Karyelle Kuhn
14 Published Stories
Karyelle Kuhn's Books and Stories
He Faked Amnesia To Abandon His Wife
Mafia The neurosurgeon looked at me with pity, delivering a diagnosis that severed seven years of devotion in a heartbeat.
According to the scans, my husband, Dante Rizzoli, remembered how to strip a Glock blindfolded and launder millions.
He just didn't remember loving me.
Overnight, I went from being the cherished Mafia Princess to an unwanted stranger in my own penthouse.
While I filled our home with his favorite lilies trying to spark a memory, Dante brought home Gia.
She was loud, tacky, and draped over him like a cheap suit. The Capo had forgotten his wife, but he seemed to remember his lust perfectly fine.
I swallowed the humiliation, clinging to the hope of his recovery, until I stood outside his office door with a tray of espresso.
I heard his dark, amused laugh rumbling through the wood.
"The amnesia is the most useful card I've ever played," Dante told his soldier.
"It buys me time to enjoy Gia without the family breathing down my neck. Elena is a boring, safe relic. I need fire, not a porcelain doll."
My heart didn't race. It stopped.
The medical anomaly was a lie. He hadn't forgotten me; he was just done with me.
I set the tray down silently. I wasn't going to wait for him to remember anymore.
I walked out of the penthouse and dialed a number I hadn't used in years.
"Get the new ID ready," I whispered into the phone.
"Elena Vitiello dies tonight. Livia Moretti leaves at dawn." Substitute Bride: Healing The Broken Billionaire
Billionaires To save her family from bankruptcy, Serena was forced into her twin sister's wedding dress to marry a notorious, paralyzed billionaire.
On her wedding night, she tried to escape the terrifying mansion, only to be violently stopped by her own father.
He dug his thick fingers into her bruised arm and threatened to cut off her hospitalized sister's life support if she dared to run away.
Trapped with no way out, Serena endured harsh humiliation from her new husband, Julian, who thought she was just a desperate gold digger thanks to her stepmother's sabotage.
The next morning, things got even worse.
Julian's terrifying grandmother, the family matriarch, threw a ten-million-dollar check at her.
"Take the money and file for a quiet annulment today. Leave the cripple immediately."
"If you refuse, I will personally ensure your family is crushed into dust before Friday."
Serena stared at the crisp paper that could instantly buy her freedom and save her sister.
Her own father was using her sister's life as blackmail, and Julian's own flesh and blood treated him like a disposable liability.
But she remembered the traumatized, broken man who had blindly held her hand through a severe PTSD attack the night before.
She didn't take the easy money.
Instead, Serena slid the check right back across the polished mahogany table.
"My marriage to Julian is not for sale," she stated firmly, officially declaring war on the powerful matriarch. Spoiled By The Ruthless Esports Captain
Modern Kaitlynn's mother forced her to entertain Jorden, a cold, overbearing professional esports captain who she only remembered as an annoying, mud-eating brat.
She despised him in real life, saving all her admiration for "Hex," the god-tier player in her favorite MMO who constantly spoiled her with thousand-dollar rare items.
Trapped in Jorden's luxury car during a forced errand, Kaitlynn couldn't stand his arrogant attitude anymore.
She proudly bragged about Hex, claiming her online master's mechanics were vastly superior to any so-called professional player.
"He's the absolute ceiling," she declared defensively. "He's way better than you."
Jorden just smirked, his dark eyes dismissing her entirely.
"Sounds like a nerd living in his mom's basement."
Kaitlynn was furious, ready to scream at him, until his work phone suddenly rang.
Right in front of her, he casually commanded his team using an extremely rare, high-tier strategy exclusive to her game.
Kaitlynn's mind completely short-circuited.
Why would the captain of North America's biggest esports organization know Aethelgard's secret meta?
And why did his commanding, ruthless voice suddenly sound exactly like the low, comforting chuckle that echoed in her headset every night?
As Jorden's gaze dropped to the rare assassin class keychain resting on her lap, a wicked, knowing smile flashed across his face.
The untouchable esports tyrant had just realized his rebellious real-life enemy was his deeply pampered in-game student, and her peaceful double life was about to end. Jilted At City Hall, Married A Zillionaire
Modern I stood in front of New York City Hall in my vintage lace wedding dress, my heart pounding with a nervous joy. I was minutes away from marrying Bradford Sterling, a move I thought would finally help me reclaim my mother’s legacy from my family’s crumbling empire.
