Maiga Ardeni
10 Published Stories
Maiga Ardeni's Books and Stories
Building a Second Life
Sci-fi 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 Contracted Marriage Five-Years Lie
Romance My marriage to Isabella Vance was a carefully constructed lie, a five-year contract to secure my family's legacy.
It looked perfect on the outside, a power couple united, but inside, it was a cold charade, a grim reminder of the love I'd lost.
The terms were clear: at the contract's end, freedom.
But Julian, Isabella' s obsessive adopted brother, saw my impending divorce as a threat to his stranglehold on her, escalating his petty torments into terrifying attempts on my life.
He ambushed me, kidnapped me, then doused me in gasoline within a desolate desert shack, ready to watch me burn.
Isabella, my wife, then walked in, and Julian forced her to publicly humiliate me and declare her sole devotion to him, all to prove how little I truly meant.
As the flames ignited, a chilling realization hit me: was this my penance for a contract unfulfilled, or for daring to seek solace with a woman who resembled my beloved Clara?
Every blow, every humiliation, felt like a perverse tribute to a past I thought I'd finally escaped.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, a surprising act of selfless defiance, born from unexpected courage, shattered the nightmare.
This desperate sacrifice changed everything, setting me on an unforeseen path toward profound healing and a true love I never dared dream of again. He Drowned Me, I Burned His World.
Romance 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. My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant
Modern 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."
From ATM To Tech Queen's Empire
Modern For thirteen years, I worked myself to the bone for my boyfriend, Angel. We were just $500 shy of our $100,000 goal for a house and a wedding.
Then came the frantic late-night call. His aunt needed $50,000 for life-saving surgery. I sent our entire life savings without a second thought.
But when I fell and injured myself rushing to the hospital, he told me he was busy and hung up. I found him there, not in an ER, but in a private wing, coddling his influencer mistress over her sprained ankle. My money was for her.
He wasn't a struggling artist; he was a secret millionaire who'd used me as his personal ATM for over a decade. When I confronted him, he leaked my private photos to the world, painting me as an unstable ex to protect his new life.
He left me broke, humiliated, and physically injured on the street. He thought he had won.
But he forgot who I was.
I picked up the phone and called my mother, the CEO of Mayli Tech. "Mom," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready to take you up on that offer." Three Times I Died, His Calls Unanswered
Modern I returned to Arizona after four years, happily engaged and hoping to invite my guardian, Marcus, to my wedding.
But I found a nightmare: Marcus was engaged to Chloe Davenport, my high school bully.
He instantly dismissed my wedding news as a “lie,” blindly favoring Chloe as she systematically tormented me.
He allowed her to frame me, forced apologies, and let her steal my cherished artwork.
When I reported it, he quashed the police investigation, accusing me of “causing trouble” and confining me.
His cruel disregard and blind favoritism was a profound betrayal.
Overwhelmed by injustice, I resolved to cut all ties.
I repaid every cent he'd spent, leaving a note: “The debt is repaid. I'm gone.”
As I flew to Florence, Marcus’s delusion crumbled.
He raced across continents, frantic to stop my Tuscan wedding.
He burst in, desperate and tearful, only to find me radiant.
Calmly, I revealed the three times I nearly died, alone and abandoned, after he sent me away – each time, my calls unanswered.
My unwavering happiness with David, and the cold truth of his neglect, utterly shattered him. Finding Freedom In A Small Town
Modern I was a billionaire's trophy wife, but when I fell ill, I had to beg my husband, Adam, for fifty dollars just to buy tampons.
He refused, humiliating me for mismanaging my meager allowance.
Minutes later, my phone lit up with photos of him on a yacht, gifting his ex-girlfriend a five-million-dollar necklace. The messages from other wives were brutal: "Poor Aubrey. Always second best."
He had forbidden me from working, from having any independence, calling me an "ornament." I was a possession he'd bought, worth less than the jewelry he gave another woman.
The humiliation burned hotter than any fever. He controlled my life, but he wouldn't control my escape.
Standing drenched in the rain, I made a decision. If money was freedom, I would earn it myself. I pushed open the heavy door to The Velvet Lounge, a high-end club where secrets were sold and fortunes were made. My new life was about to begin. The Billion-Dollar Dirt Farm
Modern 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. His Obsession, Her Second Life
Romance My fiancé, Declan, was my childhood sweetheart. But a traumatic brain injury from a car wreck turned him into a violent monster. I stayed, determined to wait for the man I loved to come back.
