Culp
10 Published Stories
Culp's Books and Stories
From Cliffside Betrayal to Unbreakable Love
Romance My husband of five years, Mark, told me he was taking me on a romantic clifftop picnic. He poured me a glass of champagne, his smile as warm as the sun. He said it was to celebrate our life together.
But as I admired the view, his hands slammed into my back. The world dissolved into a blur of sky and rock as I plunged toward the ravine below.
I woke up broken and bleeding, just in time to hear his voice above. He wasn't alone. It was his mistress, Chloe.
"Is she... gone?" she asked.
"She fell a long way," Mark's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "No one could survive that. By the time they find the body, it'll look like a tragic accident. Poor, unstable Clara, wandering too close to the edge."
The casual cruelty of his words was worse than the impact. He had already written my obituary, crafting the narrative of my demise while leaving me to die in the storm.
A wave of despair washed over me, but then something else ignited: a white-hot, furious anger.
Just as my vision started to fade, headlights sliced through the rain. A man stepped out of a luxury car. It wasn't Mark. It was Julian Thorne, my husband's most hated rival, and the one man who might want Mark destroyed as much as I did. Reborn to Rewrite: The Heiress's Second Chance
Modern My 21st birthday was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a display of family pride and wealth as I chose my future husband.
But a horrifying secret simmered beneath the celebratory facade: I was reliving my life, and this very day, my previous choice of fiancé, Ethan Vanderbilt III, had led to my family’s empire crumbling and their agonizing death in a fiery jet crash.
The chilling memory of their screams, the inferno, and the realization that Ethan's charm was nothing but a weapon, clawed at my sanity.
How could I possibly explain to my loving, unaware parents that their perfect daughter had already lived a nightmare version of this life, where their trust in me—and my choice—had damned us all?
Trapped by a past only I remembered, with the venomous name of Ethan Vanderbilt still lurking on my pre-approved marriage list, I made a radical, desperate decision: I would choose a man entirely outside his orbit, defying fate and claiming my second chance to keep my family safe. The Underestimated Wife's Revenge
Billionaires The heavy scent of grilled meat and expensive cologne filled the private room at Harris' Steakhouse.
My tech CEO husband, Mark, called it a "boys' night out," but I was there, a silent fixture at the dark wood table, habitually ignored.
His tech bro friends, Kevin and Josh, flanked him, their laughter growing too loud.
Then, in a momentary lull, I calmly stated, "I' m thinking about it too," referring to getting a divorce.
The entire table erupted, not in surprise, but in loud, condescending laughter, Mark' s the loudest of all.
He wiped a tear from his eye and sneered, "You? Divorce me? What do you have without me, Sarah? You dropped out of Vassar, remember? For me. You think you can survive for a week without my money?"
His friend Kevin, already flushed from too much wine, then slurred a public dare, "If you actually divorce Mark, I swear, I' ll live-stream chugging a blended concoction of the grossest things!"
They truly believed I was a fragile, dependent ornament, easily controlled.
They saw only a trophy wife, utterly incapable of independent thought or action.
They didn't see the cold, hard knot of pure resolve tightening inside my gut.
They certainly didn't know about the countless hours I'd spent in our Atherton mansion's library, diligently studying California community property law.
A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips as I met their gazes.
"No, Mark," I said, standing slowly, my voice cool and even, "I don' t think I will apologize; in fact, I've already had divorce papers drawn up."
My lawyer would be in touch with his.
Weeks later, when his young intern, Tiffany, smugly tried to announce her fake pregnancy at a family dinner, I exposed Mark's zero sperm count to his horrified mother and everyone present.
They had utterly underestimated me, and my meticulously researched plan to reclaim my life had just begun. The Rejected White Wolf and Her Lycan King
Werewolf On our third anniversary, I went to the Pack Registry to submit a design portfolio, hoping to surprise my husband.
The clerk looked at me with pity and whispered, "Honey, the system won't let me. Your Mate Bond was severed three years ago."
I stared at the screen in horror. Not only had Alpha Bennet quietly rejected me, but he had also registered a "Companion Contract" with Gianna—my former best friend who had maimed my right hand in an "accident."
I tracked them to the Sacred Lake. Hidden behind a tree, I heard Bennet laugh.
"I love that she's helpless," he told Gianna, pushing her on the swing he built for me. "I love that she can't Shift or draw. It makes me feel like a god."
He wasn't protecting me; he was clipping my wings to keep me in a cage.
When Gianna later framed me as a Rogue intruder, Bennet didn't recognize me in the dark. He whipped me five times with a silver lash, savoring every scream, unaware he was flaying his own wife.
He thought he had broken me. He thought I would die in that basement.
Instead, I severed the bond myself and vanished across the ocean.
One year later, I returned to Paris as a renowned architect with a mechanical arm and the Lycan King by my side.
When Bennet saw me and fell to his knees begging for a second chance, I simply turned my back and revealed the scars he gave me to the cameras.
