Read Short Stories Online
Explore Moboreader's curated short story collection. Read best English fiction, mystery, romance, werewolf, and drama. Perfect for quick reads!
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Shattered Loyalty, A New Beginning Blooms
I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."
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Too Late, Mr. Ex: I'm Free
Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear.
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From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."
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His Unwanted Wife, The Hidden Genius Architect
When the mall ceiling collapsed, I was pinned under a massive concrete slab, my leg crushed. My husband of three years didn't even glance at me. He ran right past my bloody, outstretched hand to carry his mistress to safety. I barely survived. But when I woke up in the hospital, covered in bruises, he wasn't there to comfort me. Instead, his chief of surgery walked in with a consent form my husband had already signed on my behalf. His mistress had faked acute kidney failure, and my husband ordered them to harvest my kidney to save her. "You owe her this." He snarled at me, fully believing her lie that I had pushed her into the rubble. I had almost died under the concrete calling his name, yet he wanted to strip me for parts just to appease her. Looking at his disgusted face and her smug smile, the three years of quiet, desperate love I had for this man completely turned to ash. I didn't cry or beg. I grabbed her and ripped open her hospital gown, exposing her flawless, unmarred stomach to the entire ward. Then, I dropped my three-carat wedding ring at his feet. "I want a divorce." This time, I was going to build an empire of my own, and I would make him regret ever throwing me away.
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Reclaiming My Life From Their Betrayal
I was Aliana Donovan, a resident physician, finally reunited with the wealthy family I' d been lost from as a child. I had loving parents and a handsome, successful fiancé. I was safe. I was loved. It was a perfect, fragile lie. The lie shattered on a Tuesday when I discovered my fiancé, Ivan, wasn't at a board meeting but at a sprawling mansion with Kiera Reese, the woman I was told had a mental breakdown five years ago after trying to frame me. She wasn' t disgraced; she was radiant, holding a little boy, Leo, who giggled in Ivan' s arms. I overheard their conversation: Leo was their son, and I was merely a "placeholder," a means to an end until Ivan no longer needed my family's connections. My parents, the Donovans, were in on it, funding Kiera' s lavish life and their secret family. My entire reality-the loving parents, the devoted fiancé, the security I thought I' d found-was a carefully constructed stage, and I was the fool playing the lead role. The casual lie Ivan texted me, "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you. See you at home," while he stood beside his real family, was the final blow. They thought I was pathetic. They thought I was a fool. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
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Revenge Of The Forsaken Pregnant Wife
My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child. Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby. To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner. They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his. The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused. But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.
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Rebirth: Shattering My Sister's Facade
After my family went bankrupt, I entered the entertainment industry to support my sister's education. In order to make money, I endured the advances of older men and even drank until I had stomach bleeding. My usually calm sister criticized me for being too eager for success and not respecting myself, but she used my money to help others and gain a good reputation. In order to get her a famous teacher, I exposed the scandals of her competitors. She accused me of being ruthless and malicious, but she didn't refuse the opportunities I fought for her. Later, she became a famous painter while I suffered from the revenge of her competitors, ruined my reputation, and accumulated huge debts. I asked her to ask her wealthy boyfriend for help, but she said, "Sister, I told you before that we should be kind and not have malicious thoughts. Look, you are now facing retribution!" She refused to help me in order to make me realize my mistakes. I was forced to jump off a building. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day I entered the entertainment industry.
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Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge
"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option." I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs. I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world. "Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution." For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love. Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts. "She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop." "She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this." The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress. I was pregnant. And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor. He was killing his own child to save his mistress. To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts. I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream. I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach. He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up? I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave. I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.
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No Mercy For My Mafia Fiancé
During a massive syndicate attack, my fiancé, the most ruthless Mafia Capo, locked his grip on my wrist like an iron vice. He desperately wanted to drag me into a corner panic room to protect Bianca, the innocent underworld socialite he secretly obsessed over. In my past life, I saved him with my body—and he rewarded me with a crippled leg, years of disgust, and a push off a cliff. He believed her lies, and he murdered me for them. Opening my eyes again, I was reborn to the exact moment the safehouse was under attack. This time, I let him walk willingly into his own concrete tomb.
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His Luna's Rage Will Break His Empire
My mate, Alpha Santino, brought another woman into our home. She was a pregnant Omega, the widow of his fallen Beta, and he swore to protect her above all others. He gave her my seat of honor, left our bed cold each night to soothe her feigned nightmares, and ignored me completely. I was the Luna of the Blackstone Pack, but I was becoming a ghost in my own life. The final betrayal happened in my own bedroom. She stood over my vanity and deliberately shattered my mother's sacred moonstone necklace, the last piece of my family I had left. When Santino burst in, he didn't see my heartbreak. He saw only her fake tears. "What did you do to her?!" he roared, his voice laced with the Alpha's Command, a sacred power he used to crush my will. Then, for her, he did the unforgivable. He raised his hand and struck me, his mate. In that instant, the love I had desperately clung to turned to ice. The man I had sworn my life to had not only betrayed me but had defiled the sacred bond the Goddess herself had blessed. As the pain of his betrayal ripped through me, something ancient and powerful awakened in my blood. I rose to my feet and spoke the words that would destroy his world and begin mine. "I, Alessia Bianchi, reject you, Santino Moretti, as my mate."
