Max. A
12 Published Stories
Max. A's Books and Stories
Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises
Mafia At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south.
But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband.
In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family—a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire.
His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach.
"We're terminating this complication," she said coldly.
As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter. The Barren Wife's Billion-Dollar Secret
Billionaires My husband, Mark, and I had built a life on a promise: dual incomes, no kids. For our freedom, our shared dreams, he even urged me to get a hysterectomy. I agreed, believing it cemented our bond.
Years later, he brought home two “orphans,” Kevin and Kate. They were small, dark-haired, and oddly resembled Emily White, his high school flame, now a rising exec in my own company. I played the loving mother, pouring my heart and billions into them for eighteen years.
Then, at their fake graduation party—a party for a future they weren’t remotely qualified for—Mark cornered me. With a smug grin, he demanded I sign over my entire multi-billion dollar empire to Kevin and Kate. Emily White glided over, divorce papers in hand, her voice dripping with venom: “Thank you for taking care of Mark and *my* children. It’s time for our family.”
My parents’ pleas and warnings were ignored as I signed away everything. I watched my life unravel, my legacy stolen by the people I cherished most. The children I raised, his own blood with Emily, mocked me. As I lay bleeding on the asphalt, victims of their orchestrated “accident,” Kevin even kicked me, “Stupid old bitch.” Kate laughed, “Thanks for the money, Mom.”
Dying, the betrayal was unbearable, a sharp, cold satisfaction mixed with burning rage. Why? How could they? The injustice screamed, a silent vow forged in darkness.
Then, light. I woke up. Back at that dinner table, years ago, where Mark first uttered the word “hysterectomy.” This wasn’t a second chance. This was my turn. My eighteen-year revenge began now. Secret Wife is A Hero
Romance I was Asset 7, a "ghost" kept in a high-security facility with no memory and paralyzed vocal cords. My only value was my silence, making me the perfect disposable tool for the world's elite.
Everything changed when I was sold to Culver Lancaster, a media billionaire drugged with a dangerous synthetic aphrodisiac. His staff needed a woman who couldn't talk, couldn't sue, and didn't exist in any official directory.
They scrubbed my skin raw like a piece of meat and threw me into a dark penthouse with a man who had lost his mind to the drug. Culver didn't treat me like a human; he choked me against a door and used my body as a shield against his own madness. When I tried to run, his security hunted me down with dogs, and Culver threw me into a freezing wine cellar. I spent days in total darkness, starving and dehydrated, lapping dirty water off the floor just to stay alive.
I lay on that cold stone, wondering why my life had become a series of cages and scars. I couldn't even scream to let the world know I was dying. How could a man claim to protect me while treating me like a disposable object?
But when Culver finally came to the cellar to feed me, I didn't surrender. I bit him hard enough to draw blood, watching the shock in his eyes as I communicated the only way I could.
Now, I wear the silk uniform and the velvet mask he bought for me, playing the role of his obedient "Shadow." Culver thinks he owns a broken girl he can lock in a velvet panic room, but I'm a weapon who just found her target. Every kiss is a reconnaissance mission, and I'm going to burn his empire to the ground. The Unfortunate Card of Lies
Modern For ten years, I waited for my childhood sweetheart, Adonis, to marry me. But every year, our future was delayed by a ridiculous family ritual where he had to draw a "Fortunate" tarot card. For three years, he drew the "Unfortunate" card, enduring brutal penance that left him scarred and broken. I believed it was fate.
Then, on the fourth year, I saw him draw the Fortunate card. My heart soared. We were finally free. But in a swift, practiced move, he swapped it for an Unfortunate one, choosing more suffering. I was frozen in shock.
Later, I overheard him confess to his cousin. He' d been swapping the cards for four years. He couldn't marry me yet because of his assistant, Ariel. She' d threatened to do something drastic if he left her. He said he owed her.
My world shattered. Every lash he took, every moment of pain I shared, was a lie. A charade performed for another woman. He had chosen his guilt for her over his love for me.
He even accused me of monstrous cruelty based on her lies, shouting, "I can't believe I wasted ten years on someone so vindictive. Apologize to Ariel. Now."
That was the moment I knew the man I loved was gone. So, I left. I flew to Hong Kong and married another man.
