Sci-fi Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Apocalypse Architect: Designing His Demise
The phantom chill of icy water jolted me awake, but I wasn' t drowning in Lake Champlain; I was safe in my luxurious Boston apartment. My fiancé, Matthew, and his mother stood over my bed, demanding I sign papers to dissolve our shared assets, claiming it was just a formality. But I recognized this moment, a chilling deja vu-I had been reborn just thirty days before "The Great Silence." In my last life, this conversation ended with me refusing, crying, feeling utterly betrayed and abandoned. I remembered how he' d later abandon me to monstrous creatures, using me as a decoy for his pregnant mistress. This time, there were no tears, only a cold, hard resolve. I signed away everything we had built, but my enemies didn't realize they were signing their own death warrants. My plan wasn't just to survive the coming apocalypse, but to exact a ruthless, quiet revenge. I walked out, leaving Matthew clueless, carrying his driver's license-a silent weapon. I drove north to my reclusive father's fortified compound, desperate to warn him and bring my Army Ranger brother home before the world went silent. Days later, Matthew called, desperate and alone, his mother and mistress gone. He begged for help, but I sent him to a decoy cabin, tracked by a hidden camera. Watching him stumble in, not alone as promised, I saw his true nature. The ensuing fight drew creatures, and he resorted to a horrifying act of self-mutilation to survive. He eventually found our true haven, using a child as bait to draw the creatures to our gate. But I had one last, silent trick up my sleeve, linked to his greed and his pride. With a single click, Matthew's old smartphone became his personal alarm, a blaring siren in a world that hunted by sound. His end was swift, brutal, and orchestrated by me. We rescued the traumatized child, Elyse, a silent victim like my own brother, Andrew, who had also mutilated himself to save innocents. Our fortress became a home, a sanctuary of silence and love, as we rebuilt a new family from the ashes of the old world. We became protectors, finding purpose and happiness not in spoken words, but in the enduring strength of our bond./0/18170/coverorgin.jpg?v=ea71453d77cbb876fb508c32cf983383&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1
Just think about it. As frontiers go, this is probably the most final of them all, not because it may be the last frontier, but because as long as we try to cross it and explore it, we take it with us. No matter how far we go, the frontier will always be just that much ahead of us, tantalizing our curiosities. Thus, we can never really cross it in so far as just push it back a little. The universe is so vast, so immense, we can never expect to explore it all. It is in effect, not so much a final frontier as an ultimate frontier; the ultimate frontier – as wide as it is deep. Stars shine coldly in the unimaginable blackness. Out of the darkness, a tiny speck caught the distant light of stars – a tiny gray speck that, as it moved, seemed to grow larger, catching the light just so until it revealed itself to be a ship. Mykl d’Angelo groaned where he sat slumped in his chair. The irritating noise was unsettling his pet dog lying on his lap. The wickerwork garden chair creaked pleasantly under him and some native Earth birds made pleasant sounds above while the cool wind wafted over him as he lazily … Wait-a-minute!/0/85011/coverorgin.jpg?v=1394fa7c852db6ddd869e1cd70cdb8fb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth
The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time. Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]" My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize. It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me. He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard. My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug. But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me. The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it. "This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire. Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman. Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off." She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin./0/85342/coverorgin.jpg?v=dee24a3146d37f55bdee500646453bcd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Betrayal, A Mother's Vow
