Landslide
10 Published Stories
Landslide's Books and Stories
The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract
Modern My bank account showed exactly $42.18, and my student loan notifications were flashing red. I lived in a sweltering Queens apartment with my Aunt Lydia, where the air was thick with the smell of stale frying oil and the constant threat of being homeless.
Lydia handed me a grainy photo of a man twice my age and told me she had already "sold" me to him. He was a dry cleaner looking for a wife, and in exchange for my hand, he would pay off her credit cards and my debt. If I didn't show up for the date that night, my boxes would be on the curb by midnight.
I arrived at the cafe in a state of panic, my selective mutism making it impossible to even breathe. In the crowded room, I accidentally sat at the wrong table. Instead of the man from the photo, I found myself facing Gerhard Holcomb—the cold, terrifyingly handsome billionaire whose family owned the very museum where I worked. He didn't send me away; instead, he studied my trembling hands and offered me a different deal: a two-year contract marriage, a two-million-dollar payout, and a strict clause forbidding any children.
I signed the papers and moved into his Park Avenue penthouse, thinking I was finally safe. But when I went back to the old apartment to retrieve the only memento of my dead parents, Lydia lashed out, leaving me bleeding from a head wound. Gerhard’s retaliation was absolute—he had her arrested and her building foreclosed on within hours, claiming he was simply "protecting his assets."
As I recovered in his silent, glass-walled home, I saw a call from a famous socialite flash on his phone, and a cold truth settled in my gut. I wasn't just a wife; I was a placeholder, a silent shield used to fend off the women from his past.
I looked at the massive pink diamond on my finger and realized the silence I had lived in my whole life was about to become my most expensive prison. I had traded a life of poverty for a high-stakes game of shadows, and now I had to survive the man who claimed to own me. When Love Rebuilds From Frozen Hearts
Mafia On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies. Her Dying Breath, His Cold Fury
Billionaires My sister Alia was dying. Her only hope was an experimental surgery that cost half a million dollars. With only two weeks to find the money, I had to swallow my pride and go to the one person I hated most: my estranged billionaire brother, Damon.
But I never got to see him. His executive assistant, a woman named Ginger, took one look at my cheap dress and decided I was a stalker. She refused to pass along my message.
She dragged me into a back room, sneering that my story about a dying sister was pathetic. In front of her colleagues, she tore Alia' s life-saving medical records to shreds and threw them in the trash.
She slapped me across the face, poured hot coffee on my chest, and ripped my dress open to humiliate me further.
I lay on the floor, broken and bleeding, while she laughed. All I could think about was the closing window for Alia' s surgery. Every piece of paper she destroyed, every second she wasted, was another nail in my sister' s coffin.
Because of that delay, Alia died. When my brother finally found out what his assistant had done, the grief that should have broken us instead forged something new and terrible. I looked at him and said that jail wasn't enough. We would give Ginger everything she ever dreamed of, just so we could be the ones to burn it all to the ground. Stolen Husband, Stolen Life, Stolen Love
Romance The phone call felt like a death sentence.
"Killed in action."
My husband, David Miller, a decorated Navy SEAL and the love of my life, was gone, leaving me and our five-year-old daughter, Lily, alone.
But then, he walked through the door.
He looked exactly like David, yet it wasn't him. It was Mark, David\'s identical twin brother, a man I knew to be a selfish, lazy bum, now wearing the mask of my heroic husband.
He moved through the grieving relatives, accepting condolences, even letting Grandma Miller sob on his shoulder, all while his eyes met mine with a cold, calculating assessment, daring me to expose him.
The nausea hit me, a wave of realization that this wasn' t grief; it was an act. He wasn\'t here to mourn; he was here to steal David\'s identity, to erase him to escape his own pathetic existence.
And then fear for Lily, blissful in her coloring, replaced my grief. I had to protect her, no matter the cost.
So, I stepped into the role of the devoted, grief-stricken widow.
"David," I choked out, throwing my arms around him, "I thought I\'d lost you. They told me you were gone."
He stiffened, but recovered quickly, his voice a cheap imitation of my real husband\'s.
I played along, even when his girlfriend, Ashley, pregnant with his child, announced their "happy news" at David' s memorial, then demanded our house and savings.
The audacity was sickening, but I feigned despair, exposing their cruel intentions to the shocked family.
Later, in the backyard, I burned David' s belongings – a painful sacrifice. Mark and Ashley watched, enraged, as he remained trapped by the identity he' d stolen, unable to act for fear of exposing himself.
Then Lily, innocent and pure, delivered the first crack in his facade.
"Mommy," she asked, looking at Mark, "Why does Daddy look different? His eyes are mean."
The words hung in the air, a child\'s innocent observation, but for the first time, I saw real fear in Mark\'s eyes. This was just the beginning.
I would make sure he regretted the day he decided to come back from the dead. My Family's Faith, My Bloody Fate
Horror It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy.
Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me.
My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination."
They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why?
It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers.
Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again.
This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family.
Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free. The Girl Who Refused to Be Broken
Young Adult My whole life was about getting out of this blue-collar town.
