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Maiga Ardeni

10 Published Stories

Maiga Ardeni's Books and Stories

He Drowned Me, I Burned His World.

He Drowned Me, I Burned His World.

Romance
5.0
My fiancé, Anthony, built an entire virtual world for me after a climbing accident left me in a wheelchair. He called it Aethelgard, my sanctuary. In his game, I wasn't broken; I was Valkyrie, the unrivaled champion. He was my savior, the man who patiently nursed me back from the brink. Then, I saw a live stream of him on stage at a tech conference. With his arm wrapped around my physical therapist, Dahlia, he announced to the world that she was the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The truth was a waking nightmare. He wasn't just cheating; he was secretly switching my pain medication for a weaker dose with sedatives, intentionally slowing my recovery to keep me weak and dependent. He gave Dahlia my one-of-a-kind bracelet, my virtual title, and even the wedding plans I had made for us. He leaked a humiliating photo of me at my lowest point, turning the entire gaming community against me and branding me a stalker. The final blow came when I tried to confront him at his victory party. His security guards beat me, and on his casual command, they threw my unconscious body into a filthy fountain to "sober me up." The man who swore to build a world where I would never struggle had tried to drown me in it. But I survived. I left him and that city behind, and as my legs grew strong again, so did my resolve. He stole my name, my legacy, and my world. Now, I'm logging back in, not as Valkyrie, but as myself. And I'm going to burn his empire to the ground.
Building a Second Life

Building a Second Life

Sci-fi
5.0
The cold seeped into my bones, each beat of the heart monitor a countdown to my end. My name is Ethan Miller, and I was dying, wasted by an illness the doctors couldn't explain. The System, an emotionless voice in my head, confirmed my mission failure: I had refused to play the villain, refused to hurt my adoptive aunt, Eleanor Vance, the woman I loved with everything I had. My reward for being the "good guy" was this hospital bed, my body shutting down because I wouldn't sabotage Eleanor' s perfect romance with the sculptor Liam Stone. The door opened, and Eleanor entered, radiant in a tailored dress, her arm linked with Liam' s. Her voice, smooth and practiced, feigned concern, but her eyes held impatience and distaste. She played the grieving aunt, while Liam, naive and kind, looked at me with pity. I rasped out that I was fine, but Eleanor, with a cruel smile, claimed the doctor said it wasn't looking good. She then held up a wooden bird, a phoenix I had carved for her years ago, a symbol of hope. On a live news broadcast, she declared it a symbol of "misguided love," then nonchalantly tossed it into a staged fireplace, burning my creation, my heart, to ashes. As the monitor flatlined and the System bond terminated, her triumphant smile was the last thing I saw. The rage was a physical thing, burning hotter than any fever. But then, a new, ancient voice offered me a second chance, a Rebirth Protocol. This time, I would embrace my designated role as the villain, and survive.
The Billion-Dollar Dirt Farm

The Billion-Dollar Dirt Farm

Modern
5.0
The air in the Oakhaven County Courthouse records office was thick with the smell of old paper. My pen hovered over the sales agreement for the little house on Elm Street, my entire inheritance from Grandma about to be invested, mostly in my boyfriend Mark' s name. I envisioned our future, eager to make his big dreams a reality. Then, a cold dread washed over me – a memory both utterly foreign and terrifyingly real. I had signed these papers before. In that forgotten life, Mark, emboldened by newly discovered fracking rights on the land, took my money, left me for Brenda, and abandoned me. I was left with nothing, ultimately dying alone from pneumonia in a brutal winter. My eyes snapped up. Across the room, Mark leaned against the wall, whispering to Brenda. She giggled, glancing at me with a sly, triumphant smirk. "We'll paint the kitchen yellow," Brenda declared, her voice carrying, "That awful blue Sarah likes has to go." Mark chuckled, "Anything you want, Bren. It's gonna be our place, after all." My place. My inheritance. A sickening punch to the gut. This was it – the exact, soul-crushing moment of betrayal, relived. How could this be happening? Was I insane? But then, a fierce realization ignited within me. I wasn't dead. I was here. My heart hammered, "A second chance!" The naive Sarah was gone, frozen to death in another timeline. This Sarah remembered everything. My hand, trembling no longer, closed into a fist. And with a defiant roar of paper, I ripped the sales agreement in half.
My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant

My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant

Modern
4.8
Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the tenth anniversary of Ellie's Sweet Sensations, my beloved bakery. But amidst the flash of cameras and Dan's charming politician's smile, a cold knot tightened in my stomach. Late-night texts, a mysterious credit card charge from a boutique I'd never heard of, "Jolie's"... then I heard it, Dan cooing "Love you too, Maddie" into the phone. The perfect facade cracked; my husband was having an affair. The betrayal was bad enough, but then she popped up – Maddie Bell, young, blonde, influencer – flaunting my husband online. Vacation photos, the same necklace from Jolie's, and always always right next to my husband. Then I caught wind of THEIR baby. My carefully constructed world started crumbling as I came to terms with the stark reality: He wasn't just cheating; he was building a whole new life with her. I baked him that cake for our anniversary, knowing I'd soon be but a memory. Then, the ultimate slap – he was going to take Maddie home to meet his parents. The next day, she was at my doorstep feigning sympathy while my world burned. I couldn't stay with all of this on my plate. Not even for Liam. So I plotted my escape, a theatrical end: a staged car accident with me declared the victim. What kind? The one he causes. Was this revenge or survival? I thought it was both. But what would my story have in store? I started by documenting the full account of his disgusting deed in a diary I knew he would stumble on post-"mortem."