Finley Steele
12 Published Stories
Finley Steele's Books and Stories
Beyond Betrayal: Finding Her Own Path
Romance "I want the foreign correspondent position in the S-Region." My voice was steady, cutting through the quiet. It was a death wish, my editor said. But I needed out.
My husband, Mark Johnson, had become a stranger. His world revolved around Sarah Hayes, the widow of his fallen partner. I cooked his favorite meal, waited for hours, only for him to say, "Sarah was feeling down. I took her to that Italian place she likes."
My life with Mark was a slow, painful erosion. One night, I clutched my stomach, a sharp pain seizing me. "Something's wrong," I choked out, "Mark, help me." He sighed, exasperated. "Can't this wait? Sarah is upset." I left the apartment and drove myself to the hospital.
"You're about seven weeks pregnant," the doctor said, adding that the pregnancy was unstable and risky. My mind reeled back to my previous miscarriage, two years ago, when Mark had been too busy.
I looked at Mark, sitting cozily with Sarah on our couch, a portrait of domestic bliss. "The doctor said it was just a stomach bug," I lied, unable to bear their false concern. He then asked me to help Sarah cook dinner.
I looked at my hands, raw from cleaning and work, and hurled a plate against the wall. "No," I said, "I will not." Sarah offered me an expensive hand cream Mark had bought her. A hot, sharp anger flared. This was my life; this was my home. I would not be buried. Broken by the Alpha, Reborn as Queen
Werewolf I was the Luna of Silver Lake, yet I spent my mornings cooking eggs for my Alpha mate while his mistress, Keyla, sat in my rightful seat.
I endured the humiliation for the sake of the bond, until the day my mother found Keyla poisoning the pack's water supply.
To hide her crime, Keyla murdered my mother in cold blood.
I screamed for justice, begging Garrison to open his eyes.
But he didn't look at the evidence. He looked at the merger Keyla’s father offered.
"She's hysterical," he told the guards, stepping over my mother's body to protect his mistress.
To seal their alliance, he dragged me to the Great Hall and publicly rejected me, severing our soul-bond to sell me off to a sadistic Alpha for mining rights.
He expected me to beg. He expected the weak, bloodline-cursed Omega to crumble.
Instead, I accepted the rejection with a smile.
That night, I drank a potion to erase my scent and threw myself into the storm, faking my death.
Garrison thinks I’m a corpse at the bottom of a cliff, and rumors say he’s finally drowning in regret.
He has no idea that the pain didn't kill me. It triggered the ancient, legendary blood of the White Wolf.
Now, standing on the ridge with a Rogue mercenary army, I’m no longer the wife who cooks breakfast.
I’m the monster at his gates, and I won't stop until his entire world is ash. Ten Years Of Lies, One Heartbreak
Modern On my wedding day, my fiancé of ten years left me at the altar for another woman. He sent a simple text: "Haylee needs me."
Hours later, that same woman ran me over with her car, causing me to lose our baby. But when I woke up in the hospital, my fiancé stood over me with a chilling demand.
"Drop the charges against Haylee," he said, his voice cold. "She's too sensitive for prison. You're strong, Kira. You can handle this."
To ensure my compliance, he threatened to release a humiliating video of my mother, who was suffering from dementia. I gave in, only to learn that Haylee had already tormented my mother with cruel whispers, driving her to suicide.
The betrayal was absolute. He had not only destroyed my body and our child but had also orchestrated my mother's death to protect his new love.
He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing.
But as I lay shattered in that hospital bed, an email arrived from his biggest competitor. They offered me a new identity, a new life, and the power to make him pay for everything. They wanted me to fake my own death. The Jilted Tycoon's Vow
Billionaires The crystal chandeliers of the Houston Museum of Fine Arts glittered, reflecting what should have been the most perfect night of my life.
My fiancée, Gabby Chadwick, stood on that gala stage, not hand-in-hand with me, but clasped firmly with Tony Johns, the very quarterback my family had plucked from obscurity.
"My heart belongs to Tony," her amplified voice echoed, shattering the stunned silence and every last piece of my dignity. "Ryan and I are over."
In that flash of a camera, I, Ryan Fowler, son of an oil tycoon, became a public spectacle, the jilted fiancé, left standing alone in a sea of whispers and pity.
My parents, pillars of Houston society, saw not a heartbroken son, but a "publicly castrated" embarrassment, a "laughingstock."
"That boy is dead," my mother declared, her eyes hard as diamonds, as my father exiled me to the brutal oil rigs, demanding I learn to build my own power.
They thought they had broken me.
But as I tasted the ash of their disappointment, a different kind of fire ignited within me.
