Catlaina Sloggett
21 Published Stories
Catlaina Sloggett's Books and Stories
The Luna They Tried To Erase
Werewolf For twelve years, I was the shame of the Silver Moon Pack. A Luna who never shifted, a barren wife who couldn't give Alpha Ivan an heir.
I thought my body was broken. But on my thirtieth birthday, I learned I wasn't sick. I was being murdered.
Tracking Ivan to a downtown gallery, I expected to catch him in a lie about work. Instead, I saw him playing father to a child that wasn't mine, while his mistress looked on with a smirk.
Then, I heard my own father’s voice booming through the thin glass.
"If that White Wolf blood of hers ever woke up, she'd destroy us all. Better she dies a sickly Omega."
My husband, my Fated Mate, didn't defend me. He just checked his watch.
"She smells of death already. The Wolfsbane in her tea will finish her off during the fireworks tonight. Then we can finally replace the mule."
My knees hit the floor. For five years, the "medicine" they forced down my throat wasn't a cure. It was poison designed to suppress my Supreme rank.
They didn't hate me because I was weak; they were killing me because I was stronger than all of them combined.
I drove back to the mansion, my sadness hardening into cold rage.
I poured the lethal tea down the sink and picked up the microphone for the Pack Gathering.
They were expecting a funeral tonight.
I was about to give them a public execution. The Ruined Heiress Plans Her Vicious Revenge
Romance I was the heiress to the Sterling Group, engaged to Brook, the ultimate Wall Street savior who stepped in with emergency capital when my family's company faced sudden bankruptcy.
But one morning, I accidentally answered his hidden burner phone.
It was my sweet best friend, Chelsey. Through the speaker, I heard them laughing about how they successfully framed my brother for an eight-year federal prison sentence just to get the Sterling heir out of the way.
Worse, Brook casually admitted he had bribed the nurses at the private facility to swap my father's life-saving heart medication with placebos.
"Nature will take its course," he said coldly.
He was paying to let my father die so he could drain my last architectural patents, transfer them to his own enterprise, and kick me to the curb. Seconds later, Brook walked into the bedroom, brushed my hair behind my ear, and lovingly called me his sleeping beauty.
A wave of pure, physical nausea crashed over me. The man I was about to marry, the man the media praised as a fiercely devoted hero, was the monster orchestrating my family's complete destruction.
Tears were a luxury I could no longer afford.
I didn't scream, and I didn't confront him. Instead, I washed my face, slid the five-carat diamond ring back onto my finger, and drove straight to his headquarters.
If he wanted to use my family's tragedy to build his empire, I would play the perfect, broken fiancée—right until I burned it all to the ground. Too Late For Regret: My Dead Heart
Billionaires Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast.
The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan.
"Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm.
A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker.
"Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games."
The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined.
Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death.
Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch.
Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile.
Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face.
Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector.
He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut.
Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash.
She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise.
But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid.
"Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury."
Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation.
What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body? The Lethal Heiress: Too Late For Regret
Modern Four years ago, Ashlee Maddox was ripped away from her wealthy Boston family and forged into a lethal black-ops commander.
Now, her estranged parents were suddenly begging their long-lost daughter to come home.
But the heartwarming reunion was a complete lie.
They didn't love her; they just needed her grandfather's massive trust fund to save their failing company.
The moment she arrived, the setup began.
Her parents hired paparazzi to capture her looking unhinged, treating her like a stray dog while treating her adopted sister, Averi, like a princess.
Averi faked injuries, tried to steal Ashlee's car, and threw tantrums to play the victim.
During a family dinner, her father tried to trick her into signing away her entire fortune.
When that failed, Averi planted a diamond necklace in Ashlee's coat, screaming for help to frame her for theft.
They planned to declare her mentally unstable to legally seize control of her assets.
They thought she was just a naive, broken girl they could easily manipulate and destroy.
They had no idea they were trying to gaslight a top-tier military predator who had just blown a ghost operative off a cliff with a heavy sniper rifle.
Ashlee didn't panic or cry.
She calmly shoved the diamond necklace into Averi's mouth and shattered her father's leg with a single vicious kick.
"This is the last time you try to touch my money."
Leaving her family terrified and broken in the hallway, she walked out of the mansion.
The family trash was dealt with; now, it was time to hunt down the real enemy hiding in her city. Waking Up To The Mafia Don's Betrayal
Mafia I woke up from a five-year coma, only to find my death certificate filed away—signed by my own husband.