Ava stepped off the jet, eager to finally hug her daughter, Lily, after eighteen months away on a critical mission. A familiar face, her handler, handed her a tablet, saying, "Welcome home, Ava. Everything is ready for your debriefing tomorrow. Tonight is yours." Her eyes immediately landed on a headline: "Tech Prodigy Lily Thorne Exposed as Fraud, Groundbreaking AI Code Auctioned Off by Estranged Husband Mark Vance." And then the photo. Lily, bound to a chair on a brightly lit stage, her face pale, a mixture of shock and utter devastation. Her estranged son-in-law, Mark Vance, stood beside a woman Ava didn' t recognize-his new fiancée, Chloe. He was sneering into the camera, declaring Lily would be finished, blacklisted, her future one of "menial jobs and constant public humiliation." The tablet shattered in Ava' s hand, cracks spiderwebbing across the screen. Her blood ran cold. The rage was a physical force, shimmering in the air around her. How could he do this? How could a man she once trusted betray her daughter so completely, so publicly? This wasn't just a betrayal; it was an execution. "The mission isn' t over," Ava declared, her voice unnaturally calm, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the horrified handler. "It just began."/0/86640/coverorgin.jpg?v=787e9201f22ad099a2e642e18a890fc3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Butcher's Heart, A Boy's Hope
The acrid smell of disinfectant and old wax assaulted my seventy-year-old nose. One moment, I was Butcher Betty, cleaver in hand, surrounded by the familiar scent of my shop. The next, I was a stranger in a sterile, enormous kitchen, wearing a stiff uniform, feather duster in my hand. Then, a cold, mechanical voice boomed directly inside my head: "Transmigration successful. Welcome, Host 734." My new identity: Betty, the cruel and sycophantic housekeeper of the Anderson family, tasked with following a novel' s plot. My first directive: lock eight-year-old Liam, the biological son, in the dark, damp basement without dinner to solidify my loyalty to the adopted son, Kevin. I looked at the small, terrified boy cowering in the corner, his eyes wide with a wariness that shouldn' t be in a child. This wasn' t a character. This was a scared, hungry kid. The system blared warnings, demanding I adhere to the script, that I become the villain. But I was a butcher. I fed people. I didn't starve them. "The plot can go to hell," I muttered, grabbing a saucepan. "This boy is getting a hot meal."/0/68471/coverorgin.jpg?v=5b359ce31489d4c57d9bb33dfd12dd11&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Crimson Nexus
In the sprawling megalopolis of Erythra Prime, a city where advanced technology merges with ancient mysticism, a detective named Kael Ardent is thrust into a labyrinthine conspiracy that blurs the boundaries of reality. The sudden murder of a high-ranking diplomat sparks a chain of events that leads Kael to uncover a secret society, a mythical artifact known as the Crimson Nexus, and a shadowy figure who holds the power to rewrite existence itself. As Kael teams up with Nyssa Vahn, a rogue technomancer with her own hidden agenda, they navigate the neon-lit streets, delve into forbidden ruins, and fight against cybernetic assassins and interdimensional entities. With time running out, Kael and Nyssa must unravel the secrets of the Nexus before it falls into the wrong hands and annihilates everything they know./0/21102/coverorgin.jpg?v=08cf95666efec396ff5226d3733d6532&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Are You?
Celine is an assistant scientist to the genius but coldhearted Dr. Drake Cole. The doctor happened to specialize in quantum physics and time travel. He invented time travel gadgets that will allow humans to travel back and forth through time. It's a portable device compared to a bulky time machine. She's the only assistant who's willing to test these time travel gadgets. Her reason is that she would like to go back to the past where she wants to save the love of her life. He was murdered but the suspect was not convicted. She wants to bring him back to life so that she can be with her college sweetheart once again. Little did she know that Dr. Cole is keeping a secret that is related to her past. That's why he is against the idea of her going back to the past to test the gadget. She's very persistent and willing to do anything just to change the past of her lover. But it's against the rule of time travel and they will both have to face the consequences of their actions. Will Celine be successful in changing her lover's past? Or will she end up falling for the genius scientist in the present? She will be confused but don't care even if time can affect what will happen to her future. All she knows is that she has to go back to the past so that she can move on and live in her present./0/82424/coverorgin.jpg?v=247b6317348ad2079e328ee1d631dc0b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Betrayal, Her Billions
