Eydie Pfefferle
12 Published Stories
Eydie Pfefferle's Books and Stories
Rejected No More: The Genius's Revenge
Modern I was sitting in a Starbucks, staring at a cold Americano, while the girl I thought was the love of my life looked at me with pure disgust.
Hailee Baxter slammed her latte down and told me we were done, claiming she couldn’t start her career at City Hall with a "diner kid" dragging her down.
She wasn't just breaking my heart; she was trading me in for Kyler Craft, the son of a powerful politician who could buy her the future she craved. In my past life, this was the moment I shattered, beginning a twenty-year spiral into alcoholism, poverty, and watching my parents work themselves into an early grave while I failed at everything. I vividly remembered the smell of cheap whiskey and the obituary of my father that I was too broke to even attend.
But as I looked down at my hands, they weren't the calloused, shaking hands of a forty-year-old failure; they were smooth, young, and steady. The silver Motorola flip phone in my pocket felt like a relic from a museum, and the girl in front of me looked like a shallow stranger rather than the woman of my dreams.
The crushing pain in my chest wasn't a heart attack—it was forty years of bitter regret colliding with a twenty-two-year-old body. Hailee was waiting for me to beg for another chance, her napkin ready to wipe away the pathetic tears she expected, but all I felt was a cold, clinical clarity.
How could I have been so blind to her greed, and why did I let one failed exam and a rich boy’s bullying destroy my entire family’s legacy?
I glanced at the newspaper on the table: May 12, 2005. This was the day I supposedly lost the City Hall fellowship, but I remembered a secret about the "Supplemental Candidate Protocol" that no one else would know for another week. I stood up, ignored Hailee's insults, and dialed the number etched into my soul.
"Mom," I whispered into the flip phone, "I'm coming home. And this time, I’m going to take back everything we lost." His Betrayal, Her Dublin Escape
Romance My ten-year relationship was supposed to end with our future in Dublin, a tribute to my late father. Instead, it ended when I overheard the man I loved call me a "stage-five clinger" he couldn't wait to get rid of.
He had secretly changed our corporate transfer to Austin for a new intern, boasting to his friends that I'd come running the second I found out.
To secure her promotion, he stole my father's priceless hard drive-his entire legacy. When I confronted them, his new girl dropped it into a puddle, destroying it right in front of me.
Ezekiel didn't apologize. He shielded her and screamed at me.
"Your dad is dead, Finley! Does Blake have to die over some dead guy's broken hard drive?!"
He gave me an ultimatum: apologize to her and change my transfer to Austin before the midnight deadline, or else.
He thought he had me on lock.
But as the clock ticked past midnight, I was on a one-way flight to Dublin, my old SIM card snapped in two. This time, I was choosing my father's legacy over him. Shattered Face, Unending Revenge
Modern My ten-year-old brother was dying from a bee sting, his breath catching in his throat. I was terrified, but relief washed over me when the ambulance arrived. Help was here.
But the paramedic wasn't looking at my brother. She was staring at the watch on my wrist, a gift from my fiancé, Graham. When I told her his name, her professional mask shattered.
"Graham is my man," she snarled. She was his psychotic ex-girlfriend.
She kicked her medical bag shut and let my brother die on the grass, calling him a "bastard." Then she and her brother beat me unconscious.
I woke up strapped to an operating table. With a scalpel in her hand, she whispered, "After I'm done, do you think he'll still want to look at this face?"
She carved up my face and then, with chilling satisfaction, destroyed my ability to ever have children, ensuring I could never give Graham the family she believed was hers alone.
She took everything from me-my brother, my face, my future-all because of a delusion.
When Graham finally burst in, he didn't recognize the bloody mess on the table until he saw a tiny scar by my eye. The man I loved vanished, replaced by something cold and merciless. He looked at me, then at her, and I knew the law would never be enough. Our revenge would be absolute. Her Choice, His Downfall
Modern The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to me like a shroud as the doctor' s words cut through the haze: "The test is positive, Ms. Miller. You're pregnant."
But his next revelation, stark and clear, truly shattered my world: "There's a mass, Sarah. It's a rare form of tumor, quite aggressive. We need to start treatment immediately, but… the treatment is not compatible with the pregnancy."
It was the same impossible choice I' d faced before, a replay of a life I' d already lived and tragically lost. A chilling memory surfaced of my estranged boyfriend, David Chen, spitting venom at me in a cold penthouse: "Keep her alive just long enough to deliver the baby. I want her to watch everything she loves wither and die."
