Charlene
10 Published Stories
Charlene's Books and Stories
The Don's Regret: Choosing The Wrong Queen
Mafia For three years, I was Dante’s shadow, the woman who took a bullet for the heir to New York’s most powerful crime family. I believed him when he said we would rule together.
But while I was bleeding for his empire, he was secretly finalizing a merger to marry Sofia, a pristine Mafia Princess.
I found the encrypted report on his desk. It didn't describe me as his partner. It called me a "useful shield" and a "necessary diversion" to protect his real bride.
When I tried to walk away, he didn't let me go. He humiliated me.
Worse, when Sofia staged a fake attack and blamed me to cover her own lies, Dante didn't ask for proof.
He dragged me out of my hospital bed, fresh from surgery, and hauled me to the estate fountain.
He shoved my head underwater, drowning the woman who had once saved his life, while Sofia watched from the balcony with a smirk.
"You touched what is mine!" he screamed, choosing a liar over the soldier who loved him.
I left that night, bleeding and broken, vanishing into the storm without a trace.
Two years later, I am a celebrated artist in Paris, and the man standing beside me looks at me like I am the sun, not a shield.
Dante stands outside my gallery in the freezing rain, looking ruined, begging for a second chance.
He tells me he knows the truth now. He tells me he loves me.
I look at him, then at the engagement ring on my finger—one given by a man who never had to break me to love me.
"I didn't erase our history, Dante," I say, rolling up the car window.
"I survived it." The Bottom Line: His Suffering
Modern My husband Gabriel's affair with his young protégée, Kaia, had already cost me everything. Our marriage was a hollow shell, and his cruelty had even led to the miscarriage of our child, leaving me broken.
But the day he defended Kaia by slapping my ten-year-old niece, Bea, so hard he ruptured her eardrum, something inside me finally snapped for good.
He stood over her small, unconscious body and screamed, "She deserved it!"
He had already financially ruined my brother and now had brutalized a child-all to protect his mistress.
The man I had loved for sixteen years was a monster.
All the pain and grief I'd carried for so long burned away, leaving only cold, hard resolve.
He expected tears. He expected hysterics. Instead, when I found him at the hospital, I walked straight up to him and slapped him across the face. "My family is my bottom line, Gabriel," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You crossed it. And now, I will make you suffer." A Love Betrayed, A Future Reclaimed
Modern The phone buzzed, pulling me from a complex guitar passage.
It was Jake' s assistant, frantic: "There' s been an accident. Jake' s at St. Mary' s. He needs a transfusion. You' re the only match."
My world tilted.
I raced to the hospital, heart hammering, and gave my blood, my love, to save him.
An hour later, Jake' s assistant reappeared, looking annoyed.
"It was just a prank," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Jake' s fine. He' s at a party."
My blood ran cold.
I found my discarded blood, half-full, tossed like garbage, next to a service exit.
Then I heard laughter.
Jake, perfectly fine, emerged with Chloe, his childhood friend.
"Did you see her face?" Chloe cackled. "So pathetic."
Jake chuckled, a sound that now turned my stomach.
"She' d do anything for me, Chloe. It' s been three years. I told you I' d make her pay for what she did. For stealing that scholarship."
The scholarship. The red wine on my performance dress. The missed audition. All cruel jokes.
He never loved me. I was a tool, a target in his meticulously planned revenge.
The pain was a physical weight, but beneath it, a cold resolve hardened.
I clutched my phone, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek.
I called my brother.
"Liam," I said, my voice dead. "That offer… to study with the Maestro in Europe. Is it still open?"
"Of course, Liv. Why?"
"I' m taking it. I' m leaving. Tonight."
He thought he had destroyed me. He was wrong. I was just getting started. Five Thousand Dollar Betrayal
Billionaires My father, David Miller, a quiet indie game developer, lay dying in a county hospital, needing a $5,000 surgery.
Meanwhile, my mother, Sarah Jenkins, a tech CEO with her face on magazine covers, poured millions into a startup for her high school sweetheart' s son, Kevin, and bought him a new gaming console.
When I begged her for my father' s surgery money, her voice was crisp and distant, dismissing it as "non-essential," while Kevin, celebrating his perfect SAT score, mocked me and offered a measly twenty-dollar bill for my father' s funeral.
How could she watch my father wither and die for five thousand dollars, while lavishing millions on a boy she barely knew, mocking his memory and shattering his legacy?
With the taste of humiliation and grief still fresh, I took the twenty dollars, a down payment on a debt I swore to collect in full. My Wife, My Enemy
Romance Five years into our child-free marriage, a rule my wife Sarah adamantly enforced, she introduced me to Luke and Annie, identical three-year-old twins, claiming they were "ours now."
My heart, longing for a family despite a vasectomy two years prior, a sacrifice for her, soared with a confusing mix of shock and overwhelming hope. I believed she had changed her mind, the silent sadness I carried finally seen.
But that hope shattered when my doctor revealed the devastating truth: my procedure wasn't a simple vasectomy; my seminal vesicles had been completely removed five years ago, leaving me permanently infertile.