Dante Vitiello, the Don of New York, looked at me like a miracle, but he was holding the hand of another woman.
Sofia Bianchi was wearing my diamonds, living in my house, and standing beside the man I had built an empire for.
But the true betrayal wasn't the mistress. It was my son.
When I reached out to Leo, my baby, he recoiled in terror and buried his face in Sofia's dress.
"Go away!" he screamed.
"Mama Sofia said you're a monster! You're a ghost!"
Sofia smiled at me, a sharp, victorious blade. She didn't just steal my husband; she rewrote my son's memories to make me the villain.
To protect the family alliance, Dante forced me to stay silent.
When Sofia later rammed my car on the racetrack to finish the job, Dante ran past my bleeding body to comfort her over a broken nail.
When she faked a fatal illness, he dragged me from my recovery bed. He forced me to donate my rare blood to save her.
"Do it for the family, Elena," he said, watching the life drain out of me to fill the veins of the woman who destroyed us.
That night, I didn't just leave. I erased myself.
I left my wedding ring on a cliff's edge and let the world believe Elena Vitiello had finally drowned.
Six months later, Dante sat in the audience of a global tech summit in Zurich, desperate to find his dead wife.
I walked onto the stage in a white suit, looking him dead in the eye.
"My name is Kate Harding," I announced.
And I prepared to burn his world to ash. Hands of Stone, Heart of Vengeance
Short stories My husband told me I was a bad investment, a legacy asset he was forced to liquidate after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a "Muse," a supermodel whose lies were as polished as the magazine covers she graced.
But when her son—the boy Adrian believed was his heir—suffered a sudden allergic reaction, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous chemist who mixed poison to harm an innocent child.
My husband, the man whose empire was built on the scents I created, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he declared that if my hands were used for evil, they shouldn't be used at all. He ordered his security team to bring quick-drying industrial cement.
"Since you can't control these hands, I will seal them forever," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had my hands encased in stone and had me displayed in the window of our flagship store, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I stood there, the heavy weight crushing my fingers and my soul, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I’d planted in the nursery. And they had no idea that my family controlled the very flowers that kept his empire alive. My Guardian's Kiss, A Bitter Sweet Goodbye
Modern For ten years, I lived with my guardian, Cole, secretly loving him. He was my late brother's best friend, the man I had worshipped since I was eight.
On my eighteenth birthday, I confessed my love with a painting. He ripped it to shreds, roaring, "I am your guardian, for God's sake!" He called my love a pathetic fantasy.
Two months later, he was engaged. He forgot I had a deadly allergy to the mango dessert his fiancée offered me.
Then, one night, he stumbled home drunk, pinned me to my bed, and kissed me while murmuring his fiancée's name. The next morning, he looked at me with disgust.
"What are you doing in my bed, Cora?"
My world shattered. The man who had spoiled me rotten, who promised to protect me forever, now saw me as disgusting and delusional. My decade of devotion had only burned me.
But his cruelty was the final push I needed. I accepted a full scholarship to Juilliard, a one-way ticket out. On his birthday, I packed my bags, deleted his number, and walked out of his life forever. I would never look back. One Night, His Unseen Legacy
Modern After ninety-nine failed attempts to win the heart of the brilliant but cold Dr. Julian Burke, I drugged him for one night of passion. It didn't make him love me. I fled to London in shame.
Three years later, a photo surfaced. It was Julian, smiling tenderly at a younger woman-a dead ringer for his deceased first love.
I flew back to New York to end our sham engagement, but he destroyed me first.
He publicly accused me of leaking his research, and his testimony sent me to prison. While I was inside, I was brutally attacked and lost a kidney. My father, crushed by the scandal, died of a stroke, and I wasn't there to say goodbye.
I was just collateral damage in his twisted atonement for a ghost, a convenient villain to protect her manipulative sister. He let me rot, believing I was a monster.
But he didn't know the secret I carried from that one night.
After my release, I took our son and vanished. I would build a new life, and he would never know the son he abandoned or the woman he truly broke. His Betrayal, Her Bitter Freedom
Modern To save my dying mother, I had to remarry my cheating ex-husband, Braden. He was the only surgeon in the country who could perform the life-saving surgery she needed, so I swallowed my pride and walked back into our gilded cage.
But on the day of the operation, he abandoned her. He left my mother to die on the table for a "personal emergency"-a flat tire with his mistress, Angelina.
When my grief turned to rage, he didn't just dismiss my pain. He used his power to have me declared mentally unstable, bribing doctors and having me dragged away to a psychiatric hospital to silence me forever.