But just as I found my new beginning, Adonis burst in, his eyes wild with regret, begging me to come back. And right behind him was Ariel, her face twisted with madness, a gleaming knife in her hand. Her Mute Heart, His Burning Betrayal
Modern My name is Arlie Stevens, and I was a mute girl who grew up in the shadows of the Rust Belt. My street art was our daily bread, and Bowen McClure was my protector, my first love, and my voice.
But the boy who once fought off bullies for me decided to climb the social ladder by getting engaged to a ruthless corporate heiress, Kassandra Woodard.
On their engagement night, Kassandra falsely accused me of ruining her gown. Bowen, my Bowen, publicly whipped me as punishment to appease her family.
He told me it was to protect me, a necessary evil.
Then he locked me in my room.
As the party's fireworks lit up the sky, I smelled smoke. The apartment was on fire, and the door was locked from the outside.
Through the flames, I heard Kassandra's voice, "Bowen locked her in. He wanted her out of the way."
He didn't just abandon me; he tried to burn me alive.
But I survived. And when a broken, guilt-ridden Bowen finally found me years later, begging for forgiveness after destroying the woman who orchestrated it all, I had only one thing to say to him. He Healed Her Broken, Brilliant Heart
Modern For seven years, I was his secret. His brilliant, naive Elodie. Last night, he held me and called me his future.
Today, his sister, my best friend, showed me the pictures from his engagement party.
My life's work, a revolutionary bio-printed kidney, was meant to save his dying fiancée. But then I overheard his real plan. If my research failed, he had a backup.
"She's got a nice pair of kidneys," he told his friends. "Perfect match."
He'd secretly filmed our most intimate moments, blackmail to force me onto the operating table. I wasn't his love. I was his insurance policy. A spare part.
He thought he had me cornered. He underestimated his "naive little scientist."
So I faked my death and disappeared.
Five years later, I'm back, my name on the cover of every scientific journal. And he's about to find out that the woman he tried to butcher is now the one who holds his entire world in her hands. His Family's Poison, Her Sweet Revenge
Modern The sterile scent of a hospital clung to me, even in my own sun-drenched room.
Today was the presentation, the day my life was supposed to begin.
Instead, it ended.
Memories, sharp and brutal, flooded back: me, confidently presenting my skyscraper design.
Then, the fatal error: File Not Found.
My mother, Eleanor, fussing over my desk the night before, "accidentally" deleting everything.
My father, Richard, dismissing my tears, "Listen to your mother. She knows what's best."
My brother, Liam, smirking, "A skyscraper isn' t as important as Mom, is it?"
Later that night, Eleanor offered a thick, green smoothie.
"A special health smoothie, just for you."
I drank it, trusting her.
Minutes later, the tightening throat, the hives, the desperate fight for air.
Anaphylactic shock.
I was severely allergic to kiwi, and the smoothie was full of it.
As my vision tunneled, I saw my family.
They weren't calling 911.
They were comforting Eleanor, who sobbed into my father' s shoulder.
Liam shook his head, "She' s always so dramatic."
And then, nothing.
Until now.
Waking up here.
I saw the date on my phone.
It was Wednesday morning.
The day of the presentation.
Cold, hard clarity settled over me.
They hadn't just sabotaged my dream; they' d tried to kill me to control me.
And now, I was back.
Back to build a new blueprint.
A blueprint for their ruin. Love, Lies, and Digital Death
Sci-fi For ten years, I was Ethan Vance, the Silicon Valley "fixer," the "soul mediator" everyone trusted to clear digital ghosts and optimize karma.
Then Kevin, my girlfriend Sarah' s adopted brother, showed up with his charming lies and half-price "digital shaman" tricks, stealing my clients and my reputation bit by bit.
My downfall culminated in a botched "karma optimization" where the client died a gruesome digital death, Kevin vanished, and I was framed for his sabotage.
The mogul' s enraged family and my disgruntled former clients, convinced I was a greedy fraud, beat me to death, unable to scream the truth about Kevin' s betrayal.
But then, I opened my eyes, and I was back-standing in a luxurious smart home, the day before my life crumbled, the tech CEO handing me a data chip, Sarah and Kevin by my side; this time, things would be different. His Cold Disgust, Her Pain
Fantasy The cold moonlight painted shadows across the floor, doing nothing to warm the chill that had settled deep in my bones as I knelt before my husband, Valerius.
Just a year ago, he had promised me forever, swearing he' d always be my shield. Now, he looked at me with cold disgust.