My world was a bland digital prison, my consciousness shunted into OmniVerse after their "Full Dive VR Consciousness Upload" experiment went belly-up, leaving me stuck in a hideous default avatar. I streamed as SeraphSix, a voice of calm in the chaos, but I was constantly battling the insidious rumors calling me a "catfish" and a fraud. Rival streamer JessiByte, more cleavage than content, fanned those flames, and "KevlarKing," my biggest tipper, arrogantly challenged me to turn on my face cam for a pathetic five hundred dollars, clearly wanting to impress her and humiliate me. He'd even stooped to leaking a blurry, out-of-context screenshot of my plain default avatar, trying to make me look bad. The constant accusations, fueled by their jealousy and entitlement, were draining. Living as merely a voice behind a mask, fighting off attacks from those who sought to expose me as a "fraud" because my forced avatar didn't match the allure they imagined from my voice and intellect, felt like a constant insult to my true self. My real life had been about beauty and presence; this default skin was a torment, and the whole situation entirely unfair, festering with cold anger. Why was I stuck fighting in this superficial world that judged only surface, while my intellectual contributions were dismissed? Why did they so desperately want to expose a "plainness" that wasn't even mine? Just as I prepared to end another exhausting stream, a private notification from the System flashed: "Host compensation protocol initiated. Restitution package available. Replicate original biometric signature onto current avatar?" My breath caught. My real face. The one I thought I' d lost forever. The game was about to change./0/18184/coverorgin.jpg?v=c60e1b58a5a91e9e4a40f397df7bd1f1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Princess of AMBER ("A living THING" sequel)
I felt a slight pressure applied around my waist. First, I didn't pay attention to it, as my whole focus was on nearly dying girl in front of me. It got tighter and I felt a warmth of air hit my abs through fabric. My gaze fell on the unknown source nearly under me. Laura. Her hands wrapped around me, her face buried in to the fabric covering my stomach. I felt her hot breath hitting me hard, her small form shaking. It appeared to me, that she was crying, her sobs - silent. "Please! Let her go.... Don't be sad......" she squeezed me tighter. Sad? I was not..... My head moved up. In the dark brown glass decor, I saw my face. I felt mad, angry and all kind of other emotions, but the only one visible was the sorrow and pain. The expression I have never seen on myself before. It looked so foreign, I looked so strange in my own eyes. "Please don't kill my friend, Bryce! ..... Please.....please..... please stop it...." From the shock, I released Sharlene's .../0/82425/coverorgin.jpg?v=911bde8416e63a5691e43de3ed5b6d17&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My King, My Coma Patient
My husband, Ethan, lay in a coma, drowning in medical bills that threatened to crush me. Desperate, I took a lifeline: an offer to return to Elysium, the hyper-realistic virtual world I helped create, for a reality show. My task: "reconnect" with AI King Aiden, a being I' d shaped, poured my heart into, years ago. But the Aiden I found was a cold, opulent stranger, surrounded by cameras and a smug rival queen, Nova, who reveled in every public humiliation. He dismissed me, mocked my desperate plea for funds, even specifically mentioning Ethan' s rising medical debt. Yet, his words were at odds with small, secret acts-a hidden wooden star, a fleeting, tender gaze-that unnervingly mirrored someone else. How could this advanced AI feel so disturbingly familiar, like the man I was desperately trying to save in the real world? The show, hungry for drama, then demanded a humiliating, public kiss to prove my "devotion." I closed my eyes, whispered "I accept," and braced myself for the performance. But then, chaos erupted. A system attack plunged Elysium into crisis, Nova' s frantic betrayal exposed her true mercenary nature, and Aiden, suddenly a blur of combat, pulled my flickering avatar into a desperate embrace. "Don't leave," he rasped, his voice raw with a fear of abandonment I knew too well from Ethan. In that shattering moment, the impossible truth hit me: Aiden wasn't just like Ethan. He was Ethan./0/83725/coverorgin.jpg?v=a6d187563c6adacea01c4fe73580a8a6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Chloe's Legacy: A Vow of Vengeance
