Katie Oettgen
22 Published Stories
Katie Oettgen's Books and Stories
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Romance As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Pampered By The Heartless Billionaire Monster
Romance Bridget caught her fiancé tangled in the sheets with another woman. She left the engagement ring behind and, in a moment of reckless defiance, had a one-night stand with Damond Oneill, the most terrifying billionaire on Wall Street.
But her nightmare was far from over. Her biological father threatened to destroy her mother's company if she didn't crawl back to her cheating ex to secure a business merger.
Worse, she found her mother coughing up bright red blood, secretly hiding a fatal illness. Desperate to save her family, Bridget attended a high-society gala, only for her ex and her legitimate half-sister to slip a powerful drug into her champagne. Trapped on a locked balcony, her body burning and paralyzed, she watched her ex approach to assault and film her.
"Let's see how arrogant you are when the drugs kick in."
She didn't understand why her own blood treated her like disposable trash. Why was she always the pawn while her mother suffered in secret? The absolute despair almost broke her.
Just as he grabbed her dress, a deafening explosion shattered the glass door.
Damond stepped through the ruin, brutally crippled her ex, and claimed her as his own. But when Damond's team traced her mother's secret medical funds to a highly classified Swiss clinic, Bridget realized the real war had just begun. Too Late, Mr. Blindness Billionaire
Romance My entire world revolved around Liam, my little brother, whose fragile life was being stolen by aggressive leukemia. My boyfriend, Ethan, genuinely loved me, but the $50,000 needed for Liam' s experimental treatment felt like an insurmountable mountain. In a desperate bid for money, I answered a seemingly legitimate ad for a high-paying personal assistant, only to step into a horrific trap orchestrated by my own manipulative half-sister, Chloe. I was brutally assaulted, drugged, and left for dead. The police report, maliciously twisted by Chloe' s connections, painted me as a "high-end call girl" injured in a "client dispute." Chloe then spun a web of lies to Ethan, claiming I' d taken the $50,000 for myself. He bought every word, his loving eyes turning into a mask of utter disgust before he walked out of my life forever, leaving me shattered and Liam still fighting for his life. How could the man who once vowed to protect me believe such monstrous accusations without question? The betrayal, the public humiliation, and the profound injustice felt like a physical weight crushing my spirit. Five years later, I had painstakingly rebuilt my life, becoming a successful tech executive in London. Then, a call from Ethan-now a billionaire-pulled me back to New York. My fragile hope for closure was brutally crushed when I found him engaged to Chloe, ready to restart their cruel tactics and drag me back into their twisted game. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back. Neglected Wife's Bitter Sweet Revenge
Modern I was the perfect wife to my producer husband, Braden, enduring his coldness and affairs for one reason: his promise to release my late father's priceless songbook.
Then, at a crowded industry party, I watched him kiss his starlet mistress, Destany, for all to see. The humiliation made me collapse, and I woke up in a hospital bed to a shocking truth: I was pregnant.
Braden used our unborn child as a leash, playing the role of a devoted husband while secretly continuing his affair.
His mistress grew bolder, breaking into our home after taunting me with photos of her and Braden in Tokyo.
"That baby is just another obstacle," she whispered, her eyes filled with hate as she lunged at me.
In the struggle, she shoved me down our grand staircase. The fall was a blur of sickening thuds and a sharp, searing pain. I lost my child.
The one thing that had tied me to him was gone, stolen by his cruelty and her jealousy. The years of his lies and my silent suffering crystallized into a single, cold purpose.
When Braden knelt by my hospital bed, sobbing and begging for forgiveness, I felt nothing. I simply picked up the phone and called my lawyer.
"I want a divorce," I said, my voice like ice. "And I'm taking back everything." The Unwanted Wife Returns With Secret Twins
Romance Chloe Kensington went to her billionaire husband's private suite to share the news of her pregnancy.
But pushing open the door, she found him intimately holding a woman who had her exact same face.
She finally understood she was never a wife, just a cheap, convenient placeholder.
When she fled into the freezing rain and texted him about the baby, Axel responded by throwing a brutal divorce agreement at her.
"I don't want this accident," he said with empty eyes.
Before she could even fight back, his true love brought thugs to the estate, injected Chloe with a paralyzing drug, and drenched the walls in gasoline.
