saying his pain was far greater.
Ernesto, barely conscious, rasped, "Don't... don't do it for me." But I agreed to the whip, just for his medication. Kalen' s expression softened, pulling me into a cruel illusion of safety.
Then, his smile vanished. "You misunderstood," he whispered, his eyes glinting. "You don' t get to choose who takes the punishment. You only get to agree to it." He pointed at Ernesto. "He will take the lashes for you."
I screamed, fighting to shield my brother, but Kalen held me tight, forcing my face into his chest. I couldn't see, but I heard everything: the sharp crack of the whip, the sickening thud, Ernesto' s choked gasp. Over and over. The man I loved was a monster, finding pleasure in my pain. His Cruel Game, Her Broken Heart
Romance I was about to marry Holden Dalton, the heir to a real estate empire. For three years, the world watched our fairy-tale romance: the poor art student who won the heart of a prince.
But on the eve of our wedding, I discovered the truth. Our entire relationship was a lie—a cruel, three-year-long "social experiment" he orchestrated to humiliate me for the amusement of his childhood sweetheart, Estella.
The truth came out after a car accident revealed I was three months pregnant. Heartbroken, I walked into a clinic alone and left our baby behind on a cold operating table.
But my pain was just part of their entertainment. They staged a fake kidnapping, and Holden chose to "save" Estella without hesitation, leaving me to be pushed off a cliff onto an airbag as his friends laughed.
At a charity gala for an arts center I had poured my soul into, he publicly gave all the credit to Estella, branding me a fraud. The resulting scandal caused my mentor to die from a heart attack.
Then, they sent a "condolence" cake to his funeral. In cheerful icing, it read: "Sorry for your loss! Another victim of the prank!" It was signed by both of them.
That was when the last piece of my heart turned to stone. I walked away from the grave, pulled out my phone, and made a call.
"Gael," I choked out, "I lost the bet. I'm ready to leave." I'm Just A Substitute Wife For Your First Love？
Romance My engagement party was supposed to be the start of my fairy tale with Liam, the handsome CEO, my everything for three years. His arm was tight around my waist, his whispered "I love you, Liv" filling my heart. Everything was perfect.
Then his phone rang. His face changed, his easy smile replaced by a tension that radiated from him. He took the call in a quiet corner, and when he returned, he looked wild, frantic. "Liv, I have to go. It's an emergency. A family emergency." He said it was about "Chloe," a childhood friend who had just woken up from a ten-year coma.
He practically ran out, abandoning me at our party, telling me to wait at home. The humiliation burned. My perfect world shattered. I was devastated, but I followed him to the hospital, only to overhear him confessing passionate devotion to Chloe. When I confronted him, he hid me from her, telling her I was just "a friend from work."
He then asked me to move out of our shared apartment, claiming it was a "family tradition" before the wedding, so Chloe could move in. Day after day, I watched him choose her, lie for her, put her first, while I became a secret, a temporary inconvenience. I was heartbroken, but a cold realization began to dawn.
I found an old photo album, hidden away, showing a teenage Liam with Chloe, intertwined and deeply in love. Her face, eerily similar to mine. Then, a newspaper article: Chloe Hayes, the sole survivor of a tragic car crash that killed her parents ten years ago, a crash Liam was in. He wasn't just her childhood friend; he was her first love, the man who was with her when her world shattered, and his family adopted her.
I wasn' t the love of his life. I was just a substitute, a temporary replacement for the girl he lost. I was seeing red. How could he have used me like this? How could he have built our entire relationship on such a cruel, agonizing lie?
I looked at the wedding dress I was supposed to be wearing for our photoshoot, then at the man who had seen through Liam's deception from the start. Ethan, Liam's rival, had been a quiet, steady presence. When Liam abandoned me at the photoshoot, claiming Chloe had tried to kill herself, and then told her in the hospital, "I'm here to marry you," I knew. I had to end this. "Are you free in ten days?" I asked Ethan. He blinked. "Marry me." This Time I Chose Him
Romance The list lay on the polished mahogany table, four names, my future, dictated by my father.
Just four heirs to the city' s most powerful families.
The world expected me to choose Ethan Miller, the charming heir I had publicly chased for years.
They thought they knew our story, the pathetic heiress hopelessly in love.
They didn' t know the real story, the one that ended with the screech of tires and the crushing impact of metal.
