Eileen
9 Published Stories
Eileen's Books and Stories
Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison
Mafia Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift—a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept." His Possession, Her Escape
Mafia I was the wife of Brennan Johnson, the head of the Sterling Syndicate. For years, I was the perfect partner, helping him climb from a young enforcer to the undisputed boss, believing he was the man who had once saved my life and promised to protect me forever.
That illusion shattered when I overheard him promising that same protection to a young art student he was sleeping with.
When I confronted him, he called me tainted and complicated. When I asked for a divorce, he cut my cheek with shattered glass and snarled that I belonged to him. He publicly gave my foundation and a necklace meant for me to his mistress, declaring her his "one and only" in front of the entire city.
The ultimate betrayal came when we were both kidnapped. The kidnappers held a knife to each of our throats and told him to choose.
He looked at me, his wife, and said, "I choose her."
He abandoned me to be assaulted and killed, walking away with his new love without a backward glance.
But I didn't die. An old family loyalist saved me.
I faked my death, escaped the country, and built a new life from the ashes of the old one. I was finally free.
Until tonight, when he walked into my restaurant, a ghost from a life I had buried. He found me. And he wants me back. His Regret, Her Unstoppable Rise
Romance My seven-year marriage to the heir Kobe Kidd began as a contract. I was the respectable placeholder wife he needed. In exchange, I got the stability I'd craved my whole life. I kept my side of the bargain perfectly, except for one mistake: I fell in love with him.
Then, his first love, Felicie, came back into the picture. Suddenly, I wasn't a wife; I was an obstacle. After our car crashed, he scrambled to save an unconscious Felicie from the wreckage, leaving me trapped inside the smoking vehicle without a second glance.
I survived the explosion, only to face something worse. When Felicie was stabbed by her own violent ex after using me as a human shield, she told Kobe I’d hired the man to kill her.
He believed her instantly.
He didn't check the cameras. He didn't ask me a single question. He just looked at me with pure, undiluted hatred and had me thrown into the mansion's cold, dark basement.
I was locked away for days, screaming for a man who had already left me to burn. I finally understood. It didn’t matter what the truth was. I wasn't her, and that was the only crime that mattered.
So I finalized our divorce, walked away without looking back, and started a new life. But months later, he found me. He showed up in my small café an ocean away, his eyes full of regret, begging for a second chance.
He said he finally knew the truth.
He said he loved me. Eight Years, A Twisted Play
Romance "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. The $3 Million Escape
Modern For fifteen years, my wife Sarah' s complaints were the soundtrack of my life.
"Eight thousand dollars," she' d whine, always about the paltry dowry my mother gave us.
It was a constant, low-level hum, punctuated by her rants about her cousin Jessica' s lavish gifts and exotic vacations.
Tonight, after a call with Jessica, it escalated.
"Hawaii again," she fumed, eyes burning with a strange, calculating fire.
Then, the unthinkable: "What if we get divorced?"
A fake divorce, she clarified, a scheme to extort money from my mother.
She envisioned millions, and my mother' s precious jewelry.
I stared at her, stunned by the audacity, the naked greed.
My phone buzzed.
A text from my boss: `$3 million bonus. Wire transfer tomorrow.`
A strange calm washed over me.
The words silenced Sarah' s relentless complaining, the past fifteen years of bitterness.
I looked at her, truly looked at her, and a plan of my own began to form.
This wasn' t just about the money anymore.
It was about quiet, about peace, about freedom.
"Okay," I said, my voice steady, surprising even myself. "Let' s do it."
Her triumphant grin missed the cold resolve settling deep in my gut.
This wasn' t her fake divorce.
It was my real one. From Prison Bars to Platinum Stars
Modern 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. The Playboy's Hidden Empire
Billionaires Reckless playboy Alex Sterling was back in New York, straight from his Alaska 'sabbatical,' finally ready to claim his inheritance: his grandfather's multi-billion dollar tech empire.
But my greedy parents, Richard and Victoria, along with my plotting half-brothers, Marcus and Leo, were already circling like sharks, eyeing Sterling Innovations for themselves.
They wasted no time. At dinner, they openly challenged my competence, a performative prelude. Then came the emergency board meeting, where they tried to oust me as 'unfit,' propped up by bribed board members and even a seemingly damning testimony from brilliant engineer Chloe Davis, whom my father had pressured.
