Barclay Hsu
13 Published Stories
Barclay Hsu's Books and Stories
The Sergeant Major's Surprise Bride
Romance My father' s eyes always gleamed when he spoke of the family pact.
Whichever daughter got the higher SAT scores and into a prestigious university would marry Mark Johnson, the town' s golden boy.
The loser would marry David Wilson, a rumored delinquent from the poorer side of town. This wasn't just a family discussion; this was a replay.
In my first life, I was the smart one. I got the top scores, the prestigious university acceptance. I married Mark, lived in a beautiful house. But "golden boy" Mark turned into a monster.
After my sister Jessica, forced to marry David, died of an overdose, Mark blamed me. He became cruel, then violent.
When I was pregnant with his child, he pushed me from our balcony.
"If you hadn't rigged the scores, Jessica would be alive!" he' d screamed, his face twisted. Then darkness.
I remember the fall, the pain, the utter betrayal. My perfect life had been a terrifying lie. Killed by the man I married, carrying his child. How could a dream turn into such a brutal nightmare?
But then I was back. Living it all again. This time, I remembered everything. This time, I would not repeat the past. This time, I would not marry Mark Johnson. Even if it meant marrying the outcast, David Wilson. His Unwanted Wife Is Another Man's Treasure
Mafia The exact moment Marcus Thorne, the most violent Capo on the East Coast, chose to leave our anniversary dinner to answer his mistress's call, I didn't cry.
"Business," he rumbled, ignoring the untouched meal I had cooked.
"Don't cause a scene, Ellie," he commanded before walking out the door.
I later found out his "business" was a polo match with Izzy. She posted a photo of them laughing, her hand on his chest, wearing the shirt I bought him.
When I tried to leave, he humiliated me publicly. He kissed her on stage at a gala, just to prove he could. He told his men I was merely acting out.
"Ellie is the furniture," he laughed. "You don't throw away antique furniture just because you bought a new TV."
But the final blow came when a bomb detonated at a family gathering.
Marcus didn't look for me. He dove to cover Izzy with his body.
He actually stepped over my bleeding leg to carry her to safety, leaving me in the dust and debris.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I was dependent on his money and his name. He thought I would be waiting at home when he was done playing hero.
He was wrong.
I signed the divorce papers, destroyed my wedding ring, and boarded a one-way flight to Italy.
Three months later, when he finally tracked me down in Tuscany, he fell to his knees in the street, begging me to come back.
But I just held the hand of the man standing next to me—a man who treated me like a partner, not a prop.
"You are trespassing," I said coldly.
"Go home, Marcus." The Billionaire's Cruelest Lesson
Romance Everyone in the city said I was the luckiest woman alive. I was the diner waitress who saved the amnesiac tech billionaire, Hudson Scott. He fell in love with me, and when his memory returned, he married me against his family's wishes, telling the world I was his one true love.
But that was a lie. The man I loved vanished the day the billionaire came back. In his place was a possessive monster who saw me as a possession, and he had just found a new obsession: an artist named Ginger.
That’s when the punishments began. Tonight, because Ginger claimed I’d glared at her, he dragged me to a derelict warehouse. My sick mother was tied to a chair, surrounded by open cans of gasoline.
He flicked a lighter open, giving me ten seconds to confess to a lie. The man who once worked odd jobs to buy her medicine was now threatening to burn her alive because another woman cried.
But it was all a sick performance. Just as he tossed the lighter and flames erupted, his men dragged my mother to safety. “See what happens when you’re not a good girl?” he whispered, before leaving with Ginger.
As I carried my mother out of that hellhole, I made a call to a number I hadn't used in years.
“Cason? I need your help. I need to disappear.”
This time, his world would be the one going up in flames. Shattered Promises, New Beginnings
Romance My fiancé, Liam, and my brother, Ethan, both fell for the same woman, Chloe. One day, Liam was the man I was going to marry. The next, he looked at me like a stranger.
At our engagement party, Liam was an hour late. Then, a picture surfaced of him and Chloe eloping. My world crashed down.
To make things worse, Chloe, bandage-clad and tearful, dramatically entered, claiming Liam pushed her. Liam and Ethan, completely taken in, turned on me. "It was Ava," whispered Chloe, and Liam shoved me, causing me to fall and hit my head, bleeding on the floor. My own brother stood over them, his back to me.
Two days later, Liam and Chloe showed up, accusing me of my own assault, the man I loved defending the woman who had just lied about me. They were convinced I was the villain, while Chloe was the damsel.
I was hospitalized days later with a ruptured appendix, but when I called Ethan, he coldly dismissed me, saying I was "being dramatic," too busy bringing Chloe breakfast. The hospital informed me that my own brother had disowned me.