He'd trapped me then, financially and emotionally, under the guise of a deadly illness only my wealth could cure, all while secretly engaged to another woman, Chloe. His true cruelty was laid bare in a whispered confession I overheard: "She's just a walking bank account. And soon, when that tumor of hers gets bad enough, the whole bank will be ours."
The sheer audacity, the betrayal, the knowledge that they planned to destroy my brother, Tom, for my life insurance, burned through me. They were monsters, and I had been a fool, blind to their horrifying scheme.
But this time, I wasn't the naive artist. This time, I had a choice, my choice. I looked the doctor straight in the eye, my voice steady, devoid of the hesitation that had crippled me before. "I want an abortion." It wasn't a surrender; it was a declaration of war. The $25,000 Bet: A Family's Fight
Modern The O'Connell's American dream was simple: securing Kevin's college fund and ensuring Mom's life-saving surgery.
Mike, a humble steel mill supervisor, and Lisa, a diligent part-time waitress, meticulously clawed every dollar, slowly building their future brick by painstaking brick.
Then came Thanksgiving, and the bitter scent of burnt turkey wasn't just from the oven.
Lisa, pale and trembling, confessed a shattering truth: their entire $25,000 savings – every penny, every hope – had vanished in a single, rigged poker game.
Their meticulously built future crumbled into dust, Mom's surgery and Kevin's college dreams instantly ripped away.
Lisa was a broken woman, sobbing on the cold kitchen floor, their world crashing down around them. The vast emptiness now where their savings once lay was a gaping wound.
But Mike knew this wasn't mere bad luck or a costly mistake.
This was a calculated, cruel trap, set by Lisa's manipulative "friend" and a notorious cardsharp, exploiting their vulnerability.
The quiet steelworker felt a burning injustice, a cold, hard knot of resolve forming in his gut.
How could they possibly let this stand?
By morning, the quiet family man had made his decision. He would walk back into that dimly lit bar, armed with a mere $200 and a secret past, to face the predators who stole their future.
Because Mike O'Connell was more than just a supervisor; for his family, "The Philadelphia Phantom" was coming out of retirement for one last, desperate game. The Sister Who Returned
Fantasy The last thing I remembered was the sharp crack and my head hitting the polished wood floor. Then, darkness-an endless void. I died.
I gasped awake in my old room, years ago, sunlight streaming through the window, my heart hammering as the vivid memory of Jessica' s rage, her violent shove, and my undeniable death flooded back.
Minutes later, Jessica, my cruel younger sister, glided in, already brimming with sickeningly familiar stories about her wild night with Jake and her predatory plans to snag a wealthy husband, just as she had before she meticulously ruined my life, stole my fiancé, and ultimately committed murder.
They genuinely believed I was still the same naive, emotional Sarah, easily manipulated by Jessica's feigned innocence and Mother's relentless favoritism, but the crushing injustice of my previous silent suffering and violent end had transformed into a cold, unwavering fury, a chilling resolve born from their unforgivable betrayal.
This wasn't merely a horrifying relapse into my past; it was a brutal, utterly undeniable second chance, and I would exploit every dirty secret and every hidden vulnerability I knew to make Jessica and Mother pay, meticulously rewriting every single, bloody word of our future. Designing Love: The Phoenix Couple
Romance I was Ethan Miller, a visionary architect, on the brink of launching my revolutionary "Phoenix Project"-a design poised to change the world.
My brilliant girlfriend and collaborator, Chloe Vance, was right there with me.
But then, an unimaginable betrayal by Chloe and her manipulative protégé, Ryan Bell, shattered everything.
They publicly accused me of industrial espionage, a devastating lie.
The industry instantly blacklisted me, destroying my career.
My honest parents, reeling from the stress and shame of their crumbled construction business, died.
I soon followed, alone and utterly broken.
How could someone I loved plunge a knife so deep, abandoning truth for ambition?
The burning injustice consumed me, even in death.
But then, I woke up.
Reborn.
Back to the exact crossroads where my downfall began.
The chilling twist?
Chloe was here too, still blind to Ryan's deceit, still intent on sabotaging my life.
When she deliberately shattered the model of my life's ambition – echoing the destruction of my first timeline – I knew.
This wasn't just a second chance, but a war for my soul.
It was time to rewrite destiny, not with vengeance, but with unwavering resilience, and build a truer legacy with unforeseen, powerful alliances. Beyond The Dreamweaver's Grasp
Fantasy My life was merely surviving my stepfather Jedediah's escalating abuse in our remote, dusty shack.
His greedy eyes always gleamed with ruthless schemes, each one promising more control over me.
Then came Lily, a beautiful "Dreamweaver" Jedediah bought from Mama Maeve, believing she'd conjure immense wealth.
