Sakakawea
14 Published Stories
Sakakawea's Books and Stories
Faked Death, Found Freedom
Modern At eight months pregnant, I discovered my husband Holden' s secret living trust. The password wasn't our anniversary, but the birthday of his young protégée, Anika.
His entire fortune wasn't for me or our unborn child. It was all for her.
When I confronted him, the truth was a death sentence. He called me a "vessel," a surrogate to carry an heir for Anika, who was too fragile to bear a child herself.
"She will raise him," he said, his eyes cold.
Then I found the recordings. Once our son was born, I was to be eliminated in a "tragic accident." My seven-year marriage was a lie, a transaction to produce an heir.
They wanted me dead and my baby stolen.
So I gave them one of their wishes. I faked my own death, burned my old life to the ground, and disappeared with my son. Five Years, One Devastating Lie
Romance My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage.
Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer.
An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss.
They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them?
The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind?
I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately." From Jilted Bride To Ruthless CEO
Modern I was Jocelyn Cruz, heiress to a billion-dollar empire, and I was supposed to marry my childhood sweetheart, Jake. My father had groomed him to be my king, and our life was a storybook romance.
But just before my 25th birthday gala, I saw him kissing Djuna-the fragile orphan my father took in, the woman I treated like a sister.
Their betrayal ran deeper than I could imagine. They drugged me to cause a riding accident, then gaslit me to make me think I was losing my mind. At a public auction, Jake froze my accounts and bought a family heirloom I cherished, only to gift it to her in front of everyone, leaving me broken and humiliated.
He wanted to shatter me, to turn me into a mindless puppet he could control.
So when he played a secret video of me crying for him at my own birthday party, I didn't break. Instead, I smiled. Because I had my own recordings, and I was about to show everyone the vipers he and his "true love" really were. His Cruelty, Her Rebirth
Romance I died once, charred by the flames that consumed me in a house set ablaze by the man who vowed to destroy me. On his 23rd birthday, I was reborn back to a day they called the "blind pick," where 20 women vied for the chance to become Ethan Thompson' s wife.
In my past life, I drew the red card, believing it a fairytale beginning, only for Ethan to blame me when his true love, Scarlett, died in a car accident he barely remembered. He never believed me, never listened, his hatred burning hotter than any love we once shared.
He dragged me into our home, his eyes filled with terrifying darkness. "You took her from me," he whispered, tightening his hands around my throat. "Now I'll take everything from you." He beat me, doused the room in gasoline, and watched with twisted satisfaction as I burned, branded a murderer and unloved.
Reborn, I found Scarlett, the true manipulator, still alive, ready to claim Ethan' s love.
I avoided the red card that day, trying to escape a cursed fate Ethan, still the monster, forced me on my knees, made me watch him brutally murder my beloved dog, Sunny, and then cooked it for me to eat. He coerced me into donating my kidney to Scarlett, claiming I owed her, all while Scarlett and her mother, Maria, gloated about their deception, admitting they engineered every twisted event after my original death.
Why did they do this? How could Ethan be so blind, so cruel, after I saved his life?
But this time, I wouldn't be a victim. I signed the organ donation papers, but my escape was already in motion, orchestrated by my family and a forgotten friend. Died Alone, My Spirit Watches
Romance "We'll release one woman. Your choice, Mr. Shannon."
Facing the kidnappers, my husband didn't hesitate. He pointed at his sobbing high school sweetheart, Flora.
"Release Flora," he commanded, his voice steady. "She's fragile. Adrianne is tough enough to handle this."
I tried to tell him I was bleeding, that I was pregnant with our first child, but he pushed me toward the knife without a backward glance.
"Don't be dramatic, Adrianne," were his last words to me.
I died alone in that cold, dark basement.
But my soul didn't leave. I hovered invisibly, watching as my husband ignored calls from my phone for two days.
He told his friends I was just "playing games" to punish him for saving Flora. He didn't know those calls were from my killers, laughing at his stupidity while his wife lay dead.
It wasn't until my brother dragged him to the morgue and ripped the sheet off my body that his arrogance finally shattered.
"She was carrying your child, you idiot!"
Staring at my pale, lifeless face, the crisis manager who thought he could fix everything fell to his knees, a broken man.
But tears won't bring me back.
And now, he has to pay. Betrayed Bride, Reborn Architect
Romance My masterpiece, "Greenhaven," was about to change the world.
Five years of my life, my soul, poured into sustainable architecture, culminating tonight in a grand unveiling.
