Estelle Cramail
9 Published Stories
Estelle Cramail's Books and Stories
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. 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. 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
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. 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. 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. 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.
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. 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. 
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