Prince Of Hell
5 Published Stories
Prince Of Hell 's Books and Stories
His Unwanted Existence
Billionaires He despises me...
From head to toe...
Despite his incredibly handsome face, his unusual sharp tongue speaks volumes.
The perfect shape of his body screams that I'm unfit for him.
His red and thin lips only know how to utter, "stay away!"
In his deep eyes symbolizing strictness, all my flaws and mistakes are reflected.
Considered very intelligent, but to me, he's a handsome fool! Because he dislikes me, pushes me away, mocks me, avoids me, and sometimes shouts at me.
He sees me as a person with a contagious disease. My stay in their happy home is like a colossal and devastating collapse of his world.
He is Lucas Eion Jimenez, and I am Cara Isabelle Mendez—this is my story and my unwanted existence. Possessive Womanizer Husband
Billionaires "Vincent, Mama is looking for you. Aren't you going home?" Athan asked the twins. I faced Ethan, who was staring at the girl next to him at the bar.
"Nope. I'm busy," he said absentmindedly. I just shook my head. Ethan remained focused on the girl's thigh beside him.
Damn playboy.
"Ah, okay. I'm leaving then. Text Mama, okay?" Athan bid farewell. Without a word, he walked away, leaving me dumbfounded, watching him go.
"You like my bro?" Ethan teased. I faced him before taking another sip.
"Like is for kids, Ethan," I rolled my eyes. Shortly after, a tray of shot glasses arrived. It was placed in front of us. He smiled at me before locking eyes.
"Oh, then love?" he chuckled. I took a shot glass before shaking my head again.
I rolled my eyes. "Like, duh! Yuck, you believe in that?!"
"Hell, no. Of course not," he replied. I glanced at him before nodding.
"At least we have something in common," I said, taking another shot. He followed suit.
"Really, I thought girls like you believe in fairy tales. Like Mr. Right," he teased, barely holding back laughter. I choked on my sixth glass before shaking my head.
"You say that again, and I swear, I will make you shut up," I said in irritation. Ethan's thoughts about fairy tales and Mr. Right disgusted me. Did I look like a naive twelve-year-old girl?
"Oh, you can't make me shut up, baby," he arrogantly replied, moving his face closer. I inched mine towards him too.
"Wanna bet?" I challenged. His lips quirked up, mischief gleaming in his green eyes. He stood up and approached me.
"Sure. If I win, you'll stay at my pad tonight," he confidently said. I resisted the urge to blush at his words, meeting his gaze.
"And?"
"And I will rock your world, babe." 'The Billionaire's Stolen Heritage
Billionaires "Boss, she's here."
The leader of the long-lost PSG turns out to be an English-speaking grasshopper! That's probably why he didn't acknowledge her earlier, because he couldn't understand her.
The man with his back turned slightly nodded in recognition. After that, they were left alone in that spacious room.
Hannah smirked, knowing she was in trouble with this cocky Boss of the gangsters. It was a big mistake to untie her hands. Even though this Boss was towering and broad-shouldered, he wouldn't stand a chance if they were to wrestle. Yes, she'd hit him repeatedly until he coughed up coins. The audacity of dragging her in front of his people! No one could do that to her!
"So, you're the Boss, face me then! What do you want from me?!" she yelled fearlessly, even though his henchmen were just outside.
The man didn't respond.
This only infuriated her more.
"You're so arrogant! I told you to face me!"
The man placed the red-wine-filled glass he was holding onto the side table nearby. She was getting annoyed because he seemed indifferent to what she was saying. After displaying that power in front of her, he acted like he wanted her to kneel just for a bit of attention? Of all things she disliked, it was people like him—arrogant and full of self-importance just because they were rich!
"If you think I'm scared of you because of the number of your henchmen outside, you're wrong! If you don't want to get hurt, release me now!"
No answer. Damn it. Did it have to be in Spanish?
"When someone talks to you, you face them, okay? Are you an alien? Can't you understand english? Do you want me to kick you??"
She noticed his hands clenching, probably irritated by what she said. He slowly turned towards her.
Her jaw dropped literally.
Her eyes widened.
She blinked ten times.
