AtengKadiwa
13 Published Stories
AtengKadiwa's Books and Stories
The Rat In Shadows: His Downfall
Modern I endured 121 needle marks on my stomach for the child my husband, Braden, and I desperately wanted.
But as I lay on the procedure table, moments from our embryo transfer, he walked out. He left me for his high school sweetheart, Isabella, who was hysterical over her son's scraped knee.
He paraded her around in public "family" photos while his own family shamed me at dinner for being too "stiff."
When Isabella's son shoved me to the floor, Braden rushed to comfort the boy, not me.
He looked at me with pure disgust.
"How can you possibly think you'd be a good mother when you behave like this?" he spat.
I looked him dead in the eye, my voice shaking but clear. "The funniest part is, Braden? I canceled the embryo transfer."
Then, in front of his entire family, I said, "I want a divorce. And this time, I'm not kidding." He Thought I'd Stay: His Mistake
Romance Today was my four-year anniversary with Chace. He told me to wear my white dress for a surprise he had planned. I spent all afternoon getting ready, practicing my "Yes," certain he was finally going to propose.
But when I arrived at the hotel ballroom, the banner read, "Congratulations, Chace & Karyn."
In front of all their friends and family, he got down on one knee and proposed to his childhood friend, Karyn Warren.
He used his mother's heirloom ring—the one he once showed me, saying it was for the woman he would spend his life with.
He then introduced me, his girlfriend of four years, as "a very good friend." His new fiancée smiled sweetly and told me their marriage would be an open one, giving me permission to stay on as his mistress.
I overheard him telling his friend his real plan: "Karyn is my wife for show, but Ember can be my woman on the side for fun."
He thought I would just accept being his toy. He was wrong.
I pulled out my phone and texted a number I'd never dared to call before—the executor of my estranged father's will.
"I need to claim my inheritance."
His reply was instant. "Of course, Ms. Ford. The stipulation is a marriage to me. Are you ready to proceed?"
"Yes," I typed back. My life with Chace was over. My Hellish Wife: A Second Chance
Romance The sharp, metallic scent of rain on asphalt filled the air, a smell I hadn't registered in thirty years. I opened my eyes not to a hospital, but to the familiar gray ceiling of the apartment I once shared with Olivia Hayes, the date on the calendar October 12th, 2024. My phone buzzed, her name, Olivia, lighting up the screen.
In my first life, I' d answer, and her panicked voice would tell me she' d made a terrible mistake, using company funds for a gift-not knowing then it was for her secret lover, Mark Jenkins. Without hesitation, I' d drain my savings and take out a high-interest loan to save her job and reputation. In return, she married me, and for the next three decades, she made my life a living hell.
I remembered everything: the constant belittling, her sneering at my passion and controlling every dollar I earned while lavishly spending on herself and Mark. I remembered the fights, the chilling silences for weeks, always her punishment for not being ambitious enough, for not earning more, for not being Mark Jenkins.
The worst memory was our daughter, Lily. I cherished her, gave her everything Olivia denied me emotionally, believing she was my reason to endure. But as she grew, Olivia and Mark poisoned her mind, twisting my sacrifices into control, my love into a cage. On her sixteenth birthday, after I' d worked months to buy her a car, she looked at Mark, calling him "Dad," shattering my world.
The phone kept buzzing, insistent, desperate. I remembered my death at fifty-eight, alone, my last moments filled with regret and Olivia telling paramedics not to hurry. This time, there would be no sacrifice, no bailing her out. This time, I wouldn't be the hero. I wouldn't be the fool. I swiped to decline. Then I called Richard Sterling, Head of Internal Audit.
"Mr. Sterling," I said, "this is Ethan Davis. I have reason to believe there's been a significant misappropriation of funds in the marketing department. I think you should look into Olivia Hayes." Heartbreak and a Hollowed Home
Modern "I need the money, Sarah," Mark said, his voice smooth and confident. "All of it. It's for us." He talked about a new business venture, a sure thing that would set them up for life. I believed him, loved him, and trusted him. The next morning, I withdrew our entire life savings for him.
A week later, our baby boy, Liam, started coughing. It quickly grew worse. His small body felt hot. The doctor said it was his heart; he needed immediate surgery. I called Mark, desperate. "Mark, it's Liam. He's sick. The doctor said he needs an operation right away. We need the money."
"The money's gone, Sarah. It's tied up in the investment." His voice was cold, distant. When I pressed him, he snapped, "Don't be so dramatic. He's probably just got a bad cold. You're overreacting." He hung up. Desperation took over. I worked three jobs, earning every dollar. But it was never enough. Liam's medical bills piled up.
