Snootie
15 Published Stories
Snootie's Books and Stories
His Empire, My Vengeful Return
Romance My husband watched our newborn son die on the cold hospital floor and called it a "relief."
He threw a check for $100,000 at my feet, telling me to disappear so he could marry his mistress.
He thought I was just a poor nobody he could discard like trash.
I lay in a pool of blood, clutching my lifeless baby, while his mistress, Clarabelle, laughed and kicked me.
They had barred the doctors from entering, turning my delivery room into a torture chamber.
Kenton looked at the tiny, still body and sneered.
"He was just baggage, Kaylene. Now I can finally focus on my future with someone who has status."
He believed the lie I had maintained for eight years-that I was an orphan with nothing.
He had no idea that the "startup capital" he used to build his empire came from my trust fund.
Or that the VIP investor he was desperate to impress was actually my father.
Just as they turned to leave, the delivery room doors crashed open.
My father, billionaire Harold Mcneil, stepped in, his eyes burning with a terrifying fury as he saw his daughter broken and bleeding.
Clarabelle' s face went pale as she realized who he was.
I wiped my tears and stood up.
The grieving mother died with her son.
Now, only the heiress remains, and I will burn their world to ash. Pancakes for a Stranger's Love
Romance My husband vanished on our fifth anniversary, leaving me frantic with worry.
I thought something terrible had happened until a stranger named Jayda sent me a photo.
He wasn't missing; he was in a penthouse, flipping pancakes for her with a smile he hadn't shown me in years.
When I tracked them down, Bennett didn't apologize.
He shoved me away to protect his pregnant mistress, looking at me with pure disgust.
"You're a liability, Iris," he spat, cutting off my access to our bank accounts. "Stop being hysterical."
He laughed when I clutched my head in agony, claiming I was faking pain just to ruin his new happiness.
He didn't know my "headaches" weren't a plea for attention.
They were Stage IV Glioblastoma.
While he was buying her the diamond necklace I had always wanted, I was receiving a terminal diagnosis.
I looked at the man I sacrificed my entire career for and felt a cold, final resolve.
"Fine," I whispered, tossing the medical report in the trash where he wouldn't see it.
"Send the divorce papers. I'm done." Rejected By My Alpha, Claimed By My Crown
Werewolf My mate, Alpha Damien, was holding a sacred naming ceremony for his heir.
The only problem? He was celebrating a pup he had with Lyra, a rogue he brought into our pack. And I, his true mate, four months pregnant with his actual heir, was the only one not invited.
When I confronted her, she clawed her own arm, drew blood, and screamed that I had attacked her.
Damien saw her performance and didn't even look at me. He snarled, using his Alpha's Command to force me to leave, the power of our bond twisted into a weapon against me.
Later, she attacked me for real, making me fall. As blood bloomed on my dress, threatening our child's life, she tossed her own pup onto a rug and screamed that I had tried to kill him.
Damien burst in, saw me bleeding on the floor, and didn't hesitate. He scooped Lyra's screaming pup into his arms and sprinted away to find a healer, leaving me and his true heir to die.
But as I lay there, my mother's voice echoed in my mind through our own link. My family's escort was waiting for me just beyond the territory border.
He was about to find out that the Omega he threw away was actually the princess of the most powerful pack in the world. His Betrayal, My Billion-Dollar Rise
Romance My husband, Liam, a tech mogul, was supposed to be home for a quiet Christmas Eve, just us and our baby on the way.
Instead, I watched from the window as he stepped out of his car, not alone, but with Sarah Miller, a junior employee from his company. And she was pregnant, her belly as round as mine.
He walked in, pulled divorce papers from his briefcase, and flatly told me, "Sarah is pregnant. It' s my child." My mind reeled as he explained his plan: he would marry her temporarily to legitimize their child and protect his reputation, then divorce her and remarry me. He told me I was leaving with nothing. Sarah stood by, smirking, dismissing my child as a "complication."
My heart shattered. I realized the man I loved was shallow and selfish, valuing his reputation above all else, even his own child. Could I let my baby carry his name, his blood, his legacy of casual cruelty?
No. With a cold calm, I signed the papers, giving him the clean break he wanted. He thought I was broken and dependent, but he had no idea of my secret life as "Perla," the anonymous digital artist with a fortune he knew nothing about. I transferred my wealth, wiped my laptop, and walked out, leaving him and his lie behind, determined to protect my child from his darkness. His Penny-Pinching, My Power
Modern The searing pain from my C-section was nothing compared to the shock of my husband' s first words.
"Did the doctor give you the final bill? The C-section costs more. You need to cover it."