I remembered the joy of my wedding day, shattered a year later when he declared our marriage a sham, publicly embracing his assistant, Sophia, his supposed true love.
Then Sophia vanished, and Ethan turned his grief into a weapon against me.
He brought home a new woman with Sophia' s gentle eyes every week, forcing me to endure his cruel reminders.
The last thing I remembered was his unfeeling face as paramedics pulled my broken body from the car wreckage – the brakes had failed. It was no accident.
Six months ago, I woke up in my own bed, nineteen again, the cold truth a burning scar on my soul.
My heart went cold, a familiar chill, as I looked at the list.
I would not choose Ethan Miller.
I would not walk that path again.
My finger traced past his name, landing on Liam Thorne.
He was quiet, often overlooked, but he was kind.
This time, my definition of smart had changed. It was no longer about power or passion. It was about survival. Coma, Betrayal, and Broken Hearts
Modern The monotonous beeping was the first thing. Not the familiar sounds of my life-architectural blueprints or classical music.
Then came the blinding glare and the crushing impact. I was on my way to Lily' s school play.
When I opened my eyes, a nurse told me I was Mr. Johnson, that I' d been in a coma. My wife, Sarah, and daughter, Lily, were safe, she said, with a pity that chilled me.
Ten years. A decade gone.
My heart shattered as I searched a tablet for Sarah. She wasn' t the warm woman I knew, but CEO Sarah Miller, a tech titan, always pictured with Alex Chen, her "constant companion."
I frantically searched for Lily, finding nothing. It was as if she' d vanished from her mother' s glossy new world.
Ignoring hospital staff, I ripped out my IV. Weak and desperate, I fled. I found Lily on a street corner, a ghost of my seven-year-old girl, selling charcoal sketches.
Thugs harassed her, a city official threatened to confiscate her work, and then Sarah' s sleek car pulled up.
My wife looked at our daughter, not with warmth, but cold annoyance. "Lily, just stop. You' re hopeless."
The word echoed, hitting Lily harder than any physical blow.
Something inside me snapped. Ten years of helplessness erupted. I attacked the thugs, the official, protecting my daughter.
Then, Lily collapsed.
Back in a drab hospital, I called Sarah. Her assistant dismissed me: "Ms. Miller is in a very important board meeting."
Later, a kind nurse revealed Lily paid for my care, sacrificing everything. My daughter, starving, while her CEO mother was too busy.
When Lily visited, gaunt and tired, she tried to lie about an art class, but I knew. She was going back to work the streets for me.
My wife was in a board meeting while our daughter gave up her life for mine. Raw guilt and rage consumed me.
I vowed to get stronger, to save my daughter. My Betrayed Heart, My Stolen Life
Modern The first thing I heard wasn't a doctor's voice but a detached system humming in my head: "Welcome back, Liam Miller."
I woke from a six-month coma, only to find my home infested.
My wife Sarah, pale and distant, offered no embrace, just a flat, "You're back."
My children, Emily and Josh, stared at me like a stranger, then scurried behind another man.
He was in my clothes, in my spot at my table, with his arm around my wife-Mark Harrison, a disturbing mirror image of me, radiating triumph.
My son, Josh, clutched Mark's leg and mumbled, "You' re not our daddy. Mark is our daddy."
Even my in-laws, David and Carol, defended this usurper, accusing me of being "confused" and "causing trouble."
I, Liam Miller, successful architect, loving husband and father, was a ghost in my own life, stripped of everything.
Later, in my own living room, Sarah's phone flashed with a text from "M ❤️": "Can't wait for tonight. The kids will be asleep soon. I'll make sure he's out of the way."
The betrayal was no longer a suspicion; it was a cold, hard truth.
I watched, hidden, as Sarah and Mark shared an intimate kiss in my bed, heard my children call him "Daddy Mark."
Then, Mark staged a scene, deliberately injuring himself and framing me for the attack.
"You animal!" David roared, striking me as Emily shrieked, "I hate you! We don't want you here!"
Condemned by my own family, I knew there was no going back.
Just as they threw me out, I heard the roar of a familiar engine. It was Mark's car, speeding toward me.
The impact. A sledgehammer of force. I lay broken, bleeding.
My mother-in-law, Carol, hung up on my plea for help, accusing me of a "stunt."
Then, a bowl of soup, a "gift" from Carol, reeked faintly of peanuts-the allergen that could kill me.