Then, a whispered conversation between Sarah and her brother confirmed my worst fears: the twins were Mark' s, her "dying" lover, and my seminal vesicles had been transplanted into him. My love was never enough; I was merely a tool.
The house, once my home, became a battleground of deceit. Sarah, the master manipulator, twisted every truth, using the very children born of her betrayal to isolate and hurt me.
I was a ghost in my own life, watching the woman I loved play happy family with her real obsession, Mark. The pain of betrayal was a physical ache, yet a chilling clarity emerged: her carefully constructed world was about to unravel.
Who was this woman I married? Who orchestrated such a grotesque scheme, using my body, my fortune, to fulfill a twisted fantasy? The innocence of the life I thought I had was brutally stripped away, leaving only a raw, burning injustice. How could I have been so blind?
Lying alone in the guest room, the ashes of my old life scattered in the fireplace, I didn't cry. I made a plan. I wouldn't just leave. I would dismantle her world, piece by piece. The fight for my self-preservation had just begun. When Betrayal Kills Twice
Romance The roaring motorcycles ripped through Montana's quiet air, a sound I knew too well from a life already lived.
I stood on my porch, one hand on my pregnant belly, knowing this wasn't just a day; it was the past crashing into the present, threatening a tragedy I thought I' d escaped.
In my first life, Caleb, my husband, had killed me after his "true love" Amber died.
This time, when the mayor begged me to fetch him, I simply refused, protecting my unborn child.
But Caleb, blinded by obsession, had already spun a wicked lie.
He told Sheriff Brody I was having a jealous breakdown and had contacted the bikers myself.
Brody, Caleb' s loyal friend, believed him.
He handcuffed me, mistaking my pleas for insane ramblings.
Then, in his misplaced fury, he shoved me down.
I fell, a searing pain tearing through my abdomen.
On the dusty ground, I watched a dark stain spread, my baby gone.
Blamed for the town's massacre, for the deaths of innocents, accused of turning traitor by the very man who' d condemned me once before – how could my second chance be so much worse?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, sirens pierced the chaos.
State troopers arrived, armed with a confession: the true traitor wasn't me, but Caleb' s beloved Amber, the biker gang' s mole.
With my innocence revealed, a new, brutal fight for justice had just begun. Too Late For His Savior Complex
Romance My boyfriend Ben and I had been together for seven years.
He was the golden boy of our CS department, always helping everyone.
But then Jessica, a new junior, entered the picture.
His "mentorship" quickly escalated, from late-night, winky-face DMs to public declarations of needing his "heroic" help.
When I expressed discomfort, Ben dismissed me, accusing me of being "sensitive" or "dramatic."
He even publicly sided with Jessica during her fake apologies.
He cancelled our anniversary trip to "save" her hackathon project.
Jessica brazenly flaunted their cozy "study session" on social media, on my birthday.
Campus rumors soon turned into a full-blown smear campaign, discrediting my academic achievements.
The ultimate betrayal came when Ben weaponized my deepest trauma against me, calling me "paranoid."
Then he actively sabotaged my career and punished my best friend for defending me.
My heart shattered.
How could the man I loved for seven years become this cold, cruel stranger, so blind to manipulation?
I was heartbroken, but a cold anger ignited.
I wouldn't just sit there and watch my life crumble.
I quietly gathered every piece of evidence against Jessica's malicious scheme.
I poured all my shattered energy into securing the most coveted internship in tech-the very one Ben had always dreamed of.
The truth, and my triumph, were about to be revealed. Seventeen Again: The Day Everything Changed
Young Adult I died peacefully in my eighties, only to shockingly wake up seventeen again, still in my childhood bedroom. It was college application day, and everything felt eerily familiar, especially my lifelong dream with best friend Jack and boyfriend Kevin: Princeton, shared dorms, and a future intertwined.
But the comfort shattered an instant later. Kevin and Jack, my supposed "constants," calmly announced they were ditching the Ivy League. Their new plan? State University, staying local, all to "support" Brittany, the head cheerleader—a non-entity in my previous life—who claimed her family was in crisis.
The betrayal hit like a physical blow. Suddenly, my meticulously organized SAT notes, the very tools of *my* ambition, were handed over to Brittany without a second thought. They paraded her scores, reveling in *her* success, while publicly dismissing my shock and mocking my sudden declaration of choosing UC Berkeley. At the graduation party, they treated Brittany like royalty, their arms around her, their attention solely hers, while I became an irrelevant outsider. The yearbook, a symbol of our unbreakable bond, bore their dismissive scrawls, cementing my abandonment.
How could the boys who were my rocks, my future, obliterate *our* shared dream for someone they barely knew? Why did their chivalry translate into such a profound betrayal of me? The sheer injustice and confusion were a cold knot in my stomach.
But I wouldn't let their misplaced heroism define me. No longer the girl who silently absorbed their choices, I clutched my Berkeley acceptance, booked a one-way flight, and definitively chose my own destiny. This time, I was playing for myself. You might like
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. 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. 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. 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.
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. I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything
Rabbit My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune.
For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me."
He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster.
He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous.
The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built. 
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