Evie Schoofs
12 Published Stories
Evie Schoofs's Books and Stories
Shattered Vows, Unyielding Blood Vengeance
Modern For seven years, I poured my family's fortune into my husband Chris's company, Bell Dynamics. Then, his lover, Dr. Kimberli Luna, intentionally botched my father's routine surgery, leaving him on life support.
They locked me in the hospital room, a gilded cage, while Chris ignored my frantic calls. Kimberli appeared, a cruel smile on her lips, revealing a horrifying truth: every crisis in my life-my mother's death, a near-fatal car accident, even the miscarriage of what I thought was our baby-was orchestrated by them.
"He was with me every time," she sneered. "You were just an inconvenience."
They murdered my father by shutting off his life support right before my eyes, all because I refused to sign a waiver absolving Kimberli of her crime. Chris then had me committed, drained my blood for their future surrogacy plans, and annulled our marriage to marry her.
He thought he had erased me, broken me completely.
But he forgot about the prenuptial agreement my father insisted on. An agreement that left me with 25% of Bell Dynamics. Now, armed with my father's final gift, I will not mourn. I will avenge. My Montana Escape: A New Beginning
Modern The cool metal of the gurney is the last thing I'll remember. One more session, the doctor said, and the past ten years of my life will be wiped clean.
It all comes back to that night. I walked in to find my fiancé, Alex, kissing my half-sister, Kalie-the girl I raised since she was fifteen.
When I confronted them, Kalie shoved me. I hit my head on a steel model, bleeding on the floor of the studio we designed together. But Alex didn't rush to me. He rushed to comfort her.
She lied, painting me as the attacker. My best friend, my entire world, turned against me. Alex, my Alex, had me committed, signing the papers that subjected me to brutal, punitive electroshock treatments.
He wasn't just erasing my memory; he was erasing me, punishing me for a crime I didn't commit, all to protect her.
Now, waking from the final, consensual treatment, I find a note I left for myself. It's a plan. Sell the firm. Sell the house. Disappear to Montana. And this time, I won't just be erasing the memories. I'll be erasing them. A Bride's Ghostly Return
Romance I' m already dead. My spirit floated, watching my own fiancé, Ryan Sterling, marry my adoptive sister, Olivia Reed. It was a perfect wedding, the kind every girl dreams of, but it should have been mine.
Then, a delivery man walked in, holding a simple, unadorned box. "A delivery for Mr. Sterling," he said. "A wedding gift from Ava Miller." My name hung in the air, a foul smell. The room went silent.
Whispers started. "Ava Miller? That shameless girl? I heard she went wild overseas, sleeping around with anyone. Ryan was smart to dump her. She' s nothing but a slut." My adoptive parents put on a show of sadness, saying I' d chosen the wrong path and they no longer considered me their daughter. Olivia, my rival, suggested throwing the box away.
But Ryan, his face a cold mask, stopped her. He had worn that mask for months, ever since "those photos" were sent to him. He never asked for an explanation. He just publicly broke our engagement and announced his marriage to Olivia. Now, he looked at the box, with intense focus. "No," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I want to see it."
The whole room held its breath. I thought he hated me, that he had betrayed me. But something in his eyes, something in his words, sparked a strange, cold hope in my ghostly heart. What would he find inside? What truth would be uncovered? Revenge Wears a Diamond Ring
Romance The heavy iron gate groaned open, releasing me after seven long years.
Dr. Evelyn Reed. Once a brilliant surgeon, now just an ex-con.
My husband, David, and our son, Ethan, were there, a beacon of hope in the sharp sunlight.
"Evelyn, you' re finally out. Welcome home," David whispered, holding me tight.
I thought their love was my lifeline, the one thing that kept me alive.
But in a dusty closet, an old voice recorder shattered that illusion.
"Dad, didn' t you set her up? Why didn' t you let her stay in jail longer? Seeing her makes Aunt Sarah unhappy." Ethan' s voice, then David' s, stern and unfamiliar. "She deserves everything she got!"
My blood ran cold. The evidence against me-medical malpractice, illegal human trials, organ trafficking-it had all been fabricated.
David, my own husband, had actively participated. My son, Ethan, had testified against me.
My adopted grandfather, dead. My biological parents, publicly disowning me for Sarah, the girl they raised in my place. My career, ruined. My life, a stepping stone for her.
The house, once a sanctuary, was a shrine to Sarah, filled with portraits of her painted by David and Ethan – a love and adoration they never showed me.
All their affections, all their promises, were a monstrous lie.
Overwhelmed, I stumbled upon a forgotten phone number-a promise made in the depths of my despair.
My hands shook as I dialed, a quiet whisper sealing my fate. "The time has come to fulfill that promise." The Woman I Didn't Marry
Modern The last thing I remembered was the hospice ceiling, stark and cracked, as I lay paralyzed, trapped, regretting forty years wasted on a woman who betrayed me and a daughter who wasn't even mine. My wife, Nicole, was probably with Matthew, as she always had been.
