Short stories Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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When Love Turns to Ash
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises./0/79743/coverorgin.jpg?v=62f4c37f584df274c0685494b832acf4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Weeks Before My Wedding, My Fiancé Forgot Only Me
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away. After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future. Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me. I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call. "Total genius move," he boasted to friends. His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding. Heartbroken, I feigned belief. I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies. He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency. After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first. He even tried to cut me off financially. How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster? His betrayal poisoned every memory. I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty. His audacity left me reeling. But I wouldn’t be his victim. Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed. I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter. I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom./0/87316/coverorgin.jpg?v=8945e37eae2dabe39d498748c7ddcf3e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Death to Divorce: Her Rebirth
A sharp pain shot through my head, pulling me from a deep darkness. I opened my eyes to my luxury penthouse, but I shouldn't have been there. I remembered dying. The memory was cold and sharp: my protégé, Dustin, sold me out, and my husband, Graves, watched our company crumble, leading to my fatal heart attack. Then, Graves appeared, his charming, empty smile unchanged. But he wasn't alone. A young woman, Alex Salazar, stood behind him, clutching her cheap handbag. Graves introduced her as an intern, saying she had nowhere to stay and would be living with us. My eyes fell to her neck, where a dark hickey was partially hidden. The date on the nightstand confirmed it: I had traveled back in time to the exact day Graves brought Alex home in my previous life, the beginning of my long, painful nightmare. Last time, I had screamed and thrown things, starting my humiliation. A strange calm washed over me. I had been given a second chance, not to win him back, but to escape. "Of course," I said, my voice even, "The poor thing. We should take care of her." Graves looked surprised, then relieved. He thought he had won. "In fact," I continued, pulling out divorce papers, "I'll make sure she's comfortable. You just have one small thing to do for me." I wanted the Malibu property. "Give me that, and I'll walk away quietly. You can have your new life. You can take care of this... orphan."/0/87315/coverorgin.jpg?v=1c760290d9f514a53e27ef5624154c3d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Price of Unrequited Love
Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart./0/80266/coverorgin.jpg?v=ed71ae177a4c1666327aa779c8de24f7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Monster I Once Loved
I was just a struggling artist in Brooklyn, and he was the amnesiac I found beaten in an alley – just "Alex." We fell deeply in love, building a life on whispered dreams and cheap coffee, a bond that felt truly unbreakable. But then his memory returned, and my gentle Alex vanished, replaced by Alexander Sterling III, a cold, ruthless heir. He discarded me like trash, his mother paid me off to disappear, and his cruel world, with his chillingly silent consent, shattered my artist's hand. I watched the man I loved stand by as they destroyed me, wondering how a heart could turn so utterly indifferent. Broken but not defeated, I used the 'hush money' to rebuild myself in Paris, emerging five years later as a renowned sculptor, alongside a man who truly cherished me. My renewed happiness, however, ignited a terrifying obsession in Alex, unleashing a horrifying wave of vengeance on everyone he perceived to have wronged me-or so he twistedly claimed. He thought this brutal "justice" would finally win me back, but all it revealed was the true, monstrous stranger the man I loved had become./0/79756/coverorgin.jpg?v=cf0f76275fede2146eec71ace103cb71&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Husband's Betrayal, A Wife's Reckoning
