Liu Jia
12 Published Stories
Liu Jia's Books and Stories
Bring Me Back to the Wedding
Romance The last thing I remembered was the crushing weight of hooves, the taste of dirt, and the finality of death.
Then, I opened my eyes to a room bathed in red, the scent of cheap incense thick in the air-my wedding chamber, thirty years in the past. This was Autumn Frost and Shen Huaiyu' s wedding night, a life I had already lived and barely survived.
Memories flooded back: a lifetime of unrequited love for my cold, disdainful husband, bullied and humiliated by his cousin Jasmine, culminating in my lonely death on the street.
I was young again, but the innocence was gone. This wasn't a second chance at love; it was a torturous replay. My "husband," drunk and arrogant, sneered accusations instead of gentle words. He spoke of Jasmine, his voice softening for her, while treating me with open contempt.
The next morning, his message through a servant - "Don' t cause any trouble" - was a fresh stab of rejection. My biggest regret from my first life was neglecting my mother while obsessing over him. I vowed that this time, she would be my priority. To secure our future, I planned to take the imperial examination, a dream sabotaged by Jasmine and my own blindness in the past.
But Shen Huaiyu, ever controlling, forced me to visit my mother with him, a public display of his dominion. Then, the fire. Just like in my first life. He ordered me to stay put, dismissively assuring me of my safety, while Jasmine watched with a triumphant smirk. I was trapped, my mother in danger.
Later, he appeared at my side, holding a perfectly forged exam pass. My foolish heart dared to hope, only for him to expose me to utter public humiliation at the examination hall. The pass was a fake.
The ensuing riot injured my mother, confirming my deepest fears: he cared nothing for me, and worse, he was a danger to her. All the pain, the betrayal, the humiliation of two lifetimes culminated in one cold, hard decision: "I want a divorce." He refused, thinking I was hysterical, but I had made up my mind. I would find a way out, even if it cost me everything. Hidden Scientist, Betrayed Wife's Revenge
Modern For three years, I hid my identity as a top scientist and heiress, pretending to be a simple graduate student. All to secretly develop a cure for my husband Graham's fatal genetic disease.
Then, in his sleep, he whispered another woman's name-Keeley.
I soon discovered she was his ex-girlfriend and, horrifyingly, my doppelgänger.
He brought her into our home, siding with her as she attacked me, causing a fall that made me lose our unborn child. He showed no remorse.
Instead, he publicly humiliated me, accused me of faking the pregnancy, and filed for an annulment to marry her.
The man I sacrificed my career, my fortune, and my identity for saw me as nothing more than a convenient substitute. He destroyed my life, all for a cheap copy of me.
He thought he had broken me. But he forgot who I really am. Now, as the true head of the Morton Institute, I'm ready to reclaim my name. At the global press conference for his cure, I will expose every last one of their lies. His Secret, My Shattered World
Romance For three years, I believed him. Ethan, the "bankrupt entrepreneur," the man I worked three jobs for, pouring every penny into his supposed debt. He promised me the world, a future.
Then, at a high-end charity auction, I saw him. Not in worn-out jeans, but a tailored suit, buying a million-dollar necklace for Sophia Thorne, a famous socialite he called his fiancée.
My world shattered. A news headline confirmed it: "Tech Heir Ethan Miller Celebrates Fiancée Sophia Thorne' s Birthday with Million-Dollar Gift." His three-year 'hiatus' was a lie. I was a placeholder, an "experiment" he kept to warm his bed while he waited for his "real love."
The humiliation was a physical ache, deepened by Sophia and his family' s cruel dismissal. He called me a "charity case," they laughed at my expense, all while he showed me a kindness he never truly felt.
He pretended concern for my injuries, offering cheap flowers, but for Sophia, he was a raging lion. The man who let a customer grab my arm told me to "just be nice, we need the tips," but for her, he was a hero.