"Tomorrow's headline will be so tragic," the woman smirked, striking a match to burn Chloe and the unborn heir to ashes.
As the flames roared and thick smoke choked her lungs, Chloe's heart completely died.
She didn't understand why her devotion was treated like garbage, and how he could let them erase her existence so easily.
Four years later, she returned as Elena, an untouchable medical consultant, holding the hands of her fierce four-year-old twins.
When they accidentally crossed paths on a train, Axel stared at her with red, trembling eyes, desperately calling her name.
Chloe just looked at him with absolute disgust.
"Excuse me, sir. Keep your hands to yourself." The Villainous Wife's Spectacular Comeback
Modern For two years, Aria was a prisoner in her own body, forced to watch helplessly as a parasitic "System" hijacked her life.
The nightmare shattered in a crowded neon club when the System forced her to slap New York's golden boy across the face, before abruptly detaching from her brain.
Control slammed back into her limbs, but she was left to face a completely ruined reality.
The System had turned her into a malicious, hysterical stalker.
It had destroyed her reputation, alienated her best friend, and forced her into a loveless arranged marriage with Julian Carlisle, a ruthless billionaire.
When she woke up in the hospital, the tabloids had already branded her a violent psycho.
Her powerful mother-in-law threw the glossy tabloid photos at her feet with pure disgust.
"If you cannot explain this right now, you will sign divorce papers and get out!"
A suffocating wave of injustice and panic gripped Aria's chest.
She had lost two whole years to a sick game she never agreed to play, taking the blame for horrific actions she couldn't stop.
What exactly was that mechanical voice, and would it ever come back to finish her off?
But Aria refused to just roll over and die.
Wiping away the heavy makeup of the villainess she never was, she stared at her dangerous husband and made her first move.
"I was drugged."
With that single calculated lie, she began her counterattack to manipulate the Carlisle family, clear her name, and take her freedom back. Betrayed Heiress: Married To The Devil
Mafia I was tossed into a dark alley like rotting garbage, bleeding and grieving the child I had just lost.
When I was finally brought back to my fiancé Angelo's penthouse, instead of comfort, I was met with absolute disgust.
His family declared me "unclean" after the kidnapping. Angelo coldly announced he was burying the scandal by marrying my sweet, innocent cousin, Carissa.
When we were alone, Carissa stood over my bed, her voice dripping with venomous delight.
"My father arranged the kidnapping. And now, Angelo and I can finally be together."
Before I could react, she forced a silver letter opener into my hand, deliberately stabbed her own shoulder, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Angelo stormed in, struck me across the face, and gathered a sobbing Carissa into his arms, looking at me with absolute revulsion.
The family matriarch appeared at the door, her cold eyes sweeping over the scene before she gave a chilling order to the maids.
"Clean this up."
They pinned me down and brutally drove the blade directly into my chest.
I choked on my own blood, staring at the man who had promised me the world as he turned his back, calling my murder a "mercy."
As my heart beat its final agonizing rhythm, I made a silent vow to the shadows that if there was a next life, I would have my vendetta.
When I opened my eyes again, there was no blood, only the soft silk of my nightgown.
I had returned to the day before my eighteenth birthday.
This time, I wouldn't play the desperate victim. I was going to ally with the Devil of Chicago and burn them all to the ground. Healed By The Ruthless Billionaire's Touch
Billionaires I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him.
Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress—the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister.
Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair.
I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people.
But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse.
I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges.
The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill.
When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell.
But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone.
His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life.
I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me.
Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference.
"I'll do it, but I control the venue."
I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again. Too Late, Billionaire: Watch Me Leave
Billionaires For three years, Ciara played the perfect, invisible protocol wife to billionaire Jordon Webb.
But on the day she finally held a positive pregnancy test, he abandoned her mid-sentence to rush to the side of his ex-lover, Jasmine.
Seeking answers, Ciara went to his Wall Street office, only to be publicly humiliated by his family. His cousin intentionally poured scalding espresso over her hand, leaving her skin blistered and raw.
"She's a protocol wife. She knows her place. She's replaceable."
Hearing Jordon's cold words to his friends shattered her. When he finally appeared, instead of defending his injured wife, he furiously scolded her for causing a scene and ruining his company's image.