His incessant demands for gold quickly warped into escalating violence, until one horrifying night, Lily's true power unleashed.
She utterly drained Jedediah, transforming my tormentor into a withered husk before my own eyes.
But the horror only deepened when Lily revealed the shattering truth: she was my birth mother, returned not to embrace, but to harvest my "pure" Dreamweaver essence for unparalleled power.
How could the woman who bore me coldly seek to consume me, abandoning my life as just a tool for her ruthless ambition?
They gravely underestimated me; my adoptive mother had secretly trained me in a unique, amber power of protection.
In a desperate battle for my very soul, I didn't just fight back; I subdued her, forcing my formidable, murderous birth mother to become the living source for my own burgeoning power.
My life was a cage, but now I hold the keys, ready to forge my own dark destiny. Frozen Heart, Unfrozen Love
Sci-fi Olivia Hayes, an ambitious tech queen, was soaring, immersed in her glitzy wedding plans with COO Marcus Thorne. Unseen, her young ward, Ethan, battled a terminal leukemia diagnosis, his quiet love for Olivia his only anchor.
Desperate, Ethan revealed his illness and a radical last hope: experimental cryopreservation. But Olivia, consumed by her own world and Marcus' s insidious influence, shockingly dismissed his desperate plea as a manipulative stunt.
Fueled by Marcus' s lies and a rigged medical report, Olivia publicly shamed Ethan for "faking" his death sentence. Heartbroken, Ethan vanished silently on her wedding day, his legal status brutally terminated, leaving a void Olivia initially chose to ignore.
Then, the horrifying truth: Ethan wasn't faking. He was dying, and Marcus had betrayed them both. Olivia was left reeling, consumed by a crushing guilt for her monumental blindness, her dismissal of his genuine love, and the unimaginable suffering she inflicted. How could she have allowed herself to be so tragically misled?
In a furious storm of regret and a dawning, fierce love, Olivia vowed revenge and redemption. She decimated Marcus' s empire, poured her vast fortune into bringing Ethan back, and made the ultimate vow: to enter cryosleep herself, joining him across time, ensuring he would never awaken alone again. My Mother, The Monster
Young Adult I gasped awake, my throat burning.
Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness.
I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago.
She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter.
But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching.
A taste of death.
It wasn't a dream.
It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act.
The thought alone sent shivers down my spine.
This wasn't just a difficult mother; I saw her clearly for the first time: a monster.
My heart hammered, a desperate drumbeat, as every sugary word, every controlling glance, every public humiliation she inflicted felt like a suffocating vice.
Dad, weak and defeated, could only offer whispered apologies, seeing my suffering but perpetually helpless.
I wouldn't be her victim anymore.
I wouldn't end up on that kitchen floor, struggling for breath while she calmly watched.
Not this time.
My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp, a desperate decision: I had to get out, and I had to take Dad with me. My Fiancé, My Murderer
Fantasy The Greyhound bus hummed, a low rumble promising a new life at the Boeing apprenticeship program, far from this dead-end town.
My fiancé, Jake, stood blocking the bus depot doorway, radiating control, scanning the street for Brittany Smith.
But this wasn't the first time I'd lived this moment; in my last life, Jake’s hands had closed around my throat on our wedding night, his eyes blazing, blaming me for Brittany's tragic end.
Now, I was back at the same bus stop, and he was once again holding everyone’s acceptance letters and bus tickets hostage, waiting for her, wielding a Zippo as a silent threat.
He reveled in his power, convinced his County Commissioner father’s influence was an impenetrable shield, openly mocking our desperate hope to escape this town.
The chilling truth hit me like a physical blow: Jake was reborn too, seemingly to ensure Brittany’s success this time, but embodying a far more calculated cruelty.
Why was fate so twisted, bringing me back to this precise, suffocating moment of manipulation, when the memory of my horrific death still burned?
This time, I let my hand fall from his arm, a silent promise to myself that my feigned compliance was a trap he’d never see coming.
Because this time, I was playing a different game, armed with the precise knowledge to expose his family’s corruption and Brittany’s lies, ensuring their carefully constructed dreams would spectacularly collapse. You might like
Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Fritz Heaney I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary." Midas Protocol: Seducing My Rival's Wife
Breenda I sat in the freezing conference room, my knuckles white as I strangled a cheap plastic pen. Outside, Manhattan was weeping in the gray rain, but inside, the air was sterile and dead. I stared at the polished mahogany table, seeing the distorted reflection of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours—a man about to sign his own divorce papers.
Across from me, my wife Linda wouldn't even look at me. She was too busy drumming her fingers near a diamond ring that cost more than I had made in the last five years combined. Then the door swung open, and Simon Thorne walked in. The billionaire heir didn't say a word; he just walked behind Linda and placed a heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder, marking her as his.
