Rabbit
54 Published Stories
Rabbit's Books and Stories
A Child for His Best Friend
Romance My fiancé, Eric Fletcher, wanted to have a child for his best female friend.
That woman named Laurie Stephens believed in staying single, yet she wanted a descendant to carry on her genes.
Eric chose to help her by putting our engagement on hold to honor his friendship.
He tossed a "Sperm Donation and Joint Custody Agreement" in front of me, his tone cold and weary. "It's just about your insecurity, right? I added your name. All the property goes to you. Satisfied now? Sign it quick! Laurie's body couldn't wait for the optimal fertility window."
I signed my name on the agreement calmly, then packed my sketchbooks without a word.
Eric finally let out a sigh of relief, his face showing pure ease.
He stepped closer to hug me, but I dodged away. "Once the child arrived and got on the birth certificate, we would marry right away. If you wanted, we could raise him together later. I would tell him you were a mom too."
I tucked away that thin agreement and watched him indifferently as he started planning the nursery with excitement.
He had no idea I had already arranged with his good buddy to get our marriage license next week. From a Broken Omega to the Northern Queen
Werewolf After seven years in a dungeon for a crime I didn't commit, my fated mate, the Alpha who let them drag me away, finally opened my cell door.
He announced I would take my place as his Luna, not out of love, but because the law demanded it.
But the moment a frantic mind-link came through that his precious Seraphina-my adopted sister, the one who framed me-was having trouble breathing, he abandoned me without a second glance.
That night, huddled in a dusty shack, I overheard my own parents' secret conversation. They were planning to have me exiled. Permanently.
My return had upset Seraphina, and her "weak heart" couldn't take the shock.
I lay there in the darkness, feeling nothing. Not surprise. Not even pain. Just a profound, empty coldness. They were casting me out. Again.
But as they plotted my exile, a secret message arrived for me-an offer of escape. A new life in a sanctuary far to the north, where I could leave the Blackmoon Pack behind forever.
They thought they were getting rid of me.
Little did they know, I was already gone.
The Alpha Pact: Love Enslaved, Love Unleashed
Werewolf For my entire life, I believed my Alpha, Kaelen, was my fated mate. A sacred gift from the Moon Goddess.
But on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, he presented another she-wolf, Seraphina, as his chosen Luna, using a borrowed pup in a cruel plot to crush my spirit.
When Rogues attacked our pack, a silver chandelier fell towards us. Kaelen lunged past me without a glance, shielding Seraphina with his own body while I was left to be crushed.
He never even looked back.
Later, after falsely accusing me of hurting her, he dragged my injured body to an ice-cold hydrotherapy pool and shoved me under the water.
As I struggled to breathe, he loomed over me, his voice a roar of command.
"If you ever touch her again, I will strip you of your name and make you Rogue."
Watching the man I loved try to kill me, the last of my hope finally turned to ash.
That night, I accepted an offer to join the Silverwood Pack.
Then, I walked to the forge and tossed every memento he'd ever given me into the flames, watching the girl who loved him burn away forever. The Alpha's Rejected Mate Awakening the White Wolf
Werewolf Kaelen was supposed to be my destiny. The future Alpha of our pack, my childhood love, and my fated mate.
But one night, I smelled another woman on him-a sickly sweet Omega scent I knew all too well. I followed him and found them under the great oak, locked in a lover's kiss.
His betrayal was a slow and deliberate poison. When his precious Omega, Lyra, staged a fall, he cradled her like she was made of glass.
But when he sabotaged my saddle during a dangerous jump, causing my horse to throw me and break my leg, he called it a "warning" not to touch her. His care for me afterward was just damage control to avoid my father's suspicion.
At a public auction, he used my family's money to buy her a priceless diamond, leaving me humiliated and unable to pay.
I finally understood what I'd overheard on the pack's mind-link days before. To him and his brothers-in-arms, I was just a "pampered princess," a prize to be won for power. Lyra was the one they truly desired.
