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Nero Daniels

13 Published Stories

Nero Daniels's Books and Stories

Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother

Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother

 Mafia
5.0
My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention. He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor. I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don. "The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly. An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion. He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement. For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple. "Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her." As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman. Then, the steel door detonated. Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.
The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride

The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride

 Modern
5.0
Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care. But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles. She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala. "Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy." Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion. Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin. When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies. "Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace." Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood. Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto. Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank. Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport. Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box. She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island.
Her Vicious Art, His Dark Obsession

Her Vicious Art, His Dark Obsession

 Romance
5.0
For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage. But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask. To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal. I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use. Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage. "The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running."
The Ghost Who Died For Him

The Ghost Who Died For Him

 Modern
5.0
Three years ago, I sacrificed myself to donate my corneas to my blind lover, Elliot Moon. To spare him the guilt, I had my family tell him that I had abandoned him for a new life. But the credit for my sacrifice was stolen by another woman, Dolly. Convinced that I was still alive, Elliot became obsessed with hunting me down and dragging me back to donate my heart to cure Dolly’s heart disease. He broke both of my brother’s hands. He drove my mother to her death. But I was already dead, reduced to a ghost, unable to do a single thing. That was until his subordinate uncovered the truth: "Mr. Moon, Ms. Kayla died three years ago to save you."
Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret

Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret

 Modern
5.0
For two years, I played the role of the "Midwestern mistake," the mousey wife Julian Ford-Sterling IV kept hidden like a shameful secret. I hid my true self behind thick glasses and ashen foundation, acting as the perfect, cowed charity case while he lived a life of marble and indifference. The day our marriage contract ended, the headlines were already screaming about his affair with Hollywood’s sweetheart, Lana Vane. Julian didn't even grant me a final conversation; he simply sent his legal team to hand me divorce papers that gave me nothing—no alimony, no shares, just a non-disclosure agreement and a one-way ticket out of his life. I signed the papers and walked away, but a drugged encounter in a dark club that same night led me back into his arms. We collided in the shadows, two strangers stripped of their titles, but I fled before dawn, accidentally leaving behind my vintage silver locket. By the time I reached my secret design studio the next morning, I discovered Julian had executed a hostile takeover of my entire life’s work. To my horror, Lana Vane was already there, clutching my stolen locket and shamelessly claiming she was the woman Julian had spent the night with. Julian stood before me in his charcoal suit, looking at me with total lack of recognition. To him, I was just a "gold-digging" architect he had bought along with the furniture. I watched them together, the man who had discarded me and the woman who had stolen my identity, realizing that Julian was obsessed with the genius of "Rose" while despising the woman who stood right in front of him. He had no idea that the wife he’d just divorced was the very person he was now desperate to control. I straightened my spine, my violet-blue eyes cold and lethal behind my new designer frames. "Mr. Ford-Sterling, you wanted the best designer in the city? You’ve got her. But you should know—I don't just build empires. I know exactly how to tear them down."
I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

 Mafia
5.0
I married the most ruthless Don in Chicago, but not for love, money, or power. I married Luca Falcone because he was the only man on earth who carried the same DNA as his dead identical twin, Dante—the love of my life. For three years, I played the role of the submissive, obsessed wife. I endured his coldness. I cooked for his mistress, Sofia. I even stayed silent when Sofia pushed me down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage, nearly killing me. Luca thought I stayed because I was weak. He thought the way I stared at his face was adoration. He never realized I was looking right through him, seeing the ghost of the brother he could never live up to. But the moment the second pink line appeared on the pregnancy test, my mission was complete. I had secured the heir. I had brought a piece of Dante back to the world. The vessel was no longer needed. I signed the divorce papers, packed my bags, and vanished into the night while Luca was busy with his mistress. When he finally tracked me down months later, broken and begging on his knees for me to come home, I didn't feel a thing. I looked down at the man who thought he was a King and delivered the final blow. "I never loved you, Luca. I married you for the sperm."
Discovered His Will, Faked My Death