My Hamptons dream life with Ethan, my rising star finance husband, shattered when masked men invaded our home, leaving me pregnant and terrified. A month later, my husband’s “fragile” childhood friend, Izzy Vance, suddenly announced her own pregnancy, suspiciously close in timing. Then came Ethan’s devastating public lie: he claimed Izzy’s baby was his, letting the world believe my child was conceived during the home invasion. My “ordeal baby” became tabloid fodder, and my world imploded. The man I loved had thrown me to the wolves, prioritizing Izzy’s fabricated image above my real trauma. He dismissed my pain, my forced abortion, and even my head injury, leaving me bleeding on the street while he rushed to Izzy’s side after a staged accident. He forced me to donate blood even after my own procedure, and used my public humiliation at a gala to solidify his own hero narrative. Every interaction became a new cut, cementing my role as the villain in his carefully crafted play. How could Ethan be so unbelievably blind? So utterly complicit in my destruction? The man who promised to protect me had become my greatest betrayer, leaving me broken, grieving, and utterly alone. But his unwavering faith in Izzy's insidious lies, culminating in her fake accusation of me attacking a pregnant woman, didn't break me. It ignited a cold, steel resolve. They wanted a lavish baby shower? Oh, I’d bring a gift – a secret that would not only expose their entire charade but detonate their perfect world, ensuring a spectacular downfall for all involved. It was time for my quiet, lethal revenge./0/80297/coverorgin.jpg?v=d45a9a428d68743dd9093b4d01fd90d2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Ex, My Hell
For five years, I was Mrs. Davenport, cleaning up after my husband's one-night stands and enduring his casual cruelty. Call it a gilded cage, but this mansion was my prison, bought by my sacrifice: I was the secret medical lifeline keeping him, Ethan Davenport, alive. Our cruel contract was nearing its end, just three months left. Then, Chloe, his perfect ex-girlfriend, waltzed back in. Her arrival wasn't a gentle reunion; it was a wrecking ball designed to finish what Ethan's neglect had started. She smeared my name, orchestrated a public humiliation, and then watched, smiling, as Ethan, fueled by rage and alcohol, dragged me to a damp, cold cellar. He tore apart my most sacred possession-my fiancé's diary-then brutally killed my loyal dog, Buddy, right before my eyes. As I bled, collapsing into unconsciousness, I heard his ex's venomous whisper: she'd had all my precious memories of him incinerated. They had taken everything. My dignity, my love, my last connection to a life I cherished. My heart was a hollowed-out space, suffocating under a mountain of grief and betrayal. How could a human being be so cruel, so blind, to the sacrifices I'd made to keep him alive? But on the day our notorious contract officially expired, I walked out. With nothing but the clothes on my back and a one-way ticket to a remote Pacific Northwest retreat, I finally chose myself. It was time to disappear, to burn away the past, and somehow, exist again./0/17930/coverorgin.jpg?v=56d058552513d6e64529934622939aa4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Running From The Billionaire
"I ran. Ran as fast as my legs could go. Away. Away from him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hailey Pritchett loved her job as the secretary of Henry Caldwell, the CEO of the Caldwell Industries. She was a woman who liked safety, and stayed far away from danger. However, the company is bought by a ruthless businessman who is known as the Sniper. Theodore Benson is a ruthless billionaire, and is known as the Sniper in the business world. Because he kills his opponents without letting them know. He bows down to no one, and when he wants something, he does everything - whether legal or not - to possess it. When Hailey and Theodore aka the Sniper, come face to face, Hailey knows that Theodore is dangerous. So Hailey does what she does best in the face of danger. She runs. But will Theodore let her get away? Theodore wants Hailey Pritchett, and won't stop until he has her - in every possible way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/0/87354/coverorgin.jpg?v=9016eafd94d11470f29324914456f136&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Discarded Love, Found Happiness
I stood just outside the glass patio doors, holding a tray of fresh towels. Tonight was a celebration of Coleton Barron' s full recovery, the tech world' s golden boy back on his feet after three years of my dedicated physical therapy. But then, his ex-girlfriend, Charly Mack, appeared. When a stray splash from the pool hit her dress, Coleton shoved me aside to protect her, sending me headfirst into the concrete edge of the pool. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion, only to see Coleton comforting Charly, who was faking tears. He didn' t defend me when she claimed we were "just friends." His mother, Esther Cotton, then sent me a text with a five-million-dollar check, telling me I didn' t fit into his world. Back at his penthouse, Charly accused me of poisoning Coleton with soup and breaking his father' s cherished wooden box. He believed her, forcing me to drink the soup and leaving me to collapse on the kitchen floor. I ended up in the hospital again, alone. I didn' t understand why he would believe her lies, why he would hurt me after everything I had done. Why was I just a temporary fix, easily discarded? On his birthday, I left him a text: "Happy Birthday, Coleton. I' m leaving. Don' t look for me. Goodbye." I turned off my phone, dropped it in a trash can, and walked toward a new life./0/80294/coverorgin.jpg?v=458e6be820a87448803466dfc54f2281&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn, He Still Hated Me