"Explain this," he demanded, tearing open my nightgown to reveal the withered flower branded into my shoulder – a symbol of shame, a mark of the lowest.
Tears welled, blurring his furious face. I couldn' t tell him the truth, a horrific secret I' d sworn to keep to protect him.
He shoved me away, calling me soiled, then laughed cruelly, refusing to "dirty his hands" on me, before storming out, slamming the door on everything we were.
Driven by desperation, I tried to carve the mark off, nearly taking my life before my maid, Clara, stopped me, suggesting a brutal herbal remedy instead.
The agony was blinding, but I endured it, for him, for us, for the love I yearned to reclaim.
With a raw, weeping scar where the brand once was, I found him, hoping to see a flicker of the man I knew.
He stared at my wound, then laughed, a short, ugly sound. "A scar is just as ugly as a brand. It proves nothing."
My hope shattered, he delivered the final blow: he was marrying my cousin, Isabella, in a week.
The physical pain from my scar was nothing compared to the gaping wound he' d torn in my chest, leaving me an empty void. A Perfect Lie
Modern The house was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that sinks into your bones.
Ethan searched every empty room, calling her name, but only the silence echoed back.
Then he saw it on the kitchen island: a divorce agreement, her elegant signature a final, chilling statement.
He raced to all their special spots-the bookstore, the café, the park where he proposed-but she was nowhere.
Finally, he arrived at the art studio he' d built for her, a sanctuary poured out of his millions, only to find it as desolate as his heart.
Her drafting table was bare, canvases gone-everything that made it hers, vanished.
He remembered her warning, words brushed off as a lover's insecurity: "I don't tolerate betrayal. Even once, and I'll vanish completely."
He' d laughed then, sure he' d never give her cause.
But the words now echoed, a haunting judgment.
Thousands of miles away, the woman who was once Ava whispered, "From now on, there is no Ava. Only Olivia."
A news article flashed on her phone: "Real Estate Mogul Ethan and Architect Wife Ava: A Perfect Partnership."
Perfect, she scoffed, a bitter laugh in the quiet taxi.
It had all been a perfect lie, and she, the architect who built dreams, was about to meticulously dismantle his. The Woman He Called a Puppy
Romance Our engagement felt like a fairytale, complete with a gleaming diamond and seven years of shared history.
I believed Michael and I were building our future, hand in hand.
But at the annual gala, the illusion shattered.
Michael was on the dance floor, not with me, but intimately whispering to his intern, Jessica.
Moments later, in his car, I found a diamond necklace – not for me, as he coldly snatched it away.
“That’s not for you,” he said, his voice flat.
From then on, the disrespect spiraled.
He threw Jessica's misplaced scarf at me, denigrated my dream wedding dress, and abandoned me for her petty dramas.
My health issues were met with harsh insults and dismissed as “bad manners.”
While he flaunted Jessica online, I was expected to cater to her bizarre demands, like making special chia seed pudding for her made-up “episodes.”
Each blow chipped away at my belief.
How could the man I’d dedicated seven years to treat me with such casual cruelty?
Was I truly so disposable?
The overheard truth pierced deepest: “Love Sarah? Not really. But she’s been around like a puppy…”
No more.
The tears dried.
I cut my wedding dress into ribbons, packed my bags, and left him a note: “We’re done.”
He could chase, she could scheme, but my patience was exhausted.
My life, finally, was mine again. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit
Elisha Plasket I sat at the head of the mahogany table, the heavy heirloom emeralds around my neck marking me as the future Queen of the Cosa Nostra.
But the man beside me—Jax Viles, the most feared Don in New York—had his hand resting possessively on the thigh of the woman sitting to his right.
She wasn't his fiancée. I was.
The humiliation didn't stop at dinner. Jax moved her into my home, turned my dance studio into her closet, and when she pushed me down a flight of stairs, he stepped over my broken body to comfort her because she was "shaken up."
He started a bloody gang war just to defend her honor, yet ignored my desperate calls warning him of an ambush.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was furniture—a fixture that was expected to be silent and useful. He would burn the world to ash for her, but for me, he wouldn't even skip a meeting.
So, while he was out celebrating his victory for her, I didn't wait for him to come home.
I left the engagement ring in the trash can next to the toilet.
On his desk, I left a single note: "I release you from the oath. I hope she's worth the war."
By the time he realized his mistake and came looking for his shadow, I was already gone, ready to become the Queen of my own life. 
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