I had just brought our daughter, Lily, into the world, a difficult birth that required emergency surgery to save her life. Yet, for Tom, it was simply an "extra cost" for my body.
This was his idea of "AA parenting"-Active and Accountable, splitting every child-related expense down the middle. What I thought was a progressive vision of equality quickly morphed into a financial battlefield where every diaper, every ounce of formula, became an itemized debt.
When we moved into my parents' house for recovery, hoping for support, Tom saw only a "cost-saving opportunity." He ate their food, used their electricity, and never offered a dime, all while sending me spreadsheets for Lily' s pacifier and baby lotion.
He never changed a diaper. He never comforted his crying daughter. He just watched TV, claiming a "long day."
It became agonizingly clear that in his eyes, he was merely a "financial partner" in a project he was already losing interest in.
The final straw came when I overheard a neighbor revealing his true feelings: he' d wanted a boy, because it would be "simpler, cheaper in the long run."
His penny-pinching wasn' t about equality; it was about the supposed "lesser investment" of a daughter. So, when he and his mother publicly shamed me on social media, accusing me of mental instability, I didn't hold back. I posted screenshots of his vile texts, exposing his calculated cruelty to the entire neighborhood.
I was done being the silent victim. I was going to fight back, and I was going to win. The Price of His Deception
Modern The soft glow of three monitors was my world, lines of code and complex algorithms my language.
Tomorrow was the IPO, the culmination of years of tireless work building Nexus from the ground up with my live-in boyfriend, Mark Davis, CEO of ConnectCorp.
But then, the office door hissed open, revealing Chloe Miller, Mark' s new Head of Product and my old college rival.
Her voice, dripping with fake sweetness, announced, "The board and I have had a discussion. We've decided to let you go."
I blinked, the words echoing, "You're firing me? The day before the IPO?"
She sneered, calling me redundant, uncommitted, just a "coder."
Then, with a predatory smile, she whispered, "I'm going to be the First Lady of Tech... You were just a gold-digger who got lucky. Your time is up."
Rage surged as I reached for my phone to call Mark, but Chloe snatched it, answering and feigning distress.
"Mark? Oh, thank god," she sobbed into the phone, "It's Ava... she's going crazy. She's threatening me... I'm scared."
The crowd gathered, their judgmental eyes painting me as the unstable villain.
Mark stormed in, his handsome face contorted with fury, not at Chloe, but at me.
"What did you do to her?" he snarled, immediately comforting Chloe.
"She's lying," I pleaded, "She fired me."
"I heard the whole thing, Ava! You're harassing my Head of Product. I can't believe you."
Then, he slapped me.
The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the shock that cleared everything: the late-night meetings, Chloe's perfume, their triumphant glances.
"You're sleeping with her," I stated, not a question.
He didn't deny it, dismissing my years of dedication.
"You were just the help," he spat, "A glorified typist."
"A code monkey," Chloe added, snuggling into his side.
The final blow came when I demanded my share, only for Chloe to brandish a marriage certificate-hers and Mark's, dated three months ago.
"The one we have is a fake, Ava," Mark confessed, his voice devoid of emotion. "It was just a piece of paper to make you feel secure. It never meant anything."
My world shattered.
"You have no equity, Ava. You were an employee. And now, you're a fired employee."
He tossed me a grimy key, "As a severance package, you can have our first apartment. The one you loved so much with the leaky ceiling."
They wanted the core Nexus algorithms, the encryption keys, everything.
I pulled the small, black USB drive from my laptop.
Then, with all my strength, I threw it between them.
"You want it? Find it."
I walked away, leaving the wreckage of my old life behind, a spark of cold fury igniting a new resolve. Justice For Lily
Modern I sacrificed my promising career as an architect, becoming a devoted stay-at-home dad so my brilliant, charismatic wife, Nicole, could chase her political dreams.
Our daughter, Lily, was my world, the only pure thing left in our gilded life.
Then I discovered Nicole was cheating with her ambitious campaign intern.
I tried to handle it quietly, discreetly reassigning the intern to a remote, terrible posting.
But Nicole' s reaction was ice: she retaliated by locking our beloved six-year-old Lily on our yacht, right as a massive storm rolled in, blackmailing me for the intern' s location.
Despite my desperate pleas, she abandoned our daughter to find her lover.
I raced to the marina, but it was too late. Lily's faint "Daddy!" scream was swallowed by the violent waves as the yacht capsized, taking my daughter with it.
Three days later, they found her tiny body.
Yet, Nicole scoffed, rolled her eyes, and accused me of fabricating Lily's death to ruin her campaign.