Ivy League scholarships were my ticket, and I lived and breathed SAT prep.
My best friend, Bree Van Doren, struggled with her studies, her family's hardware store failing.
She always said I made it look so easy.
Then Bree suggested a "study retreat" at her remote family cabin in the Adirondacks.
After she handed me a bottle of water, that's the last thing I remembered before darkness.
I woke up on a dirt floor, head pounding, in a filthy shack.
This was no cabin; this was a nightmare.
The Petersons, a rough, menacing family, treated me like an animal.
Then Bree appeared, her face shockingly cold, flatly admitting she sold me to them.
For a few hundred bucks and a beat-up snowmobile, my "best friend" had erased her academic competition.
I was to "keep Cletus company."
Sold. Like an object. For a snowmobile.
Every Ivy League dream I had, reduced to ash.
Panic clawed at my throat. How? Why?
Even my own cousin, Jake, seeing me bruised and desperate, didn't recognize me.
But a silent scream of "NO" echoed in my mind.
I would not break.
I was Sarah Miller, and my formidable grandparents, Eli and Agnes Miller, would find me.
And when they did, Bree Van Doren would pay. My Wife, The Monster
Romance My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, just died from leukemia.
Grief consumed me, but my wife, Vicky, told me it was the will of fate-the experimental Swiss treatment simply failed.
We buried our sweet girl.
But then, hours later, I overheard Vicky' s voice, surprisingly light, from her study.
She was on a video call, laughing with her best friend, Chloe.
"He' s back, Chloe! Julian! His big project in Dubai went bust."
Vicky giggled, then scoffed, "Honestly, Lily' s illness was such a drain. Julian doesn' t need to know I had a child, especially one so sick."
Then came the words that ripped my world apart: "I found a clinic in Switzerland, very discreet. Euthanasia."
My heart, already shattered, was pulverized.
Vicky had killed our daughter.
And now, with Lily barely cold in her grave, Vicky was parading Julian, her old flame, through our home, mocking my life' s work, and quickly erasing Lily' s every trace.
She painted me as an unstable, grieving fool.
She vowed to destroy me, to ensure I got nothing.
How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be such a monster?
How could I have been so blind?
But the pain wasn't just mine; it was Lily' s, a horrific injustice.
I wouldn't let them erase her.
I would fight back, for Lily' s legacy, for the truth, and green the world with the "Oasis System" she loved, whether Vicky and Julian liked it or not. The Dull Wife's Masterpiece
Romance At 35, architect Emily was on top of the world. Her firm just won a major contract for a downtown skyscraper, and she was celebrating a successful career, building dreams one blueprint at a time.
Then came the text. Not for her, but for her husband Ethan. It flashed on his iPad: "My Little Muse. Is the show over? I bought you your favorite vinyl." Show? He was rehearsing.
A chilling comment from her best friend echoed: Ethan had said Emily was "dull," like "a book he’d read too many times." Her trembling hands unlocked his devices. What she found was a sick tapestry of lies: cutesy messages, secretive Venmo payments to a "Sophia M.," and social media posts flaunting his custom guitar pick and even his vintage watch.
The dashcam footage confirmed it all—intimate kisses with a very young "Little Muse" while he was supposedly "rehearsing." This wasn't just a fling; it was a brazen, calculated betrayal, a sickening echo of his "dull" remark.
Every shared memory twisted into a lie. Had their entire life together been a farce? How could the man she loved debase her so utterly, all for a cheap thrill? When Ethan announced a "band tour" that was actually a luxurious Miami getaway with his mistress, a cold rage set in. He thought she was numb, easily discarded? He was about to learn that an architect could build more than skyscrapers—she could construct the perfect downfall, ready to serve him a dose of reality he’d never forget. Possessed By An Octopus
Modern After breaking up with the movie king, I went diving and ended up getting sprayed with ink by a giant octopus.
In that moment, I was invaded by the octopus's genes.
This creature has nine brains, eight tentacles, and three hearts.
My IQ skyrocketed instantly, and the romantic mindset that had troubled me for years was replaced by a new career-focused mindset.
This time, I could finally distinguish who truly cared for me and who was just putting on a facade.
I fired my angelic bitch of a manager and took control of everything myself.
When I argued with netizens, I could take on a hundred of them at once.
Later, the movie king called me again:
"You respond to netizens pretty quickly, but why can't you see my messages?"
I sincerely replied:
"Sorry, but my IQ is too high now; you're a bit beneath me." You might like
From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
William Jafferson My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." Beyond His Betrayal, A Mother Rises
Zitella Shepp I was overjoyed when I found out I was pregnant. I posted a simple, happy announcement on social media—a picture of tiny baby shoes, captioned "Our next chapter begins."
The next day, my husband Kaeden accused me of doing it to deliberately hurt his "fragile" friend, Clemmie, who was infertile. He said I needed to be taught a lesson in cruelty.
He strapped me to a table and, while Clemmie watched, ordered a man to electrocute me.
I begged him to stop, to think of our child, but he refused.
"Increase it," he commanded, even after being warned it could kill the fetus. He left me bleeding out on the cold metal.