He thought he could break me, force me to accept being second best. He was wrong. On the night of my 20th birthday, the night I was supposed to be bonded to him, I stood before two packs and made a different choice. I rejected him and announced my union with a rival Alpha, a man who sees me as a queen, not a consolation prize.
He Drove Me Away, Now He's Hunting Me Down
Modern My husband, Liam Goldstein, was publicly the perfect man. He donated a kidney to save my life and named the new tower of his corporate headquarters after me. The world saw us as the ultimate power couple, a love story for the ages.
But in private, he was cheating on me with an influencer.
He arranged a "romantic evening" with private fireworks, only for me to discover it was a birthday party for his mistress, Ava. I overheard him promise her my "Maya's Horizon" necklace, the one he gave me after the transplant. His friends were all in on it, laughing behind my back and calling me "the main course."
After a car accident, I found them together at the hospital. She was pregnant with his child.
When I lunged at her, he grabbed my wrist and snarled at me to apologize to his pregnant mistress.
Then came the final blow. A text from Ava with a picture of the sonogram. "Our baby, Maya." Underneath it, a photo of her wearing my necklace.
"He says it looks better on me."
On our anniversary, I had his prized rose garden bulldozed. Then I had the divorce papers delivered to his office, along with every single taunting message Ava had ever sent me. By the time he read them, Maya Goldstein was already a ghost. The Day He Brought the Other Woman Home
Romance On my birthday, my husband of five years, Gifford Stanton, brought another woman into our home.
Her name was Jovita, and he claimed we owed her a debt of honor. He didn't ask my permission; he informed me she would be staying with us. It was a decision, not a discussion.
In the days that followed, he systematically dismantled our life. He sided with her in every disagreement, publicly shaming me for my "insecurity" and "lack of grace." He celebrated her, paraded her in front of his family, and made me an outsider in my own home.
The final betrayal came late one night.
He crawled into our bed, drunk, and whispered another woman's name in my ear as he touched me. Chloe.
The next morning, after I confronted him, Jovita rushed to his side, accusing me of being hysterical and violent. He believed her. He looked at me with a disgust that hollowed me out.
"Pack your bags," he snarled. "You can come back when you're ready to behave like a rational adult."
He ordered me to play the part of the smiling, perfect wife at his annual charity gala in one month, after which he would "reconsider our marriage."
I agreed to go to his gala.
I would smile.
And I would burn his entire world to the ground. My Husband's Other Woman, My Stolen Life
Modern "Ethan, this is unethical. It's criminal. She hasn't consented."
Those chilling words, whispered in the sterile hum of an operating room, were the first thing I heard as consciousness flickered back.
My heart pounded, cold dread snaking through my veins. Dr. Ben Carter, Ethan's old friend, was arguing with him.
"She's my girlfriend, Ben. Practically my wife," Ethan scoffed, his voice laced with a terrifying casualness. "Chloe needs this kidney. Ava is a perfect match."
Kidney. Chloe. My blood ran cold. The beautiful, fragile Chloe Vahn, who had always haunted our relationship, was now taking a piece of me, quite literally.
I tried to scream, to move, but my body felt like lead, my throat raw. I felt a sharp tug, a searing line of fire on my side-the scalpel. Ten years of love, of sacrifice, building Ethan Reed and his company back from nothing, all for this. To be carved up like an animal for the woman he truly loved.
When I finally regained full awareness, Ethan was by my bedside, a practiced look of concern on his face, spinning a lie about a ruptured ovarian cyst. But then, the overheard nurse's whispered conversation confirmed my nightmare: "Chloe's kidney transplant... he barely left her side."
The pieces slammed into place. My despair solidified into a cold, hard resolve. No more. I grabbed my phone, scrolling to one contact I hadn't dared to call. Noah Hayes, Ethan's rival, a man of integrity. My finger trembled as I typed. "Noah," I managed, my voice raspy. "Are you still looking for a COO who knows Reed Innovate's strategies... and perhaps, a wife?"
The silence stretched, then his voice, calm and serious, cut through the noise of my crumbling world. "My jet, seven days. LaGuardia."