I was Eleanor Baker, the architect who built the Harrington empire from the ground up, designed their iconic skyscrapers, and was destined to marry the heir, James. Then, on my 65th birthday, James dropped the bomb: he was changing his will, honoring his long-dead first love, Olivia. My life's work, my shares, everything was gone. The betrayal *killed* me. Only, I opened my eyes in the past. James was there, reborn too, his gaze already holding the cold disgust that would define our future. He still wanted Olivia, who was now alive. So I walked away, giving up everything, only to be ambushed by the press, publicly humiliated, and left bleeding on the street, my heart and my legacy shattered. How could a lifetime of devotion and building be erased in an instant? Could the man I once loved possibly be so cruel, even in a second chance at life? Was I destined to be nothing more than a discarded architect, overshadowed by a ghost? But just as I thought it was over, a stranger offered a chance. A visionary project, a new beginning, a path to reclaim my talent and build a future far beyond anything I'd ever imagined. This time, I'm building for myself./0/81290/coverorgin.jpg?v=efdb6649e18507bdab186a931f6e2b99&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Love Died, Freedom Began
The jagged glass bit into Amelia Hayes' s cheek. "Help me," she choked into the phone, but her husband, Ethan Caldwell, snapped: "Amelia, for God' s sake, I' m in a meeting." A sharp blow, then darkness. She awoke not in her blood-slicked car, but in her opulent master bedroom, the calendar marking three months after her wedding. Three months into a marriage that had already begun to kill her. Ethan stood by the window, his voice softening, "Yes, Jessica, tonight sounds perfect." Jessica Thorne, his true love, the shadow over Amelia' s first life. The familiar ache in Amelia' s chest gave way to a chilling, new fury. For seven miserable years, she had given Ethan desperate, unyielding devotion. She endured his coldness, his brazen affairs, his emotional abuse, all for a flicker of his attention. She had become a shell, a caricature, ridiculed by Ethan' s circle and condescended to by his family. The profound injustice, the sheer blindness of his indifference, was a bitter pill. Her heart, once broken, now felt nothing but a hollow echo of unrequited love. Then, at a gala, a cruel act involving Eleanor' s ashes, and Ethan, without hesitation, shoved Amelia, his accusations echoing: "You are a disgrace." He comforted Jessica while Amelia' s head reeled from the impact. That was the final straw. No tears, no anger. Just a cold resolve. She delivered a small velvet box to his penthouse. Inside: the wedding ring and a divorce decree. "I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Life. Forever," she stated, her voice clear. She was reborn to be free./0/79748/coverorgin.jpg?v=d22e6336bba9febf3a3f702f8b3f335a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Saint and The Monster: A Husband's Double Life
I thought I had it all. A brilliant tech genius husband, Ethan Caldwell, a New York penthouse, and a baby on the way. My life felt like a perfect dream. Then Ethan announced a "catastrophic business failure," plunging us into poverty in a cramped Queens apartment. Five years later, working a Gala, I saw him again. A celebrated "miracle benefactor," he presented the very diamond bracelet he'd promised me to Victoria Vanderbilt—the woman he'd secretly always loved. All my sacrifices, Leo's quiet deprivations—they were an elaborate lie. He'd been building an empire for *her*. The betrayal escalated: Ethan demanded Leo be a kidney donor for Victoria's son. Later, Victoria orchestrated a kidnapping, and Ethan, dismissing my desperate pleas, coldly told the abductors to "teach me a lesson" and hung up. How could the man I loved, Leo's father, be such a monstrous, heartless betrayer? His casual disregard for our very lives, his ultimate abandonment during our terror, left me shattered. Was our entire marriage truly just a cruel, convenient sham for him? Watching my son suffer due to his father's depravity, something inside me ignited. Not broken, but fiercely resolved. I would escape his toxic world, protect Leo, and build a real, peaceful life for us, whatever it took. We were leaving. For good./0/79707/coverorgin.jpg?v=a51f4995687591f3151c208397f8bfa0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ex I Forgot: A Lover Turned Enemy
