Lohra
2 Published Stories
Lohra's Books and Stories
Wake a Sleeping Tiger
Romance They were created; they weren’t born.
They were trained; they weren’t raised.
They were genetic creations. Human DNA merged with that of the
animal. The perfect soldier, a disposable creature.
They were created to die, often in the most horrible experiments that the
human mind could ever imagine.
Their lives were a horror story from the moment of their births.
Babes that knew no tender care, no sweet lullabies nor a mother’s love.
They cried until hoarse, until they learned no one was coming unless they
required feeding. And many times, they were allowed to go hungry until
they lay weak and in pain.
Only the most basic of service was given to the babes. Creations that
millions, billions of dollars had gone into in more than a century of
scientific experiments and genetic engineering. “Cubs,” they were called,
never “babes,” but they were living beings that, in terms of the cost of their
creation, were nearly priceless.
Yet in the eyes of those who made them, they were worth no more than
the young women who died giving birth to one after another of the creations
implanted in their wombs.
Human and animal. Determined and far stronger in both spirit and body
than the scientists could have ever envisioned.
Despite the cruelties heaped upon their young bodies, the experiments,
the demented training exercises designed to ensure their success in any
mission they were given, many of them survived. The strength of their
hatred, of their hunger for freedom, refused to allow them to pass quietly
from the world they’d been brought into.
Those creations are free now.
They’re triumphing against all efforts to see them back in the labs from
where they came.
Their intelligence is far greater than any could ever comprehend. Their
strength is more primal than any could ever suspect.
And they’re living on the fragile, desperate hope that the world never
learns the secrets they fight to hide. Intense Pleasure
Romance She had to leave.
Summer Calhoun, the woman the world knew as Summer Bartlett, was
smart enough to know that this phase of her life was over. And though she
wasn’t normally one to run, or to give up, even she couldn’t ignore the fact
that she simply couldn’t do this anymore.
Teeth clenched, battling tears and anger, Summer threw an armload of
dresses into one of the suitcases lying open on the bed. Jamming the
material into the leather bag, uncaring of the wrinkles and years of careful
packing habits, she added more, pushing the frothy, girly material from the
sides of the bag and stuffing them in before zipping the back with short,
jerky movements.
She promised herself she wasn’t going to cry.
Tears didn’t help. They had never helped in the past and they damned
sure wouldn’t help now.
Nothing would help but getting away and running from the pain. Like
serrated blades, the memories of the past few days sliced into her, tore at
her.
God, how naïve she had been.
Four years with the CIA, two with various other agencies, and two more
risking her ass in the private sector should have killed any naiveté she might
have possessed long ago. Hell, she was certain it had done just that.
And how very wrong she’d been. So wrong that for eight years she’d
believed an enemy was a friend, and that insults were just a brasher attitude
than those Summer was used to in the South.
And because she’d let herself be fooled, she’d just spent three of the
most hellish days of her life, two of them attending the funeral and burial of
the very woman whose deceit and black heart had nearly destroyed far too
many people Summer loved.
Easing to the padded bench at the bottom of the bed and propping her
face in her hands as she rested her elbows on her knees, she tried to tell
herself it was the price of ignorance. Of not seeing the true nature of the
woman she’d known most of her life.
The woman Summer had killed.
The funeral had been somber, saddening, and subtly beautiful. Cascades
of flowers, over a hundred friends and family mourning. Tears and
heartrending testimonials for a woman no one had known for a traitor and a
murderer.
Summer had remained tearless through the viewings she’d been forced
to attend. She’d watched, listened, and taken her turn at the gleaming
cherrywood casket where she stared into the pretty, silent features of the
woman she’d been forced to kill. A woman who had hated her, whose
jealousy and greed had destroyed so many over the years.
Summer had remained just as silent during the burial, her head lowered,
so much anger burning inside her that keeping it hidden was next to
impossible. However, she had no other choice. Because she’d killed the
woman they were laying to rest. Because it was her bullet, not an enemy’s,
that had slammed into Gia Barrett’s black heart. And God forbid that the
world should learn about the woman’s crimes, crimes that would shame her
way too influential family.
Questions would be asked if Summer and the man Gia had turned her
weapon on hadn’t been there for the partner the world believed was so kind
and warm of spirit.