Trapped in a padded cell, stripped of my dignity and my sanity, I realized he had taken everything. My mother, my freedom, my name. The love I once felt for him had curdled into a cold, sharp resolve.
After I escaped, I didn't run into the night. I walked straight into the national medical awards gala where he was being celebrated, ready to burn his perfect life to the ground on live television. The White Wolf's Secret: Rejected By The Alpha
Werewolf I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war. From Drowning to Darling: A Second Chance
Romance I walked into City Hall, ready to tear up my marriage application. It was over.
Hours earlier, I woke up in a hospital bed, my fiancé Aubrey beside me, his face a mask of annoyance. He told me to apologize to Kennedy, the woman who had just pushed me into an icy lake, nearly drowning me.
Through the churning water, I had seen Aubrey swim past me, straight to Kennedy, who was faking drowning. He believed her lies, accusing me of attacking her, despite my life-threatening injury.
He dismissed my pain, my sacrifice, and my years of loyalty, all for a woman who had betrayed him in the past. He even used my own values against me, telling me to "put others before yourself."
I was tired. So incredibly tired. The near-drowning had been a baptism. I finally understood: I could not fix this. I could not win his love.
When I returned home, he had already given my precious herbal tea, meant for my chronic pain, to Kennedy. He then demoted me to a guest in my own home, ordering me to cook for her. It was time to burn the last bridge. Betrayed Wife, Unstoppable Rise
Romance My adopted daughter, Lily, was my whole world.
We were playing hide-and-seek in our penthouse when I heard a shriek, cut short, followed by a sickening thud.
I raced to the balcony, only to find my husband' s stepsister, Haylee Walls, standing there, and the railing empty.
On the pavement five floors below, Lily lay still in a pink dress, surrounded by a rapidly spreading pool of red.
My husband, Brighton Castro, rushed out, pulling me into an embrace that felt like a cage. Then, a sharp prick in my neck, and darkness.
When I woke, my eyes were sewn shut.
I was in a cold, damp, derelict building.
Brighton' s mocking chuckle echoed, followed by Haylee' s soft voice. "She can't hurt you anymore," Brighton said. He accused me of insulting Haylee, of throwing her childhood blindness in her face.
"So now," he continued, his voice devoid of warmth, "you can experience it for yourself. Feel what it's like to be blind." His friends laughed as I stumbled, blood trickling from my eyelids.
I didn't understand. My daughter was dead, and my husband, the man who promised to protect us, had done this to me. Why? What kind of monster was he?
But their mockery fueled something else. I stood straight, my hand finding the diamond earring I wore. I pressed it.
"I need a new husband," I said, my voice steady and clear. "Send a helicopter for me in an hour." His Deception, Her True Freedom
Billionaires Five years ago, a car crash shattered my pelvis and my dreams of motherhood. My brilliant tech mogul husband, Ethan, vowed revenge on the driver, Willow Greene, who was obsessed with him. He used his wealth to ensure she rotted in prison, then wrapped me in a cocoon of luxury, convincing me he only needed me.
Then, a miracle happened: two blue lines. I was pregnant, a medical marvel. I wanted to surprise Ethan at his tech conference, to see his joy. But on stage, he introduced the visionary behind his new app: Willow Greene, radiant, confident, and very pregnant.
The world shattered. My life, my perfect marriage, was a meticulously crafted deception. My miracle child was a cruel joke. Every grand gesture, every luxurious gift, had been a distorted echo of his life with her. He was Mr. H, the savior in her viral romance novel, the man who got her out of jail and built her a life.
Back home, Ethan' s loving voice on the phone was a lie. The smart home, a monument to our love, became a shrine to his betrayal. The miracle inside me turned into a curse. This child was not a symbol of love, but the final twist in a five-year prank.
"I need to schedule an appointment," I told my fertility doctor, "for a termination." The silence was deafening. I looked at the priceless paintings, now cheap, fake. I watched him carry Willow, not me, to the hospital, abandoning me to crash on the floor at his family' s party.
Then they forced me to donate my blood to save her, the woman who took everything. Lying on the hospital bed, revived after flatlining, I realized I was free. I called Ethan' s rival, Liam Miller, to sell him twenty percent of Hayes Industries, wiping out Ethan' s stock and reputation. Then, I disappeared. My Wife's Betrayal, My New Beginning
Romance My hands, once surgeons' hands, now trembled balancing champagne glasses at an elite medical summit.
