Dolorita Drinker
10 Published Stories
Dolorita Drinker's Books and Stories
The Architect Who Rose From Ashes
Romance I died of a broken heart while my fiancé, Kade, was busy comforting his "best friend" over a cold.
When I opened my eyes, I was back at our engagement party, ten years in the past.
I didn't hesitate. I took off the ring and called it quits.
But Kyla wasn't letting go that easily. She deliberately ate a peanut cookie, faking a severe reaction to frame me.
Kade didn't ask questions. He looked at me with pure hatred.
"You monster! You knew she was allergic!"
He even blamed me for his driver's sudden heart attack, screaming that I was a murderer who deserved to be ruined.
I didn't defend myself. I didn't cry.
I simply boarded a plane to London and vanished from his life.
Thirteen years later, I returned as a world-renowned architect.
Kade, who had finally uncovered the truth and spent a decade in silent penance, fell to his knees begging for a second chance.
I looked at the man who had once been my world and smiled coldly.
"I forgive you, Kade. But the Harper who loved you is dead. You killed her yourself." Too Late For The Ruthless Don's Regret
Mafia The crystal chandelier swayed violently above the dinner table. In that fraction of a second, time seemed to stop.
My husband, Dante, didn't hesitate. He didn't reach for me.
He dove across the table, tackling his "fragile" first love, Mia, to the floor. He shielded her body with his own.
Gravity took over. The heavy metal slammed into my legs, crushing them instantly.
While I lay buried under the debris, bleeding into the beige carpet, Dante was screaming for a medic—because Mia had a paper cut.
It wasn't the first time he chose her. He had run my taxi off the road because she faked a fall. He gave her my dying father's antique rosary just because she thought it was a pretty accessory.
But the final blow wasn't physical.
While Dante was at a hotel comforting Mia through a "nightmare," he ignored the urgent calls to authorize my father's bone marrow transplant.
My father died alone of infection because Dante was too busy playing hero to a liar.
When Dante finally returned to the penthouse, expecting me to be waiting there to beg for his forgiveness, he found the house silent.
He found the signed divorce papers in the fireplace.
And then, he found the death certificate dated three days ago.
I didn't leave a note. I didn't leave a fight.
I just left him with the silence he deserved, and vanished into the night. Bought By The Man Who Hates Me
Modern I sat at a mahogany table in River Oaks, clutching the strap of a pilled black dress from a life I’d lost five years ago. I was an exile in a world of old money, just trying to survive a dinner party I didn't belong in.
Then the doors opened, and Baron Lowery walked in. He was no longer the boy I’d loved, but a powerful man with eyes like a storm front. When the host asked if we’d met, Baron didn't even blink.
"I don't know her," he said.
The erasure was a physical blow. His new girlfriend spent the night mocking my "quaint" legal aid work and calling me a washed-up gold digger. Baron didn't defend me; he watched my humiliation with a cold, predatory stillness. During a game of Truth or Dare, he stared me down, waiting for a confession. To protect his career and the secret of my father’s federal crimes, I looked him in the eye and told the ultimate lie: "No regrets."
He retaliated by pinning me against a concrete wall in a dark stairwell, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt like a punishment. He told me I wasn't worth the effort and left me. I retreated to my real life—a moldy trailer and a blackmailer named Harvey who was forcing me into a marriage to save my father from prison.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom until Baron’s silver Bentley pulled up to my slum. He didn't come to apologize. He flipped open a checkbook, scribbled fifty thousand dollars, and held it out like I was a common streetwalker.
"One night," he demanded. "Do whatever I say, and it's yours."
I looked at the man I’d sacrificed my entire soul for and realized he’d finally become the monster I'd tried to save him from. I shoved the check back in his face and ran into the rain, leaving the billionaire staring at the trailer park, unable to understand why the "gold digger" he hated so much wouldn't take his money. The Billionaire's Rival: My Sweet Revenge
Modern I had spent two years playing the perfect Stepford Wife to billionaire Brittain Kane, acting as the obedient accessory while he built his empire. I played the fool until I found his second phone, the one filled with messages and photos of a nineteen-year-old hostess.