That night, while Jordon stayed at the hospital holding a perfectly fine Jasmine in his arms, Ciara was left completely alone in their dark, empty penthouse.
A sudden, agonizing cramp ripped through her abdomen. She suffered a devastating miscarriage, bleeding out on the cold marble floor with no one to answer her cries.
A decade of loving him had left her with a dead baby, a ruined hand, and absolute despair.
Why did she have to lose her child while he fiercely protected the woman who mocked her existence?
The next morning, her sorrow burned away into cold, hardened ash.
Ciara signed the divorce papers, waiving all alimony, and left them behind.
Jordon had no idea that his docile, charity-case wife was actually LUNA, the world-famous anonymous couture designer.
She packed her bags, walked out of the penthouse, and prepared to take her life back. His Broken Doll's Second Chance
Romance To marry the man I loved, I held a shard of glass to my wrist and threatened my guardian, Alois Wyatt. "If you don't let me marry Erick, I will die right here."
The second he reluctantly agreed, the horrifying truth of my past life slammed into me. Erick, the man I’d fought to marry, had never loved me. He’d locked me in a European asylum for three years, tortured me, and left me to die in a fiery car crash.
I dropped the glass and threw myself into Alois’s arms, sobbing that it was all a joke. I begged him to take me home, swearing I'd rather die than marry Erick.
But my sudden change was met with cold suspicion. To him and his friends, I was a snake playing a new, pathetic game, trying to steal his corporate secrets for my pathetic lover.
The most painful part was that they were right. In my past life, I had betrayed Alois, destroyed his reputation, and left him to die a broken man, all for a monster who saw me as nothing more than a tool.
But now, opening my eyes again on the very night my nightmare began, I have a second chance. This time, I will cling to the only man who ever truly protected me, and I will make Erick pay for everything he did to us. Escaping the Pawn, Ensnaring the Don
Mafia "My father sold me to a sixty-year-old monster to clear his gambling debts. So, I made a desperate gamble of my own."
Seventeen-year-old Isabella Rossi has two choices: become the broken plaything of a sadistic mafia Capo, or do the unthinkable. She chooses the latter. Sneaking into a high-end speakeasy, she slips an aphrodisiac into the whiskey of the deadliest man in New York—Damien Falcone, the ruthless Underboss of the Falcone family.
Her plan was simple: steal his seed, secure his protection, and run.
But you don’t drug a predator and expect to walk away.
When Damien wakes up, he doesn’t kill her. Instead, he claims her.
"You intercepted a delivery meant for my enemy. Turns out, it was you. Now, you are my Collateral." I Rejected the Alpha Who Killed Me
Werewolf Five years ago, I tore my inner wolf out of my soul to save Alpha Floyd's life.
In return, he treated me like a "Wolfless freak" and made me a slave in my own pack.
To please his mistress, he pressed glowing coals laced with silver directly into my palms, burning the hands that had once woven protection spells for him.
Then, he watched with cold indifference as I drowned in the freezing Moon Pool, sneering that I was just "being dramatic."
It wasn't until the autopsy that he saw the surgical scars on my heart.
He finally realized I hadn't lost my wolf—I had given it to him.
Consumed by madness and guilt, Floyd sacrificed his own soul in the Silver Dungeon, begging the Goddess to turn back time.
He wanted a second chance to worship me.
When I opened my eyes, I was eighteen again, back at the Academy.
Floyd stood before me, his eyes ancient and filled with tears.
"I remember everything," he choked out, reaching for me with a trembling hand. "I came back for you, my Luna."
I looked at the man who had murdered me in the name of love.
"You think suicide buys forgiveness?"
I stepped back, grabbing the hand of the quiet Beta student he used to despise.
"I reject you, Floyd Meyers."
"And this time, I'm choosing the man who would never let me burn." His Unwanted Wife, My New Dawn
Modern For six years, I was the wife of a tech billionaire with crippling mysophobia. To my husband, Killian, I was a contaminant he was forced to tolerate for a business merger, a ghost in my own home.
But for his mistress, the influencer Isabel, every rule was broken. He worshipped her, believing she was the angel who' d saved him from a near-fatal climbing accident two years ago.