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Rejected by the Beta, Claimed by the Alpha King
I was an Omega born into a family of fierce werewolf warriors. My fated mate, Vance, was a high-ranking fighter who always despised my weakness. In my dreams, I saw our future. Our carriage was attacked by bloodthirsty Rogues. Vance shifted and ran ahead to fight, leaving me behind in the fragile wooden box. The violent crash over the rocky earth caused me to lose our unborn child in the freezing winter snow. Instead of comforting me, Vance used our sacred Mind-Link to pour his disgust directly into my brain, blaming me for being too fragile to protect our pup. He publicly complained about my weak scent and humiliated me in front of the entire pack, making it clear he only truly wanted my strong Warrior sister, Lyra. When I demanded a severance of our bond, he agreed with sheer relief. I was left to die a slow, miserable death in a forgotten, drafty corner of the pack. As I bled out in the cold, I felt nothing but absolute despair. Why did my endless submission and quiet obedience only earn me disgust and a pathetic end? Three times the Moon Goddess sent me that vision. Three times I woke with the taste of blood in my mouth. The third time, I knew it was not a nightmare—it was a warning. And when I opened my eyes, I was back in the Great Hall on the exact day my nightmare began. Vance was looking at me with pure resignation, arrogantly announcing to the crowd that he supposed an Omega was good enough for breeding, and he would accept me as his consolation prize. This time, I didn't lower my head. "I, Elara, reject you, Vance, as my mate." I turned my back on him and packed my bags for the Royal City. I was going to enter the deadly Luna Selection. But there was one detail in the vision I had never told a soul. In every replay of that nightmare, when the dream showed me a throne room soaked in blood, a pair of golden eyes always found me through the fog. And a voice—low, resonant, certain—spoke three words that followed me into waking: "There you are." I didn't know what they meant. I only knew that when I finally reached the Royal City, the King who ruled with blood and silver would already know my name—even if I had never spoken it to him.
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Too Late, My Queen
Ethan Miller, a gritty musician, found himself trapped in a gilded cage, bound to the ruthless music mogul Victoria Vanderbilt. His sister Maya' s life depended on Tori' s whims and VME' s endless resources. He endured years as Tori' s star, her lover, her prized possession, sacrificing his soul for Maya' s critical care. But Tori' s attention, a fleeting and dangerous thing, soon shifted to Julian Vance, a brash performance artist. Ethan's music became "dated," his loyalty dismissed, and VME' s lifeline to Maya was cruelly severed. He watched, helpless, as Julian' s family and their goons ripped Maya' s ventilator away, causing her agonizing death. Tori, witnessing his despair, callously shrugged it off, declaring it "resource reallocation." How could the woman he loved, who once vowed to protect him fiercely, become a monster who facilitated his sister' s demise? His very devotion had been a poisoned gift, leading to the ultimate, unbearable price. In that moment of profound loss and brutal betrayal, Ethan Miller died. He rose from the ashes, now Liam Kincaid, a ghost determined to vanish from Tori' s toxic world, seeking true freedom and peace.
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A Sacrifice Rekindled
The smell of smoke and burning wood woke me, my heart pounding. It was the same fire, the one that had consumed everything in my first life. But this time, Kaelen was alive, his silver eyes narrowed, not in concern for me, but in a frantic search for Lyra. He accused me of setting the blaze, demanding I save her with my own lifeblood, forcing the agonizing transfusion while she smirked, thriving on my pain and his blind devotion. How could he believe her lies, even as I sacrificed everything, again and again, for the very life he now blamed me for saving? Then, the memory hit me: Kaelen, dying in my past life, his last breath a bitter regret not for Lyra, but for me. This second chance wasn't just about saving him from fire, but from himself, from the painful, world-shattering regret that had haunted his dying eyes.
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The Genius Heiress They Tried To Break
I stood outside the Genovese estate in the freezing rain for two hours, waiting for the man I loved to let me in. I was Elena Russo, the brilliant forensic accountant who had just laundered forty million dollars for the family. I was the adopted daughter, the fixer, and the fiancée of the Underboss, Luca. But the moment Sofia, the "real" daughter, returned, I became nothing but a placeholder. Luca looked me in the eye, swirling his scotch, and delivered the blow. "I need you to hand your work over to Sofia. She needs the prestige to be accepted by the Commission." He demanded I give up my life’s work—a complex laundering algorithm—so his new favorite could take the credit. When I refused, the humiliation began. Sofia faked a fall into the pool, and my adoptive father kicked me into the deep end to "teach me a lesson." I nearly drowned. Luca didn't save me. He handed me a diving mask and told me to find Sofia's lost ring at the bottom of the freezing pool before I was allowed to warm up. They stole my code. They ruined my reputation at the university. They slapped me in front of the press. They thought I was a stray dog with nowhere to go. They were wrong. Lying in the hospital bed, I dialed a number I had memorized years ago. "This is Asset 724," I whispered. "I'm ready to come home." The next day, the Russo empire began to crumble. And when a convoy of black SUVs arrived to collect me, Luca finally realized his mistake. My real father wasn't a nobody. He was Don Moretti, the King of the West Coast. And he was here to burn their world to ash.