Money talked, and the Barrett family had plenty of it. Enough to ensure
that the world would never know the true reason their daughter was dead.
She could have refused to be there, Summer knew. She could have found
a quiet place to nurse the wounds gouged inside her heart if it weren’t for
the man Gia was trying to murder when she was killed, and the man he
called his brother.
Esteban Falcone, known as “Falcon,” was the wild, Spanish bad boy
whose pale blue eyes could burn with laughter and fun or turn icy with
danger or disapproval. The partner whom both Summer and Gia had fought
alongside for two years. Playful, sometimes dramatic, always protective and
loyal. So protective, he’d had Summer dragged from the chapel seconds
before security arrived to find Gia’s body sprawled on the floor and Falcon
holding the weapon that had killed her.
His half brother, John Raeg, had arrived with security. The half brother
was nothing like his sibling. Older by only a few weeks, harder, colder, he’d
handled everything and ensured the truth was buried so deep it never saw
the light of day.
The truth that for eight years Gia had betrayed all of them. Friends and
family alike.
Even more, she’d betrayed the friend Summer had sworn to protect years
ago. A vow that had been broken when she’d failed to keep Gia and those
she was helping from nearly destroying Alyssa’s life. You might like
Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
Whisper 119 She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him.
It was all a lie.
No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way.
But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret.
Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again. The Silent Heiress's Million Dollar Gambit
Maui My stepmother’s bodyguards were seconds away from dragging me back to a life that was essentially a prison cell wrapped in silk. I couldn't even scream for help because the words always died in my throat—a clinical condition called selective mutism that felt like drowning on dry land.
I had just discovered the sickening truth: my father was planning to sell me to a sleazy investor named Sterling to cover his company’s bankruptcy. They were going to drug me, ship me off to a private island, and strip away the only thing I had left—my late mother’s multimillion-dollar art trust.
When I arrived at the manor, my stepmother Lydia handed me a glass of wine laced with bitter sedatives, her smile sharp as a razor.
"Drink up, darling. It’ll make the transition to Mr. Sterling much easier."
My stepsister Harper stood in the corner, wearing a dress bought with my mother’s stolen money, mocking my inability to speak. My father didn't even look me in the eye as he calculated my price tag, treating his own daughter like a piece of damaged, mute inventory.
They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't hear them laughing about the "accident" that killed my mother or how they planned to burn her final restoration work. They assumed my silence was a sign of surrender, a white flag waved by a broken girl who would never fight back.
How could the people who were supposed to be my family treat me like a commodity to be traded? Did they really think my silence meant I was weak, or that I didn't know every dirty secret they were hiding in their ledgers?
I didn't drink the wine. Instead, I burst into the VIP suite of Carlisle Pierce, the most cold-blooded billionaire in New York, and slammed a crumpled napkin on his table with a desperate, last-second gambit.
"MARRY ME. NOW. $1 MILLION." 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. Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." 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. The Neglected Wife's Vicious Comeback Game
Xiu Luo On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency.
I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist.
The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed.
He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset.
"I'm going to make him wish he had never been born."
After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground. From Puck Bunny To The Rival's Queen
Zhen Xiang For seven years, I played the perfect fiancée and glorified personal assistant to Donavon Bray, the star forward of the New York Dynamos.
But at a glittering charity gala, I overheard a conversation in the shadows of the terrace that shattered my world.
"Getting engaged to Cordia was just a habit, a responsibility. Jocelynn is the one I've always wanted."
Overnight, the media crowned Donavon and his newly returned childhood friend the golden couple. He paraded her around town, treating her with a chivalry and tenderness he never once showed me. He even publicly fired my loyal assistant, sneering to the entire front office that they needed "real professionals" like Jocelynn, not someone who just fetches coffee. My own best friend took to social media to side with them, mocking me as the "wrong time" in his epic romance.
To Donavon, I was just a lucky "Puck Bunny," a clueless prop meant to stroke his ego and manage his schedule. He had no idea I was two months away from finishing my master's thesis in predictive data modeling at MIT.
So, I took off my diamond ring, blocked his number, and quietly signed a contract to become the Chief Data Analyst for his team's biggest corporate rival.
As I prepared to dismantle his multi-million dollar contract with my own algorithms, I was ready to show him exactly what a glorified assistant could do. 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. 
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