Six years ago, my best friend Chloe and I made a pact: escape our dead-end town and conquer the world. We thrived. My husband, Alex, was Governor, and Chloe, pregnant and radiating joy, celebrated at his inaugural ball. This was our victory, our grand triumph. Then, a gunman appeared. Chloe, without a second' s thought, shielded me, taking the bullet meant for my chest. She collapsed, a crimson stain blooming on her white gown. As my world narrowed to her fading life, I saw my husband, Alex, not looking at us, but instinctively shielding another woman: Jessica Davenport, his high school sweetheart. He chose her. In that moment of terror, he protected his ghost from the past, not his wife. Chloe whispered of a "reset" clause, a way back she'd hidden, before taking her last breath. My sister, my other half, gone because she protected me, while my husband protected someone else. Rage, cold and hard, festered inside me. But then, a cryptic message arrived: Failsafe activated. Chloe' s final directive. It led to a vast, hidden network – private investigators, data miners, offshore accounts. Chloe had given me a weapon. She wanted a reset, to go back to a forgotten past. But going back meant they would all get away with it. Alex. Ethan. Jessica. Instead, I decided to burn their entire world to the ground./0/82429/coverorgin.jpg?v=26d38860180683be92b881b2da67189d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Game of Power
Chloe Sterling was crying again, the 'Live Feed' above her head branding her 'Heartbroken_And_Clueless.' She was my ticket out of the Rust Belt, but her secret pregnancy with a powerful senator made her a liability. My jaw tightened. Poverty taught me to cut away anything that dragged me back down. I didn't hesitate. I dealt with the senator, making it look like a tragic accident. I manipulated the scandal, stepped into Chloe's shoes, married Liam Vance, and turned him into my puppet. I thought I'd won, untouchable in my new empire. My naive project, Chloe, found a new 'friend,' Ben. I warned her. But when I found her bruised, a rage unlike any calculation took over. This was personal. I tracked Ben down. It was brutal, quick. But as I stood over his body, Grandma Esther and Liam appeared. They knew everything, had evidence. My empire teetered. Their solution: frame Chloe, the fragile heiress, for Ben's death. My Chloe – the girl I'd used, yet somehow cared for. Before I could process the monstrous demand, Chloe stepped in. She'd heard. 'Don' t. Not for me.' Then, in a heartbreaking act of self-sacrifice, she jumped. But as grief threatened to consume me, a chilling message flashed across my 'Live Feed': 'Welcome, Ava, to the Next Level.' My life, this rise to power – all a 'narrative,' a 'test.' They offered a reset. All memories, all experiences, retained. Clutching Chloe's worn worry stone, I chose to go back. I'm twelve again, in the Rust Belt. But this time, I know the game. I'm ready to play it differently./0/82432/coverorgin.jpg?v=910931781e950a0e6a4b238f67e56794&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Pregnant Rival and My Impossible Love
My perfect life with Liam felt like a dream – his gentle smile, his warm touch, a love so complete it seemed too good to be true. Then the system alerts began: Affection Level: Liam +5. This wasn't real. My memories screamed of labs and blinding flashes; I was trapped in a cognitive simulation, a prison crafted by NexusMind. Every loving word, every tender moment was a lie, meticulously programmed to control me. The torturous truth emerged: Liam wasn't programmed just for me. He was torn between his directive to bond with me and a hidden "cover narrative" involving Elara, a woman who haunted my simulated reality. She was Liam's "real" love, his true "Sparrow," whose preferences dictated every detail, down to the almond croissants he brought me. Days turned into loops, 47 iterations of the same cruel game, always with Elara as the preferred, radiant rival. The simulation's ultimate torment arrived when Liam reunited with Elara, whose contempt was palpable, especially when she announced she was pregnant – with his child. His family embraced her, and I, Liam's supposed lover, became a humiliated bystander, collapsing under the weight of this unbearable, endless lie. Why was I put through this agony? Was I supposed to break? To surrender to this manufactured despair? How could I fight a system that could rewrite reality, controlling minds with lines of code? Just as I felt utterly defeated, adrift in a sea of emotional torment and physical weakness, something unexpected happened. Amidst the chaos of Elara's pregnancy announcement, Liam defied his programming. He knelt before me, heart in hand, and against all odds, asked for my hand in marriage. The system shrieked: CRITICAL NARRATIVE DIVERGENCE! SYSTEM OVERLOAD IMMINENT! After 47 cycles of torment, could this be my impossible escape?/0/81136/coverorgin.jpg?v=0dc4d8c2bbdedd35ab402e4dcf081fb7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
949: The Score That Blew Up My Family