"Let's wrap this up," Simon said, checking his Patek Philippe with the bored tone of a man ordering a coffee he didn't want. Linda finally looked through me like I was a ghost and told me to stop dragging this out. She whispered that I couldn't even afford myself anymore, a physical punch to the gut given I’d lost my job three weeks ago. After I signed, Simon flicked a business card at me, mockingly offering me a job as a doorman for minimum wage.
I walked out into the downpour, shivering in a suit I couldn't afford to dry clean. My phone vibrated with a text from my landlord: "Pack your things. Keys by tonight or I’m calling the cops." I stood on the corner of 5th Avenue with exactly $42.18 to my name, watching Simon kiss my wife through the glass wall of the penthouse. I was thirty, homeless, and drowning in a city of lions.
I wanted to roar until my throat bled, but I just stood there, a drowned rat in a world of predators. How could I have lost everything so fast? Why was the woman who promised to stay through "for poorer" now leaning into the arms of the man who just humiliated me?
Suddenly, my phone screen exploded with a blinding golden light. An app called the Midas Protocol installed itself, declaring poverty a disease and itself the cure. With one tap, a million dollars bypassed a federal hold and hit my account, and a "Nemesis Card" appeared in my digital inventory. I didn't hesitate. I typed Simon Thorne’s name into the vengeance algorithm and hit execute. The game had officially changed. The Discarded Husband's Spectacular Comeback
Qian Mo Mo I spent three hours searing the perfect wagyu steak and chilling a bottle of 1996 Dom Pérignon for our anniversary. My wife, Evelin, texted me saying she was stuck in a late board meeting.
"Don't wait up."
But a bank alert on my phone told a different story: a $5,600 charge at a VIP lounge in the Meatpacking District. When I tracked her down, I didn't find her in a boardroom; I found her sitting on my business partner's lap, laughing as he fed her chocolate-covered strawberries.
When I confronted them, Evelin didn't even look guilty. She called me hysterical and a "prude" for interrupting their night. Hank mocked me to my face, calling me a pathetic "trophy husband" who was probably home ironing napkins while they were out having real fun. When I finally snapped and defended my dignity, my own wife slapped me across the face and had her security throw me out like trash.
"You are nothing without the Carney name. You're a stray I picked up."
By the time I hit the sidewalk, she had frozen all our joint accounts and blacklisted my name from every major firm in the city. I had spent ten years managing her family's billions and fixing the books her lover messed up, only to be left with ten dollars in my pocket and a suitcase full of dusty law books. She thinks I'm a broken man who will come crawling back to beg for mercy just to afford a meal.
I realized then that our marriage was just a corpse I'd been dragging around, and she was the monster who had killed it years ago. I felt the sting of her slap and the weight of her betrayal, wondering how I could have been so blind to the person I shared a bed with.
Standing in a cramped apartment in Queens, I blocked her number and called a "shark" lawyer I hadn't spoken to since law school.
"I'm the biggest shark in the tank, Dom. Let her try to ruin you."
Evelin thinks she took everything, but she forgot one thing: I'm the one who knows exactly where the bodies are buried in her family's ledgers. The war has just begun. The Ex-Fiancé You Can't Afford To Lose
Madel Cerda I stood in the ballroom with a diamond ring in my pocket, waiting to be crowned King of the empire I had built from the ground up.
Instead, the woman I loved walked to the microphone and signed my death warrant with a smile.
Serena didn't announce our engagement.
She announced that Luca Moretti—an incompetent associate I'd almost fired three times—was the new Underboss and her partner in life.
Then, she kissed him. Deep and possessive, right in front of the entire Commission.
My heart didn't break; it simply stopped.
Luca smirked at me, wearing a suit that was too tight, while Serena looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Dante is the old guard," she told the crowd, dismissing me like a waiter. "We are moving in a new direction."
They stripped me of my title. They humiliated me on live television. They thought they had taken my crown.
But they forgot one crucial detail.
I was the Architect.
I had built the encrypted logistics system that kept the FBI in the dark. A system that required my specific biometric code every morning to function.
I didn't make a scene. I didn't scream. I simply placed the ring on a waiter's tray and walked out into the night.
Forty-eight hours later, the Vitiello empire was in a freefall. The accounts were frozen. The shipments were flagged.
My phone buzzed. It was Serena.
"Dante," she panicked, her voice trembling. "Fix it. Now."
I took a sip of my espresso and smiled at the chaos on the news.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Serena. You fired the only pilot who knows how to fly the plane." 
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