While I was scrubbing a stranger's floor, the hospital called. Liam had taken a turn for the worse. I raced to his side, but it was too late. My son died in a sterile hospital room. I couldn't even afford a proper funeral. They gave me his ashes in a plain cardboard box.
Days later, I saw Mark outside a high-end jewelry store, laughing, his arm around Jessica White. He bought her a glittering diamond necklace. The truth crashed down on me. There was no investment. There was only Jessica. He had taken our life savings, our future, our son's only chance at life, and spent it on her.
How could he? How could I have been so blind? My son was dead because of his lies. The man I loved betrayed me, destroyed everything, then protected the woman who mocked my dead child. I had nothing left to lose. The Scent of Betrayal, A New Path
Romance My life with Isabella was a dream, a meticulously crafted illusion of love and partnership, sealed with a unique cologne she commissioned for me.
Then, one Tuesday morning, that perfect scent, our scent, suddenly made her flinch.
She claimed an allergy, dismissed it as "too strong," and I, a fool for her comfort, stopped wearing it.
A week later, I found her clutching a worn hoodie in our laundry room, reeking of cheap deodorant and unfamiliar youth.
Her casual dismissal, "It' s Ethan' s. He' s that new intern I' m mentoring," struck a chilling chord.
The way she spoke of him, the hunger in her eyes I hadn' t seen in years, the word she used- "nurturing" -echoed a past life, a forgotten version of us.
I tried to confront her, publicly, thinking our history meant something.
I was brutally wrong.
She offered to buy me out with pennies from our pre-nuptial agreement, then surgically sabotaged my Wall Street career, ruining me financially.
When I had nothing left, she showed her true monstrosity: she kidnapped my kind, loving parents, tying them up in a dark warehouse.
Her demand was simple: sign the divorce papers, sign away everything, and they would live.
I signed.
The next day, the warehouse exploded. "A gas leak," the police report said. I knew it wasn' t.
I stood on the edge of my office building, ready to end it all, when I woke up.
I was in my bed, sunlight streaming through the window, my phone buzzing.
The date on the screen was the day I first heard the name Ethan Cole.
This was no longer about love or reconciliation. This was about survival.
This time, there would be no confrontation. This time, I would just disappear.
But first, I had to save the only people who mattered.
"Dad?" I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Listen to me very carefully. I need you and Mom to pack a bag. I' m booking you a flight. I want you to go on that world cruise you' ve always talked about. Tonight." He Played Her False: She Played Her Way Out
Modern My Juilliard cello degree was just background noise to the perfect smile I plastered on for my husband, Wesley' s, political fundraisers.
For eight years, I was "Mrs. Wesley Lester," a pretty prop, while my priceless 18th-century cello sat in its case, my only sacred space, untouched by him.
Then, he grabbed it-not the case, the actual instrument-and shoved it into the arms of Gabrielle, his childhood friend and campaign manager, without a single thought.
I watched in horror as her lacquered nails scraped a searing line across its varnish.
My husband, the man I sacrificed everything for, didn' t even flinch.
He handed my soul to another woman as if it were a coat, then fussed over her while I stood there, burning from his complete dismissal.
Later, burned by scalding coffee after he literally carried Gabrielle past my collapse, he still left me there, choosing her comfort over my agony.
Then, with my hands bandaged into useless clubs, he demanded I donate my rare blood for Gabrielle, claiming her life was "on the line" for a fabricated public sympathy play.
How could he ask this? How could he drain my life force to sustain his pathetic lie? Why was I, his wife, solely a biological resource, while Gabrielle, healthy as ever, lay next to me, sighing dramatically, soaking up his attention?
When she intentionally ruined my late mentor' s irreplaceable autographed music, something snapped.
And as chaos erupted, with a fire alarm blaring, I saw him choose her again, turning his back on me as I lay fallen on the marble floor.
But a strong hand pulled me up-a lifeline. This time, I wouldn't just leave; I would reclaim everything he had tried to bury. Second Chance at Yale
Romance My life was a perfect fairytale, or so I thought.
Born into old money, I was the golden girl who married Yale University's campus prince, Liam Vanderbilt.
Two years into our blissful marriage, I quit my job, ready to start the family we'd always dreamed of.
Then, Liam announced a year-long project in London, barely coming home to pack.
I missed him terribly, barraging him with texts, but only met with silence.
My best friend, Chloe, delivered the crushing news: Liam' s old flame, Serena Dubois, was back from Paris and working in his London office.