"You didn't love me, Bennet. You only loved my pain." Beyond Betrayal: A Wife Reborn
Billionaires The sharp, shattering pain was familiar. This was the eighth time. The eighth baby. My husband, Ethan, the perfect CEO, held my hand as grief suffocated me in the hospital bed. He looked like the picture of a devastated spouse.
But then, I heard voices from the hallway-Ethan' s and the doctor' s. "Mr. Hayes, why insist on… eliminating the one in your wife's belly? It's your own child!" the doctor strained. "Scarlett is particular, and she has needs. This is the safest method," Ethan replied, chillingly calm. Scarlett. His proclaimed "childhood friend." The words didn't make sense until their horrifying truth crashed down: my miscarriages weren't accidents. They were harvests, orchestrated by my loving husband to feed his mistress' s mysterious medical condition.
My love for him curdled into black hatred, my grief for our children blazing into a white-hot rage. I was an architect who designed buildings to withstand earthquakes; I wouldn't crumble. I closed my eyes, feigning sorrow, but inside, a new blueprint for revenge was being drawn. Then I heard the doctor's terrified whisper: "And the hysterectomy? Paralysis? Ethan, that's going too far. She's your wife." His voice, devoid of emotion, cut through the haze: "She's too strong-willed. This will keep her safe. And quiet." They were going to gut me, cripple me, take everything. They had no idea what they had just created.
Later, I overheard Ethan on the phone again, his voice a low murmur: "She's sedated. You can proceed with the surgery. The hysterectomy first. And make sure the nerve block is permanent. I don't want any surprises." Hysterectomy. Permanent. You bastard, Ethan, I thought as darkness pulled me under. You' re not just taking my children. You' re taking my future. You' re taking my body.
But you haven' t taken my mind. And it will be the instrument of your destruction. Betrayed By My Savior Husband
Modern The champagne shimmered, my fiancé Daniel was by my side, and my parents, pillars of the tech world, beamed with pride. It was my engagement day, perfect as a movie scene.
Then, the screens behind us, meant for happy memories, flared to life with my face, but not my body-a horrifying deepfake, accompanied by a torrent of our company' s most intimate client data, all pinned on my mother.
The ballroom erupted. Whispers turned to shouts, Daniel recoiled as if burned, and my mother, the renowned ethicist, was swarmed by reporters, branded a fraud and criminal. My father, director of Miller Security, clutched his chest, watching his wife' s ruin and his daughter' s humiliation before collapsing-dead, on the polished floor.
The Vance family patriarch declared our engagement off, leaving me standing alone, my world shattered into a million pieces. In ten minutes, I lost everything: my reputation, my family, my future, and my father's life.
Three years later, I was married to Ethan Vance, Daniel' s brother, a man I believed was my savior, gently rebuilding my life in a quiet, gilded cage. Until I overheard a chilling conversation between Ethan and his best friend, Mark.
"Shouldn't you take down those awful deepfakes? Now that Tiffany is happily integrated into your family, why keep tormenting Chloe?" Mark' s voice was laced with anger I'd never heard.
Ethan's reply, calm and cold, made my blood run cold: "The Miller family's influence was too strong. As long as they were respected, how could Tiffany feel secure?"
My parents, his mentors, had been destroyed for Tiffany, Daniel's new wife. Every tender word, every protective gesture from Ethan had been a carefully orchestrated lie. My husband, my rescuer, was the monster who had meticulously planned my family' s ruin and profited from my humiliation.
I had been sleeping beside my father' s murderer for three years. The realization hit me like a physical blow, stripping away every illusion. I had to make him pay for everything he had done. The Truth Set Her Free
Romance The long shadows of the late afternoon stretch across my perfectly curated living room, a silent testament to the lie my life has become.
My husband, Liam, a rising star, values perfection-a facade we' ve painstakingly built.
Our marriage is a stable, respectable union on paper, a performance, with me, a talented architect, as his willing partner.
Then he died, swiftly, unexpectedly, at forty-five.
Buried within his belongings, a locked box in his study, I found it: the truth.
Letters, photographs-a hidden life with Chloe, his childhood sweetheart, his true love for decades.
My entire marriage, my twenty years, was an elaborate charade for his reputation.
The pain was a physical entity, suffocating, extinguishing my will to live.
I died too, then woke up.
Not in a hospital, not in an afterlife, but here, in this cold house, two years into my marriage, twenty-four again.
The ghost of a twenty-year lie lived inside me, but it brought a cold, hard resolve.
I would not let it happen again, not waste another two decades as a supporting character.
I will live for myself this time.
The key in the lock, Liam' s flat voice: "I'm home."
This time, I remained seated.
His brow furrowed, unused to my stillness.
"Is something wrong?"
"Just tired," I replied, my voice as level as his.
He was a stranger now, every gesture filtered through future knowledge, every polite smile a calculation, every question a check on his investment.
He funded Chloe' s art studies abroad, a fortune spent while I pinched pennies.
That money, even now, was for her.
The rage was cold, sharp.
Then, he dropped the bombshell: "Chloe is coming back… she could stay with us for a while."
My heart stilled.
It was happening again.
In my past life, I agreed, eager to please, starting my slow erasure.
