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Nathaniel Stone

11 Published Stories

Nathaniel Stone's Books and Stories

His Lover's Dawn, My Cold Floor

His Lover's Dawn, My Cold Floor

 Modern
5.0
For three years, my estranged husband, Dayton Cole, paraded his childhood sweetheart around while I upheld our billion-dollar family merger. His latest hotel scandal splashed across the news, and I was once again called to clean up his mess, playing the part of the devoted wife. But this time was different. My best friend handed me divorce papers, urging me to finally choose myself. Yet, Dayton cornered me, using my family's ambitions as leverage. He demanded I maintain our charade for three more months-a performance that included sharing his bed. He'd humiliate me, calling me a tool for his family's image, then turn around and whisper that I was a beautiful woman he couldn't let go of. His jealousy flared when another man showed me kindness, yet he spent his nights rushing to his lover's side. The ultimate degradation came when he forced me to sleep on the floor of our shared room at his family's estate, declaring he had no desire for a wife who didn't want him. But in the dead of night, as I shivered on the cold floor, I felt his arms wrap around me, his lips brush my temple in a secret, tender gesture. I woke up alone, the warmth gone. A quick check of social media showed a new post from his sweetheart, thanking her "quiet strength" for being there at sunrise. That was the moment everything snapped. The game was over. He could have his fragile flower. I was taking back my life.
The Alpha King's Erased Mate

The Alpha King's Erased Mate

 Werewolf
5.0
My fated mate, Alpha Liam, called our love a fairytale blessed by the Moon Goddess. But fairytales are lies. I discovered his was a pregnant mistress he publicly called "my queen." She sent me selfies wearing the sacred Mating necklace he gave me, while our pack whispered I was just the "bloodline problem" to be handled once his true heir was born. So on our anniversary, I handed him a gift. Inside were divorce papers and my official rejection. Then, I disappeared.
No Mercy for the Past

No Mercy for the Past

 Modern
4.0
I was reborn, back to the day my daughter and my husband's old flame were kidnapped. Over the phone, the kidnappers demanded I choose one. In the background, my daughter Anne and another girl sobbed. My husband Jed Bennett snatched the phone, his eyes bloodshot, and roared at me, "Katrina has claustrophobia! Save her first!" In my past life, he chose Katrina Watson, and it cost my daughter's life. I laughed, tears streaming down my face. "Mommy... I'm scared..." came Anne's faint cry through the receiver. Jed bellowed again, "Amelia! Choose! Save Katrina!" I looked at him, nodded slowly, and took the phone. Then, calmly, I said into it, "Do it."
Jilted Bride, Shattered Illusion

Jilted Bride, Shattered Illusion

 Billionaires
5.0
For four years, I sponsored an artist from Queens, Demetrius Rogers. I paid his mother's medical bills, sent his sister to prep school, and funded his entire career, turning him from a nobody into a star. I did it all because he was the spitting image of my dead fiancé. Tomorrow was our wedding. But tonight, standing outside his family's home, I overheard the truth. He was plotting with his high school girlfriend, Cayla, to leave me at the altar. He never loved me; it was all for the money. His mother, whose life I saved, called me arrogant and said I looked down on them. His sister, whose future I paid for, said she only ever wanted Cayla as her sister-in-law. Cayla demanded that he not only leave me, but publicly humiliate me in front of everyone. And Demetrius, the man whose world I had built from nothing, agreed. I had tried to buy a substitute for a dead man, and this was the price. They thought I was a fool to be used and discarded. But they were wrong. The next morning, I recorded a video. "Demetrius," I said to the camera, "I know your plan to leave me at the altar. I'm saving you the trouble. I'm leaving you first." I sent the video to be played at the church just as the ceremony was to begin, then boarded a one-way flight to London.
The Unburnt Man's Revenge