After a terrifying rock-climbing fall, I woke up in a hospital, my past a blank slate thanks to selective amnesia. My best friend, Chloe, gently informed me I’d lost all memory of my long-term, now ex-boyfriend, Ethan Cole. Though I felt nothing for this forgotten man, he and his glamorous, vindictive girlfriend, Bella Rossi, swiftly re-entered my life, each encounter proving more unsettling than the last. Their malicious disdain for me was palpable. From Bella staging a fall and Ethan’s shocking physical assault that broke my hand, to his public humiliation of me and Bella’s brazen plagiarism of my baking designs—which Ethan shockingly validated as a judge—it felt like a relentless campaign to destroy me. Bella even tried to burn me alive at his parents' house, and Ethan left me in the flames. How could this man, whom I supposedly loved, be so utterly cruel, even after my amnesia wiped him from my mind? His continuous betrayal, culminating in the public destruction of my career and Bella's desperate attempt to run me over, deepened my bewilderment and pain, leaving me questioning everything. But in the chaos, a kind, genuine baker named Noah Evans emerged, shielding me, showing me what true love felt like. And when a final, devastating trauma jolted my memories back, I faced a choice: succumb to the past or embrace the peaceful, loving future Noah offered, cementing my new life far from Ethan's toxic shadow./0/79719/coverorgin.jpg?v=515257f8baafe69c95ecc9afcc933fdc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stepsister's Scorn, Lover's Lie
At the elite Auer Conservatory gala, I, Ava Davies, a scholarship violinist, finally felt I belonged, especially with my powerful trustee boyfriend, Ethan Montgomery, effortlessly by my side. But then, the grand screen, meant for donor names, flickered to life, displaying a deeply intimate video of me—a bedroom scene—for all of New York's elite to see, hijacking my deepest humiliation for public consumption. As gasps turned to cruel whispers and mocking laughter, and my world crumbled, Ethan, my supposed anchor, vanished, only for me to find him moments later, gloating with my stepsister, Seraphina, admitting our entire relationship was an "amusing diversion" to orchestrate my ruin. Betrayed by the man I loved, herded like an animal, I was then dragged into a dark alley by his friends, enduring unimaginable torture: chili oil burned my throat, flashes captured my terror, and a searing hot iron branded my shoulder, all for the public's entertainment, sanctioned by Ethan who later, chillingly, instructed kidnappers to "dispose of me." Why had he, the man who once championed me, orchestrated such monstrous cruelty, leaving me broken and branded, desiring my very eradication—what dark secret propelled this twisted vengeance, and could I ever escape his terrifying obsession? This raw, agonizing betrayal transformed me: I would not just survive, I would disappear from his world, on my own terms, turning my back on the ruin he created to forge a future where I, Ava, would finally be free./0/85026/coverorgin.jpg?v=d534f2d3239af2d8088bb056c64f0acd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Second Love on Snow Mountain
The hum of the projector was a victory song, my architectural proposal a masterpiece, and the biggest deal of my life was firmly in my grasp. Then, the screen flickered, and my home security feed astonishingly replaced my presentation, broadcasting my husband Liam, in his meditation room, hands caressing another woman. The boardroom went from buzzing with ambition to a suffocating silence, every corporate shark' s eyes boring into me as my perfectly crafted life shattered. I didn't flinch, my professional calm a mask over the searing pain of betrayal, as I coolly ended the meeting, securing the contract with a hand that barely trembled. But once in my car, my first call wasn\'t to Liam; it was to my lawyer, a swift command issuing from my lips: "Start the application for my permanent residency in Switzerland. Immediately."/0/87386/coverorgin.jpg?v=570eb668d5e0cdea9cc7a0fc9ea19610&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Poisoned Love, Bitter Justice
My mother, a nurse who spent forty years caring for others, was poisoned and left for dead after a charity gala. The woman responsible, Keyla Dixon, stood in court, a mask of tearful innocence, claiming self-defense. The real horror? My husband, Garrison Gardner, the city's top lawyer, was defending Keyla. He tore my mother's reputation apart, twisting the truth until the jury believed Keyla was the victim. The verdict came swiftly: "Not guilty." Keyla hugged Garrison, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face. That night, in our cold mansion, I confronted him. "How could you?" I choked out. He calmly replied, "It was my job. Keyla is a very important client." When I screamed that she tried to kill my mother, he threatened to use my mother's sealed medical records, her history of depression, to paint her as unstable and suicidal. He was willing to destroy her memory to protect his client and his career. I was trapped, humiliated, and heartbroken. He had sacrificed my mother for his ambition, and now he was trying to erase me. But as I signed the divorce papers he had prepared, a wild, desperate plan began to form. If they wanted me gone, I would disappear. And then, I would make them pay./0/82871/coverorgin.jpg?v=f5dc906e4e75e4f679484fb7f790d43d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Fiancée's Sweet Escape
