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Eileen

11 Published Stories

Eileen's Books and Stories

Fifty Million Dollar Contract: My Enemy Husband

Fifty Million Dollar Contract: My Enemy Husband

Modern
5.0
Eloise was the untouchable Brandt family heiress, just one audition away from landing a lead movie role and escaping her golden cage. But overnight, her family's empire completely collapsed. With her father dying of heart failure, her mother forced her to beg the only man who could save them: Christian Clarke. Christian was the ruthless billionaire who had publicly humiliated Eloise in college, ripping up her love letter in front of a laughing crowd. Now, he tossed a fifty-million-dollar acquisition contract on the table. "What exactly is the Brandt heiress putting up for sale today?" To secure her father's medical care, Eloise was forced to sign a suffocating marriage contract, selling herself as a corporate tax shield. He moved her into his freezing penthouse and treated her like a purchased asset. He mocked her attempts to cook him dinner, yet pinned her against the wall with punishing, possessive kisses whenever she tried to pull away. Eloise's pride was entirely shattered. She didn't understand why he was doing this. If he hated her so much and only wanted revenge, why did his touch carry such an agonizing, desperate heat? Determined to survive, she went to her final audition and miraculously won the lead role, crying tears of joy because she had finally earned something on her own. She had no idea that the cold-blooded monster sleeping beside her had just secretly threatened to destroy all of Hollywood to give it to her.
Eight Years, A Twisted Play

Eight Years, A Twisted Play

Romance
5.0
"Ava, are you sure about this? The Venice project is a huge commitment. Two years is a long time." My boss asked, as I looked out my office window at the New York skyline, a view I'd worked my whole life to earn. "I'm sure, Mark. I've made up my mind." That's when he casually asked if my wedding to Ethan Hayes was on hold. "No," I said, "There is no wedding." The truth was, my fingers, slick with blood, were fumbling to open Ethan's laptop, hoping to find answers. Instead, I found a folder labeled "C," filled with thousands of photos of Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart. There wasn't a single folder for me. I searched for photos of us and found a mere handful from a company party two years ago. For eight years, I'd made excuses for him, believing his charming lies. The excuses I'd built, the little walls around my heart, all came crashing down. That wasn't the worst of it. On his social media, Ethan had just posted: "The whale is back in the ocean." Chloe was his Moby Dick, his obsessive pursuit, and she was back. He had used our engagement, our wedding, to win her back. I was a prop in his twisted play. Then, Mark, Ethan's best friend, called, saying Ethan was a mess at The Black Rose. And Chloe was there. I arrived to see Ethan with his arm draped around Chloe, whispering in her ear. "She's not my fiancée!" he slurred, "I'm not marrying anyone." He never really wanted to claim me. I was just a placeholder until the real thing came along. He didn't love me. He never had. My eight-year gamble had failed. I had put all my chips on him, and I had lost everything. The relationship was over. It had been over for a long time; I was just the last one to know. I cancelled the wedding and flew to Venice. But he followed, a ghost from my past, still trying to control me. He even lied, claiming Chloe was faking her illnesses for attention. Then, in a car crash, I fumbled for my phone, desperate for help, and called him. My call went straight to voicemail. I survived, but he wasn't there. When he finally showed up, he apologized, claiming Chloe had a panic attack. "Chloe. Always Chloe." I realized I had made a terrible mistake, relying on him. "We're over, Ethan," I whispered, "This has to stop." I had to put an end to it, once and for all.
From Prison Bars to Platinum Stars

From Prison Bars to Platinum Stars

Modern
5.0
The blue and red lights flashed, and the wail of the siren cut through the Nashville night. My husband, Ethan, stood over me, his face a mask of concern, but his eyes were cold as he painted me a dangerous, jealous woman. The police officer' s notepad was out, a white sheet covered something on the road, and my vintage Mustang was mangled. "No," I whispered, "I wasn't driving. Sabrina was." But Ethan smiled, whispering a chilling confession: "You're pregnant, you see. You get... confused." He twisted my pain into a weapon, using my own history against me, and I was thrown into a nightmare of accusations. My biological parents, the Clarks, disowned me, my "sister" Sabrina watched with a triumphant smirk, and soon I was signing a confession, my only hope to save my unborn child from the ordeal of a trial. I ended up in prison, losing everything-my freedom, my reputation, my child. Every day was a fight, and my only solace was writing songs, pouring my betrayal and injustice onto paper. I even built a fragile connection with a music blogger, a lifeline in my despair. Yet, after my early release, when I returned home, I found Ethan and Sabrina celebrating, living the life I'd lost. Then came the ultimate betrayal: Sabrina abusing Melody, the sight igniting a forgotten fury. And just when I clawed my way back, building a tentative connection with my estranged daughter, Ethan, the man who claimed to love me, orchestrated the theft of my life's work-my entire album, proudly debuted by Sabrina. He wanted me broken, dependent, stripped of everything. Why would he push me to this absolute edge? What dark twisted game was he truly playing? One thing became brutally clear: I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back, not for answers to his madness, but to burn his world down and reclaim my daughter, my music, and my name.