I swore then and there, the words a silent vow: I will come back, and I will dismantle everything the Chadwicks have ever built. I will make her regret the day she ever knew my name. Rejected by My Mate, Claimed by the Enemy Alpha
Werewolf After ten years of devotion to my mate, Alpha Locke, today was supposed to be my coronation as Luna of the Silver Moon pack. A celebration of my unwavering loyalty.
But just before the ceremony, I overheard him talking to his Beta. He called me a "barren field" and sneered that he was replacing me with his pregnant mistress, Debbie. He even made a bet that I would come crawling back within three days.
In front of the entire pack, he announced Debbie as the new Luna, holding up a fake doctor's note as proof of my failure. When I tried to walk away, I was accused of attacking her.
Locke's Alpha Command slammed into me, forcing me to my knees. "She has attacked your future Luna," he declared, his eyes filled with contempt.
His final order was for the whips. Laced with silver, they tore my back open before his warriors threw me out like trash, leaving me to die in the forest.
I blacked out from the pain and poison, only to wake up a prisoner once more. Staring down at me was the terrifying Alpha of our rival pack, Ron Moss. He looked at my tattered clothes and bleeding wounds, and his voice was a cold, questioning murmur as he repeated the words that had haunted me for years.
"A useless she-wolf?" The Alpha's Rejected Luna: Carrying His Enemy's Child
Werewolf My mate, Alpha Kaelen, was supposed to be my everything. But in his eyes, I was just a placeholder for the other woman in his life, Lyra.
When Lyra claimed she was attacked by Rogues and pregnant with a bastard pup, Kaelen made his choice.
He commanded me to tell the pack elders that I was the one who had been defiled.
He commanded me to claim Lyra's child as my own.
Then, when I discovered I was pregnant with our own pup, he gave me his final command: go to the Healer and get rid of it. Our child, he said, would cause Lyra too much stress.
He gave her sweet comfort through their private mind-link while ordering me to kill our baby. I was a tool for his convenience. She was a treasure to be protected.
But when his mother locked me in a silver-lined cell, leaving me to miscarry our pup in a pool of my own blood, the last of my love turned to ash.
As I lay there, broken and empty, I gathered the last of my strength and let out a howl I hadn't used since I was a child.
It was a sacred call for my family—the royal family of the Whitefang Clan—to come and collect their princess. The Divorce That Changed Everything
Romance The "Brewery of the Year" award felt like a cold stone in my hand, heavy with the unspoken weight of my wife, Jenny's, silence. She was the General Manager, the face on stage, thanking everyone but me, the head brewer, the one who actually crafted the award-winning beer. I was used to being invisible, just "Ethan Clark, the technician," a replaceable employee in her eyes, despite being the silent 65% owner of the brewery I started with my college roommate.
At the party, a sales rep asked when Jenny and I would start a "brewing dynasty," and she laughed a sharp, dismissive laugh. "I'm not putting my career on hold to have a baby for any man. It's not worth it." Her words hung in the air, a public declaration that numbed me.
Back home, I found a package from a fertility clinic addressed to her. My heart pounded as I opened it. Inside, a detailed IVF statement confirmed she was one month pregnant. Then, my blood ran cold: the donor was listed as "Wesley Todd." Wes, her "gay best friend," the man with the pitying, contemptuous gaze. The pieces slammed into place.
She stormed in an hour later with Wes, scoffing at my divorce demand.
"It's not about the joke, Jenny," I said, voice flat. She brazenly explained her twisted plan: "Wes's family is very conservative... I agreed to be a surrogate for him. We did IVF. We're going to have a modern family together."
The audacity, the gaslighting, the sheer arrogance of their betrayal left me with a wave of pure disgust.
"The divorce is final," I told them. "And I'm selling the house. You have twenty-four hours."
The next morning, they tried to fire me from my own brewery, strutting in with fake authority.
That' s when my CEO, Matthew, finally revealed the truth to a stunned Jenny: "He was never just an employee, Jenny. He's the boss. He's always been the boss." Why did she, the woman who claimed "visionary leadership," never bother to check who truly owned the company she flaunted? And what dark secrets about her and Wes were about to spill out? The Unwanted Heir: A Father's Regret
Billionaires Emily Carter, a young woman battling a chronic illness while struggling in poverty, yearned for recognition from her wealthy CEO father, David Harrison.
The night he received a major philanthropy award, she hoped to bridge their estrangement by presenting her research for a community health clinic, a tangible demonstration of her capabilities.
Instead, she was publicly humiliated by her stepsister Brittany and met with cold, outright rejection from David.