But as I reached for his arm, he flinched. A black Lincoln Navigator screeched to the curb, and his mother, Victoria, stepped out, slamming a restructuring document against his chest. She didn't even look at me as she delivered the killing blow: my sister, Eden, had just seized every cent of my voting rights and family trust.
"Marrying her is a net negative yield," Victoria said coldly. Bradford didn't fight for me; he didn't even blink. He simply pushed my hand away and adjusted his tie as if I were a junk bond he was ready to offload. Seconds later, my sister Eden arrived in a red Ferrari, wearing her own bridal gown, and stepped into my place by his side.
I was standing on the pavement, humiliated in front of a crowd, while the man I loved for three years treated me like a failed transaction. My sister laughed in my face, calling me a "liability" while she stole my wedding and my life. The grief was instant, but the rage that followed was a white-hot rupture in my chest.
I didn't just walk away; I slapped the life out of Bradford and dove into the first black SUV I saw, desperate to escape. I didn't check the plates, and I didn't see the man in the wheelchair sitting in the shadows of the backseat.
I had just "carjacked" Jefferson Montgomery, the most dangerous billionaire in the city. To save him from a parole violation during a sudden police raid, I agreed to a fake marriage that very night. They wanted to treat me like a negative asset? Fine. They have no idea that they just handed a world-class hacker the keys to the Montgomery fortune, and I’m going to liquidate them all. No Turning Back, Ethan
Romance The scent of lemon cleaner usually filled our home, a fresh reminder of the life my husband Ethan and I built.
But returning from my architecture conference, I was hit by Chloe' s cloying perfume, a scent that tasted like a premonition.
I found my best friend Chloe on my sofa, eyes red, trembling as she confessed: "I slept with Ethan… on your wedding night. And Ava… I' m pregnant."
Then came the weapon-a positive pregnancy test and a deepfake video, my face superimposed on hers, titled "homewrecker" by an online mob.
My world shattered as Ethan walked in, rushing to Chloe, shielding her with promises of protection, his eyes cold when they met mine.
He chose her, the baby that wasn' t mine, and watched as a rock shattered our window, screams of "homewrecker" filling the air.
I ran, but they caught me, fists and feet raining down, Ethan' s voice shouting Chloe' s name, not mine, as I blacked out.
Waking in a hospital, bruised and broken, I instinctively went home, only to find Ethan feeding Chloe grapes, treating her like royalty.
He dismissed my injuries, stating coolly, "You' re a private person, you can recover. Chloe' s reputation was on the line; this would have destroyed her."
The man I loved saw me as a calculable loss, my safety less valuable than an influencer' s social media career.
The audacity of his request that I accept his pregnant mistress into our home for the "baby' s sake" made my blood run cold.
He even used the unborn child as a weapon against me, threatening my guilt if anything happened to it.
But the anger, the ultimate betrayal, ignited something in me, a cold, clear certainty.
I zipped my suitcase shut, the sound a definitive end.
"Get out of my way, Ethan," I demanded, no longer pleading, no longer afraid.
He stood stunned, his manipulation failing.
"I' m leaving this house. And I am never, ever coming back." When Love Dies, Fury Awakens
Billionaires My life was a perfectly curated symphony, a testament to my hard work. From my luxurious hotel in Napa, overlooking rolling green hills, I believed my children, Leo and Mia, were thriving, showered with everything money could buy.
Then a tiny, discordant note shattered the illusion: a seemingly insignificant $85.50 charge from a pawn shop. Before I could process the unsettling anomaly, my phone rang. Sarah Jenkins from Child and Family Services. Anonymous report. My children.
The world tilted again as a fraud alert flashed on my screen, locking Mark' s account – the bottomless well funding their lives. The house was dark, silent, too quiet. I found my confident son, Leo, thin and bruised, and my vibrant Mia, dull-eyed and bearing circular bruises, clinging to a faded t-shirt.
Through their broken whispers, the horrific truth spilled out: Mark had been selling their possessions, spending my money on his new girlfriend, Karen, and her daughter, Jessica. He' d hurt them, physically and emotionally.
How could the man I trusted with my most precious treasures become this monster? What kind of depraved mind preys on children, especially his own, for profit and pleasure?
A cold, hard resolve solidified in my chest. This ends now. He had stolen their childhood, their safety, their trust. He would pay. I grabbed my phone, and with three taps, cut off his lifeline, ready for war. The Sisters' Evil Boyfriends
Billionaires Five years. Five years I' d spent in that gilded cage, paying for my father' s sins, trembling under the cold gaze of Arthur Blackwood.