My wife, Sarah, lay in a coma, kept alive by machines.
My daughter, Lily, traumatized, diagnosed with severe autism, was a ghost in our home.
My career, my reputation, my life – all shattered by a malpractice suit that wasn't my fault, and an amusement park incident that left me with broken ribs and my family broken beyond repair.
I poured every last cent, every ounce of my being, into their care, working menial jobs just to survive.
Then, a voice announced a speaker on stage: "Dr. Sarah Miller, presenting 'New Advances in Brainstem Injury Repair'..."
The name, the topic, the face I saw under the spotlight, hit me like a physical blow.
It was Sarah. My Sarah. Confident, brilliant, and clearly not comatose.
The champagne tray slipped. Crash.
Security grabbed me, but I didn't care. "She's my wife! Sarah! She should be in the ICU right now! She's in a coma!"
Her eyes, for a split second, flickered with panic before settling into cold composure.
The man next to her, Andrew Sterling, CEO of Sterling Medical Group, stepped forward, handing me a business card, his face full of contempt.
Whispers of their shared past, of her being his company's chief expert, swirled around me, twisting the knife.
Was our entire nine-year marriage a lie?
The applause for the brilliant Dr. Miller mocked my agony, making me wonder if I had been the biggest fool of all. Shattered Trust, Silent Scars
Billionaires My marriage to Sylvia Lind, a strategic alliance between my new money and her old-money family, appeared perfect for five years.
But at a Sotheby's auction, Sylvia suddenly outbid me on a vintage Patek Philippe watch I wanted, only to gift it to her new young intern, Caleb, whose resemblance to my younger self unnerved me.
Later, she not only defended his audacious presence in my private Mercedes-Maybach but also prioritized his emotional distress over my blatant disrespect, hanging up on me to go "help" him.
The trust I thought we' d built evaporated, leaving me cold and contemplating a betrayal I couldn't ignore, yet I couldn't fully grasp why she'd risked everything for this kid.
With a profound sense of finality, I picked up my phone and told my lawyer, "Draft the divorce papers." The Divorce Decree: A New Beginning
Romance The world came down in dust and fire, and I was trapped, pinned under a heavy beam.
Next to me, a colleague, Jessica, was also caught. Through the rubble, I saw first responders, a glimmer of hope. Hope that shattered when I heard my husband, Mark, over the radio.
"My wife is a strong woman; she' d want others saved first. Jessica is a key aide to the Senator-get her out now!" His calm voice cut deeper than any debris. He chose another woman, again. Just like in our first life, a life where he resented me for twenty years for saving me instead of his political connection. He was correcting his "mistake."
I watched him, my seemingly devoted husband, pull a barely scratched Jessica from the ruins, holding her like she was glass, completely ignoring me, bleeding and pregnant just feet away.
He left me for dead at the scene, and later, for an unpaid hospital bill. He even moved Jessica into the apartment next door, buying her designer clothes while I healed. Then, he tried to sabotage my future, voiding my bar exam registration and giving my spot to her.
Why would he do this? Why, after being reborn, would he repeat such a cruel betrayal, even worse this time? Did he truly hate me that much?
But he failed to break me.
Fueled by a rage hotter than any fire, and by the tiny life growing inside me, I knew this wasn't an ending. This was a war, and I was ready to fight. The Unwanted Dog, The Unseen Plot
Modern My Golden Retriever, Max, was the heart of my dog daycare, Pawsitive Vibes. My boyfriend, Mark, usually walked him in the mornings-a picture of our perfect life.
But one morning, Mark came back alone, leash dangling. "Sarah," he flatly stated, "Max ran off. He nipped me." Max? Aggressive? My gentle dog who wouldn't hurt a fly?
Before I could question him, my phone blazed: "The Feed." "Max didn't run. He's with her. Elm Street & 7th. Red light. Big rig. NOW." Panic clawed at me. Mark dismissed my terror: "He's gone. We' ll look later." His indifference infuriated me. I sped to the intersection, just as I saw her-Clara-pulling Max into a speeding semi' s path. Risking everything, I saved him. As he trembled against me, "The Feed" delivered a crushing blow: "He gave Max to her." Mark had given my dog away.
"Gave him to her?" I choked, rage boiling. "The Feed" then showed Mark's manipulative plotting with Clara, discarding Max and me. He tried to gaslight me, calling me "emotional." The betrayal was immense.