What kind of man makes you believe in true love, only to reveal you were nothing but a convenient lie? How could I have been so blind?
The hate formed a cold, hard resolve in the wreckage of my heart. He didn't just break my heart; he stole three years of my life. He made a fool of me. And now, I would make him pay. The Scholarship Setup: A Rebirth Story
Young Adult Tonight was everything: my final interview for the American Achievement Scholarship, my gateway to an Ivy League. As I refined my presentation, my stepsister, Jessica Vance, entered, that sweet, insincere smile on her face. "Nervous, Sarah?" she asked, offering a steaming mug of "herbal tea." Naively, I drank it. The next thing I knew, I woke disoriented in a cheap motel, my laptop displaying a plagiarized presentation. Moments later, stern school security and committee members burst in, accusing me of fraud.
Publicly shamed, disqualified, my father disowned me, swayed by Jessica' s mother. My boyfriend, Mark Olsen, offered false comfort, trapping me with an unplanned pregnancy. While my peers thrived, I was stuck, my dreams shattered, my spirit ground into dust over five miserable years. One night, I overheard Mark and Jessica: the tea, the motel, the plagiarism-all a "perfect" setup for her to win. Their cold, calculated betrayal shattered me. The injustice was soul-crushing.
Broken, I stumbled out, only to die in a blinding crash. Then, a sharp gasp. My eyes flew open. I was in my bed. The door creaked open. Jessica walked in, holding a steaming mug. "Nervous, Sarah?" she asked, that fake-sweet smile identical. "I made you some herbal tea." But this time, I knew. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back. His Secret, Her Salvation
Romance The security guard at the Grand Orion Hotel stopped me cold, demanding an invitation I didn' t have.
My simple suit and comfortable shoes screamed that I didn' t belong, and his dismissive glance confirmed it.
Then came the grating voice I knew too well: Brendan Riley, my former supervisor, flanked by his snickering sycophant, Kevin Miller.
They oozed smug superiority, relishing the sight of me, the unemployed junior marketing assistant he' d unjustly fired a month ago, standing humiliated at the hotel entrance.
They mocked me, suggesting I was lost on the way to a soup kitchen, openly laughing at my pathetic attempts to get in.
As if that wasn' t enough, Chloe Davis, an old team member I once thought I connected with, surfaced, her pity and disgust palpable as she advised me to simply go home.
They had no idea.
They saw a jobless loser, a charity case.
What they couldn' t fathom was that I owned the very building they were so desperately trying to get into.
The air grew thick with their mocking, each jab a reminder of their shallow worldview.
But their confidence was built on a crumbling foundation, and I knew the truth was about to detonate their carefully constructed reality.
Because sometimes, the quietest person in the room is the one holding all the cards. Together We Rise From Ashes
Modern My sister and I were stranded on a deserted road, eight months pregnant and with a flat tire, when a truck' s headlights pinned us in their glare.
It wasn't swerving to avoid us. It was aiming for us.
The crash was a symphony of destruction. As a monstrous pain ripped through my pregnant belly, I called my husband, Kade, my voice choked with blood and fear.
"Kade… accident… the baby… something' s wrong with the baby."
But I didn't hear panic. I heard his stepsister, Florence, whining in the background about a headache.
Then came Kade' s voice, cold as ice.
"Stop being so dramatic. You probably just bumped a curb. Florence needs me."
He hung up. He chose her over me, over his sister-in-law, over his own unborn child.
I woke up in the hospital to two truths. My sister, a world-renowned pianist, would never play again. And our son, the baby I had carried for eight months, was gone.
They thought we were just collateral damage in their perfect lives.
They were about to find out we were the reckoning. His Twisted Lies, Her Cold Resolve
Modern The sweet scent of birthday cake filled my car, a promise of a happy surprise for my son, Finn, at his coding bootcamp.
My cheerful mood shattered the moment the lead instructor, Ms. Albright, coldly informed me I wasn' t on his authorized visitor list.