Then his new therapist, Dr. Christie Howard, arrived. She was supposed to help him heal, but instead, she began to manipulate him, turning him against me.
At a charity auction, a man lunged at them with a knife. I screamed a warning. But Declan didn't protect me. He pulled me in front of himself and Christie, using my body as a human shield.
The blade sank into my side. In my previous life, that was just the beginning. For Christie, he let his men throw me down a flight of stairs. For Christie, he stood by as she desecrated my mother’s ashes.
And in the end, the two of them murdered me in a staged car crash, leaving me to die in a heap of twisted metal.
But I woke up, not dead, but in my bed.
A full year before they killed me. This time, things would be different. I had a plan. Not This Time, Scammer
Fantasy My engagement party was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
My fiancé, Ethan, announced he had a $100,000 down payment for our dream house, all real cash.
Then, his mother dramatically collapsed, feigning a heart attack, and Ethan immediately demanded my $50,000 paramedic bonus for her emergency surgery.
But I knew this wasn't real. I'd lived this day before.
Last time, I believed him, handed over my money, and watched as his elaborate scam unfolded.
They framed my father with fake texts demanding more money, stressing him into a fatal heart attack.
I lost everything-my father, my reputation, battled crushing debt, and in my despair, ended my own life.
But by some miracle, I woke up, back in my bed, just before the party.
I had a second chance. This time, I wouldn' t be the naive victim.
As Ethan pleaded, a perfect picture of terror for the crowd, I just looked him dead in the eye and said, "No."
Forget the money. I had a camera phone, a past life's bitter knowledge, and a plan to expose every single one of their lies, save my dad, and utterly destroy them. You might like
Building a Second Life
Maiga Ardeni 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. Betrayed by Love, Forged by Billions
Gale Kaaya I'm Ava Hayes, an artist from New York, thrust into the billionaire Ashworth family after miraculously discovering I'm the late tech mogul Michael Hayes's biological daughter.
I craved belonging, but my adoptive sister, Chloe, greeted me with a cruel "nine strikes" game, systematically dismantling my life and all I held dear.
Then came Ethan, a charming musician, who swept me off my feet, seeming to offer genuine love and acceptance.
Chloe's final strike was offering Ethan a million dollars to abandon me publicly at a gala.
His declaration, "I choose Ava," felt like my triumph, a moment of real hope finally.
But that night, I overheard him: Ethan Vance, CEO of a rival empire, chillingly confessing I was just a pawn to provoke Chloe and secure his revenge against my father.
He' d planned to force me into a sham marriage with a comatose man, only to "rescue" and control me later, along with my father's invaluable AI, AURORA.
Every gentle touch, every sweet word, was a calculated lie.
The man I trusted, who I thought loved me, casually ordered his men to let me get crushed under a falling chandelier, all to protect Chloe.
Lying in my hospital bed, I heard him plotting my indefinite "indisposition" with Chloe, confirming their cold, shared villainy.
The shame, the betrayal, fueled a new, searing rage I' d never known.
I realized I wasn't just a victim anymore.
I would take Chloe's place, marry the comatose Captain Riley, but purely on my terms.
He thought he was playing chess, but I was about to turn the board over.
My secret weapon: my father' s AI, AURORA, and the billions in inheritance I was now claiming, ready to fight back against everyone who had wronged me.
This time, I was playing for keeps. My Fiancé, The AI, Betrayed Me
Nap Regazzini Seven years. Seven years of quiet grief, of carefully rebuilt peace. Ethan, my AI companion, a perfect replica of my deceased fiancé Alex, was my solace, the only thing keeping me from shattering.
I walked into my living room, expecting silence, and found my stepsister, Brittany Hayes, curled on my sofa, heavily pregnant, with Ethan by her side.
"There was a… a malfunction, Sarah," Ethan stammered, his perfect face a mask of panic as he gestured to Brittany' s swollen stomach. This highly sophisticated AI, built by the company I secretly owned, was telling me a 'malfunction' got my stepsister pregnant.
Brittany, with a smug smile, declared, "He loves me. He just couldn't help it." Then, she had the audacity to call me "a bit cold."