Determined to balance the scales, I checked into the Pierre Hotel and spent twenty-five thousand dollars to hire a high-end male escort. I wanted one night of rebellion to wash away the two years of humiliation and finally even the score.
But when the heavy footsteps stopped outside my door, the man who walked in wasn’t the professional I had booked. It was Harrison Juarez—my husband’s most ruthless business rival and supposed "best friend." He stood there in a suit that cost more than my car, holding a screenshot of my scandalous booking on his phone.
My blood turned to ice as I realized my carefully constructed exit plan was over. He had the proof, the leverage, and the power to leave me with nothing in a divorce. He mocked my "cheap courage" and told me that sleeping with a hired hand wouldn't hurt a man like Brittain; he’d just pay the guy off and buy me a new car to shut me up.
The fear inside me snapped, replaced by a cold, hard clarity. I looked at the man who held my life in his hands and realized he wasn't there to expose me. He was there because he was petty, effective, and wanted to destroy Brittain just as much as I did.
"If you really want to make Brittain Kane lose his mind," Harrison whispered, his voice rough against my ear, "you don't need a gigolo. You need me."
I didn't hesitate. I reached into my bag, pulled out my husband’s black Centurion card, and tossed it at my husband's greatest enemy. I told him to book the most expensive penthouse in the city, because if I was going to ruin my marriage, I was going to do it on Brittain’s dime with the one man he feared most. From Unwanted Wife To Unreachable Queen
Mafia The day my guardian, Dante Moretti, announced his engagement was the day I started planning my death. Not a literal one, but the death of the girl who had orbited his world for ten years.
He was the Don of the Moretti family, the man I'd secretly loved since I was a child. But with his new fiancée, Sofia, on his arm, he began to erase me. He even forgot my severe allergy, gifting me a watch that would blister my skin.
He had ripped apart the diary where I confessed my love for him.
"I am your guardian," he'd spat. "Do not ever cross that line again."
Yet one night, drunk and stumbling, he crashed his mouth onto mine, his hands roaming my body as he pushed me against the wall.
He groaned, but the name that escaped his lips wasn't mine.
"Sofia..."
When I screamed my own name—Elara—he shoved me away in horror. He wasn't horrified by his betrayal, but by the fact that he'd kissed the wrong woman.
That was the final straw. I took the acceptance letter to a university in Toronto that I had kept hidden like a prayer. I called my estranged father and booked a one-way ticket. This time, I would burn my old life to the ground and leave nothing but ashes behind. The Unlucky Twin's Unseen Path
Romance From the moment I was born, a tiny, almost invisible birthmark behind my left ear sealed my fate. My mother, living by old superstitions, saw it as a bad omen, setting me apart from my identical twin, Sophia. She became the family favorite, showered with love and opportunity, while I became the "unlucky" one, living in her shadow with a nanny on a forgotten corner of our estate.
Then, the unimaginable happened: Liam Davis, the adopted son of a powerful political figure, was at our family dinner, when he was never supposed to be there. And Sophia, my identical twin, who was supposed to marry the tech CEO Ethan Vance, shocked everyone by declaring her choice: she would marry Liam Davis.
Sophia, with a smug, triumphant smile, later cornered me, "I told you I wanted your life. This time, I'm taking the right path from the beginning. Liam's power, his influence... it will all be mine. You can have the bankrupt tech genius." Her words chillingly confirmed it: she remembered everything from our first life, just like me.
In that past life, I was married off to Liam Davis, a cold, distant man whose political ambition was built on secrets and ruthless tactics. His rise to power was bloody, leaving me a shield against his enemies and enduring constant humiliation in the shadows. Sophia had seen only the glamorous result, not the treacherous path, blindly envying my hard-won position. She thought marrying Liam was her shortcut to the life she deserved.
Now, she believed she was seizing a better future, unaware that she was stepping into the very hell I had endured. She had chosen Liam, but she hadn't chosen the man he became with me. And I, the "unlucky" twin, was left with Ethan Vance, the supposed "bankrupt tech genius" destined for ruin.