Then Liam' s assistant confirmed: the new Vice President, familiar with Europe, accompanied him – a woman.
My worst fears confirmed, I lay in bed, the realization hitting me like a punch: Liam's private Instagram account, a shrine to a girl from his prep school, Serena.
He didn't just leave, he left for his first love, the jet named after me presumably carrying her.
I was suffering through fertility treatments, waiting for him, while he was with her.
My dream of a baby, our perfect life, shattered by his betrayal.
Why marry me if he only truly loved her?
Then I woke up, sweating, to a message from Liam.
My desperate "I want a divorce" text received only one two-word response: "Fine."
He didn't beg, he didn't explain.
He just agreed.
The only jet available to follow him to London was 'The Hailey,' the one he gifted me.
Then I collapsed.
When I opened my eyes, I was back on Yale's Old Campus, the day I first tried to ask Liam out.
He stood before me, arrogant and young, wearing the Rolex I knew was Serena' s gift.
I remembered his cutting rejection from my past life, and the thought of reliving that humiliation made me sick.
But this time, I wouldn't let him break me.
This time, I was getting off this rollercoaster before it even started. My North Star Rising
Romance My dream of studying at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris was finally within reach, a Golden Whisk nomination sparkling on my laptop screen. My life as a rising pastry chef was just beginning. And then, my phone buzzed. It was Ethan, my charming boyfriend, the heir to the prestigious Vance Family Vineyard.
His voice was wrecked, thin and cracking as he pleaded, "Mia, we're going to lose everything. The vineyard is gone. I'm ruined." My heart squeezed, imagining his family's legacy in Napa Valley crumbling. Without a second thought, I clicked off my scholarship application. "I'm coming, Ethan," I promised, "On the next flight to California."
For three years, I buried my pastry dreams under layers of grease and exhaustion, flipping burgers at Dusty' s Diner, a greasy spoon in a dusty Central Valley town. Every spare cent went into a battered shoebox, saving fifty thousand dollars to save his "family legacy." Ethan constantly complained about our "dump" rental and the "disgusting" food, but I ignored him, focused on our goal. My sacrifice was complete when I finally deposited the last bundle of cash in the bank.
But then, I heard it: a news segment blaring about "dynamic young investor Ethan Vance" and his thriving Napa winery, his acquisition of a tech startup, and even his personal interest in "the popular Dusty's Diner." My blood ran cold, but the final blow came from Ethan's unwitting pocket-dial. "The full fifty K," his smug voice chuckled. "That diner girl? Still slaving away for me. Bless her little cotton socks. Enough for the down payment on that new Porsche 911. And Brittany will love that little diamond thing I saw." Not for a vineyard. Not for us. For a car. For another woman.
My breath hitched, the world tilted. Every word, every sacrifice, every hopeful dream of a shared future shattered into a million pieces. The humiliation was a physical ache. As he walked into the diner, feigning concern, I didn't cry. Instead, I calmly pulled out my checkbook. It was time for him to pay for his lies. The Impossible Pregnancy
Romance For ten years, I was the loyal, devoted husband, pouring everything into our co-founded tech company, Innovatech Solutions.
I underwent a vasectomy, a permanent sacrifice for my wife Chloe, who claimed a rare genetic condition prevented us from having children.
Then, Chloe was miraculously pregnant.
My doctor's discreet call confirmed the impossible: the child wasn't mine.
Hours later, I found Chloe's secret online profile, revealing a seven-year double life-a hidden husband, Sebastian, two children, and "Miracle #3" on the way.
Chloe admitted everything, unapologetically claiming my vasectomy was "necessary" for her ambitions.
Then, she brought her lover and their children into my home, forcing me out.
Worse, she publicly demoted me at Innovatech, relegating me to a dead-end job reporting to her con-man boyfriend.
A decade of my life, my loyalty, my very body, all leveraged for her elaborate deception.
The sheer audacity, her cold pragmatism and complete lack of remorse, left me reeling from a betrayal beyond comprehension.
That moment, something snapped.
I publicly resigned from Innovatech, severing ties with the broken remnants of my past.
I called Michael, my old friend and a powerful VC, who, upon hearing the full, sordid truth, promised not just my future, but Chloe's downfall. Shattered Light: A Queen's Vengeance
Xuanhuan I woke up back in my old novitiate room.
The sunlight was weak, my head ached, but it wasn't physical pain. It was the crushing weight of a whole life, stolen, crashing back into me.
