Sea Quest
13 Published Stories
Sea Quest's Books and Stories
The Sick Tycoon's Unwanted Substitute Bride
Billionaires I am the adopted daughter of the Dillard family, a medical student surviving entirely on a full scholarship.
But when their family business faced bankruptcy, my adoptive parents decided it was time for me to pay them back.
My sister refused to marry a rumored "dying freak" from the wealthy Terrell family, so they forced me to take her place.
When I refused, my adoptive father showed me a flawless, disgusting AI Deepfake video of myself.
"Sign the marriage contract, or this goes to your medical school."
To save my hard-earned future, I was shoved into a wedding dress and shipped off to the Terrell estate.
But my nightmare had just begun.
My new husband was the exact same dangerous, sick man I had accidentally injured while escaping an attacker the night before.
He didn't recognize me in the light, assuming I was just the greedy, gold-digging Dillard daughter.
He humiliated me, forcing me to sleep on the floor and clean shattered crystal with my bare hands.
As the sharp shards sliced into my skin and blood pooled in my gloves, I didn't shed a single tear.
He told me I had a three-month trial period as his wife before he threw me out.
I calmly wrapped a band-aid around my bleeding finger.
Three months is exactly what I need to find the original Deepfake file, ruin my adoptive family, and escape this monster for good. Out Of Your League: The Lethal Ex-Wife
Romance Erica Murphy had spent three years rotting in a freezing prison cell.
She thought she was serving time for a tragic accident, but the truth was much darker. Her husband, Colten, had framed her for his mistress's drunk hit-and-run, stolen her fortune, and left her to take the fall.
The day Erica was finally released, a speeding car intentionally slammed into her, shattering her spine. As she lay dying on the emergency room table, flatlining on the monitor, Colten and his pregnant mistress didn't come to save her. Instead, they tossed a stack of divorce papers onto her bloody hospital blanket. They wanted her to sign away her last remaining shares and take on thirty million dollars of toxic corporate debt.
"Sign it," Colten demanded coldly, looking at her crushed body with utter disgust. "Consider this the last bit of dignity I'm giving you."
The original Erica died right there, suffocating in despair and betrayal, unable to understand how the man she loved could be so monstrous.
But when the flatline on the monitor suddenly spiked and her eyes snapped open, the traumatized victim was gone.
Replaced by the cold, calculating consciousness of a future special ops commander. With microscopic nanobots rapidly fusing her shattered bones together, Erica picked up the pen, preparing to burn Colten's entire empire to ashes. From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen
Mafia I was the invisible daughter of the Hayes crime family, secretly painting portraits of Marcus, the Underboss. He was the man who had once protected me from the world, the man I loved from the shadows.
But he chose power over affection. To secure an alliance, he engaged Isabella.
Threatened by my existence, Isabella staged a fake miscarriage and framed me for destroying her heirloom wedding dress.
Marcus didn't ask for my side of the story. Blinded by rage over his "lost heir," he ordered his guards to drag me to the Ice Cellar—a freezing underground torture chamber used for traitors.
For days, I shivered in the absolute darkness, listening to the water drip, realizing the man I worshiped was actually my jailer. My father, protecting his own millions, let it happen.
In that cold, the girl who loved Marcus died.
When he finally released me, he expected me to be broken, obedient, and grateful for his mercy.
Instead, I burned every painting I had ever made of him. I packed a single bag and vanished into the night, escaping to a rugged ranch in Montana where no one knew my name.
Three years later, the truth about Isabella’s lies finally surfaced.
Marcus tracked me down. The King of New York fell to his knees in the dirt and cow manure of my new home, weeping, begging, and offering me the entire world to come back.
I looked down at the man who once owned my heart.
"You can't un-shatter a glass, Marcus," I said coldly. "I'm not coming home." The Betrayal That Broke Me
Romance The sterile hum of the hospital room grated on my nerves, a grim backdrop to my mother' s shallow breaths. I clung to her frail hand, praying each rise and fall of her chest wouldn't be her last.
But then my phone buzzed, pulling me into a different kind of nightmare: a photo of my wife, Sarah, draped provocatively over a junk car, sent by Jake, her "creative director."
My blood ran cold. Sarah, my Sarah, looking cheap and available, with Jake' s smug caption about "pushing boundaries."
Then came his direct message-another photo, Sarah' s eyes closed, her lipstick smeared, and Jake' s hand on her bare shoulder, possessive.
Below it, a single line that ripped through me: "Wish you were here? Don't worry, I'm taking good care of her."
Rage flooded my chest, hot and acidic. I called Sarah, my voice shaking, begging her to come, to say goodbye to my dying mother.
"I can't just leave, Alex," she snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. "This is Jake's big break. Everything is riding on this. I can't let him down."
"Your mother-in-law is dying," I whispered, disbelief choking me. "My mother is dying."