The old Sarah would have crumpled. But a cold fury solidified. Armed with truth, I faced him. "We're done, Mark. Get out." When he threatened, I showed him a photo from "The Feed": him kissing Clara in a hospital-a damning breach. His face went ashen. Trust shattered. This was war now, and I was ready. Her Vengeance, Their Ruin
Billionaires My marriage to Ethan Hamilton wasn't about love or money; it was a meticulously executed strategy, years in the making, to find answers about my mother, Sarah Thorne, who vanished mysteriously.
I suspected the powerful Hamiltons were deeply involved.
Then, the call came: Ethan was dead, his yacht capsized, "lost to the sea"-a convenient end that accelerated my hidden agenda.
His mistress, Chloe, quickly appeared with a small boy, claiming the child was Ethan's heir and demanding her share of the vast Hamilton fortune.
Ethanâs mother, Eleanor, and father, Richard, publicly embraced Chloe, endorsing her claims over mine, forcing me to play the 'grieving widow' while meticulously dismantling their narrative.
I exposed Ethanâs infertility and Richardâs scandalous secret son, shattering their constructed lies, but the true horror arrived when Richard, utterly ruthless, pressured Chloe to force her son to donate a kidney to his other 'true heir.'
Cornered and terrified, Chloe finally confessed the unspeakable truth about Ethan: a horrific hit-and-run years ago that Richard had completely covered up.
My blood ran cold: the victim, left to die on a winding mountain road, then meticulously removed from existence, was my mother.
The mask of the grieving widow shattered, replaced by a burning, decade-old fury.
Every calculated risk, every year of quiet infiltration, culminated in that moment.
The Hamiltons had no idea the architect of their downfall was already inside.
Justice for Sarah Thorne was finally within reach, and I would make them pay. My Rival, My Redemption
Romance I'm Ethan Vanderbilt, a Kingsbridge legacy, currently facing the annual Legacy Pairing Program. For years, one nightmare haunted me: I chose Clara Hayes, she tragically died protecting me, whispering "Don't choose me... next time." Today is that next time.
Defying fate, my powerful father, and tradition, I shocked everyone by choosing Scarlett Jones, my sharp-witted rival.
But the dream's shadow deepened. Clara, obsessed with Julian Vance-a supposed guitar virtuoso-begged me to release her. Julian, a master manipulator, systematically built a web of lies around her, framing me as the villain.
Clara, utterly blinded by Julian, publicly humiliated me, accused me of poisoning, and even physically assaulted me. Every attempt to reveal his deceit only cemented her belief in his false heroism and my assumed malice.
I was condemned, trapped as the antagonist in a story I never wrote. How could she refuse to see the obvious truth?
At Julian' s grand engagement ball, I finally exposed his deceptions with an undeniable truth, shattering Clara's world. Her desperate pleas for forgiveness? I coldly rejected them.
But Julian, enraged, hired an assassin. In a final, desperate act, Clara threw herself in front of me, dying to save the man she finally knew she truly loved. Her sacrifice broke the cycle, freeing me.
Now, with Scarlett, my fierce partner, can I truly forge a love that conquers fate? The Ex-Wife's Fatal Betrayal
Modern My son Leo, a brilliant young scientist, had just been accepted into the prestigious National Youth Innovators' Summit, a spot I'd worked hard to secure for him.
He was over the moon, his eyes alight with the promise of his future.
But a single day later, that joy was brutally snatched away: Leo’s coveted spot was inexplicably given to another, whose father, Marcus—my ex-wife Isabella's lover—had paid a $50,000 "donation" using a credit card I instantly recognized as Isabella’s supplementary, funded by *my* very own money.
I stormed into that university department, ready to call out the brazen betrayal.
There was Marcus, smirking, flashing the tainted card, only to have it repeatedly declined after one call I made to the bank froze every dime.
Yet, Isabella, ever the schemer, swooped in, making a direct transfer to secure the spot, then chillingly disowned our son, publicly labeling him an "embarrassment."
She then pointedly had her lover accuse Leo of vandalism, fabricating a scene to have us removed by university security.
The woman I married, the mother of my child, standing there, betraying Leo and me so brazenly, was a gut punch beyond measure.
How could she orchestrate such a cruel, calculated public humiliation for her own family, all for petty status and a cheating lover?
But just as the guards closed in, the game changed: my family’s head of security arrived, and a deeper, darker truth about Isabella's true nature was finally unveiled, exposing how she had cunningly manipulated my grandmother's health to marry into our wealth.
This wasn't just about a summit spot anymore; it was about an entire life built on deceit, and it was about to come crashing down. 
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