They weren't just trying to erase me; they were actively trying to murder me.
Lying in my hospital bed, I finally spoke to the voice in my head.
"System," I thought, "I'm ready. I accept. Get me out of here. Whatever it takes." Designing Her Own Life
Romance For ten years, I was Gabrielle Fuller, successful graphic designer turned dedicated wife, my life orbiting Andrew Scott, my charismatic lawyer husband.
Then my father, a well-respected judge and Andrew' s mentor, made a dying wish: "Gabby… promise me… you and Andrew… work it out."
Hours later, clutching my phone in the sterile waiting room, I tried to reach Andrew, who was at a crucial legal conference in London.
Dozens of calls, countless texts – all went unanswered.
Finally, on the twentieth try, an unfamiliar female voice answered Andrew' s phone: Jennifer Chavez, his ex-girlfriend and current colleague.
Her clipped tone dismissed my emergency, saying he was "busy."
The world tilted as I realized the unspoken truth: he was with her, and she was answering his calls while my father lay dying.
My father' s funeral unfolded without Andrew; his absence a glaring wound in the front row, a whisper among the city's legal elite.
I clung to flimsy excuses until I saw it: Andrew' s beaming photo celebrating a "big win" in London, posted the day my father died, with a photo of him and Jennifer captioned by Andrew: "Couldn't have done it without you."
Every excuse shattered.
He had time for social media but not for my desperate calls.
The man I built my life around wasn't unreachable; he was simply unavailable to me.
I called my best friend, Molly: "It' s over. I need a divorce lawyer."
Now, I reclaim my life, piece by painful piece, starting with a new job and finding my own purpose.
But when Andrew returns, pleading ignorance and begging for another chance, can I truly move on when the past refuses to let go? Programmed Redemption
Sci-fi I woke up to the sterile beep of a heart monitor – but I was already dead, or should have been.
My brother, Leo, paralyzed and silenced by an accident that was my fault, was all I could think of as I swallowed those pills.
Then a cold, digital voice in my head offered a deal: fulfill 100 impossible requests for New York' s reclusive tech billionaire, Julian Croft, and Leo would be saved.
I became his "personal assistant," more like his public punching bag, enduring two years of humiliation where I was dubbed "Julian's Lapdog" by every tabloid.
I waded into freezing Met Gala fountains in couture gowns, repainted penthouses overnight, and publicly took the blame for his screw-ups, all for a brother no one else knew existed.
The 99th task was done.
The 100th, the final payment, was supposed to cure Julian's "dying" girlfriend, Victoria.
It meant undergoing an experimental, agonizing procedure that everyone, including Julian, secretly believed would be my ultimate act of "love" for him.
But then Victoria herself, with a venomous smirk, whispered a revelation: her illness was a lie, a "minor nerve disorder," and my procedure wasn't just "dangerous," it was 100% fatal.
I was literally going to die as a sick test for Julian's devotion to her.
Then I saw Julian' s silhouette, frozen just outside the door. He' d heard everything.
Yet, I smiled.
Why did I willingly accept a certain death for Julian, knowing he' d been manipulated and I' d been sacrificed for a lie?
Because my world was bigger than his, and my real reward was already waiting.
I was going home. Too Late, Mr. Maxwell: The Cost of Betrayal
Billionaires My life as Ava Thompson, the perfect society wife of real estate mogul Ethan Maxwell, seemed perfectly gilded.
Our anniversary gala on a dizzying New York night was a dazzling spectacle under blinding flashbulbs.
Then, a dark van, masked men, and my screams echoed as the world went black.
I woke up disoriented, body aching, only to find Ethan, the loving husband, staging a performance for the cameras.
In his Bentley, feigning unconsciousness, I heard him confess his monstrous plot.
He'd orchestrated my abduction for a "cleaner divorce" and a lucrative business deal.
At the hospital, shielded by a curtain, I overheard doctors reveal shattered hopes: a lost early pregnancy, and permanent infertility due to the trauma.
Ethan and his head of security, Marcus, brazenly confirmed it: my baby's demise and my barrenness were part of his calculated plan for my ruin.
My own husband had meticulously engineered my destruction, abandoning my trust, my body, and my future-all for his mistress, Chloe Vance, and a mere business transaction.
Chloe later taunted me with knowing mockery, "He knew you were pregnant before… your little accident."