How could two men I loved and trusted so completely be so blind, so cruel? How could my brother abandon me, his only sister, for a woman he'd barely known?
I survived. I gathered the last of my strength and resolve. I decided then and there that I wouldn't just disappear; I would rebuild myself, piece by painful piece, into someone they wouldn't recognize, and they would live with the consequences of their betrayal forever. The Betrayed Wife's Sweet Revenge
Romance The heavy iron gate groaned open, and I stepped out, expecting freedom.
After a year inside, I longed for my fiancé, Liam, and our son, Noah.
But the drive home to our familiar house revealed a chilling transformation: the paint was wrong, my rose bushes were gone.
Then Mrs. Gable, our neighbor, delivered the first blow:
"Liam has had his hands full, you know. It was a blessing he had Sarah to help him, especially with her being pregnant and all."
Sarah. My brother' s widow. Pregnant. My heart seized.
The key didn' t fit, but the door was unlocked.
Inside, my home was alien-cold, modern, bare of our memories.
And then I saw it: a baby' s playpen, a high chair. Not ours.
Creeping to the back patio, I saw Liam, his arm around Sarah, her hand on a very pregnant belly. They looked like a perfect family. My perfect family.
Then their words:
"Are you sure she won' t cause any trouble? She' s supposed to get out this week."
"Don' t you worry about Olivia. I know her. She' s loyal to a fault. She took the fall for us once, she' s not going to make waves now. She knows her place."
Us. The word twisted in my gut.
The truth hit me: Liam hadn' t made a mistake. Sarah had falsified the architectural plans. They had conspired.
Liam had begged me to take the blame, promising a future, swearing he' d wait. I believed him. I sacrificed a year, my reputation, my career, for a monstrous lie.
The betrayal shattered my heart, but beneath the pain, a cold, hard anger ignited.
They thought I was broken, a loyal fool.
They were about to learn how wrong they were. From Betrayal To Billions: Her Return
Modern The last thing I remembered was the cold, unforgiving pavement rushing up to meet me.
A screech of tires, a flash of headlights, and then a profound, empty silence.
My life, a cascade of public humiliation and private despair, was over.
It all started at the fashion show, the one where my former best friend, Chloe, stood on the runway, wearing a dress that was a near-perfect copy of my signature design.
My own design.
Chloe' s powerful family painted me as a jealous, unstable wannabe.
My revered mentor turned his back on me.
Then Mark, my fiancé, delivered the final blow, breaking our engagement, calling me a failure.
I lost everything: my reputation, my love, my financial stability.
My death was a footnote in a story that was no longer mine.
How could I have been so naive, so blind?
How could they have moved so ruthlessly to destroy me, to steal everything I had?
The crushing loneliness, the descent into poverty and obscurity, all culminating on that dark, wet street.
Then, a sharp, disorienting pull.
I gasped, my eyes flying open.
I was sitting in the front row of the annual Laurent Gala, my hands smooth, my dress my own design.
On stage, Chloe was bowing, wearing the stolen dress.
It was the night my life had spiraled into ruin.
I was back.
I had been given a second chance.
Not this time. The Cuckold's Revelation
Romance My flight home felt endless, a week away from my pregnant wife, Emily, feeling like a year.
I pictured her glowing, her smile lighting up the house, ready to welcome me back.
But the moment I walked through the door, my world began to fracture.
The house was eerily silent, a strange smell in the air, and an overflowing trash can spoke of neglect.
Then, Emily' s weak voice called from upstairs, her face pale and clammy, clutching her stomach in pain.
At the hospital, a doctor' s cryptic words about "strenuous activity" and needing to be "gentle" left me bewildered, a knot of unease tightening in my chest.
I brushed it off, attributing it to stress, clinging to the flimsy explanation when I found a strange bruise on her collarbone-one she vaguely claimed was from clumsiness.
But the flimsy facade shattered when I found cigarette ash in our master bathroom sink.
I don't smoke, and Emily despises it, making her flimsy explanation about her stepfather stopping by ring hollow.
My mother-in-law later confirmed my stepfather-in-law quit smoking years ago, sealing the growing dread in my stomach.
Then, my own mother mentioned a new white sedan Emily was seen getting out of, driven by a man-a car I certainly hadn't bought.
The pieces clicked into a terrifying mosaic: the doctor' s warning, the bruise, the ash, the unknown man, the mysterious car.
But nothing prepared me for the final blow at the doctor' s follow-up: "The fetus is measuring closer to twelve weeks, Mr. Davis."