The Unburnt Man's Revenge

 Modern
5.0
The smell of gasoline and the horrifying image of my own son, Leo, smirking as he flicked a lighter, consumed me in my last moments. My wife, Olivia, stood beside him, her face a mask of cold satisfaction. In that agonizing instant, I learned the bitter truth: Leo wasn't my son, but the product of IVF with Alex, Olivia's childhood love, a man supposedly long dead. I had spent three decades building an empire for Olivia's family, the Millers, out of gratitude for them taking in an orphan. All for a love that was a lie. Olivia confessed her secret, revealing how she had always loved Alex and despised me, the obstacle to her true happiness. The flames roared, my silent scream lost in the inferno. I died burning, betrayed by the woman I cherished and the son I raised, a fool who had wasted his entire existence. But then, I opened my eyes. The smell of gasoline was gone, replaced by roses and champagne. I was standing in a lavish suite, wearing a tuxedo. My body felt young, strong, unblemished. It was my wedding night, thirty years ago. Olivia, panicked, snatched her buzzing phone. "It's Alex," she whispered, "He says he's going to jump." She looked at me, not with love, but with raw, desperate fear for another man. Her father burst in, forbidding her to leave. She froze, then reluctantly agreed, blaming me with her eyes for the life she was forced into. My throat burned with the memory of the fire. I remembered every sacrifice-my ambitions, my eighteen-hour days, raising Leo. A son who wasn' t mine. A life built on deceit. A death born of her twisted obsession. She slapped me, her words meant to humiliate. "Say something, you pathetic social climber!" This time, things would be different. I caught her wrist. "No." I would not be the devoted husband or sacrificial lamb. My past was a brutal lesson. This time, I would save myself. I released her wrist. "The wedding is off."
The Son Who Broke Her

The Son Who Broke Her

 Romance
5.0
Tomorrow was my thirteenth wedding anniversary. I found a receipt in Mark's suit pocket for two at The Oak Room, our spot, sparking a small, hopeful smile that he remembered. I planned a surprise, baking his favorite lemon cake and wearing the blue dress he loved, driving downtown to meet him. But he wasn't inside the restaurant. He was across the street, entering the St. Regis Hotel with Emily Stone, his first love and now his indispensable secretary. Her tinkling laugh, his gentle smile – a betrayal that hit harder than any physical blow. The cake box became heavy, my dress felt cheap. I dialed his number, but my son, Alex, answered, annoyed. He dismissed my concerns, defending his father's "meeting" and calling me disruptive. "Just stay home," he ordered, before hanging up and blocking my number. That night, Mark returned, echoing Alex's accusations, calling me a spy and telling me to "know my place." He forced me onto the balcony during a storm, demanding I "think about my role." The next morning, feverish and aching, I placed divorce papers before him. He scoffed, mocking my pain and easily claiming full custody of Alex. Alex, summoned by Mark, delivered the final, crushing blow: "I'm a Jenkins. I'm not her son." My heart, a block of ice, shattered. That day, as I crawled away, left to bleed on the driveway by the son I raised and the husband I loved, I realized I had endured affairs, neglect, and belittling. But this? This was the end. The final, brutal severing. From that moment on, a new resolve hardened within me: I would reclaim my life, piece by painful piece, leaving them to their perfect, hollow existence.
The Unseen War

The Unseen War

 Modern
5.0
My parents bought me a quiet condo, a soft landing after Afghanistan and the psych facility, a place where I hoped to rebuild my life with my familiar hobby of miniature painting. My first package of rare, custom miniatures arrived, bringing a rare flicker of excitement, but it was quickly extinguished by the mailroom manager, Barney Oliver, who tried to extort a bogus fee. Before I could process his blatant scam, his ten-year-old grandson, Caleb, snatched my package, mocked my hobby, and snapped a precious figure in half, unleashing a surge of controlled rage within me that felt terrifyingly close to breaking. My parents pulled me away from the brink, but the feeling of being violated in my sanctuary, especially by a slimy old man and his cruel grandson, left a burning injustice simmering just beneath my skin. This wasn't just about money or petty vandalism; it was about reclaiming my peace, and I knew I had to push back, harder than they could possibly imagine.
No More Tears: Her Empire of Justice

