Norrra
11 Published Stories
Norrra's Books and Stories
The Fixer's Secret: Taming My Husband
Modern I spent three years playing the role of the perfect, silent wife to Julian Sterling, the most volatile billionaire in Manhattan. To the world, I was just a socialite; in reality, I was a high-stakes crisis negotiator known as "The Fixer," living a double life to survive a marriage that was nothing more than a cold, clinical contract.
The illusion shattered when Julian publicly humiliated me at his private club, flaunting his mistress while his mother issued a brutal ultimatum: produce an heir by next week, or my family's remaining assets would be wiped out.
But the true betrayal lay hidden in a secret file in my parents' safe. I wasn't chosen for love or status; I was a "genetic stabilizer," a biological filter purchased to breed the mental instability out of the Sterling bloodline. My own parents had sold me like a lab rat, trading my life to unfreeze their bank accounts.
Julian treated me like a "slab of meat" while chasing the ghost of a woman named Seraphina, and my mother-in-law viewed my womb as nothing more than a corporate asset. I realized then that every person I had ever trusted had placed a bounty on my DNA.
"I'm not jealous, Julian," I told him as he pinned me down in a hospital room, his eyes wild with the Sterling madness. "I'm just the one holding the bill."
When a secret request came in for a "ghost negotiator" to defend Sterling Industries against a hostile takeover, I didn't turn it down. They had no idea that the elite specialist they were hiring to save their empire was the same wife they had spent years trying to break.
I'm done being the cure for this family. This time, I'm the poison, and I'm going to make sure they pay every cent they owe me. My Cold-Hearted Ex, My Billionaire Love
Romance Fresh out of the hospital, my leg throbbed from the research accident, the pain meds useless. I just wanted to heal in peace. Instead, I walked into our bedroom to find my wife, Brenda, in bed with her adoptive brother, Billy Ray—the same man she always claimed was suffering from a rare, terminal illness.
My stitches burst, blood soaking my pants, but Brenda just scoffed, called me "dramatic," and ordered me out. She literally pushed me aside to attend to his "stress." Divorce papers met me at the ER, followed by vile photos from Billy Ray, celebrating their betrayal.
How could she abandon me to bleed out, choosing a man who suddenly looked perfectly healthy, smirking as my world fell apart? The woman I loved watched me suffer, then casually ended our marriage. The sheer audacity, the cold-hearted cruelty, ripped me apart.
Lying on an ER gurney, signing divorce papers, completely alone and stripped of everything, I hit rock bottom. But as the last drops of my blood mingled with shattered dreams, a quiet resolve ignited. They took everything, but they wouldn't take my future. My new life began right there, amidst the wreckage. From Rejected Omega To The Royal White Wolf
Werewolf I stood in the rain, watching my ex-mate place fresh white roses next to a toxic silver chain on my headstone.
The epitaph read *Beloved Daughter*, which was laughable.
Five years ago, I called my father from a mangled car wreckage, bleeding out. Instead of sending an ambulance, he asked if the car was salvageable.
Then Clayton took the phone. He didn't offer help. He used the Alpha Command to reject me while I was dying, all because I was a "weak" wolf and his new favorite, Ainsley, needed his attention.
They left me to die in the gutter to protect their reputation.
Tonight, I walked into their desperate charity gala, wearing a dress worth more than their entire failing pack.
My father didn't weep with relief at my resurrection. He looked at me like a stain on his carpet.
"You ungrateful brat!" my aunt shrieked, slapping me across the face hard enough to draw blood. "You were supposed to stay dead! You're ruining Ainsley's night!"
They signaled security to dump me in the alley, thinking I was still the powerless girl they broke.
They didn't notice the air in the ballroom turn heavy with ozone. They didn't feel the crushing weight of a true predator entering the room.
Until the double doors exploded inward.
A man with eyes like molten gold stepped through the dust, his terrifying aura forcing every wolf in the room to their knees.
He looked at the red mark on my cheek and let out a roar that shook the chandeliers.
"WHO TOUCHED MY MATE?!"
My father trembled on the floor, looking between the enraged Alpha King and me. "Mate? But... she is nothing."
I smiled, my eyes flashing silver.
"Hello, husband," I whispered. "Let the execution begin." Too Late For Regret: My Lost Heir
Modern I spent three years being the perfect, quiet wife to Julian Sterling, dimming my own light to fit into his cold Manhattan penthouse. On our anniversary, I sat in the dark with a secret that would change our lives forever—I was finally pregnant with the heir he always wanted.
But Julian didn't come home to celebrate. He threw divorce papers on the table and told me his first love, Harper, was dying of stage four cancer.