But the horror was just beginning. I was rushed to a hospital, not to be saved, but to be harvested. I heard the doctor's triumphant voice: "It's a perfect match."
My husband was having me murdered to give my heart and kidneys to his mistress.
My last sensation was the cold steel of a scalpel on my skin. My last thought was of my baby, who would never draw a breath. The monitor flatlined into a single, unending tone.
Then, my eyes fluttered open. I was alive. A Mother's Vengeance: Love Lost
Bing Xialuo The sharp pain in my son Timmy's leg was the start of it all. A snakebite.
I rushed him to Mercy General, where my older son David worked as an ER doctor. He would save his little brother.
But the moment I burst into the emergency room, collapsing with Timmy limp in my arms, a blonde nurse named Ashley Jones, David' s girlfriend, turned on me. She met my desperate plea for help with a cold refusal, demanding I fill out forms.
When I begged her to get David, her eyes hardened. She shoved me, snarling, "Get in line like everyone else." She scoffed at my claims of being David' s mother, dismissing Timmy as a "little brat," even threatening to let him die. She stole my phone, smashing it when she saw the silver sparrow charm-identical to hers-on my keychain, screaming about David being a "cheating bastard."
Ashley even called her brother Kevin, a brute, to deal with me. Other nurses and patients stared but did nothing as Ashley, ignoring Timmy' s fading breath, reveled in my anguish. She kicked my spilled purse, scattering my ID, and mocked my desperate pleas for help.
She demanded I kowtow, to bow my head, begging for her mercy, while filming my humiliation on her phone. As Timmy' s lips turned blue, I swallowed my pride, head pressed against the cold floor, whispering, "I'm sorry. Please… help my son."
But even that wasn't enough for the monster. She demanded I slap myself, ten times. It was then, as I raised my hand, that I saw Timmy.
Still. Silent. He was gone.
My son was dead. And in that moment, all my humiliation, all my fear, was burned away, replaced by a volcanic, white-hot rage. ENRAGED SOUL
otu Harriet Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends.
She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her.
" Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek.
Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing.
They molested and bullied her until she passed out.
" Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried
" Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...."
" No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..."
" Oh, my God...what should we do..."
Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action.
ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl My Family's Faith, My Bloody Fate
Landslide It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy.
Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me.
My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination."
They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why?
It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers.
Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again.
This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family.
Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free. I Tamed the Monster He Sent
Luo Chengfeng The last thing I saw was Thunder’s bloodied jaws, closing in on me.
My daughter, Sophia, lay broken a few feet away, already gone.
Pain, then darkness.
Then, with a gasp, I bolted upright, my heart hammering like a drum.
I was back on the same rough porch, facing the same smug smirk of Old John.
At the end of his chain was Thunder, the Australian Cattle Dog who had butchered my child and me.
“Heard you were back in town, Isabella,” Old John rasped, his voice a cruel mockery of a welcome.
“Brought you a little housewarming gift,” he added, pulling the chain as Thunder whined, straining to reach me, just like that first time.
The memory crashed over me: Thunder’s lunge, the searing agony as his teeth tore my thigh, the hot gush of blood, and then, Sophia’s petrified screams followed by chilling silence as he turned to her.
Old John had known my paralyzing fear of dogs, yet he had specifically brought this hulking beast to torment me.
He had laughed when I pleaded, ignoring the danger, using the dog as his personal weapon.
Every horrifying detail, every agonizing moment of Sophia’s brutal death and my own demise, flooded my mind with chilling clarity.
But this time, as Thunder lunged forward once more, I forced my trembling legs to stop.
No. Not again.
This time, things would be different. Reborn to Reign: A Mother's Fury
ffssg My name is Sarah, and I remember the cold.
Not the chill of winter, but the stainless-steel table against my back.
My sons, Michael and Gabriel, were gone, their screams replaced by silence.
My husband David, blinded by ambition, led us to that abandoned clinic.
His sister, Veronica, craved an heir for her powerful husband, Senator Harrison.
She believed my "Legacy Fertility" and my children's "vital essence" could help her.
A quack "expert" performed monstrous acts on my seven-year-old twins.
Then it was my turn; they brutally harvested my ovarian tissue.
I was left to bleed out on a filthy floor, my insides torn.
I died there, a vow of revenge frozen on my lips.
Later, I saw Veronica on the news, pregnant and glowing with what she stole.
But then, warmth. Sunlight.
My eyes snapped open to my own familiar bedroom.
Michael was on my chest, Gabriel curled beside me, both alive, young, and whole.
The calendar read October 14th—the very day it all began.
The memory slammed into me: David's averted eyes, the isolated building, Veronica's cold voice, Michael's terror, Gabriel's whimper.
This wasn't a dream; this was a second chance.
Veronica, triumphant in my first life, had risen on my family's ashes, her belly swelling with a lie while mine was emptied by her greed.
No. Not again.
This time, I wouldn't just survive.
I would take everything she had, everything she wanted.
Her husband. Her position. Her future.
My revenge would be absolute, and my children would live. The game had begun. 
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