Twelve weeks.
A full month older than it should be, a month when I was working fourteen-hour days, thousands of miles away.
My world imploded.
The doctor wasn't accusing me; he was warning me about her affair.
The baby wasn't mine.
My wife had cheated, and the life I thought we had built was a cruel, elaborate lie.
The man who was supposed to be a father was now the biggest fool.
I was a cuckold.
And I was going to find out everything. A Genius's Desperate Play
Young Adult My MIT scholarship was locked, courtesy of a national coding competition. My future was set.
But then I overheard a conversation in the high school computer lab, one that shattered my quiet certainty.
Jenny, my childhood best friend, and her powerful "Syndicate" gang-the police chief's kid, the judge's daughter-were planning to cheat on the upcoming AP exams, using stolen data from Jenny's cousin. They found me, and everything changed.
They threatened my father' s life-saving transplant, my mother' s safety, everything I held dear. With their parents controlling this town, I had no one to turn to.
They forced me to decrypt the stolen files, to create the perfect answer keys, then Jenny deliberately smeared my fingerprints all over the USB drive. "Insurance," she called it. A perfect frame.
So, I did the only thing I could. I walked into the SAT, held up that incriminating drive, and publicly confessed to a crime I didn' t commit, a crime so big it had to be federal.
I watched my MIT dream vanish. I saw the rage in Agent Morris' s eyes, the pity in my guidance counselor's, and the raw despair on my mother' s face as I admitted guilt.
Why would I sacrifice everything-my future, my reputation, my family' s hope-for a ludicrous hack I didn't even do? Why would I burn down my own life and confess to a story so absurd, it made me sound insane?
Because I wasn't just confessing. I was setting a trap. And they were about to walk right into it. A Mother's Sacrifice, A Billionaire's Game
Romance For three years, I, Sarah Miller, poured my heart into my relationship with Ethan Hayes, believing we were a team facing his mounting debts and recent job loss from a struggling tech startup.
My loving mother, Mary, despite her own battle with severe emphysema, tirelessly worked extra shifts and sacrificed her precious few savings to help us.
In a final, heartbreaking act of selfless devotion, Mary even cashed out her life insurance policy, giving every last penny-$60,000-to Ethan to settle his financial woes, just days before she tragically succumbed to her illness.
Her dying wish was for me to use that money to help Ethan, to ensure his future, to be happy.
But at my administrative job, a subsidiary of a company called Innovate Solutions, a conversation overheard from a conference room plunged my world into a nightmare: Ethan was a "tech scion," talking about the "Hayes fortune" and a "test" of my loyalty.
He wasn't broke; he was a multi-billionaire CEO, and his fabricated poverty was a cruel, elaborate psychological experiment.
My mother's agonizing death, her ultimate sacrifice, had been nothing more than a pawn in his sick game.
Every act of kindness, every sacrifice we made for him, was a lie.
How could the man I loved, the man my mother gave her very life for, be such a manipulative monster?
Overwhelmed by grief and a betrayal so profound it choked me, I refused his fake explanations and lavish offers.
I walked out of his opulent office, resigned from my job, and cut every tie, determined to find a future free from his monstrous deceit. His Faked Death, Her Real Grief
Romance I woke up, reborn into my transactional marriage with Amelia, flooded with agonizing memories of my past life – how I, Ethan Miller, shamefully used her, flaunted an affair, and never saw her fierce, hidden love until my dying breath.
This time, I vowed to right every wrong, to love her as she truly deserved.
But my chance at atonement shattered when Amelia, my chillingly cold wife, threatened my parents' retirement savings.
She forced my mother, Sarah, to undergo a dangerous bone marrow transplant for Julian Vance, her beloved artist, leaving me locked away, utterly helpless.
After Julian's surgery, Amelia's calculated cruelty escalated into a nightmare.
She flaunted Julian, mocked my every attempt at change, deliberately poisoned me, and then subjected me to brutal "re-education" – electroshock, scalding my hand with boiling water.
When Julian framed me for her grandfather's injury, Amelia' s chilling rage turned into an unimaginable ordeal, culminating in her threatening my innocent parents' lives, dangling them over a dangerous precipice.
How could this be the same woman who died fighting for me?
The Amelia I' d come back to cherish, whose love I desperately wanted to earn, had become a terrifying stranger, a monstrous tormentor. Was she reborn too, driven by past pain, or had she simply become pure evil?
As the horrifying truth of her unadulterated hatred dawned on me, and my parents' lives hung in the balance, my vow of atonement dissolved.
