Marrvelous
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Marrvelous's Books and Stories
No Longer His To Break
Romance The drug pulsed through my veins, every inch of my body screaming for release, yet my husband, Ethan, stood over me, his face etched with familiar disgust.
Just thirty minutes earlier, his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett, had forced 99 pills down my throat, challenging me: if Ethan was still repulsed by my 200-pound body, even under the aphrodisiac's influence, I had to sign the divorce papers.
Scarlett' s taunt echoed: "I bet even if you strip naked and beg like a dog, he won't touch your two-hundred-pound body!"
Consumed by the drug, I sank to the floor, pressing my lips against Ethan' s polished shoes, begging for help, for the man who once swore to protect me.
He commanded, cold and devoid of emotion: "Use your mouth. Unbuckle my belt." He promised to help if I complied.
My heart, already shattered, splintered as I fumbled with his belt, a memory piercing through the haze: I had endured agonizing experimental treatments, nearly dying, to cure the rare disease that was killing him.
He had vowed eternal gratitude, promised to cherish me forever. But the cure had ravaged my metabolism, ballooning my body and his affection dwindled just as fast.
Then, his sneer: "You really think I'd touch this? You' re disgusting. Trying to manipulate me with drugs? You' re pathetic."
He kicked me away, walking out, leaving me to burn while Scarlett posted a triumphant selfie with him: "He's mine. Alone." I was just a placeholder, a life-saving tool that had outlived its usefulness.
The fire inside raged, but a chilling resolve hardened. I wouldn't die here. A numb voice whispered: "I will erase Ava Miller, the hopeful artist, the loving wife, the pathetic, two-hundred-pound woman begging on the floor. I will leave this life behind and become someone else. Someone powerful." He Denied My Brother's Last Journey
Modern My billionaire boyfriend refused to loan me fifty thousand dollars to bring my brother' s body home.
Three days later, I found his assistant wearing my silk robe in our penthouse.
That was the moment I decided to marry my childhood friend instead.
For eight years, I was Callen House' s dirty little secret.
I accepted the shadows, believing his "Relationship Protocols" were just the quirks of a tech genius.
But when my brother died tragically overseas, Callen didn't offer comfort.
He offered me a corporate loan application, which his assistant, Daniella, promptly denied.
While I was drowning in grief, Jaren stepped in.
He paid for the repatriation without hesitation, proving what real love actually looked like.
I went to Callen' s apartment to end things, only to find Daniella there, sporting a fresh hickey and a smug grin.
The truth came out like a landslide.
She hadn't just stolen my boyfriend; she had been intercepting my bonuses and sabotaging my career for years.
And Callen? He defended her.
He called me a liability and threatened to ruin me if I made a scene.
So I didn't just quit.
I sent a picture of me and Jaren to the company group chat with a caption that silenced the entire office.
"I' m getting married. And it' s not to Callen House." Seven Years of Poison
Romance Ava Green pressed her back against the cool wood of her bedroom door, listening to the quiet hum of her foster home. Ahead of her, her foster brother, Jake Stone, held her close, his hands on her waist. For seven years, he had been her secret, a dangerous poison she had been drinking, waiting for his thirtieth birthday when he promised to finally claim her.
But in a crowded bar, clutching his phone she had rushed to return, she overheard his cruel confession to his friends: she was merely a "convenient distraction," a "placeholder" until the "real thing," Chloe, was ready. The future she had so carefully built shattered around her.
His words, "She's not Chloe. She's not the future Mrs. Stone," hit her like a physical blow. The seven years of whispered promises were a brutal lie. She was just a toy to be discarded.
The phone grew impossibly heavy in her hand, her legs unsteady as she stumbled away from the bar, away from his laughter, into the cold night.
Back in her room, a lifeline appeared: "Your Application to Architects Without Borders," an acceptance to a conflict zone in the Middle East. It felt perfect, a place to tear down her old life and build something new.
She replied with two words that promised to erase him and everything he represented: "I accept." Paid In Betrayal
Modern After two decades in a black-site prison, Elara was finally free, stepping back into a world she believed her husband had fought to reclaim for her.
But an overheard conversation shattered that illusion: her husband, Marcus, coolly admitted he' d orchestrated her imprisonment as a 'perfect sacrifice' to protect their son, Alex, and clinch his climb to power, all while collaborating with Elara' s own adopted sister, Chloe, his mistress.
Returned home a ghost, Elara watched as Chloe usurped her prestigious position, flaunting Elara' s own uniform.
At a public gala, her father openly slapped her, demanding she yield her family legacy to Chloe, while Marcus and Alex turned their backs, leaving her isolated and humiliated.
The final blow came when Chloe feigned an attack, leading Alex to violently shove his mother against a pillar, and Marcus to threaten Elara with a return to the very prison she'd just escaped.
Twenty years of torture and isolation, endured with the false hope of vindication, were exposed as a cold, calculated transaction by those she loved most.
The once unwavering love she held for her family incinerated into ash, leaving only a chilling clarity: they valued power over her life.
With her past reduced to embers and her future with them extinguished, Elara activated a secret family protocol, erasing every trace of her existence, and walked out into the night, reborn to forge a new identity-and a new life-far from their toxic shadow. The Daughter I Lost to Greed
Modern I'd built my catering business from scratch, pouring every dollar into my daughter Emily's future, envisioning a modest, joyful wedding.
But then Kevin's mother, Brenda, dropped a bombshell: Emily was pregnant, and they demanded a $50,000 wedding plus another $50,000 for a house – my "responsibility."