"It is her last wish," Julian said, his voice cold and detached. "She wants to be Mrs. Sterling before she dies. It is the only thing she has ever wanted."
I signed the papers and walked away without taking a dime of his billions, but fate wasn't done with me. A few days later, our paths crossed in a crowded hospital lobby. Julian, blinded by his need to protect Harper from the paparazzi, saw me as an obstacle in their way. To clear a path for her, he shoved me aside with enough force to send me flying.
I hit the sharp corner of a marble desk and collapsed. As I lay on the floor, I watched Julian hesitate for a fraction of a second before choosing to comfort a wailing Harper instead of helping me. He held her hand while I bled out on the cold stone, losing the child he never even knew I was carrying.
In the operating room, the truth finally came to light: Harper wasn't dying. She was faking her symptoms with bribes and stage makeup, and Julian had sacrificed his own son’s life for a performance.
When he showed up at my bedside crying and begging for a second chance, I realized that the woman he married was gone. I pulled off my platinum wedding ring and dropped it onto the metal tray with a hollow clink.
"Take it," I whispered. "It is too heavy. I cannot carry it anymore."
Julian thinks he has lost a wife, but he has actually created a storm. I am no longer the quiet girl he broke; I am a Vanderbilt, and I am going to burn his entire world to the ground for what he did to my baby. You Chose Her, Now Watch Me Disappear
Mafia On our fifth anniversary, my husband Dante gave me a unique gift: he burned my business to the ground.
Why? Because a shopkeeper had been rude to Sofia, the fragile ward he swore to protect.
While I waited in our penthouse, he was comforting her in front of the flames.
But that was just the beginning.
When I finally snapped and confronted Sofia for mocking our marriage, she cut her own arm and screamed for help.
Dante didn't hesitate. He shot me.
He put a bullet through my hand to save her.
Then, to "discipline" me, he dragged me to the cellar and waterboarded me—using my deepest trauma against me—until I admitted to a crime I didn't commit.
I endured it all, thinking he still loved me in his twisted way.
Until the day we were ambushed at the docks.
The enemy held a gun to my head and a knife to Sofia’s throat.
"Choose," the gunman said. "The Queen or the Ward?"
Dante looked at me. He calculated that I was strong enough to survive, but Sofia would break.
"Let the girl go," he said.
He watched as the gunman pulled the trigger on me.
As I fell backward into the freezing ocean, bleeding from a chest wound, Dante screamed my name.
He thought he had killed me.
He didn't know I was wearing a Kevlar vest.
He didn't know that while he was mourning his dead wife, I was already planning my escape.
Dante Moretti thinks his Queen is dead.
I intend to keep it that way. Betrayal's Cost: A Husband's Revenge
Billionaires Ethan Hayes was in a late-night board meeting, his tech empire soaring, built on logic and precision. Meanwhile, his beautiful socialite wife, Amelia, was at another party, her laughter echoing, a champagne flute always in hand. He valued loyalty; she had other agendas.
That night, a tagged photo on social media confirmed his long-held dread: Amelia, head on a younger man's shoulder, Leo Vance, an art student. This wasn't the first time, but it was the most blatant betrayal.
He drove to their penthouse, only to find Amelia and Leo tangled on the couch, laughing. "Ethan. You're home early." Her voice was cool, dismissive. "Don't be scared, Leo. He won't do anything," she whispered, loud enough for him to hear. The final nail in the coffin of their marriage.
The next day, what little rage he expected to feel was absent. Just cold clarity. He was done pretending. He met Dr. Maya Sharma, an astrophysics candidate his foundation was sponsoring. Brilliant, resilient, and unfairly defunded.
"The truth is, your funding was specifically pulled and given to another, less promising project. Why did you lie about that?" He pressed. Maya confessed her funding went to Leo Vance, because Amelia, on the university board, had pulled strings.
The humiliation deepened when he found Leo Vance, Amelia's lover, smugly preening in his private closet, wearing his silk robe. "She said you wouldn't mind. That you're used to sharing." The insult, casually delivered, hit harder than any blow.
He wanted to scream. He was a man who valued control, and Amelia had turned him into a spectacle in his own home. He had become a stranger, an invisible guest. He had endured her betrayals for years, choosing convenience over self-respect, and now he was paying the price.
But a new path had opened. He funded Maya' s project, and with a cold, calculated smile, set a plan in motion to reclaim his life. "Enjoy the penthouse," he' d told Amelia. "I won't be needing it anymore." This was his fight, and he was ready. Father's Day: A Slap In Public
Modern Father' s Day usually means family, gifts, and forced smiles.
As an architect, I build strong foundations, but my relationship with my father felt like glass.
This year, I was going to his studio apartment, not just with a gift, but to retrieve my mother' s vintage watch-the last thing I had of hers.