Then, a sudden, jarring jolt. My eyes snapped open, and I was eighteen again, back in my Cleveland bedroom, the phone buzzing with Nicole's vivacious voice inviting me to a party. This was the night it all began-the night I intervened, thinking I was saving her, only to become the consolation prize she resented for a lifetime.
A life where I' d put her first, sacrificed my dreams, and eventually died alone, a fool betrayed by the very person I' d sworn to protect. The pain of that forty-year sentence, the revelation that Gabrielle, the child I loved more than anything, was Matthew's, flooded me.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid? How could she have built our entire relationship on such a cruel, intricate lie? The humiliation, the rage, and the profound sorrow felt like a physical blow.
Not this time. This time, I hung up the phone, the sound a chime of liberation. I was alive, I was free, and Nicole Anderson would be nothing but a stranger. The Fiancée's Fatal Flaw
Romance Yesterday, she was my fiancée, the woman I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with.
Today, the day our future was supposed to begin, she called to tell me she had amnesia and didn't know who I was.
Then, she told me to meet her at the courthouse to annul our marriage license, threatening me with her father's lawyers.
I arrived to find her clinging to Caleb, her high school sweetheart, his arm possessively around her waist.
She looked at me with cold, empty eyes and declared me a stranger, even as Caleb smirked, confirming her "amnesia" was real, or maybe not.
The following days were a blur of humiliation: she kicked me out of our shared apartment, branding my life's work as "junk" while Caleb moved in, deliberately wearing my band's t-shirt.
But the final blow was her booking my studio for her elopement party with Caleb, forcing me to DJ and play the love song I wrote for her as their first dance.
I played my heart out, watching them sway, feeling every fiber of my being shatter, wondering how someone could inflict such calculated cruelty.
Why was she doing this to me, turning our sacred bond into a twisted public spectacle?
Little did she know, I had overheard her entire malicious game weeks ago, and my heartbreak was just the beginning of a cold, calculated plan of my own. The Intern Who Fought Back
Modern The Austin heat was brutal, but I worked 60-hour weeks as an intern at Chadwick' s Smokehouse, fueled by free brisket and the promise of a paycheck.
I desperately needed that money for my community college tuition and my brother' s medical bills back home.
But when my internship ended, Mr. Chadwick and his daughter Gabrielle laughed in my face, telling me the "experience" was my payment and I should be grateful.
They tried to dismiss me with a crumpled hundred-dollar bill, dismissing two months of grueling work.
I fought back and got paid, but their retaliation was swift and brutal.
First, they used their influence as college donors to get my scholarship suspended and my work-study revoked, threatening my entire future.
Then, Gabrielle launched a vicious online smear campaign, fabricating a pornographic dating profile with my picture, falsely accusing me of being a "home-wrecker" and a "prostitute."
The internet exploded, dragging my name through the mud, and the college dean demanded my immediate withdrawal.
They wanted to bury me, to make me disappear quietly and protect their precious reputations.
But they severely underestimated me.
I wasn't just a film student; I knew how to put a story together, and now I wasn't fighting for money-I was fighting for my life, my family, and my future.
I wouldn't just survive; I would make sure the Chadwick empire crumbled under the weight of its own ugliness, and they would get exactly what they deserved. Level Up: Her Vengeance Achieved
Modern I was Sarah Miller, head coach of The Vortex, the eSports team I' d poured my soul into, deeply in love with our MVP, Jake. Today was the National Championship Finals, the culmination of years of relentless effort, a moment I believed would define our shared triumph.
But just before the match, Jake' s "childhood friend," Brittany, offered him a strange, vibrant blue drink – a "special focus aid" she cooed. Instinct screaming at me, I lunged, smashing the suspicious liquid from his hand, desperate to protect him from what I knew was wrong.
His response was immediate and brutal: a searing slap across my face, loud enough to echo, in front of the entire team. "You crazy bitch!" Jake screamed. The very players I built, The Vortex, just stood by, silent and condemning. This act of betrayal spiraled into a nightmare: their humiliating loss, Brittany' s meticulously orchestrated online hate campaign, my swift firing, career annihilation, and eventually, a fatal hit-and-run orchestrated by a shadowy figure.
I died, bleeding out on cold asphalt, not from a random accident, but from their calculated malice. Every sacrifice, every ounce of dedication, repaid with public humiliation, utter destruction, and a lonely, violent end. Why did protecting the people I loved lead to my demise? Was I truly so disposable, so easily villainized?