Discovered His Will, Faked My Death

 Modern
5.0
After seven years of marriage, I discovered my billionaire husband Grayson' s will. He was leaving his entire fortune not to me, but to his young protégée, Kira. My life was a lie; I was just a placeholder, a womb for the heir his mistress couldn't carry. When I demanded a divorce, he laughed. "You're pregnant, Elyse. And you think you're just going to walk away with my child?" He tore up the papers, threatening to use his immense power to take our baby. Then Kira, his mistress, showed up at my door, confirming my worst fear: Grayson wanted my child to raise as his and hers. She even sent me a photo of him asleep in her bed, wearing the pajamas I bought him, with a chilling message. "He hopes our baby has a dimple too. For me." I was chosen because I resembled her. My son was meant to be her child. That night, I vanished. The news later reported a pregnant woman, identified by my wedding ring, had died in a clinic fire. But I was already on a plane, my hand on my belly, escaping to a new life.
His Betrayal Unleashed Her True Power

His Betrayal Unleashed Her True Power

 Romance
4.0
For five years, I was the ghost in the machine, the secret architect of my boyfriend Coleton' s brilliant career. I was "Aura," the anonymous creator of our company's billion-dollar software, and I used my hidden influence to make him the star project lead in a new city 1,500 miles away. I did it all for us, for the future we were supposed to build together. But when I finally transferred to his office to surprise him, I found him wrapped up with his new assistant, Kyra-the same girl I' d seen laughing on the back of his motorcycle in a video just days before. He called her his "climbing partner," a friend, nothing more. Then, she made a mistake that cost our company millions. When I confronted her, Coleton didn't hold her accountable. He defended her. In front of the entire executive floor, he turned on me, blaming me for her failure. "If you can't handle the pressure here," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt, "maybe you should just go back to headquarters." The man whose entire life I had built was firing me to protect another woman. Just as my world shattered, the elevator doors chimed. Our CTO stepped out, his eyes taking in my tear-streaked face and Coleton's furious one. He looked straight at my boyfriend, his voice dangerously quiet. "You have the audacity to speak to the owner of this company in that tone?"
Five Years Too Late, Ryan

Five Years Too Late, Ryan

 Horror
5.0
My daughter Lily hadn't seen her father in five years, so her joyful cry of "Daddy!" echoed through the sterile mansion as she ran to him. But his eyes were not for her. Jessica Hayes, his "one true love," stood beside him, her feigned trip and cry sending him into a panic. He scooped her up, his face contorted with concern, then shot a venomous look at our innocent five-year-old. "Lock her in the master bedroom closet. Three days. No food." My blood ran cold. "Ryan, no! Please, you can't!" "She has asthma, Ryan. She'll suffocate!" He scoffed, accusing me of lies and manipulative ploys. The guards, impervious to my pleas, ripped Lily from my arms. "Mommy! Mommy, I'm sorry!" she shrieked, carried away. That night, her terrified cries faded to desperate whimpers. "Please, Mommy... can't... breathe..." I pounded on the door until my fists were raw, screaming for them to let her out. The whimpers stopped. The closet door opened. Lily lay there, blue, not moving, not breathing. Unconscious from lack of oxygen. The ambulance siren wailed as I sank to the waiting room floor. My phone buzzed. It was Instagram. Jessica Hayes, pouting in a hospital bed with a tiny scratch. Her caption: "Mr. Peterson is so generous! I only scraped my knee and he gave me two luxury apartments as compensation. I guess I'll forgive you now~" Geotagged from a luxury hospital across town. Where our daughter wasn't. He gifted her apartments for a scraped knee, while our child suffocated. A cold numbness spread through me. "Grandma," I whispered, bowing my head to Mrs. Peterson. "Love cannot be forced. Please... let him be with Jessica. I just want to take Lily and leave." My fresh wounds throbbed, tears mixing with blood. I showed her the post, the address of our marital home given away. Mrs. Peterson's face blazed with fury. "That scoundrel! That worthless boy!" "Call that bastard and tell him to get his ass to this hospital immediately!" But it was too late. If Grandma's scolding worked, Lily would never have been locked in that closet.
The Unwanted Son, The Unwanted Mother

