Ace Trumper
11 Published Stories
Ace Trumper's Books and Stories
The Price Of His Choice
Modern My husband Elliott and I were expecting our first child. Then his ex, Kenya, showed up, claiming she was dying and had his secret son. He chose her.
I watched him play happy family with her while I sat alone at our baby' s ultrasound. Later, her son pushed me so hard I nearly miscarried.
In the hospital, she sent me a picture of my late father' s locket, shattered, with a text saying Elliott called it "junk."
When I confronted her, Elliott violently threw me out of her room.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he roared. "She' s fragile!"
He was protecting the woman who tried to kill our baby, and calling me the monster.
He held me prisoner in our home, parading his new family in public while I was erased. He thought I was too weak to leave, that I' d just accept my new place.
The night of their lavish "Welcome Home" party, while the city celebrated his touching love story, I walked out the front door and never looked back. Beyond Broken: Finding Her Peace
Romance The headline screamed from the society page: CEO Michael Sterling' s Protégé, Chloe Davis, Flaunts Baby Bump. Five years of marriage, yearning for a child, shattered in an instant. Michael, my husband, promised it was a mistake, a drunken night he barely remembered. He knelt, he cried, he pleaded, and I, God help me, chose to believe him. He vanished Chloe Davis from our lives, and for three years, we were happy.
Then came the news of a riot, Michael unreachable. I flew halfway across the world, frantic, only to find him in a quiet suburb, holding a child with his dark hair and blue eyes, another clinging to his leg. Standing beside him, heavily pregnant again, was Chloe Davis, looking at him with adoration as he smiled a truly happy smile I hadn' t seen in years.
He saw me, his smile vanishing. On the silent ride back, he told me to accept them. His heirs. And since I couldn't give him a child, Chloe would come home, posing as a nanny. My hand instinctively went to my purse, clutching the pregnancy test I' d taken that morning-two pink lines, a miracle I' d been waiting to share. I snapped it in two; he didn' t even ask what it was.
At the private terminal, Chloe, feigning terror, shrieked I was trying to harm her and her children. Without explanation, Michael slapped me hard. I stumbled, fell, and felt a warm wetness spread beneath me. Blood. "Michael," I choked, "the baby…our baby…please, help me." He sneered, "You' re pathetic, Olivia. There is no baby." He turned his back, leading his perfect family away, leaving me bleeding on the airport floor.
In the hospital, he brought Chloe, ensuring she got the best care, accusing me of faking for attention. When I hemorrhaged, he panicked, but the final blow came when Chloe staged another fall, crying I' d hit her. Michael, already enraged, punched me in the stomach. An explosion of pain, and then, the last bit of warmth left my body. My baby was gone. He had killed it. But what about all the years I' d sacrificed for him, including my first child and my mother? Her Vengeance, His Broken Heart
Modern They called me Liam Miller, the luckiest man in New York City.
My son, Leo, was the center of my universe, and my wife, Sarah, seemed to worship us both.
Our perfect life shattered one rainy day on the highway, a blinding flash of light, twisting metal, and then, nothing.
I woke to the sterile whiteness of a hospital room, a rhythmic beep the only sound, Sarah by my side, her face pale, her grip tight.
"Leo," I rasped, the word a physical wrench from my raw throat. "Where' s Leo? I need to see my son."
Her face crumpled as she squeezed my hand, "There was an accident. He… he lost too much blood, honey. He died at the scene."
The world spun into a gray vortex; panic choked me, then, mercifully, blackness.
The next time I woke, I heard voices near the door-Sarah and the attending doctor.
"Ms. Jenkins, your son could have been saved, but why did you…?"
Sarah' s response was chilling, utterly devoid of emotion, "Liam Miller' s son, from the day he was born, was meant to save Alex' s daughter."
Alex? The name struck me as foreign, out of place.
"If he lived," Sarah continued, her voice like ice, "how could I legitimately take his organs? I' ve supported Liam and his son for years; now it' s their turn to repay me."
The words struck harder than the truck, poisoning every memory, every cherished moment.
The private island, the Fortress of Solitude – all a lie, a calculated investment, my son a resource, his life a debt she had come to collect.
The grief didn't vanish; it transformed into a cold, hard resolve.
My body was broken, but my mind had never been clearer.
She wanted repayment? Fine.
I would give her what she wanted. Reborn: A Husband's Vengeance
Billionaires The sterile smell of the hospital room was the last thing I remembered.
Cancer had eaten away at me, my career crumbled, my fortune gone.
Then I saw them: my perfectly made-up wife, Sarah, and our sullen son, Billy, standing by my deathbed.
"Just sign the papers, Mark," she' d said, her voice devoid of warmth, talking about my last company shares for David' s "venture."