The truth was, I was the one who braved a blizzard to rescue him, suffering severe frostbite in the process. But he laughed in my face, calling me too fragile. He knelt on a filthy police station floor to touch her bare feet, yet he' d recoiled from my touch for years.
He destroyed my grandmother' s priceless locket because she wanted it. He forced me to kneel and apologize for her lies, threatening my family's company if I refused.
The final humiliation came when he publicly declared her the true mistress of the house and made me climb a dangerous, thorny hill on my injured ankle to pick roses for her.
As I stumbled back, covered in mud and blood, I felt nothing. The love I had stubbornly held onto was finally, completely dead.
I walked away that night with the signed divorce papers in my hand. My old life was over, and my fight for a new one had just begun. His Unseen Love, Her Blind Regret
Romance For five years, I was the perfect husband to my wife, Jorja. I was the man who supposedly healed her broken heart after her first love, Cale, left her. Now Cale was back, and she insisted we all have dinner together.
Suddenly, a fight broke out at the next table. A man flung a bowl of steaming hot soup, and it flew directly towards us.
In that split second, I watched my wife lunge. Not towards me, but towards Cale, shielding him with her own body. The scalding liquid hit my arm and chest, the pain searing through me.
While I gasped in agony, Jorja fussed over a tiny splash on Cale's hand.
"We need to go to the emergency room right now!" she cried, rushing him out the door.
She paused only to look back at me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "You can take a taxi to the hospital, right?"
After five years of selfless care, of giving up my art scholarship to Paris to be her live-in cure, I was abandoned, covered in second-degree burns.
As I sat alone in the ER, an email arrived. My scholarship had been reinstated. That night, I didn't go back to her house. I went to start the life she had stolen from me. When Love Becomes a Weapon
Modern The sterile air of the pre-flight briefing room chilled me to the bone.
It was the taste of betrayal, bitter and metallic, that filled my mouth once more.
Liam, my fiancé, and Chloe, his protégé, had crushed my career, my reputation, my entire life.
They had effectively killed me.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was back in the exact room, at the precise moment it all went wrong.
My heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat of terror and a cold, rising fury.
"Ava, are you listening?" Mark, my second-in-command, looked at me, concerned.
He told me Chloe Vance had brought an undeclared briefcase, a "gift."
I recognized it instantly: Project Chimera, a dangerous AI prototype.
In my past life, I'd tried to protect Liam, only to have him orchestrate my complete downfall.
He' d publicly accused me of corporate espionage, painting me as unstable and emotional.
I had broken protocol for him, and he used it as a weapon.
That version of me, naive and trusting, was dead.
"You' re right, Liam," I heard myself say, my voice softening.
"A gift is just a gift. We' ll let it go this one time."
My team stared at me in disbelief.
But I wasn' t saving him.
I was giving him enough rope to hang himself.
This time, he would be the one to fall. Second Chance, Second Curse
Romance The white ceiling was unbearably familiar. I was supposed to be dead, incinerated in a lab accident ten years ago, but instead, I was back, staring at the ceiling of the hotel suite where my marriage to Sophia Hayes began.
My second chance. Instead of a fresh start, I walked into the same hollow wedding, only to be ambushed by Director Thompson. He dropped a bombshell: my marriage was a cover, Sophia was an intelligence agent, and my cutting-edge Manticore Project was the target of her operation.
Forced to play the loving husband, every affectionate gesture felt like a lie. The bitterest pill was seeing Sophia, my wife, constantly meeting with Liam Carter, my rival from a past life. I watched them in the park, saw her laugh and hold his hand, the warmth she never showed me, fueling a rage that culminated in me shattering our wedding photo.
Why was she so readily giving him what I craved? The official explanation – it was all part of the mission – felt hollow. It was a hell I' d already lived, but this time, the betrayal was sanctioned, and I was just a patriotic fool.
Then, I followed them to a clandestine meeting, only to overhear Liam demand my Manticore data. Before I could process Sophia seemingly agreeing to hand over my life' s work, I was caught in a federal sting. Liam escaped, and I was arrested for espionage, with Sophia, my own wife, claiming full responsibility and confirming I was her co-conspirator. Her complete and utter betrayal, putting me in jail, all to protect him, shattered my soul. I had traded one prison for another, a cage of unrequited love for one of national conspiracy. My second chance was quickly becoming a second curse. My Comatose CEO Wife
Romance I signed a contract to marry a comatose billionaire. It was just business-a way to save my parents from crushing medical debt. I was a broke musician, she was a famous Silicon Valley CEO, and my job was simple: act like a devoted husband while she was unconscious.