When I brought Lily's cremation urn home, Nicole, with her lover by her side, laughed and slapped it to the floor, scattering my daughter's ashes. That moment something inside me snapped.
How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be so devoid of humanity?
How could she deny our daughter's death and shatter her remains?
The gentle man I was died on that polished floor.
But from the ashes of my despair rose a chilling resolve. Nicole had destroyed my life;
now, I would systematically dismantle hers.
I was no longer a victim. I was the weapon. Swapped at Birth: A Family's Betrayal
Horror My life in San Diego, as a successful architect married to my high-school sweetheart Liam, seemed picture-perfect.
But the arrival of our new live-in housekeeper, Brenda, shattered that façade. She relentlessly undermined me, criticizing my career, my home, even my choices, while my husband, Liam, inexplicably defended her every cruel word.
Her petty comments spiraled into outright sabotage, culminating in the destruction of my vital project blueprints and the invasion of my private space. But the true horror emerged when, after she brazenly desecrated my revered father-in-law' s military memorial, Liam, the man I loved, shockingly slapped me for confronting her.
With the sting of his hand on my face, a profound loneliness enveloped me. Why did Liam consistently choose this woman over me? Why did he strike me? Then, a black town car pulled up, and Liam' s mother, Eleanor, stepped out. Her reaction upon seeing Brenda wasn't anger, but a chilling whisper: "Brenda? Is that you?"
That whispered recognition ignited a terrifying suspicion. A hidden camera revealed the unthinkable: Liam wasn't Eleanor' s son, but Brenda' s, swapped at birth, and Eleanor' s real child was tragically murdered. Now, united with Eleanor, my grief transformed into an ice-cold fury. We would unleash a calculated, devastating revenge. Reborn to Save My Dad
Young Adult My Harvard acceptance letter felt like a golden ticket, a one-way out of this dead-end town.
That Friday night, after the football game, all I wanted was to help my dad close his auto shop.
But then I heard a muffled sob.
It was Jessica Miller, the head cheerleader, trapped by star quarterback Bryce Vanderbilt.
My dad taught me: "You see something wrong, you make it right."
So, I intervened.
That act of courage cost me everything.
Jessica pointed me out to the police: "He' s the one who attacked me."
My scholarship was rescinded for "moral turpitude."
My name was dragged through the mud.
The stress killed my father, the only man who believed me.
Months later, at a gas station, I confronted Jessica and Bryce.
He shoved me into traffic.
And then, nothing.
I woke up expecting hell, but instead, I was back in the high school parking lot.
The Friday night lights buzzed.
The Harvard letter was in my pocket.
And then I heard it again: Jessica's muffled cry.
The trauma of my first life crashed over me.
Last time, I sacrificed everything for a lie.
This time, I knew what to do.
I turned around, put my hands in my pockets, and walked away.
My father was alive right now.
And my only job was to keep him that way.
This time, justice would look very different. Reclaiming My Lost Sons
Billionaires My life was built on an American dream: a loving wife, Jessica, and our incredible 9-year-old son, Leo.
He was the center of my world.
Then, a brutal blow.
Jessica was cheating, and my friend revealed, "Leo isn't yours."
My wife confirmed it brazenly, smirking, naming a wealthy businessman as her lover and Leo's biological father.
My very existence fractured.
I sought solace from my mother, Sarah, my rock.
Instead, she demanded I stay married.
She bafflingly sided with Jessica, even giving her money for "debts" while denying my struggling startup a vital loan.
When we both fell ill, she coldly gave my medicine to Jessica, leaving me to suffer.
Her serene facade now hid a chilling calculation.
"Get out!" I screamed, renouncing her, and moved out, filing for divorce, utterly abandoned.
How could my own mother betray me so utterly?
Why was she protecting the woman who destroyed everything?
Was she mad, or was there a sinister plot behind her actions?
Each day plunged me deeper into suspicion, despair, and profound confusion.
Months later, a cryptic text from her: "Come to the festival. Now. You need to see this."
Amidst the crowd, she stood with a boy identical to Leo.
As my wife, holding our Leo, confronted her, my mother dropped the bombshell.
"This is Ethan," she announced, "your son."
"And so is Leo."
"They are your biological twin sons. Yours and Emily's."
My deceased first wife.
The unimaginable truth had finally begun to unfold. Too Late For Her Tears
Modern My career was stalling, but I thought I had love.
My wife, Cassie, was everything to me, even if it meant sacrificing my own ambitions.
But then, HR put me on administrative leave.
Why? Because I finally confronted her about David Miller, her "grieving" colleague, whose son, Sammy, was always conveniently sick.
