Perswaysion
12 Published Stories
Perswaysion's Books and Stories
His Unwanted Wife Wants A Divorce
Romance In the fifth year of marriage, Rylan had an affair with a somewhat famous internet celebrity.
His friends asked him, "If Stella finds out and wants a divorce and half of your assets, what will you do?"
He laughed disdainfully while smoking, "Stella, she's just someone who throws herself at me, loves me to death, and can't leave me."
Later, when I presented him with the divorce agreement, he cried and tried to hold on.
But, cold wine can still be warmed, how can a cold heart be warmed? No Longer Your Bridge: The Heiress Awakens
Modern I thought I was the center of Michael’s universe, carrying the heir to his shipping empire. That illusion shattered the day I found his journal.
It turned out I was just a "vessel" to launder money, while his "cousin" Selena was his true love.
The cruelty peaked at lunch. When a tureen of scalding lobster bisque tipped over, Michael didn't lunge for his pregnant wife.
He threw his body over Selena to protect her silk dress.
The boiling soup soaked my stomach. As I screamed in agony, feeling the life slip from my womb, Michael only glared at me.
"Stop making a scene, Liv! It would have ruined her outfit."
That fall killed his son. But I didn't tell him.
Instead, I watched him panic when Selena went into kidney failure days later. He begged me to get tested as a donor.
"She's family, Liv. Please."
I asked him, "If it were me dying, would you ask her to cut herself open?"
"No," he whispered. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt her."
That was the answer I needed.
I agreed to the test just to distract him.
While he liquidated his entire fortune to buy her a black-market organ, I finalized the divorce, emptied the accounts, and vanished.
I left him with nothing but a medical report on his desk: *Fetal Demise due to abdominal trauma.*
He saved her dress. But he killed his heir. His Unwanted Mate, The Secret White Wolf
Werewolf My mate, Alpha Santino, brought another woman into our home. She was a pregnant Omega, the widow of his fallen Beta, and he swore to protect her above all others.
He gave her my seat of honor, left our bed cold each night to soothe her feigned nightmares, and ignored me completely. I was the Luna of the Blackstone Pack, but I was becoming a ghost in my own life.
The final betrayal happened in my own bedroom. She stood over my vanity and deliberately shattered my mother’s sacred moonstone necklace, the last piece of my family I had left.
When Santino burst in, he didn’t see my heartbreak. He saw only her fake tears.
“What did you do to her?!” he roared, his voice laced with the Alpha’s Command, a sacred power he used to crush my will.
Then, for her, he did the unforgivable. He raised his hand and struck me, his mate.
In that instant, the love I had desperately clung to turned to ice. The man I had sworn my life to had not only betrayed me but had defiled the sacred bond the Goddess herself had blessed.
As the pain of his betrayal ripped through me, something ancient and powerful awakened in my blood. I rose to my feet and spoke the words that would destroy his world and begin mine.
“I, Alessia Bianchi, reject you, Santino Moretti, as my mate.” The Alpha King's Forbidden Love, My Silent Vengeance
Werewolf For three years, I was the Luna for the powerful Alpha Kaelen. He showered me with gifts but never with love. When he touched me, his eyes looked through me, searching for a ghost I couldn't see.
When my human father was dying, I reached out to him through our sacred mind-link, begging for my Mate's comfort. He blocked me.
I called for him ninety-nine times while my father died alone. Two days later, our Beta sent me a vision of Kaelen in Paris, holding my aunt, Lyra, with a tenderness he had never once shown me. When he returned, he lied effortlessly, blaming the distance for the broken link.
I found the truth locked in his private study. It was a shrine to her. His diary revealed everything: our first meeting, the rogue attack where he saved me—all of it was a lie, staged so he could have a substitute for the woman he truly loved.
I was just a vessel for her bloodline, and the pup I carried was conceived from that lie. So I tricked him into signing two scrolls. The first was a protocol to magically hide my pregnancy. The second was a blank rejection form, which I signed and filed with the Elders before walking onto a ship bound for a new continent, erasing myself from his world forever. When Ambition Destroys, Love Saves
Modern My five-year relationship wasn't just with my CEO girlfriend, Olivia; it was with the company we built from scratch. I poured my heart into both, from the late nights debugging to the vision of an empire.
Then her entitled nephew, Liam, an intern who knew nothing, pushed a catastrophic error into our live system. It was a million-dollar mistake that could cripple us. When I confronted him, he whined to his aunt.
Olivia called me into her office, her voice cold. Liam sat there, feigning tears. She snapped that I was bullying her nephew, who was "just trying his best."