My eyes snapped open in the blinding hospital light. A nurse murmured the date: July 15th, 2013. The number slammed into me. It couldn't be. That was ten years ago. Ten years before the crash that supposedly just happened. Ten years before I, Sarah Miller, endured a decade of quiet suffocation married to Ethan Hayes. In my real recent past, just before the crash, I'd discovered gut-wrenching betrayal: Ethan and Olivia Cartwright, his high-school flame, renewed vows in secret. While I was still his wife. The misery, the constant, gnawing neglect, Ethan's emotional energy poured into Olivia like water into sand—it all came rushing back. He had lived a double life, building a separate future with another woman while married to me. My spirit, a withered thing, had accepted it. Now, I was back. Before the suffering, before the constant, soul-crushing betrayal. A cruel irony: my alleged accident had sent me backward in time, to before the misery even began. The quiet misery was a screaming void. I just relived it, and realized I was about to restart it. But not this time. This was it. My second chance. Ethan could have Olivia. He could have her from the start. Sarah Miller was not walking that path again. I was going to orchestrate their "happiness" and secure my own escape into a real life./0/79990/coverorgin.jpg?v=5323bba7f5e870ca5be416a90719beab&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife He Designed
My life with Ethan Cole, the charismatic tech CEO, was perfect. I was his beloved wife, carrying our first child, convinced I was the center of his universe. But when my father fell ill, Ethan disappeared from my life, only to reappear in a crushing photo: his arm intimately around my successful cousin, Olivia Hayes. My world shattered. The betrayal ran deeper than I could have imagined. I discovered I was merely a meticulously chosen stand-in, a grotesque copy of Olivia, the woman he truly loved. He even desired our child to have *her* features, a living link to his obsession. Every tender gesture, every shared dream, was a calculated lie, meaning my marriage, my love, and my pregnancy were all built on his monstrous deceit. A cold rage blossomed within me; how could I have been so blind? He believed he owned me, that I would never leave, especially with a baby on the way, confident I was a compliant fool. He was terribly wrong. I would not be his vessel, his substitute. When he least expected it, while he was still flaunting his obsession, I quietly underwent an abortion. Then, using his arrogance against him, I meticulously orchestrated my escape, securing my divorce and vanishing without a trace. He thought he was playing me; I showed him exactly who was being played, leaving him a devastating truth about his own making./0/87296/coverorgin.jpg?v=9d4ecd4cbfdc366c5a201e61b551e5b3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Neglected To New York Queen
"The wedding is back on," my mother' s voice announced, shattering the calm of my Los Angeles penthouse. An arranged marriage to Everette Bryant, a relic from my grandfather' s past, was suddenly my future. I thought I could lean on Danial and Ismael, my childhood friends, my rocks during a mysterious illness. But a new intern, Judi Coffey, had entered our lives, and something felt off. Judi, with her innocent facade, quickly became the center of their universe. She stumbled, she cried, she even deliberately broke my award, all to gain their sympathy. Danial and Ismael, once my protectors, turned their backs, their concern solely for her. "Angelina, what's wrong with you? She's just an intern," Danial accused, his eyes cold. Ismael added, "That was harsh. She's just a kid." Their blind loyalty escalated. Judi' s manufactured crisis, a flat tire, pulled them away, leaving me alone. Later, Danial, enraged by a broken vase, shoved me, causing a head injury. He didn't even notice my allergic reaction, a symptom they once rushed to treat. How could they forget everything? The bee stings, the shellfish allergies, the times they held my hand in the emergency room. The gardenias Danial planted, now the source of my suffering, went unnoticed. I looked at their faces, at the two men I had known my entire life, and saw strangers. My decision was made. I burned our shared memories, resigned from my firm, and put my house up for sale. I was leaving them, all of them, for good./0/79709/coverorgin.jpg?v=dae65ff2a079e79f65a9f29a2bfab3dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
