Catlaina Sloggett
18 Published Stories
Catlaina Sloggett's Books and Stories
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." 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. 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. The Day I Died, She Finally Knew My Truth
Romance I walked out of Chino State Prison, a free man, but my body carried a death sentence.
The clanging gates closed behind me, a period at the end of five lost years.
The California sun felt too bright on my face, and my lungs burned with the fatal lung cancer I’d contracted inside.
I had one final wish: to have my ashes scattered at Point Sublime, a remote, sacred spot in the Grand Canyon I’d promised to share with Olivia, years ago, our forever place.
But then Olivia Hayes, my past love, now engaged to my former best friend and tormentor, Marcus Thorne, appeared.
Her eyes, once full of youthful adoration, now seethed with pure, unadulterated hatred.
She offered me a job: her personal driver, not out of kindness, but out of a cold desire for me to witness everything I had supposedly ruined.
I took the job, enduring her glacial contempt and Marcus's sadistic pleasure day after agonizing day, as my failing health rapidly withered beneath my uniform.
I coughed up blood in secret, retrieved her family heirloom ring from an icy pool at Marcus’s cruel behest, and pulled her from a burning guesthouse, letting Marcus claim the credit for my heroism.
Every interaction was a fresh twist of the knife, a public humiliation for a crime I didn’t commit, but chose to embrace.
They called me a murderer, a reckless monster, a lifelong convict, always oblivious to the truth: I had taken the fall for her mother’s suicide, sacrificing my freedom and reputation, to protect Olivia and her family’s stained name from further ruin.
I had lost everything for her, only to become the very person she now despised, fueling her relentless cruelty.
Then Marcus’s reckless accident left him bleeding out, urgently needing my rare blood type.
Olivia, desperate to save the man who reveled in my suffering, came to me.
She didn’t ask; she demanded my life.
And with my last breath, still loving her unconditionally, I gave it. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. 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. 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. 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. 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. Wrong Room: The Ruthless CEO's Captive
Shi Liu I stumbled into the wrong hotel room while drunk and accidentally lost my virginity to a stranger in the pitch black.
I fled at dawn, hoping to erase the painful mistake. But when I went to a private clinic for a checkup, the "doctor" who walked in and locked the door was him—Cain Reed, a billionaire who coldly declared my body was now his "responsibility."
When I tried to escape, he cornered me in the parking garage, threw me into his bulletproof Maybach, and locked me inside his high-security Tribeca penthouse.
He had already investigated my entire life—my abandoned childhood, my dead grandmother, my student loans.
"You took my first time, and I took yours," he whispered, pinning me against the glass. "You belong to me now."
He demanded my complete submission, threatening to stalk my job and my apartment if I dared to run again.
I was terrified and suffocating. Why me? Out of all the women in New York, why was this ruthless, powerful man so dangerously obsessed with a nobody who made a drunken mistake?
His possessive need felt like drowning, a gilded cage I would never escape.
I couldn't let him consume me. Pretending to surrender, I negotiated a public date and watched his luxury car drive away.
Then, I pulled out my phone and texted an old college acquaintance.
If Cain Reed wanted to control my life, I was going to create a "serious boyfriend" to fight back. Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract
Sibeal Sallese I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash.
To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars.
I thought it was a clean transaction.
But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty.
He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me.
My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire.
Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner.
"Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly.
His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand.
"Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler."
They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog.
I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth.
But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood.
"She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison."
They murdered my parents.
I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call.
Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. 
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