Her solution? A choice: either I get demoted to Liam's personal assistant, mentoring him and taking full responsibility for his incompetence, or I clean out my desk and move out of our shared apartment.
I signed my resignation, printing it from her own printer, and slid it onto her desk. "I choose option two," I said, handing back her apartment key. "We're done."
Olivia, stunned, ripped up my resignation, screaming that I was fired. As I walked out, Liam, emboldened, pointed and yelled that everything was my fault, that I had sabotaged the company. I just kept walking. His Mistake, Her Liberation
Romance My husband, Michael Miller, was cheating on me. I knew it like a storm on the horizon; the air between us had grown cold and quiet for months.
Tonight, on my birthday, I found him at a rooftop bar with his ex-girlfriend, Brittany Blake, a social media influencer he' d long desired. They looked like a perfect couple, and his words, "Sarah? Oh, she's probably at home. You know how she is. A little boring. A little...needy," cut through me like a knife.
Public humiliation felt like a physical blow. Hours later, in agonizing pain from a miscarriage, Michael, smelling of Brittany' s perfume, abandoned me in a pouring rain to rush to her side. He believed her fake emergency, leaving me, his bleeding, pregnant wife, alone on a dark street, just blocks from the hospital. His casual cruelty was staggering. "You didn't fall. You were pushed. And you deserved it. You tried to attack Brittany."
When I finally uttered the words "I'm pregnant," he sneered, "You're lying. You're making it up to manipulate me." The pure, unadulterated selfishness of it was staggering.
Then, at the hospital, as I mourned our lost child, he asked me to make soup for Brittany. I understood everything. He saw me as disposable, a placeholder. It was then, looking at the beating heart I had saved, that I declared, "I want a divorce." His Loss, Her Lasting Love
Romance Six years. An engagement ring on my finger. A future designed together, just like the buildings we drafted. All of it shattered when Mark, my fiancé and professional partner, coldly declared, "It's not working, Ava. I'm with Chloe now."
My world crumbled further as Mark and his new, younger intern, Chloe, began a calculated campaign to erase my contributions at work, culminating in Chloe taking credit for my projects and Mark accusing me of mental instability to sideline me professionally.
The betrayal escalated when, after I tried to confront Chloe about my vandalized portfolio and missing belongings-acts I knew she committed-Mark brazenly defended her, painting me as the aggressor. "You' ve gone from pathetic to dangerous," he sneered, publicly suspending me and demanding I leave the premises.
Shoved into a dark storage closet by security, alone and overwhelmed, I overheard Mark' s contemptuous voice: "She's faking it. She's just looking for sympathy. Leave her there. It's what she deserves." Then Chloe appeared, her face close to mine, venomously whispering, "You should have just stayed broken. He was mine. This job was mine. You had your turn." She pressed down hard on the bruise Mark had left on my arm, a chilling, triumphant smile on her face.
Just as I thought I couldn' t bear another moment, a new voice cut through the air outside, loud and utterly unfamiliar: "I'm looking for Ava Miller. Her fiancé sent me to pick her up. Where is she?" Heartbreak and Hidden Art
Young Adult My grandmother, Eleanor Vance, a woman who curated lives as meticulously as her art collection, had decided my future: marriage to the influential gallery owner, Daniel.
My dream, however, was to attend the prestigious Blackwood Art Academy, a dream she' d promised to fund-on the condition of this union.
But then, my cousin Olivia, ever the delicate flower, executed a theatrical faint at the dinner table, perfectly timed with the announcement of my tuition.
She claimed a rare heart condition, and my grandmother, blind to the obvious manipulation, diverted my entire academy fund to Olivia' s supposed treatment, even suggesting I become her "assistant."
The injustice burned, the audacity of Daniel-my supposed fiancé-proposing I become his mistress after he secured the Vance fortune through Olivia, was breathtaking.
Was my art, my entire future, to be sacrificed for a transparent charade?
Just as I believed all hope was lost, a mysterious letter arrived: a full, anonymous scholarship to Blackwood, the exact academy I had been barred from, exposing Olivia' s deceit in front of the city' s elite. The Wife Who Returned
Modern My first life ended in a sterile hospital room, watching my own sister, Jessica, and husband, Leo, gloat over my dying body.
"You and your kid were just in my way," Jessica whispered, her words a venomous hiss right before the heart monitor flatlined.
I gasped, ripping back into consciousness, but this time Leo was beaming, telling me we were pregnant, surrounded by the familiar scent of his cologne.