Then another mother, dressed in designer clothes, cruelly whispered that I was likely "some woman" trying to con families for their money.
Humiliation burned as security guards appeared, their presence turning a simple misunderstanding into a menacing accusation of attempted abduction.
Ms. Albright' s contempt chilled me to the bone when, after I showed her a photo of Finn and me, she flatly declared, "That is not the Finn who attends this bootcamp. That is a different boy."
Desperation clawed at me; I knew my Finn was here, yet they were trying to throw me out.
I broke free and ran, bursting into a classroom full of teenagers, my eyes scanning for my son.
Instead, a blond boy in the front row looked up, startled, and then said, "Mom?"-but he wasn't looking at me.
Then, facing me directly, he declared, "Who are you? I don't know her! My dad is Mark Peterson."
This wasn' t just a mistake; it was a twisted, deliberate lie.
A wave of nausea and fury crashed over me as Ashley Daniels, the "other mother," slapped me across the face and sneered, "Mark mentioned you might show up. The obsessed ex-wife."
My reality crumbled as Mark, my husband, joined in, confirming her story and labeling me a "psychotic break," threatening to keep Finn from me forever.
But the fear burned away, leaving a cold, sharp resolve.
I pulled out our marriage certificate, proving his bigamy, and then delivered the final blow: Mark Peterson was no tech CEO; he was a 'kept man,' living off my family's trust fund.
Just as his carefully constructed façade shattered, my real son, Finn, emerged from the hallway, his confused gaze the ultimate indictment of his father's deceit.
Amidst the chaos of Mark and Ashley' s public implosion, I held Finn close, whispered, "I am divorcing you," and vowed to reclaim everything.
This wasn' t an ending-it was my defiant beginning. Unwanted Vessel: The Secret of the White Wolf
Werewolf "You were just the incubator, Alex. Iliana is their real mother."
With those words, Alpha Gavyn erased six years of my life.
I had raised his twins, sat up with them through fevers, and loved them as my own while he waited for his "true mate" to return.
But the moment Iliana came back, I became nothing more than a nuisance.
The betrayal didn't stop there.
My children, the ones who used to cling to my leg, looked at me with pure disgust.
"Ew," my daughter sneered. "Daddy says you're just a hairless weakling. Don't touch me!"
She shoved me down the stairs.
Gavyn didn't help me up. He stepped over my bleeding body to comfort Iliana because the smell of my blood "bothered" her.
He forced me to dive into a poisoned lake to retrieve a necklace Iliana threw away, just to humiliate me.
And when kidnappers held us both at gunpoint on a cliff, asking him to save one, he didn't hesitate.
"I choose Iliana," he said, turning his back on me. "You were just a substitute."
As I fell into the abyss, waiting for death, I felt a snap inside my chest.
Gavyn thought he was killing a latent human.
He had no idea that the fall would shatter the seal on my soul.
Mid-air, my bones didn't break—they reshaped.
A blinding white light exploded from my skin.
The Alpha didn't just discard a nanny.
He just unleashed the legendary White Wolf. From Neglect to True Love
Romance For seven years, I lived under the illusion of being loved, enduring the Hayes family' s casual neglect and Daniel' s cold indifference, believing my childhood crush would eventually return my devotion.
Then, one night, I saw the truth-Daniel, my fiancé, clutching a silk scarf and whispering his hidden desire for Olivia, his adoptive sister. My seven years of love turned to dust in that instant.
Olivia Hayes, the golden child for whom I was merely a placeholder, returned home and immediately orchestrated a public spectacle. She faked an injury, bleeding from a self-inflicted wound, and screamed that I had attacked her, turning the family' s welcome party into a chaotic scene. My adoptive mother, Martha, without a second' s hesitation, slapped me across the face, while Daniel' s eyes were filled with pure disgust.