I scanned the ballroom for David, my fiancé, my partner in work and life.
We were a team, meant to marry after this launch.
But he was distant, cloaked in late-night meetings, telling me to trust him.
Then I saw him on stage, not with me, but with Victoria Hayes, my ruthless rival, her arm possessively around his waist.
The CEO announced "Elysian Fields," a project backed by David Thompson and Victoria Hayes.
My designs flashed on screen, every detail mine, but my name was nowhere.
The applause was thunderous.
David leaned into the microphone, his smile sickeningly bright.
"Victoria has not only been my partner in business but has become the partner of my heart. We're engaged."
Cameras flashed, capturing their faces, the thieves who stole my life's work and my future.
My phone vibrated: a text from my boss.
"Don't come to the office tomorrow. You're done. We can't be associated with this kind of scandal."
Blacklisted, ruined.
In one moment, I lost my project, my fiancé, my career.
My world, built around David, crumbled.
I stumbled out into the night, nowhere to go.
My apartment was our apartment; my friends our friends.
I had one last, desperate hope: my estranged uncle Robert.
He was a disgraced civil engineer, a recluse I hadn't spoken to in a decade.
"Sarah?" he answered, his voice raspy.
"Uncle Robert," I choked, "I need help. I have nowhere else to go."
A long pause, then: "I have a car coming for you. It will be there in twenty minutes. It will bring you to me."
He hung up.
Sliding down the cold brick wall, I understood.
I was leaving my old life behind, a lie.
I was running toward a future I couldn't imagine, a future that began with a man I barely knew.
My only family left.
But the betrayal didn't stop there.
Weeks later, David arrived at my uncle's, demanding I sign away my design rights, threatening to sue me for breach of partnership.
Victoria emerged, displaying expertly faked emails framing me for industrial espionage.
"Sign the papers, Sarah," Victoria hissed. "Or this gets leaked to every news outlet and the district attorney. Industrial espionage carries a hefty prison sentence."
Just when I thought I was utterly trapped, two large men grabbed me.
"Take her. We'll hold her somewhere she can have time to reconsider her position."
I was thrown into a car, plunged into darkness.
They weren't just destroying my career; they were taking my freedom.
The cold isolation in their private facility was designed to break me, but it only fueled my rage.
Victoria appeared, demanding I sign a confession, cementing their false narrative.
"No," I defied.
The guard tasered me.
But the real breaking point came when Victoria, with chilling calm, slammed a heavy book onto my hand, twisting my fingers at unnatural angles.
"Architects are nothing without their hands," she sneered.
My scream echoed the agony and a new, burning hatred.
They were celebrating their wedding in my designed atrium in two days, while I was imprisoned, crippled.
They aimed to destroy me, but they had only forged me into something stronger.
This was no longer about a career or a broken heart.
This was about justice.
This was war. The Marriage Built on Lies
Young Adult The day my parents told me I was transferring schools, my world ended for the first time.
"Leo is a bad influence. A musician with no future, and he's too old for you," my mother stated, her lips a thin, unforgiving line.
Two weeks later, I was adrift in the sterile halls of Northgate Prep, an art portfolio heavy in my hand, feeling like a ghost.
Then I met Ethan.
He seemed to light up the gray afternoon, a kind, talented musician who understood my dreams of New York and the Ashton Conservatory.
Our pact to conquer the city together felt like a promise of a masterpiece.
But the night before our audition, he handed me a "herbal supplement" that made the world tilt.
I remember his whispered "I'm sorry, Chloe" just before he left me disoriented and helpless in a dark, grimy alley.
I woke up to a pounding head, a filthy, torn dress, and a missed audition.
A video of me, vulnerable and incoherent in that alley, had gone viral.
My mother disowned me, her rage shaking the very foundations of my life.
My quiet father, broken, showed me a text from an unknown number: "How does it feel to see your daughter's future ruined?"
Five years passed in a haze of medication and therapists, the vibrant artist replaced by a frightened woman.
I was diagnosed with severe anxiety, depression, and PTSD-a living ghost of the girl I once was.
Why me? What had really happened that night?
Then, Ethan reappeared. He found me in my squalid apartment, filled with profound sadness, and took me in, promising to fix everything.
He cared for me, he loved me, or so I thought, as he meticulously rebuilt the gilded cage around my shattered life. Divorce, Design, and True Freedom
Romance The scent of expensive perfume and cheap ambition hung heavy in our penthouse, a silent testament to David' s reign.