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Revenge: The Billionaire's Downfall
For eight years, I was the girlfriend of New York's most untouchable billionaire, Dean Lee. To the public, we were a fairy tale: the brilliant, cold CEO who was utterly devoted to me, a simple artist he had plucked from obscurity. He built a fortress of luxury and safety around me. But it was all a lie. On our anniversary, I overheard him with another woman. He called me a "decoy," a "shield" he used to absorb the threats and scrutiny meant for his real love, Karina. His mask came off. He allowed Karina to humiliate me publicly, destroy my dead mother’s heirloom, and then, as punishment, had me force-fed soup made from my beloved cat. His final "lesson" was to throw me into an underground fight club. As I lay beaten and bleeding on the canvas, I saw him in the VIP booth, watching with bored detachment as Karina laughed beside him. The eight years of protection weren't love; they were just maintenance on his human shield. On the verge of death, I was rescued by his biggest rival, Brennen Finley. With my last breath, I gave him the secrets that would bring Dean's empire to its knees. In exchange, I asked for just one thing. "Make Hayley York disappear," I whispered. "Help me die."
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My Deceased Unborn Nephew
My sister-in-law was pregnant. She said that in our village, giving birth was just a matter of spreading your legs and pushing. But I was worried and insisted that she go for a check-up. It turned out that she had a high-risk pregnancy and needed a C-section to save her and the baby's lives. My nephew was born weak and sickly, and every time he got sick, my sister-in-law would blame me for making her go to the hospital and causing him to be born prematurely and injured. He grew to hate me and eventually killed me by poisoning my water. When I woke up, I was back at home and asked for my opinion on the matter. This time, I won't interfere. I want to see what kind of thing she can give birth to.
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Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
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The Skydiving Betrayal: His Steep Fall
I spent months overcoming my fear of heights, just so I could go skydiving with my boyfriend on our anniversary. But on the plane, Cole strapped my safety harness onto his "best friend" Giselle, telling me to wait for the next trip because she had just gone through a breakup, was feeling down, and needed this thrill to bounce back. She didn't care about my efforts at all, trying to brush me off with just a few words. Cole desperately defended her, accusing me of being petty and making a mountain out of a molehill. "She's fragile, Cathy! You're just jealous of a bond between us that you could never understand!" He actually expected me to accept being an outsider in my own relationship, while my family kept pressuring me to drop my so-called pride. For eight years, I poured everything into our relationship, only to finally realize I was nothing but a placeholder, expected to exit the stage whenever Giselle needed him. His constant emotional manipulation and blatant favoritism left me utterly exhausted. So, I packed my bags, paid him back every single cent he ever spent on me, and left without looking back. It was time for me to take over the multi-million dollar corporate project he was about to ruin. He really needed to see how I would step to the peak of my career!
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His Unwanted Widow, The Underboss's Coveted Queen
I knew the charred corpse in the city morgue wasn't my husband, Lorenzo. I knew this because the man standing three feet behind me, playing the role of the grieving twin brother, was actually my husband. He had planted his ring on his murdered twin, swapping their identities so he could escape our marriage and run off with his pregnant mistress, Valentina. In my previous life, I had refused the pen and screamed for an investigation. Lorenzo twisted my hysteria, painting me as an unhinged liar trying to steal his territory. The Family stripped my widow's benefits and cast me and my two young children onto the unforgiving streets. My life seeped out of me in a freezing alleyway, listening to Lorenzo and Valentina laughing in the shadows as my children starved. I died not understanding how a man could sacrifice his own brother and children just to hoard his wealth. Blinking away the foul memory, a sharp breath filled my lungs. I was reborn, right back in the Syndicate safehouse. This time, I didn't shed a single tear or beg for the truth. I picked up the pen and legally declared Lorenzo dead. I was going to inherit his entire empire, and then I was going to burn him to the ground.
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My Heart, Their Secret
The family trip to the coast was supposed to be a relaxing end to summer. But the moment I stepped back on campus, a cold dread washed over me: my dorm room lock was changed. My roommates-Emily, Ashley, Megan-they were just… gone. Their numbers disconnected, their social media wiped clean. It was like they' d vanished into thin air, leaving only silence and a terrifying void where my life used to be. Then, things got worse. My best friend Jessica' s new roommates started screaming at the sight of me, fleeing in terror. The university counselor looked at me with a mix of pity and fear, everyone whispering about "personal safety concerns" and "extreme reactions." They all thought I was the monster. I had no idea why. I knew I hadn' t done anything, but an unbearable sense of confusion and injustice gnawed at me. How could my friends abandon me without a word? Why was everyone suddenly so afraid of me? A chilling discovery would soon reveal that my friends hadn't abandoned me at all; they were closer than I could ever imagine, trying to tell me something unspeakable.
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