There was only one way out, one final act of self-preservation: I had to fake my own death, vanish, and ensure Amelia believed I was gone forever. The Heiress They Left to Drown
Modern My life was a perfectly curated display: a philanthropic heiress, a devoted husband, and annual galas that outwardly celebrated our unwavering love.
But beneath the glittering facade, I stumbled upon a chilling truth: my charming husband Julian and my beautiful sister Liv were not just having a secret affair, but meticulously plotting to strip me of my family's fortune, revealing our entire marriage was a calculated lie, designed solely to gain control of my inherited shares.
Julian had always prioritized Liv, abandoning me during my health crisis or fleeing to her side whenever she summoned him, yet nothing prepared me for the night my sister Liv maliciously shoved me into our estate' s ornamental pond.
As I struggled to breathe, watching my heavy gown pull me under the shockingly cold water, I saw my husband, my father, and even my college sweetheart all swim past me without a glance, their sole focus on rescuing Liv, who theatrically thrashed and feigned distress in the shallow end.
I was left to sink, utterly and completely abandoned.
My entire life, it seemed, I' d been the overlooked second choice: my parents showered Liv with affection, my first love chose her vivacity over my quiet nature, and now my husband, the man who had promised unwavering devotion, had merely used me as a pawn for her ambition.
How could every single person I ever trusted consistently choose her over me, again and again?
As the dark water enveloped me, a strange, profound peace solidified my resolve: the suffocating, theatrical performance of my past life was finally over.
I would burn down every painful lie, completely erase Ava Chen, and painstakingly sculpt a new identity, a new life, a true sanctuary where I was the main character, never just an afterthought in someone else's story. The Wedding Day Abandonment
Romance My wedding was set to be the picture of perfection.
I stood at the altar, my best man beside me, surrounded by white roses and loved ones, our song just minutes from playing.
Then, Chloe's maid of honor rushed towards me, face ashen, uttering words that shattered my world: "Ethan, she’s not coming."
Chloe had abandoned our wedding, our future, for Damien—her perpetually 'struggling' ex who always needed 'saving.'
My disbelief turned to cold dread when I found them: Damien lounging comfortably, beer in hand, while Chloe justified prioritizing his 'panic attack' over our vows.
The humiliation intensified when I later discovered she’d secretly drained twenty thousand dollars from our joint savings, the down payment for our future home, all for him.
Five years of my life, my steadfast loyalty, my love—reduced to a manipulative game.
The sheer audacity of her betrayal, the calculated deceit, left me reeling, questioning every moment we shared.
How could the woman I loved so completely throw it all away for a pathetic, freeloading ex-boyfriend?
But from the ashes of my broken heart, a cold resolve formed: I would completely sever ties and reclaim my life, unknowingly paving the way for a shocking confrontation with Damien and a chance encounter that promised to reset everything. Awakening: Sculpting My Destiny
Romance Upon awakening, I realized that the movie star boyfriend in front of me, who was begging me not to break up, would eventually lead to my tragic death on the streets for the sake of the innocent female lead. So, after he was put on ice, I decisively accepted the pursuit of the CEO. Within a year, the CEO transformed me from an unknown nobody into a popular movie queen. At the awards ceremony, I was surprised to see Pei Ze, who had made a comeback, as the award presenter. When a reporter asked him, "Do you have any encouraging words for the actress Jiang?" Pei Ze sneered, "Work harder on President Lu's bed," or "Just crawl back to my bed." You might like
Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife
Rum Runner My husband stood by the window of his Manhattan office, his silhouette cutting through the storm like a blade. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the divorce papers onto the desk, his voice a cold baritone. "Sign it," Isaiah commanded, "or your brother’s dialysis treatment ends today."
He believed the lie that I had pushed his pregnant mistress down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage. To save my dying brother, I signed the confession and accepted the role of a murderer, trading my freedom for a life of disgrace.
At the funeral, Isaiah forced me to crawl on my knees through the freezing mud to the grave while a mob of mourners spat on me and cursed my name. When I went to prison, his influence followed me into the showers, where inmates told me the King wanted me to "remember my crime" before they used rusty shears to hack off my finger.
Five years later, I was a ghost living in a damp basement with the son Isaiah never knew I had, hiding my mangled hand under a leather glove. When he eventually tracked us down, he didn't show mercy; he tore my son from my arms, calling me an unfit monster and swearing I would rot in a cage.
I couldn't understand how the man I once loved could look at my broken body and see only a criminal, never realizing that every scar I carried was a gift from his own hatred.
As he walked away with my child, I swallowed a bottle of pills to end the nightmare, leaving Isaiah to rip the glove from my hand and discover the mangled truth just as my eyes finally closed. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
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