Cassie twisted it, accusing me of "harassment," and suddenly, my job was on the line.
Yet, she kept prioritizing David, leaving me alone even when I begged her to talk.
My own neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, confirmed what my gut already knew: Cassie wasn't just supportive, she was unfaithful.
The final straw came when Cassie ditched our "last chance" date for another one of Sammy's "emergencies."
I followed her and saw them at the county fair, Sammy perfectly healthy, laughing, with David's arm around her, joking about me being a "placeholder."
The truth hit me like a physical blow: I wasn' t just betrayed; I was a pawn.
How could I have been so blind?
The woman I loved had systematically deceived me, used me merely as a stable background while pursuing an affair.
Every sacrifice, every quiet night, felt like a deliberate lie.
But I wasn't powerless.
I called General Armstrong, accepting a top-secret position.
Then, I set a trap.
I would make her sign her own divorce papers, right under her nose, finally reclaiming my life. Reborn Into His Regret
Romance My name is Sarah Miller, and I was on top of the world.
Graduating college, a prestigious journalism internship lined up, and madly in love with Ethan Hayes-the powerful, charming heir.
Life was perfect. A fairy tale, really.
Then, at my graduation party, Ethan dimmed the lights.
He projected intimate photos and videos of us onto a giant screen.
My world shattered.
His cruel smile gone, he announced it was all revenge.
My journalist father, he claimed, had ruined his first love, Olivia, with an exposé, leaving her in a vegetative state.
That night, my father died of a heart attack. My mother followed weeks later.
My internship vanished. I was ostracized.
And I was pregnant with Ethan' s child.
Five years later, my daughter Lily developed aggressive leukemia.
Desperate, I became Ethan' s personal assistant, enduring his and Olivia' s endless torture, even sexual exploitation, just to pay for Lily's treatments.
He even desecrated my father' s grave.
How could I have loved such a monster?
How could one man inflict such unending, calculated pain on an innocent family?
I was just a pawn in his twisted game of vengeance, paying for a 'sin' that wasn't even mine.
The humiliation, the despair, the sheer injustice felt suffocating.
With Lily dying, I entered a high-risk medical trial to fund her last hope, fully expecting to die.
And I did.
Then, I woke up.
It was the day before everything went wrong.
And so did Ethan. The Billionaire's Public Humiliation
Billionaires After two years off-grid on a top-secret government project, I was finally heading back to reclaim my multi-billion dollar aerospace firm, Aero Corp Dynamics. I drove my vintage Chevelle, a piece of art I' d restored myself.
But then, a brand-new Shelby GT500 started dangerously brake-checking me. It was the Shelby I' d authorized Brenda, my wife and acting CEO, to buy as a "company executive vehicle." The punk driving it, Kyle, was anything but. A minor tap from my classic car, and Kyle erupted, kicking my priceless fender and demanding fifty grand, boasting his "rich girl" would destroy me.
The police arrived, and the insurance adjuster quickly pointed out the Shelby was registered to AeroCorp, and Kyle's reckless behavior likely meant her insurance wouldn't cover it. That' s when my wife, Brenda, arrived, rushing to comfort "Ky, baby," barely glancing at me. She then tried to use my own AeroCorp security to have me removed from the scene.
My wife, the acting CEO, was having a public affair with a reckless kid, funneling company money into his lavish life, and now trying to kick me, the founder and owner, off my own property. How could she?
But just as her guards moved in, my true security team arrived, with a briefcase of undeniable proof that would expose every last one of her lies. This was no longer just a fender bender; it was a reckoning. Auctioning Ava: A Billion-Dollar Betrayal
Billionaires My husband, Ethan, the charming CEO of Hayes Innovations, and I were the picture-perfect couple at our anniversary gala.
I wanted a sapphire necklace for our milestone, a glimmer of hope for my struggling family art gallery.
But then Chloe Vance, Ethan’s young intern who always seemed to be by his side, started bidding against me, encouraged by his subtle chuckles.
The room watched as I spent five million dollars to win, a public humiliation masked as a playful game.
Months later, my family’s legacy was systematically crumbling, financial ruin orchestrated with surgical precision.
Ethan just offered platitudes, his eyes holding that same unreadable amusement.
Then came the clandestine auction notice, a venue filled with predatory energy.
There, on a stage, stood Ethan and Chloe, beaming.
A massive screen flickered to life, displaying my most intimate moments – 365 private photos and videos Ethan had taken throughout our marriage.
"My beautiful Ava," he used to say.
Now, my entire life was a public spectacle, being auctioned off for their amusement.