It looked like a clear victory for them. Everyone bought their narrative: the unstable playboy heir, easily removed. But they knew nothing of the deeper game; they didn't see the meticulously gathered evidence I held, or their own years of hidden treachery.
Their attempt to commit me to a 'wellness retreat' was the final straw, and the ultimate bait. What they thought was their triumph was actually a meticulously planned trap. Now, it was time to reveal who the true puppet master was, expose their attempted murders, and the dark secrets they'd kept hidden for decades. On Our Tenth Anniversary, I Found His Other Life
Modern My husband, Mark, was always busy building his AI car startup, NovaDrive. As an engineer sidelined by an accident, I clung to the hope that our upcoming tenth anniversary would bring him home, back to the man I married.
But then, I found his work tablet. A message thread with "Sweetheart S." revealed not just a months-long affair, but secret plans for a romantic trip to Paris—a trip he told me was a crucial business meeting.
His mistress, a woman named Sophia, then brazenly sought me out, revealing she was pregnant with Mark's child and scoffing that my accident had made things "complicated." Meanwhile, Mark was systematically stripping me of everything—our joint assets funneled into offshore accounts, my precious family heirlooms stolen from a safe deposit box and gifted to Sophia. He even called me a "liability."
The pain wasn't just the affair; it was the calculated cruelty, the meticulous betrayal I'd endured while he painted me as the clinging wife. How could the man who held my hand in the ER become someone who wanted to erase me completely, leaving me with nothing?
Just when I thought I was utterly alone, broken and financially ruined, a desperate Sophia arrived at my door. She’d finally seen Mark for the cold, manipulative user he was. Now, we're forging an unlikely alliance, ready to bet that two wronged women can bring down an empire built on lies. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Artist Returns
Zaccaria Linn On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table.
Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen.
"Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over."
I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward.
Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant.
She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest.
As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me.
He hugged her.
"It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you."
The betrayal didn't stop there.
When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police.
When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations.
He declined the call.
He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife.
That was the moment the chain broke.
As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come.
I opened the door and jumped into the dark.
Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement.
Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one. The Don's Pawn, A Queen's Revenge
Rabbit My family sent me to marry into the enemy, a ruthless Don in Chicago. From the moment I arrived, I was treated like a common whore, a pawn to be humiliated and discarded. But they made one fatal mistake: they thought I was a lamb, when I was really a wolf in disguise.
Sent to Chicago for an arranged marriage with Don Vincenzo Moretti, Isabella Falcone arrived at his hostile estate, instantly an unwelcome outsider.
Hostility turned personal. Publicly shamed and trapped in Vincenzo's bed by his cousin, the Don accused me of whoring for family favor.
I faced constant humiliation. Family insulted me, staff trapped me. Vincenzo was cold. A rival framed me with a planted diamond, and the Consigliere declared me a thief, ordering soldiers to drag me away.
Branded a criminal by a rigged game, injustice fueled a cold, clear rage. I was a pawn, but I would show them a queen.
My fear hardened into lethal resolve. Alida Savage thought she'd destroyed me, but only declared war on the wrong woman. I would tear down all who dared to underestimate me.
Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit
Elisha Plasket I sat at the head of the mahogany table, the heavy heirloom emeralds around my neck marking me as the future Queen of the Cosa Nostra.
But the man beside me—Jax Viles, the most feared Don in New York—had his hand resting possessively on the thigh of the woman sitting to his right.
She wasn't his fiancée. I was.
The humiliation didn't stop at dinner. Jax moved her into my home, turned my dance studio into her closet, and when she pushed me down a flight of stairs, he stepped over my broken body to comfort her because she was "shaken up."
He started a bloody gang war just to defend her honor, yet ignored my desperate calls warning him of an ambush.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was furniture—a fixture that was expected to be silent and useful. He would burn the world to ash for her, but for me, he wouldn't even skip a meeting.
So, while he was out celebrating his victory for her, I didn't wait for him to come home.
I left the engagement ring in the trash can next to the toilet.
On his desk, I left a single note: "I release you from the oath. I hope she's worth the war."
By the time he realized his mistake and came looking for his shadow, I was already gone, ready to become the Queen of my own life. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her."