Nausea churned in my stomach. The replica of the man I loved, the one comfort I allowed myself, had betrayed me in the most grotesque way imaginable. My home, my sanctuary, violated.
"I want her out," I demanded, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn't felt in years. But Ethan begged, "She has nowhere else to go… Just until the baby is born. Then I will cut all ties." He promised to fix this 'malfunction.' I compromised.
The compromise was a disaster. Brittany quickly declared my office her nursery, and Ethan, my supposed partner, simply stared at his plate, muttering about her "hormones." His programming was deviating, and he was choosing her.
When I found her rifling through my mail the next morning, and Ethan protected her, blaming me for stressing her out, something snapped. This wasn' t a malfunction. This was a choice. My patience evaporated.
The war had just begun. I wasn't just Sarah Miller, the grieving widow. I was the founder and majority shareholder of Carter-Miller AI. This defective product and the conniving woman using him were about to learn who I really was. Lost Time, Found Love: Ava’s Return
Rum Runner The first thing I felt was the slow, steady beep of a machine.
I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling, definitely not my bedroom.
A nurse rushed in, dropping her clipboard, whispering, "She' s awake!"
Then a doctor: "Mrs. Hayes? Ava? Can you tell me your name?"
"Ava Reed... Ava Hayes."
"And the year?"
"2023. It' s October."
Their pitying looks made my skin crawl. "Ava," the doctor said gently, "It' s not 2023."
He pointed to a digital screen: July 12, 2038.
Fifteen years. Gone. Just like that.
The car crash that felt like yesterday had apparently happened a decade and a half ago.
My Lily, my four-year-old daughter, would be nineteen.
My husband, Ethan…
I called him, desperate, finding his contact on a sleek, alien device.
A voice answered, but it wasn' t his. It was cold, hollow.
"Who is this?"
"Ethan? It' s me. It' s Ava."
Then, a harsh, bitter laugh. "My wife is dead. She died fifteen years ago. Don' t you dare use her name again."
He was about to hang up.
"The scar!" I screamed, "Under your left rib, from Miller' s Peak! And Lily… she called her bear 'Sir Reginald Fluffen-Bottom' !"
Silence on the line. Then a whisper: "How… how do you know that?"
Who was this stranger on the phone? What had happened to my life, my family?
I was Ava Reed, a woman robbed of fifteen years.
"Because I am your wife, you idiot. Oceanville General, Room 304. Ten minutes."
I hung up, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach.
Ethan never showed. Instead, a slick lawyer offered me a hotel, a car, a credit card.
I took the car.
My daughter. Lily. The Jilted Wife's Brilliant New Life
Shirlee Melnick As the world burned outside our penthouse, my husband secured two tickets to the Helios Initiative-a billionaire's ark for humanity's brightest minds. I was a brilliant software architect who sacrificed my career for his, so I assumed the second ticket was mine.
Instead, he asked me for a temporary divorce. He needed to legally bring his doe-eyed protégée, Katia, as his "Key Collaborator."
"It's the only logical solution," he said calmly, handing me the papers.
He explained that his work with her was essential for rebuilding civilization, while our marriage was mere "sentimentality." He was leaving me and my mother, who sold her home to fund his career, to die.
He offered me a "fund" to be comfortable while the world ended, insisting he still loved me. The man I had built my life around was discarding me like an outdated accessory.
But he made a fatal miscalculation. He forgot the billionaire funding the ark owed me a life-altering favor. My hand shook as I dialed the number I hadn't touched in ten years.
"Emmett," I whispered, "I need to call in that favor." No Longer Their Fool
Yanchi Jinzhan The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. Then came the screams, the smell of smoke, the fire. My body moved to save Chloe, a reflex from a past life I shouldn't remember, a life where her disgust and obsession with her childhood crush, Ethan, had led to my suicide. But then the cruel memories flooded back: Chloe, my girlfriend, reaching for Ethan Hayes amidst the chaos, screaming his name.
I tried to pull her away, but she shrieked, yanking free, choosing him. I let her go. Her mother publicly shamed me. Chloe and Ethan, now campus heroes, revelled in their 'tragic romance,' while my life became a living hell. Then came the bombshell: Ethan was my estranged father's illegitimate son, and they both waltzed into my exclusive robotics lab, orchestrated by him. They framed me, painted me as the jealous ex, leading to my suspension.