Then, cold sweat. I gasped awake, sitting bolt upright, a calendar notification on my buzzing phone confirming: "National eSports Championship Finals - TODAY." I stared at my younger, unscarred reflection. I was back. This second chance wasn't for them; it was for me. This time, I wouldn't intervene. They would face the consequences of their own choices. And this time, I would burn them all down. Revenge Of The Neglected Heiress
Fantasy I was just a freshly unemployed paralegal in Chicago, killing time by hate-scrolling the trashiest online serial, "Heiress Undone." "This writing is an abomination," I muttered, typing a furious comment about the doormat protagonist and cartoon villains.
The moment I hit 'post,' my screen flickered. A pop-up declared: [Narrative Correction System Activated.] Before I could react, my apartment dissolved. One blink later, I was in a ridiculously opulent mansion, dressed as a personal assistant, right in the middle of the Miller family drama I' d just criticized.
It was the exact scene: Eleanor Miller shrieked at meek Ava, while her 'sister' Brittany feigned illness. My tablet chimed, revealing a grim truth: Ava's narrative was at "98% failure" for justice. Then, the unbelievable offer: fix this story, and I'd get $7.8 million in royalties.
My paralegal brain screamed "Insane!" but the payout was real. Yet, seeing Ava' s quiet despair, the infuriating injustice of these cartoon villains resonated deeper than any sum. I was just a reader, but now I was unexpectedly tangled in a living, breathing train wreck.
As Eleanor demanded Ava apologize, I stepped forward. "Actually," I said, my voice clear, "Ava has nothing to apologize for." The System buzzed. This wasn't just about the money anymore. "We're going to get you out of this mess," I promised Ava. "I'm in." Too Late, Mr. Vanderbilt
Romance For three years, my high-society marriage to Ethan Vanderbilt was a gilded cage, filled with a silence louder than any sound.
I had loved him for seven years, a fervent adoration that secretly curdled into despair, despite being married to a man who barely acknowledged my existence.
Then, hidden in the Hamptons estate, I overheard his raw anguish: he married me only because my supposed best friend, Chloe, begged him to, calling it her idea to protect them from scandal.
My heart fractured anew when he confessed to Chloe, the woman he truly loved, that being my husband would "kill him," and later, when he confirmed to my face their entire scheme with a casual "Yes."
He exploited my love even further, begging for a kidney to save Chloe' s life and promising "anything," only to later reveal his utter indifference to my well-being.
At a chaotic gala, as he shielded Chloe from a champagne shower, he left me exposed to shattering glass and a life-threatening allergic reaction, proving I truly "meant nothing" compared to her.
I watched him fuss over her, oblivious to my smoke-stained face after a restaurant fire, finally understanding the depth of his contempt and my own utter disposability.
The man I had adored was a ghost who had systematically taken me for granted, using my heart and even my body as a mere convenience for his secret affair.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid, to trade everything for a love that was always a transactional lie?
There was nothing left but to embrace the chilling clarity of my shattered reality and finally set myself free.
I left him the divorce papers he' d signed unread and my wedding ring, boarding a plane to Montana, leaving behind the luxurious illusion of my past life and stepping into the unknown future. The Wedding Crash: Delivered From The Dead
Romance I worked three desperate jobs for Olivia, my wife, after her family's fashion empire crumbled, drowning in millions of debt.
She claimed we needed a ‘fake divorce' to protect me, a sacrifice I bravely accepted, even enrolling in a high-risk medical trial for quick cash.
But one afternoon, arriving home early, I overheard her silky voice, a shocking confession to her assistant: our ‘divorce' was a charade.
She planned to marry her brand director, Julian, for a ‘big splash' society wedding, then later divorce him and remarry me.
My world imploded.
Every ounce of my dedication, every aching muscle and every risk I took, had been a calculated lie.
The divorce papers became lead in my hand, burning with the truth of her deceit.
Then came the crushing news: the experimental trial had failed, leaving me with just one month to live.
Adding insult to fatal injury, I received her elegant wedding invitation to Julian Thorne, set for one month from now.
How could the woman I'd loved so fiercely, for whom I'd sacrificed everything, be such a cold, calculating monster?
My heart shattered, but a quiet resolve hardened my spirit.
I wouldn't be there to see her wedding, but my final, silent revenge would arrive precisely on time, delivered in a shocking package for Olivia Hayes, at The Grand Astoria, on her wedding day. Remarried To The False Heir
Modern Tristan is the real young master in the drama.
His father said, whoever between him and his brother first has a grandson, will be able to inherit billions of assets from the family.
Three years after getting married, he was honest and sincere:
"If you can't get pregnant, but she is pregnant, I can only choose her. You know how important a child is to me, right?"
I twitched at the corner of my eye, but still didn't tell him the truth.
Later, I married his brother and went to his house for dinner while pregnant.
He said, "How is this possible? You clearly can't give birth!"
Everyone looked at each other, and finally I broke the silence:
"Tristan, why don't you go check it out?" You might like
Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." 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!" 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." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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