He paraded aspiring influencers through our home like trophies, their bright young faces a constant reminder of the life he flaunted.
I, Sarah Miller, the successful interior designer, was merely an accessory, observing from the periphery as he draped his arm around a blonde named Tiffany, asking me to help her pick a profile theme color.
My reflection in the glass showed a stillness, a silent defiance to his polished, empty smile.
Later, after the glitter and champagne spills were gone, he cornered me, not with affection, but with business: "We need to be more aggressive with fertility treatments. I' ve scheduled you a new consultation for Monday."
Three years of invasive tests, painful injections, and crushing disappointment, now weaponized against me.
Then came the ultimate blow: he wanted to use a surrogate, one of them, for his legacy, expecting me to manage it.
The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest as he pulled me into a hollow embrace, whispering, "You' re the only one I love, Sarah."
The very next day, a new girl, Emily, was paraded through the penthouse, her wide, innocent eyes mocking my reality.
He kissed her, deeply, passionately, right in front of me, then looked straight into my eyes before turning back to her with a whisper that made her giggle.
That night, sitting in my design studio, the last piece of this life that was truly mine, I drew a line.
A final, absolute line that would redefine everything. Betrayed Heart, Shattered Life
Modern My life, once a vibrant canvas of architectural dreams, had become a masterpiece of quiet devotion to my husband, David, and our son, Ethan.
Then came Victoria Chase, David' s sleek, ambitious business partner, and her "Aura" brand-a wellness empire built on hollow promises.
Suddenly, my gifted ten-year-old, Ethan, whose art was his very soul, was deemed a "liability," his vibrant oil-and-turpentine world clashing with Victoria' s sterile, minimalist vision.
David, blinded by ambition and Victoria' s deceptive charm, whisked Ethan away to a mysterious "Pathways Institute" – a place Victoria touted as "creative re-education" but which sent a chill down my spine.
"They help children channel their talents into more constructive, marketable, and socially acceptable forms," he' d said, a chilling echo of parental consent disguising something far more sinister.
My desperate pleas, my warnings of psychological damage, were met with David' s contempt: "You, with your failed architecture career and your outdated, sentimental ideas about 'art' … You don' t get a vote."
Just two weeks later, the phone call came, flat and devoid of emotion: "Ma'am, there's been an incident. He's gone. A massive cerebral hemorrhage."
While David and Victoria celebrated their launch on a lavish yacht, popping champagne and basking in their "perfect success," my brilliant, hopeful boy lay in a cold morgue.
My world shattered, then coalesced into a razor-sharp fury as I called David, his party' s laughter a grotesque backdrop to my guttural announcement: "Ethan is dead. While you were popping champagne with your mistress."
I declared total war upon his very existence: "This is not just me leaving you, David. This is me erasing you… You have no son. You have nothing. You lost it all today. I hope your brand was worth it."
The "Miller women," my grandmother used to say, "feel things deeper… When we are betrayed, the world feels it."
Now, the world would indeed feel the shattering of my heart, and the ancient knowing awakened within me, ready to reclaim what was mine and unleash the cosmic balance they had so carelessly broken. Roots of Our Love: A Quirky Romance
Fantasy I woke up from a three-month coma to a world that wasn' t mine.
Doctors called it a miracle, but my phone was a disaster zone: hundreds of texts, a fan page dedicated to me, and a cringe nickname: "Ethan' s Girl."
The only problem? I had no idea who Ethan was.
Apparently, while I was unconscious, someone-or something-had been living my life, turning me into the town's most obsessive fangirl to a golden boy I' d never met.
Before I could even process it, my best friend burst in, dragging me to a bonfire to sing a love song to Ethan, making me wear a ridiculous "Mrs. Golden Leaf" hoodie.
I immediately became the target of the entire town' s mockery, especially from Ethan, who expected my usual fawning adoration.
Worst of all, I soon discovered that the "stalker" was a lovesick tree spirit who had borrowed my body, ruined my reputation, and given a piece of her soul-her very life essence-to Ethan as a lucky charm.
My entire life had been upended, my name dragged through the mud, all because of a plant' s one-sided crush on an arrogant jock.
But I wasn't that girl anymore, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let a glorified potted plant and a narcissistic hockey player dictate my future.
I was going to get that charm back, reclaim my life, and burn every trace of "Ethan's Girl" to the ground. The Mechanic's Vengeance
Modern My father' s FDNY badge wasn't just a piece of metal; it was the last tangible piece of my hero, a sacred legacy I cherished above all else.