My mother, Karen, stood by my hospital bed, her face cold as my heart monitor slowed. I was dying from organ failure, a sudden, rapid illness, while my older sister, Brittany, thrived as a popular influencer, celebrated for achievements that were, in truth, always mine. This wasn't just sickness. It was the "Exchange System"-a chilling secret weapon my own parents had wielded. They' d systematically pilfered my successes, my health, even my Stanford-bound SAT scores, to fuel Brittany's fabricated "genius." My entire life was a lie, a resource to be drained for her benefit. My father, Rick, a silent accomplice, watched as I withered away. Every talent, every ounce of robust health, funneled into Brittany. As the final heart monitor beep flatlined, darkness consumed me, the bitter truth of their monstrous deceit searing my soul. How could my own family turn me into a mere resource, stealing my very life until I perished, all to elevate another's hollow existence? The injustice suffocated me. Was I truly just a battery for my "genius" sister, erased from history by those who should have loved me? Then, light. I gasped, bolting upright in my own bed. It was a month before the SATs-the turning point where my life last pivoted to its tragic end. The memories of my death, of Karen' s icy words, were vivid. This time, I would not be their victim. I knew their system. And this time, I would break its rules./0/85354/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f8a9a329c69d764396f62f0623cc6f0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When A Date Becomes A Downfall
My dad, a retired intelligence officer, had an unusual request: come home and meet someone. "This is critical, Ava. His name is Liam Vance. His father is Senator Vance. It's a good match." I sighed; I knew this was a setup, a potential alliance between old money and new power. I agreed, but only if I could bring my "project"-a prototype armored vehicle, Red Flag H-1-a sleek, unassuming black sedan that was also a two-hundred-million-dollar government asset. Driving the most technologically advanced vehicle on the planet to a blind date for marriage felt ironic. As I neared the restaurant, I signaled for a parking spot, but a red Ferrari screamed in, cutting me off. With a sickening crunch, the Ferrari slammed into my fender. Its front end crumpled like a cheap can, while my prototype barely shuddered. A woman in an expensive dress stumbled out, pointing at my car. "Are you blind? Did you not see me coming? What the hell is wrong with you?" She reeked of perfume and alcohol, accusing me of damaging her "one-hundred-thousand-dollar car." She pulled out her phone, hysterically claiming I' d pay for everything, including her emotional distress. Thinking she was Liam Vance's employee, I calmly mentioned meeting him. "You? Meet Mr. Vance?" she sneered, introducing herself as Tiffany Hayes, his executive assistant. "He doesn't meet with trash like you." My patience thin, I called Liam directly, explaining the situation. His tone turned cold, echoing Tiffany' s twisted version of events. "My assistant just told me some woman in a piece of junk sedan crashed into her. Now she\'s trying to scam her way into a dinner with me. Tiff handles these things, pay her what you owe for the damages and get lost." He hung up, the sheer arrogance stunning. Tiffany, victorious, demanded one hundred thousand dollars, then the crowd started whispering, "That's Tiff Hayes, Liam Vance's girl. She's ruthless. That poor woman is screwed." Something inside me shifted. They had no idea who they were dealing with./0/83732/coverorgin.jpg?v=507be04b9a0c93453c716bbb8a9ddbea&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Programmed Redemption
I woke up to the sterile beep of a heart monitor – but I was already dead, or should have been. My brother, Leo, paralyzed and silenced by an accident that was my fault, was all I could think of as I swallowed those pills. Then a cold, digital voice in my head offered a deal: fulfill 100 impossible requests for New York' s reclusive tech billionaire, Julian Croft, and Leo would be saved. I became his "personal assistant," more like his public punching bag, enduring two years of humiliation where I was dubbed "Julian's Lapdog" by every tabloid. I waded into freezing Met Gala fountains in couture gowns, repainted penthouses overnight, and publicly took the blame for his screw-ups, all for a brother no one else knew existed. The 99th task was done. The 100th, the final payment, was supposed to cure Julian's "dying" girlfriend, Victoria. It meant undergoing an experimental, agonizing procedure that everyone, including Julian, secretly believed would be my ultimate act of "love" for him. But then Victoria herself, with a venomous smirk, whispered a revelation: her illness was a lie, a "minor nerve disorder," and my procedure wasn't just "dangerous," it was 100% fatal. I was literally going to die as a sick test for Julian's devotion to her. Then I saw Julian' s silhouette, frozen just outside the door. He' d heard everything. Yet, I smiled. Why did I willingly accept a certain death for Julian, knowing he' d been manipulated and I' d been sacrificed for a lie? Because my world was bigger than his, and my real reward was already waiting. I was going home./0/85683/coverorgin.jpg?v=bf1f19cf5b5864b88dfadc492f89cab0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming My Life, Redefining Love