It was the very day my perfect life had first begun its slow, agonizing crumble into a nightmare, unknowingly orchestrated by the two people closest to me.
How could the man I loved and my own sister conspire to destroy me, to silence me and my unborn child so coldly?
But this time, I wasn't just back; I was back to rewrite the ending, with every betrayer poised to walk straight into the traps I'd already set. The Widow's Vengeance: A Second Chance
Modern The funeral was a grand affair, fitting for a hero. My husband, Michael, a decorated NYPD detective, was killed in the line of duty, they said. I stood by the open casket, three-year-old Leo clutching my hand, expected to be a shattered, grieving widow.
But I felt absolutely nothing.
Because the man in that casket wasn't Michael. It was his identical twin, Mark. And the man openly sobbing beside my mother-in-law, the one they called "Mark," was my husband, Michael.
I knew this because I' d lived this nightmare once before. In my first life, I' d exposed his lie. His response? He had me committed, claiming my grief drove me mad. From a barred window, I watched him marry his high school sweetheart, Ashley. That night, he gave our son, Leo, 'sleeping medication.' A week later, Leo never woke up. The loss of everything-my child, my freedom, my entire life-was too much. I ended it, regretting only not calling my kind college friend, David.
Then, I woke up.
I was back, standing before the casket, Leo' s warm hand in mine. I remembered Michael' s chilling words to his mother: "Chloe is strong. She'll manage. I'll take Mark's place." He thought I' d quietly raise our son while he lived happily ever after.
He was terribly wrong.
This time, I wouldn't be strong for him. I would play his grieving widow. And I would burn his entire world to ashes. The Chill of Betrayal
Horror My daughter, Chloe, had just won the National Science Medal.
I swelled with pride, our family's future seemingly shining bright.
But my wife, Victoria, saw only betrayal.
Her eyes, cold as stone, fixed on Chloe's medal, accusing her of ruining her cousin's life.
In a fit of twisted rage, Victoria locked Chloe, claustrophobic and terrified, in our freezing wine cellar, turning down the thermostat to Arctic levels.
Then, she had me dragged and sealed inside a blasting steam room, forcing me to watch through the glass as my brilliant daughter gasped for her last breaths, turning blue from cold and panic.
My desperate pleas for help echoed uselessly.
Every call was sabotaged, every rescue attempt blocked by Victoria's ruthless power and influence.
My heart screamed.
How could a mother do this?
How could my own wife become such a monster, deliberately torturing her daughter to death, leaving me helpless?
The sheer injustice was a searing blaze hotter than the steam engulfing me.
Yet, even as my world crumbled, a flicker of defiance ignited.
Though Chloe was lost, her grandpa, the family patriarch, stripped Victoria of everything and bequeathed his entire empire to me.
Now, fueled by grief and a burning need for justice, I, the once-powerless father, rise to forge a new legacy from the ashes of our shattered family, ensuring no one ever forgets Chloe's name, or what was done to her.
Victoria herself met a grim, solitary end. Ava's Endgame
Modern The applause roared like the ocean, but my world felt silent.
On stage, my twin sister, Stella, was smiling, delivering the salutatorian address at Northwood University.
She was using my name, Ava Davenport.
But this wasn't her life.
It was mine.
I knew because I' d lived this moment before, watching from a dark room, right before the police arrested me for a murder I didn' t commit.
This time, I was here, walking down the aisle towards her.
The murmurs started, questions of two identical girls.
Dean Harrison demanded to know who I was.
"I'm Ava Davenport," I stated, clear and steady, pointing at the impostor.
Chaos erupted as my biological parents, the Davenports, stepped forward.
They embraced Stella, claiming she was their daughter, and called me a disturbed impostor.
Stella produced pristine ID with her face, bearing my name.
My mother then revealed the "definitive proof" : a star-shaped birthmark on Stella' s left wrist.
Ethan, the high school quarterback, vouched for Stella, his words echoing my conviction in a past life.
My foster parents, brought by the Davenports, labeled me a "pathological liar" obsessed with my "real family."
Security guards advanced.
The weight of their orchestrated lies was crushing, turning the crowd' s whispers into a deafening judgment.
They saw a crazy stalker, a criminal.
Every detail was identical to my previous nightmare, a life where I endured and lost everything.
But this time, my heart wasn't racing.
It was cold, heavy, and ready.
"Just one more piece of evidence," I declared, calm and collected, reaching for my phone. You might like
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. 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. 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. 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.
After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." 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. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. The 100-Point Divorce Plan
Valeria For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure. 
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