My socialite wife, Chloe, tossed it to her ex-boyfriend, Julian, like a cheap souvenir, igniting a cruel chain of events that would devastate our lives.
When our seven-year-old son, Leo, bravely tried to reclaim his grandfather' s stolen badge, Chloe punished him by sending him to a brutal "behavioral modification" camp in the desolate Utah wilderness.
Days later, I found my bright, sensitive boy in a sterile Utah hospital room, lying in a coma, his small body ravaged by severe dehydration and hypothermia, clinging to life after a horrific "reflection exercise."
As I sat by his bedside, paralyzed by terror and helplessness, my phone buzzed with a taunting text from Julian: a smug picture of him and Chloe, glowing with happiness, accompanied by the chilling words, "Chloe's pregnant. Our little family is starting. Time for you to move on, buddy."
My world shattered with a sickening crunch, replaced by a searing, all-consuming rage as I comprehended that my son was dying because of her unbelievable cruelty, yet she was celebrating a new life with the very man responsible for his torment.
How could the woman I married, the mother of my child, betray her own son so utterly, choosing a manipulative, parasitic ex over our child' s desperate fight for survival?
Yet, in that sterile, echoing hospital room, a cold, unwavering resolve took root deep within me; I didn't call Chloe, who was too busy basking in her new life, but instead dialed the one man powerful enough to dismantle their entire twisted world: my father-in-law.
This wasn't just about my son's desperate recovery or a bitter divorce anymore; this was about unleashing an unstoppable reckoning that would make them pay for every single ounce of pain they inflicted upon my innocent child. The Price of Her Obsession
Modern Ethan Cole, heir to a formidable dynasty, was hopelessly infatuated with Seraphina Vance. When a devastating explosion nearly claimed her life, he defied all odds, secretly risking his own to fund a clandestine rescue, even letting another man claim his heroic sacrifice.
But that man, his security chief Marcus Thorne, shamelessly twisted the truth, painting Ethan as her envious tormentor. Seraphina, vulnerable and blinded by grief, believed Marcus' s lies, cultivating a fierce love for him and an unyielding hatred for Ethan.
After Marcus' s supposed death (for which she blamed Ethan), Seraphina became "The Matriarch" of a shadowy Order, imprisoning and ruthlessly torturing him for two decades. She inflicted a lifetime of calculated physical and psychological torment, watching his very spirit crumble under her cruel "300 years of suffering," until her new favorite, Lucian, took sadistic pleasure in shattering his hands.
He unearthed records within the Order-a sacred "Book of Truths"-revealing Marcus' s complete treachery and his own self-sacrificing innocence. Yet, she dismissed it as another pathetic lie, her hatred for him unshakeable. How could one man endure such profound, undeserved torment, built entirely on a monstrous, self-serving deception?
Left for dead, his memory wiped, he started anew as Elian, building a peaceful life. But when Princess Seraphina, now seeking atonement, found him and proposed marriage, it tore open old wounds. Now, with a celestial second chance, he must re-enter his past and meticulously unravel the threads of his own tragic fate. The Wife's Hidden Fortune
Modern The phone rang near midnight, a jarring sound that sliced through the quiet of my small apartment, a familiar dread seizing me before I even picked up.
It was the hospital, informing me my brilliant, valedictorian son, Alex, had been in an accident while working a late-night delivery shift, ending the call with the words no parent should ever hear: "He didn't make it."
My world shattered, I rushed to City General, only to stumble upon a scene that made the grief even more unbearable: my seemingly frugal wife, Jessica, in a shimmering gown, showering a stranger's son with a luxury car and a downtown loft at a lavish hotel party.
The horrifying realization crashed over me: the "stranger's son," Jake, was the hit-and-run driver who killed Alex, and Jessica knew, choosing to protect him, the child of her old flame, over our own son.
At Alex's somber burial, as his small casket was lowered, Jessica abandoned us, rushing off because Jake had a "migraine," her tire crushing the simple flowers our neighbor laid at Alex's graveside.
My grief twisted into a cold, unyielding rage, the agony in my chest mirroring the gnawing pain in my gut, later diagnosed as terminal cancer, a life worn down by sacrifices she never needed to make.
How could the woman I loved, the partner I trusted for two decades, have maintained such a monstrous charade, building a fortune while we barely scraped by, all for another man and his son?
With nothing left but a few months to live, I walked away from the city, from the lies, but the story wasn't over for Jessica, whose own dark quest for atonement was just beginning. 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." 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 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!" 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." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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