He liked me broken, delighted in my anxiety, while his brother, Ethan, used my mute sister, Daisy, as a silent stand-in for his dead lover.
The breaking point shattered with the ceramic cat, a symbol of everything I' d lost, everything they' d taken.
I tried to leave, to finally escape the mansion and the men who called themselves family, only to be dragged back, the cold steel of a knife at my throat.
They thought I was helpless, a victim easily silenced, but they underestimated a desperate woman' s fury, a sister' s love, and the truth hidden deep within their own family' s dark past. The Rolex & The Ruin: My Family's Greed
Modern Divorced and a multi-millionaire, I finally packed my bags and left Silicon Valley behind.
All I wanted was to return to my hometown in Ohio, reconnect with my blue-collar family, and embrace a simple, honest life, especially with my sister-in-law expecting.
But when I arrived, their embrace was anything but warm.
To test their loyalty, I lied, claiming I was broke, expecting sympathy.
Instead, my brother raged that they were "counting on my payout," and my pregnant sister-in-law, wearing the expensive Rolex I gifted her, sneered, demanding I pay rent to live in the very house I bought and owned.
The betrayal escalated. They claimed my master bedroom, threw out my belongings, and openly mocked my alleged financial ruin. My mother and stepfather, whom I' d supported for years, stood by, silently endorsing the cruelty.
My stepfather even tearfully confessed he'd put my house in my brother's name to secure his marriage, then tried to manipulate me with a fabricated story about paying for my college.
How could my own family turn on me like this? Why were they so filled with greed and contempt? What hidden resentments festered beneath their supposed love?
When I finally ripped off the mask of poverty and exposed my true wealth and ownership, their carefully constructed lies shattered.
But the shocking truth about their betrayal was nothing compared to the dark secret I was about to uncover, a secret buried for two decades that connected them directly to my father' s mysterious death and a chilling attempt on my own life. His Political Asset, Her Perfect Revenge
Romance It started as our eighth wedding anniversary, a day I used to circle with a red heart, but this year the circle was empty.
I baked Andrew, my rising City Councilman husband, his favorite chocolate lava cake, hoping to surprise him at his "late-night strategy session."
Instead, I found him at a high-end steakhouse, clinking glasses with his sycophantic aides and his 21-year-old intern, Madisyn, practically glued to his side.
Hiding behind a pillar, I heard him laugh and call me his "perfect political asset," a "boring sedan" he was "stuck" with, admitting he "can' t even stand to touch her anymore."
The words hit me harder than any physical blow, crushing eight years of foolish hope and love.
Andrew returned the next day, reeking of Madisyn' s perfume, offering fake apologies and a lavish trip, still lying even as her texts buzzed relentlessly on his phone.
The next shock came at a clinic where I' d gone to confirm I wasn't pregnant; I overheard Andrew coldly demanding Madisyn get an abortion, threatening to ruin her life if she didn't-all to protect his career and public image.
I knew he was selfish, but this was monstrous; he' d destroy anyone, even his own child, for personal gain.
That's when I decided I would burn it all down.
The game changed when Madisyn, pregnant again, brazenly texted me taunts and ultrasound photos, claiming Andrew was moving her into a luxury condo near me.
She celebrated my broken marriage, boasting Andrew found me "old and dried up," but she had no idea who she was truly up against.
I calmly sent her the recording of Andrew coercing her into an abortion, and her frantic pleas instantly confirmed her terror.
The polite wife who endured humiliation was gone; I was ready to use every weapon at my disposal.
I left the luxurious life, packing a single suitcase, leaving divorce papers on his desk, and booking a one-way flight to Rome-ready to start over.
Andrew' s desperate phone calls to "fix things" were met with my chilling truth: "The problem is you."
He tried to trap me by withdrawing the divorce papers, but with one furious kick to his groin, I made my intentions clear.
That night, utilizing his mother' s desperate desire for an heir, I forged a medical report stating I was barren and anonymously sent it to her.
She immediately forced Andrew to sign the divorce papers himself, ironically ending his own quest for a legacy.
At his lawyer's office, Andrew pleaded for me back, still blind, clinging to the naive idea it was just about another woman.
With a final, devastating blow, I handed him his true fertility report, revealing his low sperm count and the tragic irony: he had forced Madisyn to terminate what was likely his only chance at a biological child, the heir he so desperately wanted.
Watching him crumble, finally understanding his self-inflicted destruction, I knew I was truly free. He Stole My Money, I Stole His Regret
Romance I poured five years, every dollar I earned as a graphic designer, into funding Ethan' s dream, believing our life was building towards a future, a marriage he promised me.