I used every last dime of my emergency fund, then liquidated all my personal assets, even old family jewelry.
But it wasn't enough.
With the crowd's cruel laughter echoing, the auctioneer declared my funds officially depleted.
Chloe, my husband’s protégé, then offered to pay the next bid, her sweet concern dripping with poison.
The abyss opened beneath me.
How could he, the man who vowed to cherish me, orchestrate such a public, cruel destruction?
Why was this intern, always by his side, so eager to participate in this calculated torment?
Was this his twisted revenge for a simple public slight, or something far deeper, a monster hidden beneath a charming facade?
I walked away from the jeering crowd, not to hide, but to make a single, desperate call: "Code Nightingale. I need The Circle. Now." The Day He Chose Her, I Chose Myself
Romance For three years, New York socialite Elara Vance relentlessly pursued ranch foreman Ethan Cole, culminating in her 999th heartbreaking attempt on his remote Wyoming ranch.
His brutal, final rejection shattered her, slamming shut any hope for a future with him.
Humiliated and utterly heartbroken, Elara contacted her estranged father, agreeing to an arranged future she had always resisted, just to escape the unbearable pain.
Sent to her father's distant ranch as a punitive measure, she found herself under Ethan's command, where his coldness only intensified.
Worse, local darling Lily Hayes emerged as her relentless tormentor, subtly sabotaging Elara at every turn – faking injuries, burning Elara’s cherished mother’s photograph, and even feigning a snakebite to claim the only available antidote.
But the most agonizing blow came when Ethan, blind to Lily’s cunning, consistently sided with her, punishing Elara for invented misdeeds and choosing Lily over her, even when Elara lay near death from a venomous bite.
"Give it to Lily," Ethan commanded, explicitly condemning Elara when there was only one dose of antivenom left, a decision that cemented his utter disdain and her profound despair.
How could he be so incredibly blind, so easily manipulated by Lily's saccharine deceit, while seeing Elara, who genuinely loved him, as nothing more than a calculating socialite?
Stripped of hope and utterly broken by his repeated cruelty and his public demand for her apology for Lily's malicious acts, Elara made a radical choice: she abandoned her past, rejecting Ethan and her privileged life to marry the kind, humble farmer Noah Miller, seeking peace and genuine respect far away from everything she knew. 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. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. 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. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. 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 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. 
/1/101830/coverorgin.jpg?v=205c8f44279e96dee1f96e876edf34ee&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101597/coverorgin.jpg?v=bd4c8895c3df8af8b8fc7e826bd54552&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/92001/coverorgin.jpg?v=f4967ec64b7201693bd0990b07125220&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86959/coverorgin.jpg?v=487a7e50d16455623129476615adf4fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86546/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1f5f4a615ecb1143b0c14d824723219&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85055/coverorgin.jpg?v=8621dafed2b02fb4fbed9ef8d60c5a22&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84398/coverorgin.jpg?v=e9ff4a11131b4c3c1659b1a2c71d11e2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83429/coverorgin.jpg?v=25203b6676a4154b420b37973956cd31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83398/coverorgin.jpg?v=7a8b64cc7cb20d2c7a12d9217dfe025b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83246/coverorgin.jpg?v=51da7ae3ee01eebc2a2c3e6328ce3000&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82873/coverorgin.jpg?v=5185b72329a6b0cd4dc8f3877aef66a2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82306/coverorgin.jpg?v=86d90ecc3004d193c6cc6e67da3d9ae2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82028/coverorgin.jpg?v=61eee8f12ff563c1283d759d27f9dcc2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80651/coverorgin.jpg?v=7978cd0c37e424906407b095aeec84ae&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80303/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ab7c50046d2ba0a15981ccce423a905&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102860/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd4279179a94dd229627ce7640bf190d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106591/coverorgin.jpg?v=60130d2fb865880aba4658a48f41a951&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102856/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab447bb3dfea8a92331d6f2abd61bff7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101423/coverorgin.jpg?v=46b8ac4ba2161e0b69a9b73304ac43c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105410/coverorgin.jpg?v=a5437111c15a40b1920987fddb1ddf34&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80957/coverorgin.jpg?v=f949ee76f8b710e2f1b1e79cc1225ef8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106250/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4e3d94e67e6bc16aef1c6b8ac1afa18&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79054/coverorgin.jpg?v=248fd387f8a7ef06a95d551925555a22&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79945/coverorgin.jpg?v=7ce1d382950e6113794e85a63370a039&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102857/coverorgin.jpg?v=5276123ce725745b44ab39f7aa4668f4&imageMogr2/format/webp)