But before I even got inside, a call shattered the fragile peace.
"Brenda," my father' s new, live-in girlfriend, was already on the offensive.
She claimed the watch was hers, a "payment" for her "service."
My father, when I finally reached him, only sighed-that familiar, weary sound of avoidance.
He defended her, told me to calm down, and refused to get involved.
"Just… not today, Olivia. Let' s not fight on Father' s Day."
The humiliation only escalated a few days later, at my daughter Lily' s elementary school art fair.
Brenda and her sullen son, Chad, launched a public attack, accusing me of trying to steal from my "poor, sick father."
Their performance drew stares and whispers, painting me as the heartless, ungrateful daughter.
Then, with my daughter trembling by my leg, Brenda threw herself to the ground, screaming that I had pushed her.
Chad lunged, ready to strike, but my husband, Mark, intervened.
Just as I was trying to leave, Brenda grabbed my ankle, shrieking, "You' re not going anywhere!"
Suddenly, my father appeared.
Relief surged, thinking he would stop this madness, defend me.
Instead, he rushed to Brenda' s side, asking, "Are you okay, my love?"
Then, his eyes cold with disappointment, he turned to me.
"Olivia, how could you do this to Brenda?" -and he slapped me.
In public. In front of my daughter.
As I stood there, reeling, Brenda, clinging to his arm, cooed, "Tell her, darling, tell your ungrateful daughter the truth."
My father looked at me, his face hard, unforgiving.
"Brenda is not my girlfriend, Olivia," he declared. "She' s my wife. We got married last month."
The world tilted. My own mother' s watch, a wedding gift to this woman?
He actually looked me in the eye and said, "If you want to remain my daughter, you will respect my wife and you will forget about that watch."
"Or you can keep fighting, and you can consider yourself disowned," he paused, letting the threat hang. "The choice is yours."
A cold, clear calm settled over me.
There was nothing left to fight for.
I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, and looked him dead in the eye.
"How much is it worth?" I asked.
"The watch. How much do you want for it? Name a price. I' ll buy it from your wife."
His face went pale as Brenda whispered a price in his ear.
"Fifty thousand dollars," he choked out.
"Done," I said, showing him the confirmation screen. "For my own mother' s watch. Now it' s mine again."
The gift, the illusion, the pretense of family-all gone.
My father made his choice.
Now, it was time for me to make mine. Shadowed By Her, Now Free
Romance For seven years, I lived in Chloe Adams' s shadow, the architect of her fame, ghostwriting her witty captions and composing jingles, content to be the loyal friend.
Then, at her engagement party, Chloe announced her new brand deal, her arm linked with reality TV star Brody Hayes.
"It' s time for you to find your own spotlight, you know? Away from me."
Her casual dismissal, meant to be a gentle nudge, landed like a physical blow, firing me from her life.
Everyone in the room watched, waiting for me to nod, to accept my role as Chloe' s devoted groupie.
But something inside me snapped.
"No," I said, the word cutting through the celebratory hum like glass.
Chloe' s perfect smile faltered.
"I' m just done. Done writing your posts, done composing your jingles, done being your shadow."
Her face blotched red, the gracious influencer replaced by a furious toddler.
"You can' t be 'done' !" she hissed. "I' m not done with you!"
I thought I was finally free, but her fury escalated. She shoved me, then roared, "Your parents gave me a key years ago, remember? What' s yours is mine."
I rushed home to find my sanctuary invaded, my studio defiled.
A stranger strummed my grandfather' s prized vintage Martin guitar, another giggled, scrolling through my private files.
Rage burned through me. As I called 911, Brody snatched my phone and smashed it.
"He thinks he' s so much better than us just because his parents have money," Brody declared, manipulating the crowd.
Chloe' s eyes blazed. I felt a sharp sting as she slapped me, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.
Helpless, I watched as she grabbed a bottle of sticky red liqueur and upended it over my head.
Laughter and jeers erupted, phones flashing, recording my humiliation.
Then, I saw it: Brody wore my mother' s hand-carved wooden bird necklace, a sacred link to her memory.
"Chloe gave it to me. Said it was just some trinket she found lying around. A good luck charm."
"It' s a cheap piece of wood. Stop making a scene over nothing. You' re embarrassing yourself."
My mother' s last gift, the most precious thing I owned, dismissed as "nothing."
A raw, desperate cry escaped me. "That was my mother' s. It was a gift from my dead mother!"
Her face went dead white. "You shut your mouth!" she shrieked, striking my head.
Brody whispered to Chloe, eyes on my open laptop. "His laptop is still on. The application portal is still open."
My college applications. My future.
"NO!" I screamed, struggling against the men holding me. "Don' t you touch that!"