He thought I was broken, a pathetic pawn in his cruel game, even shoving me violently when I lashed out.
But beneath the crushing pain, a cold, unyielding fury ignited within me.
The gentle, submissive Ava shattered, replaced by an iron will forged in betrayal.
He underestimated me, and he had fatally underestimated my family.
While he spun his elaborate web of deceit, I reached for a secret burner phone.
"Kevin," I whispered into the phone, "the eagles are restless."
My vengeance was about to begin, and it would be absolute. The Orphan's Reckoning
Modern I was an orphan, adrift in the real world, until I found what I believed was stability and love in the Continuum Program.
Here, in this vivid simulation, I was a "Prime Beneficiary," granted a perfect life with my chosen partner, Chloe.
I clung to our "perfect emotional bond," making every sacrifice and enduring agonizing "Feedback Dissonance" for her "brain injury," convinced it was the price of true devotion.
But everything shattered the moment a simulated car deliberately slammed into me.
Standing over my broken body were Chloe and Liam, her long-hidden lover, her "brain injury" miraculously gone.
"Your Prime Beneficiary status. We need it," Liam sneered, while Chloe callously admitted her love and injury were lies, a manipulative act to keep me until they could steal my life.
My hard-won status, my entire programmed existence, was merely a resource for their personal gain.
They stripped me bare, taking my savings, forcing me to kneel and crawl for a few coins in an act of ultimate humiliation.
Then, Liam confessed: he had maliciously lied to my only remaining family, my kind surrogate grandfather Mr. Henderson, directly causing his death.
Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of betrayal, grief, and unbridled fury, I stared into the void of my shattered life.
How could I have been so blind, so trusting, to the monsters I had cherished?
The years of Dissonance, the mental agony I'd endured, were not my failing, but the bitter harvest of their deceit.
For a moment, I considered ending it all, pressing the self-deletion button to escape this torment.
But a new, cold resolve hardened within me, sharper than any pain they had inflicted.
"I'd like to stay," I told them, my voice hollow.
I offered to be their housekeeper for the brief time remaining before my forced exit.
My real intention was a dark, patient vigil: to witness the very "perfect bond" they coveted, the one that had broken me, tear them apart, piece by agonizing piece. Married By Chance, Loved By Choice
Romance My godmother Eleanor, ever the matchmaker, sat across from me with a stack of glossy portfolios, ready to choose my future wife.
But a cold dread washed over me, sharper than any D.C. winter.
I remembered it all: Veronica, "Ronnie" Sterling, my ex-wife, handing me divorce papers with a chilling smile.
"I never loved you," she'd said, after ten years of marriage, revealing her secret second family in Napa.
Then came the blinding headlights, the deliberate act that ended my life, leaving me betrayed and alone in a dark alley.
That was my past, a lifetime of humiliation culminating in my death.
And now, I was back.
Back to this exact moment, facing the same conversation that had once damned me.
This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake.
My judgment had proven tragically poor, I admitted, forcing a bitter smile.
Instead of carefully curated choices, I demanded a blind draw, a lottery with names in a hat.
Three times I reached in, three times I pulled the same slip: "Captain Maya Ramirez."
Despite Eleanor's protests about Maya's "unconventional" choice and "career-ending" injury, I knew this was fate.
This was my second chance, a new beginning, a destiny I was determined to embrace. The Jilted Wife's Billionaire Comeback
Modern My husband, Ethan Hayes, CEO of Innovatech, ordered me to go.
Not a polite request, but a summons from the reclusive billionaire, Mr. Donovan Sterling.
My pregnancy made it worse.
His eyes were fixed on the stock market, not on me, his pregnant wife.
His assistant, Chloe Vance, stood beside him, her own stomach betraying her secret: she was pregnant with his child.
It was a chilling replay of a past life, a nightmare I' d been frantically trying to escape.
I handed Ethan divorce papers, but Chloe only sneered, then "accidentally" drenched me with water, her eyes fixed on my growing belly.
Then Ethan, fueled by Chloe's whispered venom, shoved me into our dark, claustrophobic wine cellar.
When Sterling' s men arrived, Chloe handed me a signed divorce paper, gloating, along with a bottle of water.
That water was poisoned. It was meant to make me lose our baby, to destroy me, and frame Mr. Sterling.
