Estelle Cramail
9 Published Stories
Estelle Cramail's Books and Stories
Pregnant Oracle: The CEO's Most Dangerous Mistake
Modern I stared at the ceiling tiles of the sterile clinic, counting water stains to keep from screaming. The IVF transfer was complete, but the nurse didn’t call me a mother—she called the life inside me an "asset" for Caldwell Holdings.
When I walked into my husband Alexander’s office to demand a divorce, he didn't even look up from his desk. He just laughed, shredded my legal papers, and told me I was nothing more than a high-end broodmare for his inheritance.
The nightmare only deepened from there. To keep me in line, Alexander fabricated evidence of an affair to destroy my reputation. When I tried to run, he revealed he controlled the facility where my sister was on life support, threatening to pull the plug if I didn't submit.
"One phone call, and her ventilator stops," he whispered.
Even my own parents turned against me, demanding I apologize to Alexander’s mistress just to secure their next business merger. I was a prisoner in my own life, trapped between a husband who wanted to own me and a family that had already sold me. I couldn't understand why everyone was so obsessed with this pregnancy until I saw the fear in Alexander's eyes when his uncle, the powerful Harrison Sterling, started showing up at my door.
I finally hacked into the clinic’s high-security database and found the truth. There had been a catastrophic lab breach the day of my procedure. The donor wasn't some anonymous third party.
I wasn't carrying my husband's child. I was carrying his uncle's heir.
As Alexander sent a hitman to stage a fatal "accident" on the Manhattan Bridge, I realized the war had just begun. This time, I wasn't just fighting for my life—I was holding the nuclear leverage that would burn the Caldwell empire to the ground. The Unwanted Heiress's Billionaire Return
Young Adult After eight years in captivity, I was finally rescued. I thought it was the beginning of a new life with my mother.
But she didn't even look at me. She ran into the arms of a handsome stranger, her real husband, and I was treated like a dirty secret from her past.
They called me a contamination, a reminder of their trauma. My new stepsister set their Doberman on me, and as the dog's teeth sank into my arm, I looked up and saw my mother watching from the window.
She met my eyes for a second, then slowly closed the curtains.
In that moment, the last bit of hope I had died. The shallow bond of family was completely gone, and I finally gave up.
But they made one mistake. The family patriarch, suspicious after a car accident, ordered a secret DNA test.
The results came back on the day of my stepsister's birthday party, revealing a truth that would burn their perfect world to the ground. From Trophy Wife To Forgotten
Romance I decided to leave him on a Tuesday, not with a bang, but with the quiet, chilling certainty that settled in my bones as I watched him sleep in our bedroom doorway.
For seven years, our life together had been a carefully constructed epic, built on shared apartments, inside jokes, and intertwined lives, a foundation I believed was unshatterable.
Then, he walked in from a "work trip," a charming smile plastered on his face, attempting to pull me into a hug as if nothing had changed.
But something had; a faint, almost imperceptible smudge of pink on the white collar of his shirt-a shade that wasn\'t mine.
My world shattered as a brutal text arrived from an unknown number: a picture of his car, a fluffy pink charm in the rearview mirror, and a taunting message, "He likes my taste, doesn\'t he?"
The cold, hard truth clicked into place: not only was he cheating, but his mistress, Sophia, was flaunting her triumph, confirming she was building a whole separate life with him.
The final, devastating blow came at his parents\' anniversary party when I overheard the hushed whisper: "She\'s pregnant."
The champagne glass slipped from my fingers, shattering like my heart, a deafening sound in the sudden silence of my mind.
Liam, ever oblivious, still tried to parade me around as his trophy, even as Sophia, undeniably showing, called him away with a whimper, "Liam, I want to go home!" leaving me in a sea of strangers to make his choice.
He chose her. Again.
Seeing Sophia, blatant in her shared future with my long-term partner, filled me with a sickening realization: this wasn\'t just an affair; it was a cold, calculated betrayal of the deepest kind, and I was just an inconvenient obstacle.
The next day, as he left on a "work" call from Sophia, I moved swiftly, placing the silver bracelet with the "S" charm from his wallet on the nightstand, along with printed texts from another man to Sophia-proof of her own double game.
Then, as the car pulled away, I took out my phone and typed, "It\'s over, Liam. I know everything. About Sophia. About the baby. Have a nice life."
And with a final, liberating block of his number, I drove away, leaving him to the wreckage of his own making, finally free. When Envy Destroys Her Empire
Young Adult My scholarship, my future, everything I' d worked for, was hanging by a thread.