But then, a voice started talking in my head. "Ugh, this Jell-O tastes like sadness." It was her. Victoria. The woman everyone thought was brain-dead was fully conscious inside, and I was the only one who could hear her.
Suddenly, my life became a bizarre performance. I was trapped, not just by the contract, but by her relentless, snarky inner monologue. I acted out her hidden desires-eating tacos by her bedside, arguing about bad rom-coms-all while the world hailed me as the ultimate devoted husband. The fame exploded, her company's stock soared, and everyone believed the fairy tale. Except me. And her, the voice in my head.
But just as our bizarre connection deepened, just as I started to fall for the real, hidden Tori, she woke up. And she believed the worst. She saw me in a staged embrace with another woman, heard whispers of my "devotion" while she was unconscious, and instantly branded me a perverted gold-digger. After weeks of sharing her innermost thoughts, after hearing her true self, how could she believe I was the villain?
I wasn't just some broke musician anymore. I was the only person who truly knew Victoria Blackwood. So, standing there, accused and disgraced, I had a choice: walk away with the money, or fight for the woman whose voice had haunted my dreams. I chose to expose every secret, every quirk, every vulnerability she thought only she knew, hoping she'd finally see the real me. And the truth. Not His Son: The Billionaire's Fury
Billionaires My life as a self-made millionaire seemed perfect alongside my wife, Jessica, and our six-year-old son, Leo.
Then, the doctor's words hit like a brick wall: "End-stage renal disease. He needs a transplant."
My brother, Kevin, was Leo's only match.
But instead of a selfless act, he smirked, demanding my vacation home, two million dollars, and 20% of my company for a life-saving kidney.
My own father, Frank, and the rest of my family backed his outrageous extortion.
I said no. The room erupted. My wife shrieked, my father raged, and Kevin gloated, calling me a monster.
Jessica wasted no time, launching a viral GoFundMe immediately: "Help My Son When His Millionaire Father Won't."
The internet condemned me instantly, painting me as a heartless villain willing to let his child die over money.
Why would a man who built an empire from nothing risk it all, and supposedly his own son's life, for mere dollars? Was I truly the monster they saw?
They thought I was insane, blinded by greed. But as I calmly froze our joint accounts and walked into the hospital cafeteria where they were celebrating their public shaming campaign, they had no idea.
The truth I was about to unleash would shatter their world, not just mine.
This wasn't about money; it was about a deeply buried, horrifying secret I had been preparing to expose for months. His Aunt, His Sanctuary
Billionaires For a year, I was nothing but a ghost in the Vanderbilt penthouse, Seraphina's secret plaything, her devoted bodyguard.
I loved her with a silent, burning devotion, always there, always ready to serve.
Then, as casually as she' d summoned me to her bed, she dismissed me.
Her wedding to Julian Astor was in ten days, and our arrangement was abruptly over.
The chilling indifference in her eyes was a prelude to the hell that followed.
Suddenly, I was at Julian Astor's mercy – a petty, sadistic monster who reveled in torment.
He ordered me beaten, humiliated, even forced me to kneel on scorching metal grates until my knees were raw.
I endured a public flogging, my back shredded, while Seraphina, the woman I' d protected with my life, smiled at my tormentor.
When I was stabbed protecting Julian, he deliberately shoved me into the knife, and Seraphina merely watched, unconcerned.
My unique blood, inherited from the parents I scarcely remembered, was drained near to death to save the man who tortured me.
It was then I learned the truth: my parents weren't gone in an accident.
They were murdered by Seraphina' s father, who then "rescued" me, molding me into his perfect, disposable weapon.
Every ounce of hope, every flicker of warmth I'd held for Seraphina, froze into bitter ice.
I was broken, but no longer blind.
Now, the loyal dog is dead.
From the ashes of Vanderbilt' s cruelty, The Wraith is born, and I will tear down their empire, one bloody secret at a time. 
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