I Put My Ex-husband and His Beloved Woman in Jail
Romance I had been married to Landen Patel for three years. He suddenly got down on his knees in front of me one day, and his eyes were filled with tears.
"Honey, could you... temporarily divorce me?"
I froze, as if someone had hit me over the head without warning. A chill ran through my body.
"Jaynie is back, and she brought a five-year-old boy. I just found out today... that I am the father.
But he has leukemia. The doctors said the only way to save him is if Jaynie and I have another child so that we can use the newborn's embryonic stem cells.
Looking at his pained face, I gave a bitter smile. "So you're saying you want a divorce... to have a child with her?"
He shook his head, crying. "It's only temporary! Once the boy is saved, I'll come back to you. Honey, please... think of it as saving a life..."
Just then, his phone rang.
Jaynie Payne sent him a revealing selfie with a message.
"Landen, I'm ready. Has Lydia agreed? The doctor said it is the best time for me to get pregnant tonight." Three Years of Lies The Day My World Burned
Modern For three years, I lived a lie as Ava Cole, wife to Ethan, whose devotion was reserved not for me, but his college sweetheart, Chloe Vance.
I meticulously tracked his escalating betrayals in my secret "Breaking Point Ledger," knowing 100 points meant freedom.
The ledger filled quickly, fueled by his unapologetic neglect and public displays of obsession.
Then, disaster struck: caught in a violent car crash, I lay bleeding, my world shattering around me.
Doctors, grim-faced, revealed I was eight weeks pregnant, desperately needing help.
But when the hospital reached Ethan, his urgent command echoed chillingly: prioritize Chloe, who had a mere allergic reaction.
My baby, our baby, was lost.
"We couldn't save the baby," the nurse later confirmed, her voice laced with a silent fury that mirrored my own.
The ledger, once a quiet tally, now screamed past its limit, leaving a brutal, undeniable score of his final, ultimate betrayal.
There was no going back; only forward.
With a soul-deep resolve, I signed my divorce papers, reclaiming Ava Miller and leaving behind the shattered remnants of a life that was never truly mine.
My bags were already packed for Austin, ready for a new chapter where I would rebuild, reclaim, and rise from the ashes. The Architect of His Ruin
Modern My boyfriend Ethan and I broke up a year ago, but I'm still the one he calls in a crisis. I'm his rock, the foundation of the company we built together. After closing a seven-figure deal for him, the celebration landed me in the ER with alcohol poisoning.
That's where I overheard him on the phone, telling our finance manager to give the credit, the title, and the public glory for my project to his secretary, Olivia.
He said I'd get a bonus check, as if that could pay for my life's work. He then dismissed my past sacrifices, even calling the miscarriage of our child a "blessing in disguise" because a baby would have been a "complication."
That night, at a gala, he proposed in a public trap. As he was on one knee, a screen behind us played faked photos painting me as a corporate spy. Then, Olivia "accidentally" spilled a glass of mango juice on me. I have a deathly allergy to mangoes.
As I gasped for air, Ethan looked from my very real medical emergency to Olivia, who had chosen that moment to swoon dramatically into his arms. He hesitated. He actually hesitated, choosing to comfort her as I was dying.
But a different man saved me. Liam Sterling, Ethan's biggest rival, administered an EpiPen and led me out of the chaos. That night, I sent him a message: "I hold the key to the Henderson project. Every contact, every piece of data. Ethan is about to make a fatal error. Are you interested in a strategic partnership?" The Other Woman in Our Marriage
Modern My marriage to Ethan Cole, a man revered as a titan of industry, felt less like a partnership and more like a never-ending siege.
After years of fighting for even a sliver of his attention, I found him on the floor of his study, fixated on a small, wooden box.
Inside, nestled on velvet, were forbidden relics: a child's drawing, a pressed flower, and a faded photo of Olivia Vance, the girl he'd been raised with.
The raw, yearning expression on his face, a look he had never once given me, confirmed the crushing truth: his emotional unavailability was solely reserved for her.