Sweat started forming on her forehead even though the room was cool.
Those intelligent brows...
Those firm and arrogant lips...
And the icy cold stare...
Is this for real? It's like he was ripped from the pages of the Prince of Hell magazine and brought to life before her, Prince of Hell #2 in flesh and breathing. Goodness gracious! Not just her jaw, even her heart, liver, and kidneys fell for him! Her whole system went into a riot, because the man she'd desired for a long time was right in front of her now! Epitome Of Perfection
Romance I shook my head before looking at myself through the mirror again. I just did a little touch-up and decided to go out again. It would be embarrassing if I kept Damian waiting there. He seems like a nice guy. We've only exchanged a few words, but I immediately sense his goodness. He doesn't seem like a man who judges a woman solely by her appearance. I hope we'll get along.
A smile appeared on my lips as I left the powder room. Even from a distance, I could see our vacant table. The food we ordered was already there. But Damian was nowhere in sight. Where could he be? Maybe he's in the restroom?
When I reached the table, I sat down. I scanned my vegetable salad and grimaced. It doesn't look appetizing. Damian's burger looks much better.
But minutes had already passed, and there was no sign of Damian in front of me. I was starting to feel a pang in my heart for an unknown reason. I looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but it didn't happen. The waiter who served us earlier accidentally passed by my side.
"Excuse me!"
He turned to look at me, approaching with questioning eyes. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"My c-companion earlier, d-did you see him?"
He took a moment to think, as if trying to recall. With every passing second of his contemplation, my heart pounded even harder.
"Oh! Yes, Ma'am. I saw him leave earlier. He seemed to be in a hurry. He's the handsome one, right?"
I nodded. "Did he say anything or leave any instructions?"
I didn't pay much attention to what the waiter was saying when my phone rang again. From the illuminated screen, I saw a message from Damian that shattered my heart into pieces.
Damian:
I'm sorry, Sandra. It's nice to meet you, but I don't think we'll work out. Eat the burger I ordered, instead. It's for you. Don't worry, your bill's already taken care of. Take care." You might like
I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes
Annypen Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace.
But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge.
A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart.
Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn.
But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left?
A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again?
She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.
The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle
C.D I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me.
Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years.
The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought.
I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction.
With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun. Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson
Waldo Friesinger I stood at the edge of the ballroom, a black blot on my husband’s perfect canvas. While Jensen Carlson stood under the crystal chandeliers as the master of his universe, the guests whispered that his "friend" Aubree was a much better match for him than I ever could be.
My stomach was twisting in sharp, jagged cramps from what I knew was acute appendicitis, but to the Carlson family, I wasn't a wife—I was a utility. My mother-in-law called me a "drill bit" and ordered me to drive Jensen home like a servant because his "optics" mattered more than my internal organs.
When I arrived, Jensen didn't ask why I was shaking; he just snapped that my black coat was "depressing" and told me to stop "fidgeting" with my medication. He spent the night whispering to Aubree, then came home and fed my divorce papers into a shredder, mocking me for thinking I could survive a week without the Carlson name. The next day, he humiliated me in front of my entire department, accusing me of flirting with staff just as I was about to collapse from the pain.
I had given up my PhD for this man and secretly written the code that built his billion-dollar empire, yet he viewed me as nothing more than a "depreciating asset." Even as I lay shivering on the hardwood floor because his mother locked the guest rooms to force me into his bed, he only sneered, asking if he was "that repulsive" when the pain made me vomit.
"If you're not in the car by seven, I'll cut off your grandfather's medical funding."
That was the final thread. I didn't go to the gala. Instead, I reclaimed my original patents, wiped my server access, and met him on the curb with a cardboard box and a resignation letter.
"I'm not your wife anymore, Jensen. And I'm not your employee."
As my Uber pulled away, leaving him clutching a revoked patent and a divorce petition, I realized I wasn't losing everything—I was finally starting to breathe. Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father
Temple Madison I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires.
Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world.
My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets.
I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her.
The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money.
I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table.
"Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead." Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye
Cait I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant.
But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over.
"Sign it,"
He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise.
I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth.
"It's just cramps,"
I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could.
Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus.
Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down.
He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach. 
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