But I was forced to watch as Chloe, with a cruel smile, clicked, erasing my Yale application, my entire dream.
"This is Yale," she snarled, holding up my laptop before letting it smash to the floor.
A piece of the broken screen sliced my cheek, the warm trickle of blood a final punctuation.
"The application deadline is in fifteen minutes," Brody chimed. "Tough luck, man."
Hope died.
"Lock him in the basement until morning."
The basement. My deepest, primal fear.
"Chloe, no. Please. Not the basement. Do anything else. Please!" I begged, dignity gone.
But Brody' s whisper sealed my fate: "He' ll ruin everything."
Chloe' s eyes hardened to stone. "Do it."
They dragged me, struggling, pleading, towards the yawning black maw.
I tumbled down the creaking stairs, landing on the cold, damp concrete.
The door slammed shut above me.
The click of the lock echoed in the suffocating darkness.
I woke in a hospital bed, Maria, our housekeeper, explaining she' d found me. My parents burst in, back from Paris.
"I' m so sorry we let this happen. We brought a monster into our home. Into your life."
"It' s okay, Dad. She didn' t ruin anything."
"I got my acceptance letter from Juilliard two months ago. A full scholarship."
The only thing Chloe destroyed last night was the last bit of affection I had for her.
Thousands of miles away, Chloe' s card was declined. She tried to call me. Voicemail. She tried again. Voicemail.
She swore I was playing games.
Meanwhile, at Juilliard, I stood on stage. "You are the protagonist of your own life. Don' t ever let anyone else hold the pen."
Chloe Adams, abandoned and broke, would keep waiting for me to come crawling back. The Unwanted Wife's Foresight
Romance My hands white-knuckled the steering wheel, watching the tour bus - my son and mother-in-law inside - slide towards a freezing cliff edge.
Panic seized me, but not just for the immediate danger; I had lived this exact, horrific day before.
In my first life, my firefighter husband, Andrew, scoffed at my desperate calls, choosing to celebrate with his mistress Molly and her son over saving his own family.
His callous dismissal led to their deaths, my ruin, and finally, my own murder at his hands for exposing him.
Now, facing the same impossible choice and a chilling text where he declared me "psychotic" for reporting the crash, I knew I would not beg the man who had already killed me once.
This time, with the terrifying foresight of memory, I would save them, and myself, even if it meant destroying the monster I once married. Beneath the Texas Sun, A Mother's Sin
Modern My marriage to Nicole Chadwick was a business deal, but I fell in love with her, and together we had our son, Caleb.
I thought we had a chance at a real family.
Then, in one horrific instant, my five-year-old son was gone, drowned by his own mother, Nicole, with her high school sweetheart, Wesley, egging her on.
As paramedics fought for Caleb' s life, Nicole and Wesley shopped for saddles and laughed.
Later, she even tried to send peanut butter cookies to his hospital room, knowing he had a severe peanut allergy.
I watched her celebrate a new pregnancy with Wesley, declaring Caleb a "mistake" and mocking me as I lay bleeding in a ditch, pushed by her.
She then publicly whipped me with a riding crop on sharp gravel, spitting venom and telling me I was nothing.
My world shattered, built on a foundation of lies and unfathomable cruelty.
How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be such a monster?
But then, Mr. Chadwick, Nicole' s father, revealed a truth so shocking it peeled back every layer of deceit.
Wesley didn' t just instigate Caleb' s death; he had lied for five years about saving Nicole' s prize horse, a feat I secretly accomplished purely out of love for her.
Now, as Nicole shattered, confronting the horrifying reality of what she had done and lost, I finally understood.
There was no making it right, no forgiveness.
And my refusal to forgive her set in motion a chain of events that ended in her tragic, solitary demise years later. The Bride Who Said No
Romance Elara Hayes had spent nearly twenty-five years as Governor Carter's wife, a life of dutiful performance, a lie for her husband's political ambitions, all while he pined for her stepsister, Brittany.
As Ethan lay dying, his frail whisper asked her to place Brittany's portrait by his grave, a final, cruel reminder of her lifelong second-place status.
But a blinding headache striking at his deathbed plunged her back in time, opening her eyes to sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows, wearing a wedding dress and standing at the altar for her first wedding to Ethan.
Then, just as before, his phone buzzed, and he ran out of the church, leaving her humiliated for Brittany.
This time, though, there were no tears, no despair, only a wild, giddy sense of freedom as she realized: "This was it. My second chance."
With her family's wrath looming and society's judgment heavy on her, Elara lifted her chin, walked down that aisle, and, to the collective gasp of the church, proposed to the notorious media scion, Declan Monroe – the man who, in her past life, had been her silent, unwavering protector. You might like
Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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