Our sterile, business-transaction marriage was a smokescreen for his lifelong obsession, culminating in him abandoning me in a skyscraper fire as he pulled Olivia to safety.
He then brushed off my concussion from Olivia's attack, prioritized her minor burn for a top surgeon, and offered obscene diamonds to buy my silence, while she moved into our home to subtly torture me.
His blindness to Olivia's manipulation, his monumental arrogance, and his consistent disregard for my pain made me realize the devastating reality: he didn't just not feel for me, he chose to torment me instead.
But as I saved myself from those flames, a cold, hard resolve replaced the agony.
My love for him, long dead, was now replaced by a fierce determination: I would reclaim my life, expose his deceit, and make him truly understand the cost of his choices. I Bankrupted Him
Romance My ex-boyfriend who had faked his death suddenly came back to life, with a pregnant lifesaver by his side.
"Emma, these past years, I owe my survival to Sarah's companionship, which allowed me to come back to see you. From now on, the three of us will live together," James declared confidently, looking at me. "I will register my marriage with Sarah, but I can have a wedding with you, as a form of compensation."
I stared at him in disbelief.
I, the esteemed eldest daughter of the my rich family, reduced to being his third wheel?
If he was tired of being a rich heir, I could certainly help him get back to his roots as a pauper. Reborn in Fire
Billionaires The rumors of my divorce from Ryland Payne had circulated for two years.
Over those two years, he had paraded around with the secretary whose husband had once saved his life, appearing at every event and trampling my dignity underfoot.
I had never uttered a single word of complaint.
That changed on the anniversary of our son's death, when he showed up at the memorial art exhibition I had organized for our boy, with that woman and her child in tow.
The necklace around that woman's neck featured the longevity locket I had personally designed for my son.
I lost all control and smashed the exhibition, then rushed forward to snatch it back, only for Ryland to block me desperately.
I slapped him across the face in front of everyone, and he shoved me down onto the shattered picture frames in retaliation.
The next day, the entire internet branded me as the deranged woman.
"Two years ago, if she hadn't lost her mind and gone speeding through the rainstorm, the little heir of the Payne family would never have died on the spot!"
"Exactly, she killed her own son through her recklessness, and now she wants to hurt her husband's benefactor. What a venomous witch."
I turned off my phone, and my gaze turned to ice, inch by inch.
Ryland Payne, this time, I decided to leave you for good. My Sister's Lover, My Husband
Modern My life with Mark was perfect, a picture of happy marriage.
He and his identical twin, David, ran a thriving brewery, and together with my sister Jess, we were an unbreakable foursome.
Then, a shattering phone call.
David, always so full of life, had collapsed and died.
Weeks of agonizing grief followed, but the true nightmare began at a solemn family dinner.
Mark's mother, Brenda, demanded the unthinkable: I was to carry David's child for my sister, a vessel for the "Thompson legacy."
My own mother, always favoring Jess, twisted the knife, urging me to "be understanding."
I stood paralyzed, while Mark, my supposed anchor, vehemently defended me.
But that defense was a cruel facade.
One night, I found him in my guest room, not comforting my grieving sister Jess, but kissing her.
And then I heard it: "I want your baby, Mark. Openly. Not... not David's ghost."
Jess was pregnant with his child.
The man who swore to protect me was betraying me with my own sister, all while their desperate family tried to force me into a truly monstrous act.
Every loving gesture, every word of trust, twisted into a grotesque lie.
Was I truly so blind?
So easily manipulated?
Why me?
Why this profound and sickening betrayal?
That night, the naive wife died.
A cold, hard rage ignited.
I demanded a divorce, packed my bags, and moved halfway across the country.
But Mark, Jess, and their twisted family thought they could sweep me aside.
They were wrong.
I wasn't running; I was retreating to draw the battle lines.
This wasn't just about escape anymore.
It was about meticulously crafting the perfect retribution, a revenge so complete, they'd wish they never crossed me. 
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