His cruel words echoed: "I'm done supporting you and your mother's legacy of shame."
Unbeknownst to David, his wife Victoria and Brittany had systematically drained Emily's trust fund, sabotaged her reputation, and ensured her desperate pleas-even for her sick dog, Scout-were dismissed.
Despite winning a full Johns Hopkins scholarship, every attempt Emily made to prove her worth was met with suspicion and further manipulation, leaving her isolated and ultimately, mourning the loss of her beloved companion.
How could a man celebrated for developing life-saving drugs remain utterly blind to his own daughter's silent suffering and aspirations?
Why did he continuously believe the insidious lies orchestrated by his new family, seeing Emily only as a burden, a "nuisance"?
The crushing pain of his persistent rejection felt like a fresh wound on an age-old scar.
Dying in a hospice on her 18th birthday, Emily sent a final, heartbreaking voice message to her father, asking only for him to say her name.
His anonymous, impersonal text reply was the last devastating blow, sealing her tragic fate and unknowingly igniting a catastrophic unraveling of his carefully constructed reality. Memory and The Last Goodbye
Romance For three years, librarian Sarah Miller has lived with a broken heart and a literal failing one, mourning her smokejumper husband Ethan, presumed lost in a massive wildfire.
Then, a shocking phone call reveals Ethan is alive, but he has amnesia, calls himself Ash, and is building a new life with an entirely different woman who is pregnant with his child.
Sarah travels across the country to confront him, only to find him utterly unrecognizable, showering a new love, Olivia, with the tenderness he once reserved for Sarah, even gifting her the silver locket that symbolized their eternal bond.
The man she vowed "till death do us part" looks through her as if she's a stranger, the pain of his forgetfulness clashing with the unbearable sight of their most sacred token adorning another woman.
Despite her own dwindling days and a heart shattered anew, Sarah chooses to hide her true identity, posing as his long-lost sister "Grace" in a desperate, selfless act to preserve his newfound happiness, even if it means dying in silence, forever erased from his memory. The Unwanted Wife's True Love
Romance For ten years, Liam was my world, tucked away in the grand halls of New England life as my secret love.
He was the rough kid my sister Eleanor brought home, now a success in our family' s foundation, and to me, he was everything.
Then a single Instagram post detonated my carefully constructed reality.
Liam, radiant, with Chloe-his high school sweetheart-and a caption that twisted my gut: "Some things are worth waiting for."
The air left my lungs as a decade of shared whispers dissolved into a public declaration for another woman.
He dismissed it as a "drunken dare," then a "work crisis."
But Chloe' s Instagram screamed their reunion, turning his blatant lies into a sickening mockery.
Then, at a charity gala, he pulled her into a deep, consuming kiss-right in front of me.
He abandoned me moments later when she feigned injury.
How could someone who vowed such deep, secret love so casually erase our ten years, choosing instead a brutal public charade of betrayal and humiliation?
The man I thought I knew was a stranger, and the vast emptiness where my love used to be threatened to consume me.
With nothing left but shattered pride, I walked away that night and made a drastic decision.
I would marry Ethan Prescott, not for love, but to reclaim my life.
But even as I stood at the altar, ready to rebuild, I knew Liam wouldn't let me go without one last, desperate attempt to reclaim what he'd already destroyed. Don't Underestimate The Heiress
Modern My life in Austin was comfortable, idyllic even.
My parents owned a successful chain of organic cafes, and I was five months pregnant, planning a future with Kevin, the man I thought was different.
Then, sitting in our apartment, his mom Karen watched like a hawk as Kevin slid a "Domestic Partnership Agreement" across the coffee table.
Its terms were chilling: I'd waive all rights to his property, any large financial gifts from my wealthy parents would become "joint assets" solely managed by him, and marriage was indefinitely deferred.
My stomach twisted.
What I thought was a loving partnership revealed itself as a calculated heist.
Karen, who cooed about baby names last week, now had eyes small and calculating, her voice flatly stating it was "to protect Kevin."
They conveniently forgot my parents paid for our entire lives.
They saw me as a naive rich girl, easily separated from her family's money.
It wasn't smart; it was a brazen attempt at extortion.
How could he, and his mother, be so utterly devoid of decency, treating me like a walking ATM?
But under the shock, a cold clarity formed.
The devastation transformed into a fierce resolve.
I wouldn't just walk away; I would make them pay.
Feigning agreement, I proposed signing their predatory document after my parents' generous baby shower gift.
Then, I called my lawyer best friend, Chloe.
"You are not going to believe what these parasites just tried to pull," I told her, knowing exactly what came next: it was time for a plan, and for them to burn. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. 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.
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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