No More Tears: Her Empire of Justice

 Modern
5.0
The harsh fluorescent lights hummed as my son, Leo, struggled for breath, his skin a terrifying blue. "Anaphylactic shock," the doctor declared, holding the only available auto-injector – our son's last hope. But then, my husband, Matthew, burst in, dragging his whimpering mistress, Tara Lawrence, who claimed she had a minor food reaction. He demanded the life-saving epipen be given to her, shoving me aside, dismissing Leo's critical state as mere "drama." I watched in cold horror as my child's only chance was wasted, his tiny gasps fading, my world crumbling around me. His callous disregard continued as he mocked Leo's death, spilling his ashes, then locking me in the basement, calling me the monster, while Tara gloated about her pregnancy with his child. How could the man I married abandon our dying son, desecrate his memory, then imprison me? But their cruel victory was short-lived; I had a call to make, and a cold, hard resolve to show them what a true monster looked like.
From Breeding Mare to Billionaire Baker

From Breeding Mare to Billionaire Baker

 Romance
5.0
Five months pregnant, I walked into Ethan's kitchen, expecting to pick up our marriage license. Instead, his mother, Maria, smiled thinly as Ethan slid a sheaf of papers across the table. It wasn't a license. It was a cohabitation agreement, demanding I forfeit all rights to his future earnings and property, and stating we'd only legally marry after a son was born. My heart shattered, yet what I found next froze it solid: crumpled in his sock drawer, a urologist's report stating Ethan had severe infertility. My "miracle" pregnancy was no miracle; it was a calculated trap, a desperate pawn in their greedy game to secure a male heir and control my life. I was trapped, pregnant, and betrayed by the man I loved, used like a breeding mare. My entire relationship was a lie built on their grasping poverty and cruel manipulation. How could anyone be so cold, so utterly devoid of love? They thought I was helpless, a naive, pregnant woman from the wrong side of the tracks. They believed they had me cornered, ready to sign my life away. They were wrong. That day, as they gloated, I smiled back, realizing they had just walked straight into my trap.
The Vance Redemption

The Vance Redemption

 Billionaires
5.0
Ellie Vance. The name spoke volumes: old New England money, Ivy League polish, groomed to be the perfect partner for Governor Will Harrison III. Our wedding plans filled a thick binder, a union of legacy and ambition, celebrated by all. Then came the Kentucky Derby. Will, usually so focused on image, became captivated by Tiffany Rourke, a brash, loud Texas oil heiress-everything I wasn't. A week later, he uttered the chilling words: "I've fallen for Tiff. You're perfect, on paper." He casually suggested I accept a "lesser role" or a quiet end to our engagement, a public demotion unthinkable for a Vance woman. My family's dignity, my very identity, felt assaulted. The heirloom diamond on my finger, once a symbol of promise, now felt tainted and heavy. "You're always so sensible, Ellie. You'll see this is for the best," he'd dismissed, as if my life, our shared future, was a minor inconvenience. A cold, burning contempt replaced my shock. Vances are not "options." We are not "second best." Who did he think I was? A drop of blood bloomed on my pristine wedding binder, a final, painful mark. And a cold resolve set in. My path was clear: I would not just survive this humiliation; I would redefine what winning truly meant. My first call was to Will's mother, Catherine Harrison. Get ready, Washington.
The CEO's Hidden Hand

The CEO's Hidden Hand

 Billionaires
5.0
Mike Collins lived a double life that was tearing his marriage apart. To the world, he was a "corporate security consultant," a boring cover for his true role as personal security head for a reclusive tech CEO. His wife, Jessica, craved the flash and status he couldn't publicly provide, growing increasingly resentful. At a lavish charity gala, her high school bully, Chad Miller, an ostentatious luxury car dealer, decided to make his move. Chad dramatically approached Mike, flaunting a thick envelope. "Here's a severance package," he boomed, "do Jessica a favor and grant her a divorce. You're holding her back." Jessica, instead of defending her husband, publicly justified her affair, claiming Mike's secretive "boring" job made him "impossible to live with." The entire room, a sea of whispers, watched the "nobody" corporate drone being humiliated. My heart ached with a cold, profound disappointment – not just from the betrayal, but the sickening realization this entire evening was a meticulously planned ambush. Chad, high on arrogance, then committed his biggest blunder. He seized Mike's discreet company phone, screamed insults into it, and triumphantly shattered it on the marble floor. "No more calls to your imaginary powerful friends," he sneered, utterly oblivious. Chad believed he was utterly destroying a pathetic man. But he had just foolishly provoked an invisible, meticulously powerful force. He was about to learn that underestimating a man who drives an unassuming Ford Fusion might be the last mistake he ever makes.