It all started innocently enough, just another day buried in academic articles at the university cafeteria. That is, until Brittany, a campus influencer I barely knew, slammed a tray on my table and demanded I pay for her twenty-dollar lunch because her card was declined.
When I politely refused, her perfectly made-up face twisted, and she snarled, "You' ll regret this." I dismissed it as an empty threat, a petty outburst from someone used to always getting her way.
But I was catastrophically wrong.
The next morning, her revenge hit like a wrecking ball. She' d posted a picture of me online, concocting a wildly elaborate story claiming I was a "creepy stalker" fixated on her, who then became "aggressive and hostile" when confronted. The comments section exploded, full of strangers condemning me, my university peers quickly judging me guilty without question.
The "serious matter" my advisor wanted to discuss was suddenly terrifyingly clear. My scholarship, my reputation, my entire future was being threatened by a baseless lie, fueled by an angry online mob.
How could a simple refusal to buy someone lunch spiral into a campus-wide witch hunt? And how could I possibly fight back against an accusation that was not only false, but had already gone viral?
Standing in front of Professor Davies and the Dean, my life on the line, I had to come up with something, anything, to prove the truth. And then, it hit me-a flicker of hope, a long shot… the cafeteria' s security camera. The Artist Who Cheated Death
Modern The news of Ava Green' s death rattled the New York art world, just a week after her sold-out exhibition crowned her the city' s newest star at 33.
The official report blamed a random car accident, but whispers grew louder when tabloids linked her tech mogul ex-husband, Mark Davis, to rising pop star Sienna Brooks, pictures surfacing the day after Ava died.
At her funeral, Mark feigned grief in the front row, while Ava's mother, Sarah, eyed him with a chilling mix of pity and calculation, her comfort a veiled claim.
A gallerist eulogized Ava, quoting her final interview: "My art is about the life you live after you realize the first one wasn't yours."
No one truly understood her words until it was too late, leaving a haunting question of what secret pain she carried.
But death was not the end; Ava awoke, inexplicably, in her lavish marital bed, ten years in the past, to the shock of her 23-year-old self staring back from the mirror. My Best Friend, My Wife, My Betrayal
Romance As an Austin IT guy, I bore the crushing guilt of my supposed infertility, convinced I was failing my influencer wife, Jess, and her dream of a family. Our marriage had grown cold, dominated by her career, and the weight of my perceived inadequacy was immense. But then, I stumbled upon a secret: birth control pills hidden in Jess's bag. My world tilted, the carefully constructed narrative of our life starting to crack.
Jess tearfully confessed to using them for career reasons, skillfully manipulating my guilt over my "condition" documented by an acquaintance nurse, Sarah. I reluctantly accepted, but a chilling suspicion had taken root. Soon after, I found items belonging to my best friend, David, tucked away in Jess' s room - strange for a place she claimed was exclusively hers.
The truth burst open when my hidden camera caught them: Jess and David, intimately involved, proving my betrayal was deeper than I imagined. Then, Sarah, consumed by guilt, confessed it all: Jess' s infertility report was fake, there was no miscarriage, and she' d had an abortion long before, fearing it would derail her career. My entire life had been built on their elaborate lies.
The betrayal escalated from emotional manipulation to outright attempted murder. Jess drugged me and tried to drown me in a staged car accident, only for Sarah to miraculously save me. Witnessing Jess and David celebrating my "death" on my phone ignited a pure, incandescent rage. Every ounce of my fabricated guilt vanished, replaced by an urgent need for justice.
My innocent confusion was gone. I knew now: I wouldn't be their victim any longer. This IT guy was about to turn the tables and expose every single one of their heinous secrets. Married To A Lie
Modern I was just shelving books in my tiny New York apartment, my parents, renowned investigative journalists, chasing a big story in New Orleans, and my engagement to City Councilman Ethan Bellweather just around the corner.
Then, the call came: a car bombing, my parents gone, their names slandered as villains in the news.
Ethan, my fiancé, publicly abandoned me for their intern, Alexis Thorne, right on live TV, shattering my world.
In my despair, Ethan's older brother, Marcus, the chief forensic pathologist, became my only anchor, vowing to uncover the truth about my parents, and I married him, desperately clinging to his promise.
Five years of hollow vows and polite silence passed, our sterile marriage echoing with unasked questions, until a chilling conversation revealed Marcus had actively covered up the military-grade details of my parents' murder and fiercely protected Alexis.