My own daughter, manipulated by Brenda, sided against me, echoing their absurd demands and cutting me off.
They married without me, then Emily even tried to set me up with a strange man, and Brenda openly demanded my house.
How could my sweet, cherished Emily become so unrecognizable, so deeply brainwashed by this monstrous greed?
The absolute betrayal tore my heart apart, leaving me shattered and utterly bewildered.
Desperate, I listed my house, planning to escape to Oregon.
But Emily's final call, a plea for reconciliation over dinner, was a trap.
Drugged and helpless, I overheard Brenda order Kevin to murder me and inherit everything.
This wasn't just about money anymore; it was about survival. Rewritten Tides: Her Second Chance
Romance My college graduation trip was supposed to be a final adventure, a last taste of freedom.
My best friend, Jessica, was squealing with excitement beside me on the wild coast.
Then, two men emerged: Ethan, the enigmatic Selkie leader from the crashing waves, and Marcus, the formidable werewolf Alpha from the treeline.
While Jessica's gaze fixed on Ethan, Marcus's amber eyes found mine with a predatory intensity, sealing my fate with three chilling words: "You're mine."
My life spiraled into a nightmare.
Trapped as Marcus's captive "Luna" in his brutal pack, I endured his suffocating control and the jealous glares of his she-wolves.
When Jessica, weary of her quiet life with the Selkies, sought my help after her own reckless mistakes, I created a risky diversion.
But she repaid my loyalty with a chilling betrayal, screaming lies that sentenced me to death.
I drowned, my life extinguished by the cold ocean, murdered by the very people my supposed best friend had chosen, all because of her cruel deceit.
How could I have been so blind?
How could someone I loved betray me so utterly for nothing?
But then, I opened my eyes.
The salt spray hit my face.
Jessica squealed beside me.
I was back.
Back at the beginning.
This time, as the two powerful leaders emerged, my choice would be different.
I would not be his captive.
I would not be her victim.
I would choose my own path. My Second Chance, His Last
Young Adult The Northwood University acceptance letter felt heavy in my hand.
It was a golden ticket, meant for both me and Ethan.
We were young, hopeful, ready to build our future together.
But I'd already lived this life once, and it ended with Ethan's hands around my throat.
He blamed me for Tiffany Bell's death, his forever crush.
Now, Tiffany beamed, announcing she wasn't going to Northwood.
And Ethan, standing beside me with his own acceptance letter, chose to follow her instead.
"Northwood can wait. You're more important," he told Tiffany.
He dropped his future onto the coffee table like trash.
"You wouldn't understand, Sarah. This is something I have to do," he said to me, already casting me aside.
His obsession to "save" Tiffany was already in motion.
His twisted narrative was forming, just as it had before.
He thought he was rewriting his past, but he was mirroring the delusion that killed me.
A cold wave washed over me – he was convinced of his heroic path, even if it meant abandoning our shared dream.
How could he not see he was stepping onto the same dangerous road?
This man, who had crushed me once, was now alienating me, with a smirk on his face.
I wouldn't beg him this time.
My survival was paramount.
I was back, and this second chance was mine to seize.
Let him chase his ghost; I was going to rewrite my own destiny, without him. Seeds of Fury: The Discarded Wife's Rise
Romance It was supposed to be my ten-year anniversary, a glittering party celebrating a decade I’d devoted to building Ethan’s empire.
As I stood under the opulent chandeliers, Chloe, his sister, beamed, raising a toast "to new beginnings"—then pressed divorce papers into my hand.
The celebratory evening shattered, turning into a public nightmare.
While Ethan schmoozed with his Ivy League "ideal," Victoria Vance, I suffered a violent miscarriage right there on the polished ballroom floor.
His family hissed, stepping back as if I carried a plague, and Ethan’s only concern was for the “scene.”
Later, I found my meager belongings shredded, my grandmother’s cherished letter torn, and “GET OUT” scrawled in my own lipstick on the bathroom mirror.
How can a man, who knelt at my grandmother’s grave swearing eternal vows and built his fortune on her ancient wisdom, accuse me of being ungrateful?
For ten years, I was the mud from his bayou origins he desperately tried to scrub away, yet the foundation of everything he built.
Now he wanted to erase me completely?
But when his sleek new fiancée arrived with bulldozers, threatening to desecrate my ancestors' precious burial ground, the meek "swamp girl" Elara they thought they'd broken finally snapped.
Clutching my grandmother's secret, powerful seeds, I vowed to reclaim my power, one fiery breath at a time.
They wanted a show? I was just getting started. You might like
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. 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. 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. 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. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. 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.
Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. The Billionaire's Cruelty, My Secret Daughter
Rabbit The thunder cracked over the Hamptons, but it was nothing compared to Elena Sharp's scream. She lay twisted on the marble foyer, accusing me of trying to kill her baby. My husband, Julian, walked in, saw the scene, and his eyes froze me out of his life forever.
He didn't listen, shoving a separation agreement across the desk, accusing me of murder. Stripped of my name and home, I was thrown out, left with nothing but my clothes and a terrifying secret growing inside me.
My accounts frozen, I ended up in a crumbling Philadelphia row house, forced to pawn heirlooms. During a fire, my water broke, and I delivered our premature daughter, June, whose lungs were damaged. I stole formula to feed her, facing massive medical bills.
Accused of destroying an heir, I was exiled while carrying his true legacy, fighting for every breath. The injustice burned, but June's life was my only fight.
Three years later, June needed life-saving surgery. Julian's dying grandmother called me back with the funds, forcing a cruel charade with the man who hated me, a man still oblivious to his daughter. 
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