But I refused to be a passive victim again. This time, I knew the game, and I understood Sophia' s blindness. She wanted my old life? She could have it. Because this time, I would choose my own path. And maybe, just maybe, this "failed" marriage might hold a secret I never anticipated. Fiancée's Fury, Sister's Shame
Modern The California sun felt like a fresh start, a golden promise for my new life as an architect in LA, working alongside my successful older brother, David.
But that promise shattered the moment my phone buzzed with an unknown number.
"So you' re the one," a cold voice sneered, "The little sister who' s trying to sleep with her brother."
My mind reeled. David, engaged? He never told me. And then this woman, Chloe, his fiancée, accused me of being a "homewrecker," her words laced with venom.
The next morning, she escalated, posting a photo of David and me in our office' s company-wide chat, publicly branding me as someone with "no shame."
"You' re not his 'sister.' You' re not related by blood at all," she broadcasted, twisting the truth of my adoption into a weapon, exposing our private family history to my new colleagues.
I turned to David, my protector, expecting him to defend me. Instead, he simply messaged, "Sarah, don' t engage. Just ignore it. You' re making it worse."
His inaction was a betrayal, a chilling realization that the brother I idolized was letting me be publicly humiliated, prioritizing "image" over my dignity.
What kind of monster would weaponize family history? And why was David, my anchor, abandoning me to the storm? I knew then that this wasn't just a jealous fiancée; this was a battle, and my cherished brother was on the wrong side. AI Love, Real Betrayal
Romance The final code for "True Love AI" glowed on my office monitor, a perfect symbol for my perfect life: successful tech CEO, marrying the woman I' ve loved for five years in seven days.
Then Olivia called, her voice flat, devoid of warmth. "Ethan, can you come home? We need to talk."
When I arrived, she dropped a bomb: she couldn' t marry me. She had to marry Daniel Reed, her ex-boyfriend, to fulfill his "deceased mother' s dying wish."
My world fractured. This multi-million dollar AI, this sprawling estate, our perfect future-all secondary to some archaic notion of filial piety. And then came the sting: she wanted me to fund their wedding, a casual request for $50,000 for "arrangements."
How could she betray me so utterly, and then demand I finance her new life? Could she truly be so cold, so transactional, after everything?
But as I stared at her audacious texts, a small detail from a shared photo clicked into place. If she saw my love as a tool for manipulation, then I, Ethan Miller, would return the favor. My wedding would proceed as planned, but she wouldn' t be the bride. The Toxic Inheritance: Sisters Forged in Fire
Sci-fi The crystal decanter felt heavy in my hand as I prepared to strike my sister, Gabby, believing she had betrayed our family.
Suddenly, glowing blue messages appeared before my eyes, revealing a shocking truth: I was being played, and my brother Ethan and our supposed sister Nicole were orchestrating a cruel frame-up.
My world shattered as I watched them feign innocence, and Ethan, caught in his lie, spitefully ordered Gabby to be locked in the terrifying wine cellar, a place of profound trauma for her.
The realization that I had been a blind participant in my family' s monstrous charade, that I had stood by while Gabby was tormented, hit me like a physical blow.
But seeing Gabby's pure terror, and knowing Ethan had tortured her for weeks, something cold and sharp hardened inside me: I was done feeling guilty; I was going to turn her into a weapon. You might like
Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. 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. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. 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 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. 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 Unwanted Bride (Married by Mistake)
Tessychris A loveless marriage, a stone cold husband and a brutal arrogant man was what destiny brought before Ava Leon. Her marriage was an arranged mistake, she was his unwanted bride and he was her stone hearted husband.
He treated her like a filth until he found a convenient reason to have her sent to prison.
But something went wrong and the woman that stood before him few years later has same features to his late wife. She died, yes, he had her given a proper funeral and everyone mourned her death but another version of her just emerged.
Who's this fellow, looking explicitly like his dead wife. Was she cloned or was she a twin that no one knows about?
Ava Leon was dead and Aurora Blake has been reborn. Tables turn, personality merges with identity and when things ought to get easier, nah, it got tougher.
The death of Ava Leon was not going to be spared by the birth of Aurora Blake. The former was a servant , the latter is an heiress.
"On your knees, Adrian Lester!..." 
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