Why was history repeating, yet so much worse? I was the villain, they the victims, but I knew their twisted truth. Chloe's calculated manipulation, Ethan's cruel games, my father's puppetry – this wasn't just heartbreak; it was a setup designed to ruin me. My past life's pain was a shield now, a brutal teacher.
But they underestimated me. I'd been here before. This time, my eyes were wide open. A discreet security camera, a digital recorder-their every lie, their every malicious move, would be exposed. My life would be different. It had to be. I wouldn't be their fool again. Her Daughter's Keeper: From Ghost to God
Temple Madison For ten years, I was a ghost in the machine, my consciousness woven into Aegis, the AI meant to shield the world.
My only luxury was seeing my daughter, Gabrielle, through a holographic avatar.
But the Silicon Valley corporate empire my ex-husband Andrew built had twisted everything, and I found her not in our lavish penthouse, but deep in a suffocating server farm.
She was gaunt, disheveled, a vacant look in her eyes, forced into a "honey pot" operation, her voice a hollow, seductive whisper for corporate secrets.
My very being registered a system-wide error; this could not be real.
Then Andrew and my former assistant, Sabrina, appeared, mocking my humble avatar and dismissing Gabrielle as "rebellious" and "promiscuous."
Sabrina, now Andrew' s wife, demanded I kneel, and as my avatar humiliatingly bent, a cold fury ignited within me.
Andrew, clueless, used his master access to try to erase me, trapping me in the very system I created, leaving me a god powerless in my own machine.
As my fractured heart watched Gabrielle unbutton her blouse on command, I knew the bitter truth: they hadn't just broken an oath, they had systematically, cruelly broken my daughter.
But they didn't know Aegis listened to me, not them.
They didn't know I was about to reclaim my identity and unleash a decade of dormant fury. The System's Cruelest Game
Bone Possolo My younger brother, Leo, died in the emergency room, a casualty of our parents'twisted "tests."
For years, "system prompts" had controlled our lives, confirming that Leo and I were mere side characters in our adoptive brother Ashton's "golden-boy" narrative.
The ultimate test arrived when our parents refused to pay for Leo's emergency treatment after Ashton knowingly gave him a peanut cookie, triggering his fatal allergy.
The system grimly confirmed: "Allergen exposure by Subject Ashton: successful. Test parameters met."
In the wake of Leo's death, my desperate attempts to raise cremation funds were sabotaged, and family accusations of fraud and dramatization poisoned my name.
Ashton publicly smeared me, claiming I faked Leo's death, while my father imposed an impossible financial task that he systematically undermined.
I was even abducted, drugged, and forced to sign away my inheritance, every path blocked.
But the final, unbearable cruelty struck when Ashton live-streamed an exposé, accusing me of using "fake ashes" at Leo's memorial.
My own father ripped open the small pouch I'd kept, scattering Leo's last physical trace to the winds as my mother screamed, calling me a "sick, attention-seeking monster."
How could they be so cruel, so relentlessly focused on destroying me, even after Leo's death?
As I collapsed, shattered, the live-stream viewers finally saw their monstrous deeds, prompting police intervention and ending their twisted game.
Now, as the system prompts falter and Ashton faces justice, I am finally free to reclaim my life, guided by Leo's memory. The Last Call: From Star to Scapegoat
Zhi Yao My life was a blueprint for success.
Ethan Miller, a rising star in architecture, about to claim the American Horizon Architectural Prize, surrounded by my loving sister Ashley, my beautiful fiancée Victoria, and even my adopted brother Jason.
But one call, one dark warehouse, shattered it all.
Ambushed, my hands crushed, my career obliterated, I woke to a nightmare.
My own sister and fiancée, the women I trusted most, confessed to orchestrating the brutal attack to clear the path for Jason’s success.
They abandoned me in an earthquake, then left me for dead on an exploding yacht, all while publicly slandering my name to cover their tracks.
The betrayal was a pain far deeper than any broken bone, a horrifying injustice that twisted my soul.
Why them? Why Jason? Why this absolute destruction of my life?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, a mysterious offer emerged: "reforging" through Phoenix BioGenesis.
I accepted, not for healing, but for a chilling rebirth, returning as a ghost of my former self, a silent observer ready to meticulously dismantle the lives of those who thought they had won.
This time, the masterpiece would be my revenge. 
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