My world shattered once more: the man who swore to find justice was part of the very conspiracy, meticulously hiding the truth about Alexis, the daughter of the magnate my parents exposed, and her deep, shared past with him and Ethan.
Pregnant with Marcus's child, I endured his attempts to 'reconcile' me with Alexis, before overhearing Alexis confessing to the murder and thanking Marcus for his years of cover-up.
At a charity gala, Alexis shamelessly faked an attack, causing my miscarriage, with Marcus choosing her over me, cold contempt chilling his eyes as he cradled her instead of me.
Left alone and bleeding, my baby lost, I gathered every damning piece of evidence, tipped off the FBI, and vanished, finally ready to tear down the empire of lies they built on my parents' graves. The Phoenix Wife
Romance Weeks after my C-section, exhausted and clinging to my newborn, Lily, my husband Jake burst through the door, reeking of cheap perfume and stale beer.
Trailing behind him was Tiffany “Tiff” Evans, openly pregnant, a smirk on her face.
“Tiff’s pregnant,” he announced, not even looking at me or our baby. “I want a divorce. Now. And she’s moving in today.”
My world spun. Not again.
A terrifying vision, sharp as shattered glass, of a past life: the exact same words, the exact same betrayal, ending with Lily’s tragic death and my parents consumed by flames, all set by Jake.
In this life, later that very day, Jake’s drunken rage caused Lily to fall twice.
She lay lifeless.
My father’s house, my family’s legacy, was ripped away through his cruel deceit, leaving me alone with my baby’s cold, still body in a seedy motel.
How could fate be so cruel as to force me to relive this nightmare?
The injustice was a crushing weight, my grief calcified into a chilling resolve.
There were no tears left, only a burning, vengeful fire within.
This was my second chance, a horrifying replay.
And this time, armed with future knowledge, a silent vow erupted from the depths of my soul: They would all pay.
Every single one of them.
For Lily. For my parents.
I wouldn't just survive; I would make them wish they’d never been born. From Cell Block To Center Stage
Romance After five long years, the prison gates groaned open.
My husband, Michael, and our son, Kevin, were waiting, their presence a balm to my battered soul.
I stepped into the blinding California sun, believing my nightmare was over, ready to reclaim my life.
But within days, searching for old family videos on Michael’s tablet, I stumbled upon a subfolder: “Audio Notes – Misc.”
The latest file contained Kevin's voice, confessing how he’d helped his father frame me – swapping my USB drive, planting evidence before my career-defining presentation.
Then, Michael's chilling confirmation: he orchestrated my downfall, all to clear the path for a young actress, Sophia Bell.
My meticulously rebuilt hope shattered.
My five years in prison weren't a mistake; they were a deliberate sacrifice orchestrated by my own husband and son.
I discovered Michael’s study was a shrine to Sophia, filled with devotion he never showed me.
At Sophia’s lavish Hollywood party for the film stolen from my script, I saw my grandmother’s cherished necklace – my wedding "something old" – glinting on her neck.
My own father publicly disowned me, my son Kevin shoved me to the ground, calling me an embarrassment.
Later, I found Michael and Sophia in *my* bed, my heirloom tossed carelessly aside.
How could the people I loved most betray me with such cold precision?
Was my entire life built on a foundation of lies and manipulation?
The pain was suffocating, the injustice searing.
With trembling hands, I signed the divorce papers.
Minutes later, I was in a black car with David Lee, my loyal friend, leaving behind the wreckage.
No suitcase, no goodbyes, just the quiet click of the door marking the start of a new battle and a new dawn. You might like
Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Bound To The Disabled Apocalyptic Tycoon
Star Cruiser Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire.
Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses.
As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw.
Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension.
When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back.
"Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!"
Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland.
Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood.
Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything?
Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas.
She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off.
This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother's open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest's voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone-he brought Charla with him. He claimed she'd had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. Sweet Captive Wife: You Belong to Me, Forever
Escritorapalacio Kiara Watson had lived an unhappy life with her family, always overshadowed by her sister, Cloe, who stole all the attention with her beauty.
However, Kiara's fate took an unexpected turn when, by mistake and out of obligation, she found herself linked to Archie Villarreal, the man who caused a sensation in the most powerful family, the Villarreals.
A dirty trick by Cloe awakened the fury of billionaire Archie. For Kiara, being Cloe's twin became her greatest sin.
She received cruel punishment from Archie, who would do everything in his power to keep her from escaping, creating a stormy and passionate game of love and vehemence. Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you."