"And what do you want me to do about it?" she sneered. "Hold her hand? It's not like she ever liked me anyway. I' ll be there when it' s over. Just... handle it. I have to go."
The line went dead, her cruel words echoing in the suffocating quiet of the hospital corridor.
Moments later, the doctor delivered the news: she was gone. My world went silent.
Then, my phone buzzed again, an Instagram notification: "Sarah.Evans and Jake.Creates are now live."
I clicked it, a hollowed-out shell of a man, watching my wife celebrate with her lover while my mother's body grew cold in the room behind me.
They celebrated their "win" with champagne, Sarah screaming, "To us! To the win!" as Jake leaned in for a long, deep kiss, for the whole world to see.
Why? Why did she choose him? Why did she treat my mother with such contempt in her final hours?
The answer lay buried in years of betrayal, starting even before our wedding day. And now, I would unearth every dirty secret, even if it meant tearing my own life apart. My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote
Romance My life as Jocelyn Scott, wife to rising political star DA Ethan Scott, was a carefully crafted facade of domestic bliss, though I, a Senator' s daughter, had traded my ambition for his.
Then came the "accident." At the hospital, my husband, bandaged for dramatic effect, publicly declared amnesia, disowning me and our five-year-old son, Leo, and embracing his "first love," Sabrina, daughter of a powerful senator whose endorsement he craved.
Overnight, I became a "household staff member" in my own home, watching Sabrina wear my clothes and sleep in my bed. Leo, ostracized and bullied at school, came home with bruises and tear-filled eyes, while his father walked past him as if he were furniture. The final, crushing blow came when Ethan, watching our son drown in a fountain, joked, "Well, that'll get the sympathy vote." Leo died that night, and Ethan saw his death as pure political gold.
How could he? How could the man I loved, the father of my child, be such a monstrous, calculating machine? My son, my beautiful boy, reduced to a tragic headline, his resting place torn down for a hot tub.
In that hollowed-out instant, the last shred of my former self died. And in its place, a cold, hard resolve was born. I would fake my own death, resurrecting Jocelyn Fuller, and become the ghost that would haunt his rise, then meticulously orchestrate his devastating fall. Built From The Ashes
Modern My last memory of my first life was Ethan, standing over my grave.
He wasn't crying; he was smiling, that cruel twist of his lips I knew all too well.
"I forgive you, Chloe," he' d whispered, putting his arm around Jessica as they walked away with the son I' d raised, leaving me to rot.
They stripped me of everything: my apprenticeship, my dignity, decades of my life wasted raising their abandoned baby, "Lucky."
When I got sick, they threw me away like trash, only to reveal their truth: Lucky was their child, conceived in a twisted plan to steal my future.
I gasped, my eyes flying open, not in a coffin, but back in my 1995 body, young and alive, standing on a desolate back road.
Just feet away, a baby carrier, and the wailing infant inside.
In my past life, pity had washed over me, and I' d rushed to save him, unknowingly signing my own death warrant.
This time, as I looked at the carrier, I felt nothing but a cold, hard fury.
I turned my back and walked away, choosing a path of ice instead of kindness. When Good Backfires: A Student's Vengeance
Young Adult My college life as a pre-med student at a California state university was focused on rigorous studies, good grades, and upholding personal integrity, shared with my best friend Olivia and our free-spirited roommate, Jessica.
The facade of normalcy shattered when Jessica reappeared after a three-day disappearance, clutching my personal water bottle, her neck and arms covered in unsettling red welts, all while boasting about dodging crucial health screenings.
My attempt to responsibly report her for avoiding mandatory health checks spiraled disastrously: Jessica, fueled by rage, staged a dramatic escape and, aided by her ethically compromised academic advisor, Dr. Peterson, orchestrated a fake cyberbullying charge against me.
Suddenly, my reputation was on the line due to a formal disciplinary warning, making me the campus pariah.
How could doing the right thing backfire so spectacularly, leaving me accused and shamed, while actual recklessness went unchecked?
The injustice was a bitter pill, confirming my deepest suspicions about Jessica's manipulative nature and the disturbing, illicit alliance she clearly shared with Dr. Peterson.
But instead of breaking me, this unfair attack ignited a cold fury, transforming my disgust into a calculated resolve: I would expose their corrupt web, even if it meant playing their game, starting with a discreet "accident" in Dr. Peterson's office. Her Second Life, His Last
Romance My sister Eleanor was set to marry Marcus Thorne, a powerful man whose family held immense sway.
It was a pre-arranged union, heralded as the cornerstone of a grand alliance between the Harrisons and the Thornes.
But my world shattered when I uncovered the horrifying truth: Marcus had orchestrated Eleanor's death, masking it as a "sudden illness."
Before I could expose his monstrous secret, a killer's hands clasped my throat.