David. The man she' d been sleeping with for years, Billy' s biological father.
I remembered the fake charity events, the money diverted, my childhood home sold to cover his gambling debts.
I remembered how she' d helped my mother take her car to a "new mechanic," and how, as I lay dying, Sarah laughed, confessing to tampering with the brakes.
"She never liked me anyway," she' d whispered, her face inches from mine, "And Billy... Does he look anything like you? You pathetic idiot."
The monitor flatlined as Billy turned away in disgust and Sarah smiled, victorious.
My life had been a lie, a crushing weight of betrayal.
Then, I gasped.
The air was clean; I was in my living room, strong and healthy.
Across from me stood Sarah, looking exactly as she did ten years ago.
"Mark," she said, her voice sharp and final. "I want a divorce."
The words echoed. I was back at the starting point of my nightmare, but this time, I wasn't the naive husband.
I knew every detail of the fire, and a strange, shimmering number hovered above her head: [$8,150,432]. It was her net worth.
Then David walked in, and above his head glowed a stark, alarming red: [-$20,789,140].
I could see what people were worth. I was reborn, armed with the truth, and this time, the ending would be different. From Blame to Beloved
Romance I'm going to die soon.
That thought wasn't sad, just a simple fact as I called a late-night radio show, dedicating a song to my husband, Liam.
Liam Hayes, the man who saw me only as a constant reminder of the car crash five years ago, the one that put his ex-girlfriend, Chloe, in a coma and left me severely injured.
He blamed me, never outright, but in every cold glance, every clipped word, every night he spent at her hospital bedside instead of home with me, his wife.
When Chloe miraculously woke, he seized the opportunity, serving me divorce papers right there, in her hospital room, in front of her triumphant face, sealing my fate.
And Chloe's cruel revenge didn't stop there; she was setting my mother's home ablaze when she died in a police chase, and Liam, consumed by grief, still chose to believe her lies, accusing me of murder.
Even from my hospital bed, dying from a mysterious illness that was a direct result of that initial crash, my love for him was so absolute I took the blame, confessing to a crime I didn't commit, just to protect my mother and salvage the last shred of his peace.
But now, years later, a miracle returns Liam to the day before our wedding, haunted by the future he unknowingly destroyed, armed with the truth, and a burning desire for a second chance. His Penance, Her Peace: The Quiet Atonement
Modern The day my son, Leo, was born, my $50,000 life savings, carefully scraped together since I aged out of foster care, vanished.
My boyfriend, Ethan, Leo' s father, convinced me to transfer every penny for his "European residency," a supposed investment in our future.
Hours after Leo' s birth, hormonal and exhausted, I foolishly gave him my nest egg, believing his promises of a brighter tomorrow for our new family.
But then, Leo was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder, needing immediate, experimental treatment costing hundreds of thousands.
When I begged Ethan for the money back, his handsome face twisted with contempt, claiming it was "invested" and gone.
He scoffed, accused me of trying to "trap him financially," then threw the few hundred dollars he had at me, humiliating me in front of our landlord.
After our son tragically died in my arms in a public hospital, I found Ethan celebrating, buying an expensive sculpture with a wealthy old flame.
That' s when I overheard the sickening truth: my love, my life, my son's existence, had all been a twisted, cruel bet to him.
What kind of monster would gamble with a new mother' s love and a baby' s life?
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, he kicked me, slamming me against a table, sending Leo' s fragile ashes spilling across the floor.
That very kick stole my ability to ever have another child, leaving me with nothing but the dust of my son and a searing rage.
Broken but alive, I eventually built a new life, found true love, and against all odds, conceived a new child.
But the real question is, what became of the man who took everything from me, and can true redemption ever be found after such monstrous betrayals? The Billionaire's Stolen Bride
Billionaires Ava Thompson flew back to San Francisco from rural Montana, ready to pick up her life where it left off five years ago.
Her top priority: finalizing her wedding to Ethan Sterling, the scion of a powerful tech empire.
Their union was the next logical step, a pre-planned event, fully approved by her Senator parents.
But at the opulent wedding planner' s office, a chilling truth shattered her world.
Ms. Albright, beaming professionally, casually mentioned, "We planned his wedding… to Ava Thompson. The Senator' s daughter. It was three months ago."
Ethan Sterling was already married, to an imposter using Ava' s exact name and identity.
When Ava confronted him at his Silicon Valley mansion, he dismissed her without a second thought.
Through an intercom, the man she loved declared, "I don' t know what she' s talking about. She' s probably just some deluded fan. Get rid of her."
The words "deluded fan" hit Ava like a physical blow, stripping her of dignity, her identity, and her future.
She stared at the gate, her fiancé denying her very existence, cold and dismissive.