Alone and terrified, I was pursued by aggressive dogs-a cruel, calculated act, as the Hayes family knew my pathological fear. I screamed for help, but Daniel, my adoptive parents, drove away into the darkness, leaving me to fall unconscious, only to wake up alone in a hospital with Olivia' s fake concern and my family' s dismissive voices echoing through the walls.
Back home, my last remaining sanctuary, my art studio, was gone, replaced by a dance studio for Olivia. My life' s work, a competition piece, was maliciously destroyed. When I tried to confront Olivia, Daniel violently shoved me, and my adoptive father' s hand connected with my face, leaving me bleeding and broken, my heart shattered into fragments.
I had given them everything-my pride, my art, my very being-only to be betrayed and dismissed. How could they be so blind, so cruel, so utterly devoid of love for their real daughter? Why did I have to fight for everything, while Olivia effortlessly received their adoration?
With nothing left to lose, I definitively chose to walk away and embrace a new life, a new beginning with Michael Blackwood, the man who had silently loved me all along. My Father Drowned Me, Then Left Me to the Pirates Again
Fantasy My own father, David, drowned me in the cold Caribbean, tying the anchor chain to my ankles himself, his voice devoid of emotion as he declared it was "for Chloe," my adopted sister, blaming me for her demise.
But instead of death, I gasped awake, not underwater, but on our luxury yacht, the *Serenity*, hours before the terrifying pirate attack I'd already endured, realizing I was trapped reliving my darkest nightmare.
My frantic warnings dismissed, my father abandoned us *again*, taking all able-bodied security and crew for a dolphin chase with Chloe, only to explicitly tell my terrified mother on the phone that I was "shark bait *again*," a chilling confirmation that he remembered my original death and was willing to let it happen once more.
The injustice was soul-crushing: while my brother, Mike, bravely sacrificed his arm fighting the invading pirates, even our closest ally, Uncle Ben, initially sided with David and Chloe, believing their manipulative lies about my supposed "jealous drama."
However, the grotesque discovery of Mike's severed limb in the open ocean finally shattered Uncle Ben's blind faith, transforming him into an unlikely ally and igniting within me an unyielding resolve to uncover the shocking truth: my "sweet" adopted sister, Chloe, was the actual orchestrator of every horrific betrayal, and I would make sure she paid for every single one of our recurring nightmares. Too Late for Apologies
Fantasy For nearly a decade, I walked through life as Mrs. Hamilton, wife to the charming and successful Ethan.
Our perfect marriage was more than a facade; it was my very existence, bound by a secret Soul Pact that determined whether I lived or died.
Then, seven days before my designated survival deadline, Ethan casually dropped a bombshell: he needed a temporary divorce for his latest fling, a demanding young intern named Chloe.
He offered me designer bags and an unlimited credit card, oblivious that he was asking me to sign my own death warrant, effectively sealing my fate.
Chloe, triumphant and venomous, reveled in my humiliation from my very own penthouse, mocking me as "old news" while lounging in my favorite spots.
Ethan, valuing his mistress's fleeting whims over my life, eagerly discarded our shared history and sent me away.
The chilling countdown from the Soul Pact System inside me confirmed my imminent end-a meticulously "staged accident" awaited.
How could someone mistake my life for a casual game, oblivious that his "temporary break" was my permanent end?
My heart ached with the profound loneliness of carrying this fatal secret alone, a cruel irony after years of quiet endurance.
I died in a fiery crash, right on schedule.
But then, a cold, digital voice whispered, "System error. Collect 100 Regret Points from Ethan to be reborn."
Now, an unseen spectator, my very existence hinges on the depth of his sorrow. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen 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. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. 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. 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. Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract
Sibeal Sallese I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash.
To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars.
I thought it was a clean transaction.
But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty.
He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me.
My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire.
Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner.
"Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly.
His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand.
"Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler."
They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog.
I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth.
But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood.
"She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison."
They murdered my parents.
I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call.
Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell. 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. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. 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.
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