Gavin
3898 Published Stories
Gavin's Books and Stories
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Mafia I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Mafia I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. The 100-Point Divorce Plan
Romance For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure. Thirty-Eight Divorces, One Betrayal
Modern Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time.
He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price.
For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs.
Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay.
But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case.
That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan.
He rejected my call.
I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow.
This time, there would be no 39th remarriage.
This time, I would disappear. The Three-Year Lie: Her Sweet Revenge
Romance The day I found out I was pregnant was the same day I learned my three-year relationship was a meticulously crafted lie.
I rushed to surprise my perfect fiancé, Anthony Holden, only to overhear him talking to his twin brother.
"I've endured three years of this farce," he said, his voice cold. "Not once did I touch the woman."
My entire life was a revenge plot for his childhood friend, a woman who bullied me relentlessly in college.
They left me to grieve my grandmother's death alone, subjected me to tortures designed from my deepest fears, and left me for dead-twice.
The man who swore to protect me became my villain, convinced I deserved every moment of pain.
On our wedding day, he stood at the altar, ready to deliver his final, humiliating blow.
He had no idea I was miles away, about to live-stream his confession to the entire world.
My revenge was just beginning. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Mafia I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. Unwanted by Him, Chosen by the Stronger Alpha
Werewolf I was the Pack’s shame, a twenty-year-old "Runt" who had never shifted. Yet, I clung to the desperate hope that Alpha Marcus, the man I had loved my entire life, would finally claim me at the Full Moon Gala.
Instead, he stood before the entire Pack with Izzy, a woman who looked at him with hunger rather than love. With eyes as cold as stone, he didn't just ignore me; he destroyed me.
"I, Marcus Thorne, reject you, Olivia Hayes."
The rejection snapped our bond, but the nightmare was just beginning. When Izzy framed me for poisoning her, Marcus didn't hesitate. He chained me in the dungeon and wielded the silver whip himself. Each lash burned like liquid fire, tearing through my skin as he demanded a confession I couldn't give.
I woke up in a pool of my own blood, only to hear the nurse whisper the truth I was never meant to know.
The silver toxicity hadn't just broken my body; it had killed the unborn pup I didn't even know I was carrying.
Marcus had whipped the mother of his own child to protect a liar. He had killed his heir for a woman who was faking her own pregnancy.
That night, as I crawled through the mud to escape, the weak Runt died. In the freezing waters of the river, my bones snapped and reshaped. I didn't just shift; I became the legendary White Wolf.
And when Marcus finally realized the truth and came begging on his knees, I looked at him with my new, violet eyes and prepared to give him the rejection he deserved. 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. He Chose The Mistress, Losing His True Queen
Mafia I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed. My Dying Wish: A Fiancé's Betrayal
Modern My family and fiancé begged me to donate my last remaining kidney to my twin sister, Kyleigh. They didn't know I was already dying.
My fiancé, Axel, gave me an ultimatum.
"Donate the kidney, or I'll break our engagement and marry Kyleigh. It's her dying wish."
I agreed, only for them to frame me for plagiarism with my own thesis, forcing me to confess on camera. They never knew I was the one who secretly saved our father with my other kidney five years ago-a sacrifice Kyleigh had stolen all the credit for.
As they wheeled me into the operating room, they celebrated with Kyleigh, promising her a future built on my death. I was already a ghost to them.
But I died on the table. The surgeon, seeing the old surgical scar and the poison riddling my body, walked out to face them.
"This wasn't a donation," she announced, her voice cold as steel. "This was murder." Love, Lies, and a Vasectomy
Romance At eight months pregnant, I thought my husband Derek and I had it all. A perfect home, a loving marriage, and our miracle son on the way.
Then, while tidying his office, I found his vasectomy certificate. It was dated a year ago, long before we even started trying.
Confused and panicked, I rushed to his office, only to hear laughter from behind the door. It was Derek and his best friend, Edison.
"I can't believe she still hasn't figured it out," Edison chuckled. "She walks around with that giant belly, glowing like some kind of saint."
My husband's voice, the one that whispered words of love to me every night, was full of contempt. "Patience, my friend. The bigger she gets, the bigger the fall. And the bigger my payout."
He said our entire marriage was a cruel game to destroy me, all for his precious adopted sister, Else.
They were even running a bet on who the real father was.
"So, the bet is still on?" Edison asked. "My money's still on me."
My baby was a trophy in their sick contest. The world tilted on its axis. The love I felt, the family I was building—it was all a sham.
In that moment, a cold, clear decision formed in the ruins of my heart.
I pulled out my phone, my voice surprisingly steady as I called a private clinic.