This time, I looked directly at him, seeing the feigned concern, the carefully constructed lie.
"No," I said, the word a slammed door.
His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed.
"What did you say?"
"I said no," I repeated, my voice gaining strength.
"She can't stay here."
A strange power surged.
He was dealing with a different woman now, a woman who knew all his secrets. The Miscarriage Plot
Horror The tiny screen showed a pulsing heartbeat, and Doctor Ramirez smiled.
I was pregnant, overjoyed, ready to build our perfect family with Michael, my loving husband, and my rock-solid best friend, Chloe.
It felt like a dream come true after years of trying.
Then Chloe gifted me an antique locket, a seemingly thoughtful "protection charm."
But soon after, my baby's heartbeat grew alarmingly erratic.
The doctor warned me, while a chilling encounter with an eccentric antique dealer sparked a horrifying thought: Was the locket cursed?
Could it be a "vessel of sorrow" meant to "rebalance fates"?
His ominous words echoed as Chloe, who’d struggled with IVF, began showing surprising "positive signs."
Desperate to protect my child, I tried to banish the locket's influence.
That’s when I overheard the insidious truth: Michael’s voice, hushed, conspiring with Chloe.
“The locket’s influence is definitely working,” he whispered.
“Her inevitable breakdown will make things easier.”
“The trust fund... it’ll all be sorted.”
Betrayal ripped through me, cold and agonizing.
My husband, the man I trusted with my life, and my best friend, were actively orchestrating my ruin.
The “curse” wasn’t supernatural; it was a calculated scheme of psychological torture and subtle drugs.
It was all designed to induce my miscarriage and drive me mad, all for my family’s trust fund.
Every loving glance, every comforting word, a horrifying lie.
The terror was instant, quickly followed by a searing, ice-cold fury.
They thought I was collapsing, but their vile deception simply ignited a dormant strength within me.
They wanted to tear down my world.
I wouldn't just survive; I would meticulously expose their every deceit.
I would dismantle their entire wicked plot.
And I would ensure they faced justice for the monstrous theft of my peace, my future, and my baby. Her Quiet Vengeance
Modern My husband, Michael, stumbled home one day, not with a briefcase, but a bundle. A baby, he claimed, "found" at a gas station. His too-loud voice, his darting eyes, the wads of cash he pressed into my hand—I saw through the charade immediately. My suspicions, honed by years of his subtle lies and secret Vegas trips, solidified. He wanted me to raise this child, a "blessing" he called it, while he preened as a selfless savior.
For eighteen years, I endured Michael's arrogance, his mother’s thinly veiled disdain for my childlessness, and his endless stream of deceit. He believed me a naive, devoted wife, blissfully unaware of his true connections to the baby's birth mother, a woman named Jessica. He bragged about Ethan, "his" son, never knowing I was painstakingly uncovering every detail of his betrayal—the secret payments, the fabricated narratives, the hidden identity of Ethan’s real father, a man with dangerous ties.
The injustice of his blatant lies, how he’d used me to build his perfect family facade, fueled a cold, quiet rage within me. I smiled, I nodded, I played the part of the perfect mother to Ethan, the brilliant son I adored. But beneath that placid surface, I was a strategist, meticulously gathering my evidence, waiting for the opportune moment.
When Ethan was accepted into Yale, Michael decided it was time for his grand reveal: divorcing me to "reunite" with Jessica and "his" long-lost son at a lavish party. He thought he was orchestrating his ultimate triumph. He had no idea he was stepping into a meticulously crafted trap, two decades in the making, set by the wife he completely underestimated. You might like
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. 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. 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. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. 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.
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. 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. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. My Contracted Husband, The Heartless CEO has Amnesia?
Audrey C Leilani Celeste was married to a Mafia Don, by the name Xenois Kingston on a contract marriage, that would last 6 years.
The deal was that Celeste would give him children during that period and after the end of the 6 year contract, he would offer her $100,000,000,000, divorce her and keep the children as his.
Celeste, an orphan, abandoned by the orphanage she grew up in at the age of 18 had nothing to lose and agreed to the deal.
6 years later, Celeste is now 24 years and mother to triplets boys; Lake, Troy and Soren. The contract is coming to an end this month and rumors has it that Xenois true love Claudia Hale is returning back to the city after 6 years of absence.
Xenois handed her the divorce papers that morning only for him to get into a car accident on the way to the hospital and suffers from amnesia.
To Xenois, he's in love with his wife and kids and a very attentive father and husband and is surprised to find out that Celeste planned on divorcing him. He is determined to make his wife fall for him and be a better father to their children. Things seem like a fairytale for Celeste who is desperate to hold on to this illusion after she had fallen for her husband in their third year of their marriage and stayed with an unrequited love. She knows what she's doing is cruel but she wants to enjoy it while it lasts.
But Claudia Hale won't rest until she gets rid of the obstacle named Celeste and marries her heartthrob Xenois.
Will Xenois recover his memory and better yet, once he does, does Celeste still stand a chance at winning the heart of her husband or would she be accused of having a hand in his amnesia. 
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