The suffocating scent of expensive oud cologne filled my lungs as my vision faded.
My first life ended right there, in my father's study-a place of power that became my tomb.
Every attempt to reveal the truth, every desperate plea, was brutally silenced.
The injustice was a burning fire within me.
How could his heinous crimes go unpunished?
The phantom ache of that chokehold, indelibly linked to the memory of that rich, woody scent, fueled an insatiable fury.
I died knowing the monster would walk free.
But then, I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my silk sheets, sunlight streaming into my room.
It was Eleanor's engagement day once more.
This wasn't a nightmare; it was a resurrection.
This was my second chance.
I knew what I had to do: I would marry Marcus Thorne myself, infiltrating his inner circle to save Eleanor and orchestrate his ultimate downfall.
This wasn't just survival; it was war. Once Broken, Now Free
Modern My 21st birthday wasn't just a day; it was the day.
The day Ava Harrison promised we' d meet at Austin's iconic Continental Club, the moment I believed she'd finally see me, the kid who poured his soul into songs just for her.
But as I arrived, guitar in hand, ready to begin our future, I heard her voice, clear and cold, telling her friend: "It' s a great way to finally shut down little Ethan. Still chasing that silly promise about The Continental Club."
Then came the public engagement, a diamond flashing as she announced, "Sweet, but a little too late." My world crumbled. Moments later, a stage light crashed. I was severely injured, but Ava, my supposed future, didn't stay. She left me, bruised and broken, for her new fiancé, Julian, sending a single, chilling text: "#EngagedLife."
How could the girl I worshipped, the one I wrote a decade of music for, be so utterly cruel? So dismissive of my love, my pain? The betrayal burned deeper than any physical wound.
I smashed my guitar. Blocked her. And packed my bags for Nashville. This wasn't just over; it was a detonation. I swore I' d turn that agonizing betrayal into music so powerful, it would become her inescapable shadow. This wasn't the end of me; it was the birth of something far more formidable. The Ninety-Nine Betrayals
Romance The world went gray after the crash that took my parents, leaving their green tech company on the brink. Then my dazzling wife, Izzy, appeared like a savior, her old Texas oil money propping us up. She was my rock, my biggest cheerleader through ninety-eight failed prototypes, always assuring me the ninety-ninth, UrbanFlow, would be "the one." I loved and trusted her completely.
Until I overheard her chilling confession. She wasn't my supporter; she was a saboteur. She'd orchestrated every single one of my "failures," systematically leaking my core algorithms and business plans to her old flame, Caleb. My IP was the foundation of his booming tech empire. Our marriage? A cold, calculated "strategic" move to keep me coding, dependent, and utterly blind.
The woman I adored, my "Izzy," was a venomous lie. Every affectionate word, every comforting touch, twisted into a cruel mockery of love. My life was a meticulously constructed deception, my genius hijacked, my parents' legacy exploited. Nausea churned in my gut, quickly replaced by a simmering, icy rage. She believed I was a naive fool, that I had nothing without her.
She was about to discover just how wrong she was. My heart ached with betrayal, but my mind sharpened with unwavering resolve. I would not just reclaim my work; I would unleash a reckoning so precise, so public, that they would pay for every single lie. This was no longer about a company—it was about justice. You might like
Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. 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!" Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" 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." Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!
Zhen Xiang For seventeen years, I was the crown jewel of the Kensington empire, the perfect daughter groomed for a royal future. Then, a cream-colored envelope landed in my lap, bearing a gold crest and a truth that turned my world into ice.
The DNA test result was a cold, hard zero percent-I wasn't a Kensington. Before the ink could even dry, my parents invited my replacement, a girl named Alleen, into the drawing room and treated me like a trespasser in my own home.
My mother, who once hosted galas in my honor, wouldn't even look me in the eye as she stroked Alleen's arm, whispering that she was finally "safe." My father handed me a one-million-dollar check-a mere tip for a billionaire-and told me to leave immediately to avoid tanking the company's stock price.
"You're a thief! You lived my life, you spent my money, and you don't get to keep the loot!" Alleen shrieked, trying to claw the designer jacket off my shoulders while my "parents" watched with clinical detachment.
I was dumped on a gritty sidewalk in Queens with nothing but three trunks and the address of a struggling laborer I was now supposed to call "Dad." I traded a marble mansion for a crumbling walk-up where the air smelled of exhaust and my new bedroom was a literal storage closet.
My biological family thought I was a broken princess, and the Kensingtons thought they had successfully erased me with a payoff and a non-disclosure agreement. They had no idea that while I was hauling trunks up four flights of stairs, my secret media empire was already preparing to move against them.
As I sat on a thin mattress in the dark, I opened my encrypted laptop and sent a single command that would cost my former father ten million dollars by breakfast. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves, but they forgot one thing: I'm the one who leads the pack. 
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