"Hello," I said. "I need to schedule an appointment. For a termination." Ten Years a Ward
Modern For ten years, I secretly loved my guardian, Ethan Hayes. After my family fell apart, he took me in and raised me. He was my entire world.
On my eighteenth birthday, I gathered all my courage to confess my love to him.
But his reaction was a fury I had never seen before. He swept my birthday cake to the floor and roared, "Are you insane? I am your GUARDIAN!"
He then mercilessly tore the painting I had spent a year on-my confession-to shreds.
Just days later, he brought home his fiancée, Chloe.
The man who had promised to wait for me to grow up, who called me his brightest star, had vanished. My decade of desperate, burning love had only managed to burn myself.
The person who was supposed to protect me had become the one who hurt me the most.
I looked down at the NYU acceptance letter in my hand. I had to leave. I had to pull him out of my heart, no matter how much it hurt.
I picked up the phone and dialed my father's number.
"Dad," I said, my voice hoarse, "I've decided. I want to come be with you in New York." The Ninety-Ninth Goodbye
Young Adult The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave.
At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety.
As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers.
"Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in.
That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission.
Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away. He Promised Forever, Then Left Me
Modern After the crash that killed my parents and stole my voice, my childhood friend Josiah swore he would be my voice. For years, I believed him, my silent world revolving around the boy who pulled me from the wreckage. I was even relearning to speak, just for him.
Then I overheard the truth. To his friends, I was just the "town tragedy girl," a burden he was tired of carrying.
The cruelty didn't stop. He let his new girlfriend publicly humiliate me, and when she faked an injury, he forced me to my knees to apologize in front of everyone.
The final betrayal came during a storm. He abandoned me in the woods, deaf without my hearing aids, leaving me to face the same terror that shattered my life years ago. He chose her.
He broke his promise. He broke me.
So I left. I found my own voice, my own strength. Three years later, I returned for my first art exhibition, and when I saw his face in the crowd, I knew he was about to hear everything he'd forced me to keep silent. Just A Substitute: The Don's Lost Love
Modern I returned to the manor after four years, handing Marcus Thorne an invitation to my wedding.
He looked at me with cold eyes, his arm around his fiancée, Chloe—the woman I was molded to look like.
But the real blow came at lunch.
A waiter tripped, sending three mugs of scalding coffee flying toward us.
Marcus didn't move to protect me.
He lunged to grab his phone from the table because Chloe’s face was on the screen.
The boiling liquid splashed across my chest, burning my skin instantly.
While I screamed in agony, Marcus simply checked his notifications.
"I have to go," he said, stepping over me as my fiancé, David, desperately poured ice water on my burns. "Chloe broke a nail. She's hysterical."
He walked out of the restaurant without looking back, leaving me writhing in pain.
At the hospital, the doctor dropped another bombshell: I was pregnant.
Marcus didn't know.
He didn't know I was carrying another man's child.
Just like he didn't know about the baby of his I had lost three years ago—the one I miscarried while he ignored my calls to close a business deal.
I wiped my tears and looked at David.
"Get the plane ready," I whispered. "We leave tonight."
When Marcus finally came looking for me, all he found was a medical report of the child he killed with his neglect, and a note saying I was gone forever. Heiress Betrayed: My Sweet Revenge Wedding
Modern For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big.
On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe."
Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero."
Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends.
"She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy."
Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder.
I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number.
"Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married." Rejected for the Omega: The Alpha's Regret
Werewolf To the outside world, I was the envy of every she-wolf as the fiancée of Alpha Kael. But inside the gilded cage of his pack house, I was a ghost.
I molded myself into perfection for him, wearing the colors he liked and suppressing my own voice.
Until I walked past his study and saw him with Lyra—the orphan he called his "sister."
His hand rested intimately on her thigh as he laughed, telling her, "Elara is just a political necessity. You are the moon in my sky."
My heart shattered, but the physical blow came days later.
During a training exercise, the safety cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg.
Lying in the dirt, gasping through the pain, I watched my Fated Mate run.
Not to me.
He ran to Lyra, who was burying her face in his chest, feigning terror. He comforted her while I bled.
Later, in the infirmary, I heard him whisper to her, "She won't die. It will just teach her who the real Luna is."
He knew. He knew she had sabotaged the rope with silver, and he was protecting her attempted murder.
The final thread of my love incinerated into ash.
The next morning, I walked into the Council Hall, threw a thick file on the table, and looked the Elders in the eye.
"I am dissolving the engagement," I stated coldly. "And I am withdrawing my family's silver supply. I will starve this Pack until you beg."
Kael laughed, thinking I was bluffing. He didn't notice the lethal Beta from the rival pack standing in the shadows behind me, ready to help me burn Kael's kingdom to the ground. 
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