Years of sacrifice, of pouring my heart into others-Ethan, Maya, Mr. Henderson-all ripped away.
My deepest devotions, twisted by a dark ritual, a "Charm of Transference," meant to siphon my spiritual credit to my sister, Seraphina.
She was lauded for my true work, celebrated for my love, while I was publicly shamed, exiled, and left to die, broken and alone.
Now, I' m back, and the game is already in motion. Alistair is setting the stage for Seraphina's rise, forcing me down familiar paths of betrayal.
I tried to change things, to build something real with Kai, to honor Mr. Henderson. But again, Seraphina claimed every ounce of my effort, my love, my sacrifice as her own, leaving me stripped bare, exiled, deemed "unworthy."
Each repeated betrayal, a fresh cut, compounded the rage that had settled deep within me.
How could they keep stealing my life, my essence, transforming my pure intentions into their glittering lies?
The injustice was a living thing, purer and more potent than any "Grace" they pretended to embody. It burned away the last vestiges of the hopeful girl I once was.
No more. I died once, broken and alone, with anger as my only companion.
This time, my pain is my power, my rage a crucible. On the eve of Seraphina' s coronation, I won' t just endure.
I will shatter their illusion, severing the very source of their stolen power, even if it means destroying myself in the process.
The game has changed. I am back, and this time, I play to win. The Annulled Bride's Billionaire Husband
Romance My wedding day was supposed to be the start of everything.
Three hours after I married my college sweetheart, Ethan Hayes, my world imploded.
He raised his glass for a toast, but instead announced, "This is an end."
Publicly, brutally, he annulled our marriage, leaving me shattered and ridiculed in front of hundreds.
My love, my hope, my very reputation-all destroyed on that glittering ballroom floor.
Five years later, a new, quiet life had begun; I was secretly married to Alexander Sterling, New York' s reclusive tech billionaire.
I thought I was finally safe, finally happy.
Then, I saw Ethan again, with his cruel accomplice, Brittany, their smug faces a painful reminder.
He mocked my simple life, then insultingly offered me a cleaning job.
When I quietly revealed I was married, they erupted in disbelieving laughter.
Brittany snatched the unique signet ring Alex had given me, screaming "Thief!"
Ethan, fearing for his ambitious plans, brutally slapped me, dragging me from the cafe into a dark alley.
He imprisoned me, then, to protect his image, hauled me onto his gala stage, accusing me of stalking.
My life felt ruined all over again, consumed by pain and utter injustice.
In front of society's elite, he twisted my hand with a sickening crunch, deliberately breaking it.
My screamed agony was swallowed by the crowd, my humiliation complete.
Just then, a hush fell as Alexander Sterling himself walked in, casting a long shadow.
Brittany, holding my broken ring like a trophy, boasted about punishing the "thief."
Then Alex' s eyes found mine, lingering on my mangled hand, and his face contorted with ice-cold fury.
He walked straight to me, and with a voice that silenced the room, asked Ethan, "What have you done to my wife?" Mr. E: The Silent Architect
Billionaires My wife, Victoria, was the glamorous face of AuraLife, her wildly successful lifestyle brand.
Everyone saw me as a quiet man, perhaps a little lost, living comfortably off her fame.
What they didn't know was that I secretly bankrolled her entire empire, meticulously guiding every strategic move from the shadows.
All I ever truly wanted was quiet and anonymity.
That peace shattered when her executive assistant, Chad, and his drunk friends, hijacked my private yacht.
They trashed it, openly mocked me, and then, in a cruel impulse, Chad shoved my younger sister, Chloe, into the water, just hours before her crucial Ivy League scholarship interview.
I pulled a terrified, sputtering Chloe from the waves, bruised and furious.
But the real blow came when Victoria arrived.
Seeing her defaced yacht and her soaked, shaken husband and sister, her only concern was how we were "embarrassing" her.
She then dismissed Chad's vile advances on Chloe with a chilling smile, telling my sister to "be a sport."
That was the breaking point.
The casual cruelty, the utter betrayal from someone who claimed to be my wife, was too much.
They believed they knew me – a meek, submissive husband.
They had no idea who they were truly dealing with.
With a silent press of a hidden button on my watch, the sky filled with the deafening thrum of black helicopters and the roar of tactical boats.
My private security force, Sentinel Group, swarmed the island, ready to obey my every command.
Victoria's carefully constructed empire, built on my money and her lies, was about to crumble spectacularly.
And Chad?
He was about to learn the true, devastating cost of trifling with "Mr. E." You might like
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." 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!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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