The Unwanted Son, The Unwanted Mother

 Modern
5.0
The world ended on a Tuesday afternoon. One moment, I was building blocks with my five-year-old son, Leo; the next, our home bucked and collapsed around us, trapping us in a coffin of splintered wood and concrete. Pinned in the darkness, I whispered reassurances to Leo, my body shielding his, even as I felt the immense weight above us. But then Leo whimpered, his voice thin: "My leg hurts." My heart seized. His left leg was caught, crushed under a concrete beam, and I was utterly helpless. Every scream for help was swallowed by the tons of debris. Just as despair threatened to consume me, I heard it: familiar voices. Sarah was there, my wife, a top ER physician, coordinating the rescue. Hope surged, a dizzying, wild thing. "SARAH!" I bellowed with every last ounce of breath. "SARAH, IT'S DAVID! LEO IS WITH ME!" Through a tiny crack, I saw her, ten feet away. But then another voice, closer to her, cried out: "Sarah… over here…" It was Mark Johnson, her "soulmate" from college, the reason our marriage had been a hollow shell. I watched, disbelieving, as she rushed to him, ignoring my desperate pleas, prioritizing his broken arm over our son' s crushed leg. She commanded rescue workers to save him, then scooped his uninjured son into her arms, walking right past us without a second glance. The child, Ethan, even lied to her face, confirming we weren't there, and she believed him. The betrayal was a cold, hard blow, leaving me with a terrifying realization: she had heard me, chosen him, and now, my son might pay the ultimate price for her choice. My son was going into shock, and I knew, with chilling certainty, that this act of abandonment would shatter our lives forever.
A Second Chance At Broken Love

A Second Chance At Broken Love

 Romance
5.0
David Chen, my fiancé, lay dead on top of me, his blood soaking through my clothes. His last words, a whisper against the chaos, echoed in my head: "If there's a next life, let's not be together again... I want to wait for her." For nine years, I had chased his shadow, followed him on dangerous missions, hoping my devotion would break through his icy heart. It never did. He hated me because his childhood sweetheart, Emily, had died, and I was the one left living. His father even spat, "You drove Emily to despair, and you killed David!" Everyone, even my guardian, General Thompson, regretted our forced engagement, blaming me. I regretted it most of all, feeling like a disaster magnet, destroying so many lives with my selfish, naive love. The irony was a bitter taste: I had survived, and he was gone. So, I prepared to grant his wish and finally disappear. I stood on the Golden Gate Bridge, the wind whipping my hair, the water dark and final below. Closing my eyes, I let myself fall, embracing the end. But the impact never came. Instead, I jolted awake in my own bed, sunlight streaming in. My phone buzzed, and the date on the screen made my heart stop: the day before our engagement party. I was back. This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake. This time, I would set them all free.
The Divorce That Saved Him

The Divorce That Saved Him

 Romance
5.0
The launch party for my wife' s tech startup was a whirlwind, but then the smoke started. A rigged collapsed, a fire erupted. I saw Jennifer, my wife of twelve years, instinctively shield her prized intern, Ethan, and drag him to safety, abandoning me as the world went dark. I woke up a month later in the ICU, my lungs ravaged. The first thing I saw was a message from Jennifer. My heart fluttered with foolish hope. "Ethan is recovering at home," it read, "he's craving that clam chowder you make. Drop some off for him." Not a single "How are you?" or "I'm glad you're alive." Just a demand. A chore. For him. Something inside me, twelve years of devotion, finally snapped. I canceled our expensive IVF appointment and booked a one-way trip to Iceland. Jennifer called, not concerned for my health, but enraged about the money and the IVF. She called me jobless, worthless, and praised Ethan as "brilliant" and "forward-thinking." Then I found the single rose she sent me, a stark contrast to the 999 roses Ethan flaunted on Instagram. Hours later, I returned home from the hospital to changed locks and a used condom in our bedroom trash. The man she wanted, the one who would beg, was gone. My love had turned to ash. I calmly called a divorce lawyer. This wasn't just about betrayal; it was about finally choosing myself.
Divorcing My Aloof Husband

Divorcing My Aloof Husband

 Romance
4.6
I was once a well-known feminist activist, but later I became a gold digger and a submissive wife. To earn money for Frank's medical treatment, I married Zachary and became a stepmother to his autistic son, Erik. Former friends criticized me for degrading myself and cut off contact with me. My life became very narrow; I spent my days meticulously caring for Erik and my nights accompanying Zachary through the ups and downs. In the fifth year of our marriage, Erik's biological mother returned. She was a wealthy heiress, a PhD from a prestigious university, stunningly beautiful, and had built a feminist persona on social media, amassing millions of followers. In comparison, I felt dull and uninteresting, and people found me repulsive. So, I decided to file for divorce.