How could this happen? How could someone simply take her life, and the man she was supposed to marry betray her so completely?
But as humiliation threatened to overwhelm her, a cold fire ignited deep within.
If Ethan Sterling had decided she didn' t exist, she would make sure he felt her existence.
And she would make him pay for every lie, every stolen moment, every penny an impostor spent in her name.
Starting now. They Broke Her, I Broke Them
Horror My twin sister, Olivia, lay terrifyingly still in a hospital bed, her pale face a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets.
An IV dripped fluid into her arm, and chillingly, thick bandages covered her wrists, a silent testament to her desperate act.
She had tried to end her life, driven to the brink by the relentless, sophisticated cruelty of Brittany and her followers at Northwood High School.
Their audacious arrival at the hospital, complete with smirks and chilling taunts, twisted the knife deeper into our family' s raw wound.
My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, stood helpless, their attempts to rid us of the tormentors dismissed with scornful indifference.
When the police finally arrived, their response was infuriatingly inadequate: a dismissive "warning" for minors, prioritizing Brittany' s influential family over Olivia' s shattered life.
Then, the ultimate humiliation struck: a raw, brutal video of Olivia's locker room torment, her clothes torn and her pleas mocked by Brittany's cruel laughter, exploded across social media.
My fragile sister, seeing it, whispered that she was "so weak," her spirit visibly drained from her eyes.
A mere warning for such psychological torture, for driving my twin to attempt suicide, was a grotesque joke in their broken system.
But a familiar darkness, a dormant, predatory instinct I had suppressed for years for Olivia' s sake, began to stir within me.
Olivia had always been my anchor, soothing this other side, but now, she was the very reason to unleash it.
That night, I made a decision that would redefine everything: I was going to Northwood High.
They thought they knew Olivia Peterson – but they had no idea who was truly coming for them.
They had broken my other half; I would break them in return, and the Peterson family had unique ways of ensuring justice. Married To A Ghost: The Twin's Legacy
Romance My name is Sarah Vance; I'm an architect, happily married to Michael, and our childfree life was perfect.
Then, a call to my prestigious alma mater, Kingswood Academy, to help my cousin with admissions, shattered everything when the admissions officer claimed a six-year-old boy named Ethan Vance was registered as our son.
Michael vehemently denied it, blaming corporate sabotage, but my unease deepened, leading me to a Kingswood parents' orientation where I confronted a woman named Olivia, who then calmly asserted she was Michael' s wife and mother to Ethan, leaving me stunned in front of a judging crowd.
As Michael' s own sister, Chloe, and his powerful mother, Eleanor, publicly sided with Olivia, cruelly shaming me as unstable and barren, I stood there humiliated, frantically grasping at my shattered reality, wondering who this boy was and how my perfect life had become a catastrophic lie.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, Michael arrived, and witnessing his mother's cruelty, he finally roared the impossible truth: Olivia was his identical twin brother David' s widow, Ethan was David' s son, and Michael had been living a torturous double life to protect their family empire, forcing us to rebuild our lives from the ruins of a monumental deception. Her Father's Medal, Her Own War
Young Adult My life was finally looking up. The email glowed on my phone: "Congratulations, Sarah Miller!" – a full scholarship to a top university, my ticket out of our small town and a way to honor my parents' memory. My sister, Emily, who' d been my rock running our family diner, Miller' s Plate, since Mom and Dad passed, screamed with joy with me.
But our joy shattered when Mark Henderson, the spoiled son of the town's most powerful developer, swaggered into Miller's Plate. He and his thugs brutally assaulted Emily, leaving her broken and our diner in ruins, just because she refused to sell our land.
The nightmare deepened at the police station. Chief Williams, clearly in Art Henderson' s pocket, dismissed it as a "mutual altercation" and advised me to take their dirty money. Then, my scholarship was mysteriously rescinded, erasing my future. My home was savagely vandalized, and our beloved cat, Patches, was found dead, a cruel message pinned to his collar: "Next time, it' s you." Every lawyer turned me away, and our once-supportive neighbors, cowed by the Hendersons' influence, looked the other way.
I felt utterly crushed, alone against an empire of corruption and violence. My sister lay critical in the ICU, our home was a wreck, and they' d taken everything. What else was left for them to destroy?
Amidst the wreckage, I stumbled upon my late Marine father's old footlocker. Inside, I found his Medal of Honor. "Semper Fi," he used to say – Always Faithful. A desperate, impossible hope ignited: if the local system was broken, maybe his military family, General Peterson, could remind them what justice truly meant. I clutched the medal, buying a bus ticket to Camp Lejeune, ready for the fight of my life. You might like
The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he’d dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family’s land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell—the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I’ve suspended Hugh’s executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I’m just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
Ruby Stone When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." 
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