Lying on the floor of Mr. Sterling's mansion, clutching my stomach as my world went black, I wondered: how could they be so monstrously cruel?
Did they truly believe they could get away with it all?
Could karma truly be so blind?
But they underestimated my desperation, and the silent call I made weeks ago.
They didn't know I had a lifeline, a secret ally.
Now, as they plan their lavish wedding, they have no idea the wronged wife they thought they'd eliminated is about to reclaim everything she ever lost. The Bride Who Died Twice
Fantasy I had died twice. First, terrorized by David’s brutal hands. Then, heartbroken and broke, betrayed by Mark. But I woke up, heart pounding, in a dusty community hall, my white wedding dress for Mark hanging on the door. Tomorrow.
Panic seized me. "No. Not again." Beside me, my daughter, Chloe, looking twelve and solid, pleaded, "Mom, you *have* to marry Mark. It’s the only way to avoid David."
My heart sank. Chloe, from a terrifying future, didn't know Mark was poisoned, too. I overheard him plotting, revealing his ex, Jessica, was pregnant with his *second* child. He saw me as a stepping stone. Jessica then publicly exposed his lies, heavily pregnant, to the entire town.
The pain of betrayal burned anew, igniting a cold rage. How could I have been so blind, twice? My own future daughter was unknowingly pushing me towards another abyss.
My resolve hardened. This time, I’d save us both. No more Davids, no more Marks; this life would be mine. I’d give him a performance he’d never forget. Then, at the peak of his public humiliation, my first abuser, David, appeared, marriage certificate in hand, declaring I was *already* his wife. After My Death, His Sight Returned
Modern The October chill was nothing compared to the silence of my house as I returned from Alaska, desperate for my daughter, Sophia.
"Sophia... there was an accident," Ethan, my husband, said coldly, instantly shattering my world.
My little girl was gone, punished for breaking a trivial toy boat he cherished, a supposed memento from his childhood "savior," Chloe.
I soon found Ethan’s laptop open, revealing Chloe Jennings, whose seductive purr confirmed the sickening fantasy that had overshadowed Sophia's life and our marriage.
Even after Chloe burned Sophia's mementos and brutally assaulted me with a fire poker, Ethan defended her, offering "compensation" for my "inconvenience."
His chilling pragmatism, viewing our dead daughter solely as a tool for his mistress’s agenda, unleashed a profound, bitter injustice within me.
But after Chloe’s sadistic taunts and Ethan’s infuriating pleas for me to be "considerate" while she jabbed me with a syringe, mere escape wasn't enough.
To truly shatter this monstrous delusion, I would stage my own death, vanishing completely and forcing Ethan to face a terrifying reality. His Wedding, Her Secret Grave
Romance I lived in a gilded cage, Liam Donovan's opulent penthouse, a testament to his success and my inescapable prison.
My real life, a fierce purpose to find justice for my mother, burned deep within me, a silent ember waiting to ignite. But tonight, his return, and the sickly sweet voice of Sarah Chen, echoed through the vast space like a calculated torment.
He called it marriage. I called it revenge. He brought women home, but Sarah became a constant fixture, his confidante.
He paraded her, commanded me to serve them champagne, and paid me for "services rendered"—a crude hundred-dollar bill for my "trouble."
Each interaction was a fresh humiliation, yet my practiced coldness, my emotionless facade, only seemed to fuel his blistering rage and Sarah's smug triumph.
He saw me as a mercenary, a heartless woman who abandoned him for money. He never knew I'd secretly funneled my entire inheritance to save his failing company, anonymously donated bone marrow to save his life when he was desperately ill, or trekked alone through a blizzard to rescue him from a crashed car. Every truth, every selfless act, was twisted into a lie by Sarah, perfectly weaponized against me in his eyes.
How could he be so utterly blind? How could my deep sacrifices, my desperate, enduring love, be warped into such consuming hatred? The agonizing injustice was a constant ache, a wound that never healed. I bore his cruelty silently, believing it was the only way to shield him from an unseen enemy.
But the torment became unbearable, unsustainable. So I tore out my own heart, performing the ultimate act to protect him: I faked my own death. I erased Maya Rodriguez from existence, hoping he could finally be safe and truly free. But freedom, I learned, comes with a brutal price, and the path he walks now, fueled by his grief and her lies, is more dangerous than ever. 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. 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.
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. 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. 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."" 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. 
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