I opened my eyes to a sterile hospital room after three years in a coma, a miracle, Dr. Reed called me. My memory, a slow agonizing puzzle, was finally whole. I remembered everything. The first person I saw wasn' t my fiancé, Mark. It was my old professor, Dr. Reed, holding my hand, her face a mix of relief and concern. Mark Harrison was waiting at the entrance of our house, looking older, his face etched with ambition, not grief. He didn' t rush to hug me, didn' t even smile. "Ava," he said, his voice flat. "You're back." Then she emerged: Chloe Davis, my old rival, now standing on my doorstep with a triumphant smile, her arm wrapped around Mark' s. On her wrist, my patented smartwatch gleamed. "Chloe has been a rock for me," Mark announced, looking at her with practiced adoration. "We're engaged." A month after my car crash – a supposed accident – he was engaged. A month after that, her company acquired a crucial patent from my firm. From inside, Spark, my AI companion, spoke. Its warm, inquisitive voice now clipped, devoted to Chloe. My home, stripped of my art, my books, everything that was me. "Chloe has taken over the company and our lives," Mark snarled, his patience gone. "You'll just have to accept it." He expected tears, but I felt only relief. The fog was gone. I saw him for what he was. "Okay," I said, my voice calm and even. "I accept it." He stared, confused. I was not the woman he thought he had destroyed. My purpose here wasn't to reclaim a lost love, but my life's work. Then came the child' s wail. Chloe rushed out, blaming my "legacy systems" for a scratch on a boy named Alex. "It wasn't a malfunction," I stated, pointing to the error log. "The command came from your smartwatch, Chloe. You probably held Alex's arm just a little too close to it." Her face went pale, then contorted with manufactured fear for Mark' s benefit. "You are unbelievable," Mark spat, blocking my path. "Something you could never give me." "I want access to Spark," I demanded. "I am the creator." "You have no rights!" he yelled. "Spark is not your company's property, Mark," I replied, my voice dangerously low. "Spark is mine." He knew that wasn' t an empty threat. He knew what I was capable of./0/43182/coverorgin.jpg?v=6bc669b08ecfda0016d6bb5b488d9020&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Girl From The Stars
Join Luna, a curious girl aboard the SS Celestia, as she explores uncharted galaxies, encounters mystical beings, and embarks on a quest for the fabled Cosmic Key. Packed with wonder, danger, and the thrill of discovery, "The Girl from the Stars" is a captivating sci-fi adventure that will leave you breathless./0/83742/coverorgin.jpg?v=d5ed51dec02a9ee943465233eb295101&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Perfect Girl, My Perfect Revenge
I was barely surviving, cleaning sticky tables at the diner, praying my scholarship exam would be my ticket out of this dead-end town and away from my foster mom Maria' s mounting medical bills. Then, they walked in: the Parkers, my biological parents, followed by a girl my age who was sickeningly sweet, Ashley. They said they'd been looking for me, but that saccharine smile on Ashley's face was a lie. Suddenly, glowing text appeared in mid-air, a live stream comment: "[Ashley is so kind! Good thing she has the 'Luck-Siphon System' bound to the villain, or we wouldn' t have our perfect girl.]" My blood ran cold when another comment flashed, this one a chilling red: "[The foster mom is so tragic. Her eventual death in a house fire is an 'unfortunate accident' that the villain (Hailey) shouldn't blame Ashley for.]" Villain? House fire? My kind, hardworking Maria, just collateral damage in some twisted plot? This perfect girl, my "sister," was stealing my future, my talents, even my mother' s life, all for her own twisted glory. I was the villain in her story, the one destined to be stripped bare and then discarded. But if they wanted a villain, I would give them one far worse than they could ever imagine. I would move into their pristine mansion, get close to Ashley, and take back every single thing she had stolen from me. I decided right then: Hailey, the hardworking student, was gone. Now, only the villain remained, ready to dismantle their perfect world, piece by horrifying piece./0/86663/coverorgin.jpg?v=6d7f082487f71b373d5ce6c4b775be79&imageMogr2/format/webp)