But then I found the bank statement: $20,000, my life' s savings for my own studio, gone from our joint account, spent on a "spiritual connection" weekend for him and his wellness guru, Sabrina.
As their social media bliss exploded, I became the publicly jilted woman, scorned by his mother, taunted by Sabrina, and ultimately, deliberately used as a human shield by Ethan when Sabrina' s past caught up to her.
He then stole my work computer, my remaining cash, and escalated his cruelty by drugging me and arranging for a homeless man to enter my room, attempting to utterly destroy me.
Broken, penniless, and fleeing a literal nightmare, I had one desperate, unexpected option: a childhood friend from Montana, Andrew Scott, whose quiet voice on the phone asked, "Maria, is everything okay?" The Man She Forgot To See
Romance I gave her everything for five years – my love, my devotion, my entire life.
I meticulously planned our engagement party, hoping it would finally make her see me, truly see me.
Instead, at that very party, she publicly humiliated me, calling me her "charity case" and her "lapdog," then abandoned me to rush to another man's side.
As her car disappeared, a cold, synthetic voice in my mind announced "Objective Failure," initiating a memory wipe sequence.
I was forced to watch a live feed of her tenderly caring for him, realizing she' d never once shown me such warmth, before five years of my life and every emotion tied to her dissolved into pure white noise.
I woke up in a hospital, five years of memory a blank, the woman whose name was the only emergency contact treating me with utter contempt.
Sent back to her ranch, I found a journal detailing her casual cruelty, her abuse, and my desperate, unrequited love for a stranger.
How could I have been so blind, so pathetic, so completely devoted to someone who treated me like a disposable toy?
Leaving her behind, I started a new life, finally free from the shadow of a love I no longer remembered, yet whose documented pain was undeniably mine. A Second Life, A Fiercer Love
Romance The gavel fell, sealing my fate as a spectacle on a hidden auction stage in New Orleans.
My once-great family, the Sinclairs, was bankrupt, and my parents had sold me.
Just hours before, my fiancé, Liam Vanderbilt, had broken our engagement, his handsome face a mask of pity as he declared a Vanderbilt couldn't be associated with disgrace.
Now, I was a piece of property, and the man who bid for me was Jax Devereaux, my lifelong rival.
In my first life, I spat at him, screaming I'd rather die than be his charity case.
I still believed Liam would save me.
I was a fool.
My rejection humiliated Jax, and a man named Julian Croft bought me instead.
He was a monster, putting a diamond choker around my neck, and my life became a living hell.
When Liam saw me later, he laughed, calling me "high-class trash."
I learned Jax died trying to save me-the woman who publicly shamed him.
The abuse, the betrayal, Jax' s sacrifice… it was too much.
I found a way to end it all.
Then I woke up, back on that stage, the auctioneer's voice booming: "Jax Devereaux bids one million dollars. Going once…"
This time, I didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
My voice was quiet but clear, cutting through the silence.
Jax, typically arrogant, was utterly speechless.
He had expected a fight, a scene, another public rejection.
He didn't get one.
Instead, he got me, and I kissed him, hard and desperate-a silent 'thank you,' 'I'm sorry,' and 'please, don't let Julian get me.'
But Julian Croft, the monster from my past, was already banging on Jax's penthouse door, screaming that I was his property.
My body trembled, the memories of torture flooding back.
How could I escape him again, now that he knew where I was?
And what was Julian' s real connection to this horrifying human trafficking ring? The Lawyer Who Disappeared
Romance My life was a gilded cage, bought and paid for.
Ethan Vance, the man who saved my mother's life, owned me.
I was his successful lawyer, his beautiful lover, his "investment."
Then, his college sweetheart, Chloe Davenport, returned to New York.
The termination letter came first, cold and impersonal, followed by public displays of their rekindled romance.
Just like that, I was disposable.
The harassment began subtly, then spiraled.
Chloe's best friend, Brittany, smeared my name online, then ambushed me, photos flashing, leaving me bruised and broken.
Ethan visited me in the hospital, not concerned for me, but worried about Chloe's reputation, ordering me not to press charges.
He told me I was still his possession, that our "arrangement" meant eternal servitude.
He thought he owned my life.
But I was done submitting.
So, I began to plot my escape.
My mysterious illness wasn't a sickness; it was a strategy.
I repaid my debt, cutting the financial cord, and meticulously planned my dramatic disappearance, ensuring his perfect proposal unveiling would be ruined, leaving him with an unforgettable loss. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don
Ebony Pete "You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down? You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." 
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