Gavin
3472 Published Stories
Gavin's Books and Stories
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. Jilted Pet Becomes The Mafia Queen
Mafia When I was eight, Dante Moretti pulled me from the fire that killed my family. For ten years, the powerful crime boss was my protector and my god.
Then, he announced his engagement to another woman to unite two criminal empires.
He brought her home and named her the future mistress of the Moretti family.
In front of everyone, his fiancée forced a cheap metal collar around my neck, calling me their pet.
Dante knew I was allergic. He just watched, his eyes cold, and ordered me to take it.
That night, I listened through the walls as he took her to his bed.
I finally understood the promise he’d made me as a child was a lie. I wasn't his family. I was his property.
After a decade of devotion, my love for him finally turned to ash.
So on his birthday, the day he celebrated his new future, I walked out of his gilded cage for good.
A private jet was waiting to take me to my real father—his greatest enemy. 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. From Ashes To Altar: Her Vengeance
Modern My mother was killed in a hit-and-run. My husband, Haywood, told me to drop the investigation.
Then my father died because Haywood froze my assets, refusing to pay for his life-saving surgery.
"My mother was murdered!" I screamed at him. "You want me to just... forget that?"
He told me he knew who the driver was and threatened to ruin me if I didn't stop. He used his power to destroy my career, publicly shame me, and even had me thrown into a cellar full of venomous spiders, leaving me for dead.
The final blow came when he forced me to lie on a live stream at my mother's grave, confessing to crimes I didn't commit. As I collapsed, he had his men scatter her ashes into the mud.
I lost everything. My family, my dignity, my truth.
They thought they had broken me. They were wrong.
As I boarded a flight out of New York, I hit 'Go Live' on a global stream. "My name is Celina Alvarado," I began, my voice steady. "And I'm here to tell you everything." He Murdered My Father For Her
Modern My fiancé, Archer, left me at the altar 98 times for the same woman, Kennedy. Each time, she'd orchestrate a new disaster, and he'd rush to her side, leaving me in a wedding dress to face the humiliation alone.
But I always forgave him. Years ago, when I was a bullied college student on the verge of jumping off a bridge, he saved me. He became my hero, my protector, the man I owed my life to.
Tonight, I overheard the truth. "You used her," Kennedy said. "You orchestrated her father's 'accident' to get me his liver."
Archer's reply shattered my world. "She was just a means to an end. It was always you."
He didn't just use me; he murdered my father for her. Then, to appease Kennedy's jealousy, he tried to kill me with a seafood allergy, kicked me off a cliff, and left me for dead.
But I survived. Rescued by my former mentor, I erased my identity and became a top scientist on a deep-space mission. Four years later, I'm back, and this time, I won't be a pawn in their game. I'll be the one who ends it. A Substitute No More, A Queen Returns
Romance For five years, I was Jameson Blair's fiancée. For five years, my brothers finally treated me like a sister they loved.
Then my twin, Haleigh-the one who left him at the altar-returned with a fake cancer story. In five minutes, he married her.
They believed her every lie. When she tried to poison me with a venomous spider, they called me dramatic.
When she framed me for ruining her party, my brothers whipped me until I bled.
They called me a worthless substitute, a placeholder with her face.
The final straw came when they tied me to a rope and left me dangling over a cliff to die.
But I didn't die. I climbed back up, faked my death, and disappeared. They wanted a ghost. I decided to give them one. Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison
Mafia Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift—a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept." He Betrayed Me, Now He Begs
Mafia For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." His Cruel Game, Her Perfect Escape
Romance On the first anniversary of our reconciliation, I thought my tech mogul husband and I had finally turned a corner. Then I discovered our entire marriage was a spectator sport. It was a cruel, year-long revenge game orchestrated by him and his lover, and I was the punchline.
For their amusement, I was poisoned with food contaminated with dog feces, publicly humiliated with a twenty-million-dollar auction scam, and beaten until my ribs broke by his family's private security. I endured it all, playing the part of the clueless, loving wife while they laughed about it in a group chat called "The Jillian Andrews Comedy Hour."
But their grand finale was a step too far. I overheard him calmly planning to leave me to die in a remote cabin during a blizzard, a "tragic accident" that would finally set him free to be with his mistress.
He thought he was writing the final chapter of my life.
He didn't know I was about to use his murder plot as my own perfect escape. I faked my death, vanished into thin air, and left him to explain to the world how his beloved wife disappeared off the face of the earth. A Monster's Final Goodbye
Modern My boyfriend, Carter, hadn't spoken to me in five days. But when my national architecture competition win went viral, he finally called-not to congratulate me, but to scream that I' d embarrassed him by not telling him first.
His new girlfriend, Brittney, was the one who tagged him in my post. She was also the one whispering in his ear during the call, telling him I was making him look bad.
This was the final straw in a long, cold war. But the real nightmare began when Brittney sent me a video of her torturing my dog, Apollo, in our old apartment.
Then came a photo of his lifeless body.
I rushed over, blinded by rage, and slammed her head against the wall with an ashtray. Carter, the man I once loved, shoved me away, calling me a maniac for hurting the woman who had just murdered my dog.
He chose her. He always chose her.
As I carried Apollo's cold body out the door, I made a vow. I would make them pay. I would make their lives a living hell. The Lie That Erased My Life
Modern I thought I had my fairytale ending when I married Dayton Reed, the charming heir to a tech empire. But a car crash on our wedding day gave him amnesia, and his family used it as an excuse to erase me. For five years, I watched another woman, Cassidy, take my place, enduring their cruelty while clinging to the hope that my husband was still in there somewhere.
Then I overheard him talking to his father.
He laughed, calling his amnesia the "best performance of my life." He admitted our whole relationship was a lie-a way to atone for his family's role in my parents' deaths.
In the same breath, his new fiancée announced she was pregnant.
My love wasn't just forgotten; it was a joke. He had orchestrated five years of my torment, from the murder of my dog to the loss of our unborn child.
He thought he broke me. He was wrong.
Years later, I've rebuilt my life. And tonight, on a live news broadcast with the whole world watching, I'm going to expose every last one of his sins and burn his empire to the ground. 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." Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises
Mafia At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south.
But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband.
In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family—a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire.
His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach.
"We're terminating this complication," she said coldly.
As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter. Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the Wolf King
Werewolf I was the unshifted fiancée of the Alpha, working eighteen-hour days to design his kingdom while waiting for my wolf to finally wake up.
He told me we couldn't be intimate until I shifted, claiming it was to "conserve my energy."
I believed him, right up until I saw the email notification on his open laptop.
It was an invitation to the baptism of his two-year-old son. The mother was Hayden, the "fragile" Omega he claimed was just like a sister to him.
He wasn't waiting for me to shift. He was waiting for me to finish his fortifications so he could replace me.
When I tried to freeze the construction funds, he sabotaged my climbing gear, hoping a "tragic accident" would silence me forever.
When I survived, he froze my bank accounts and humiliated me at the pack auction, using the money I had saved to buy a diamond necklace for his mistress.
They thought I was powerless without a wolf. They thought they could broadcast intimate videos of me to shame me into submission.
But they forgot that as the architect, I built the very security systems they felt safe behind.
I walked into the ceremony not as a victim, but with the rival Alpha by my side and a decrypted USB drive in my hand.
"You want to talk about secrets?" I smiled at the terrifying silence of the hall.
"Let's show the pack who the real father of your 'heir' is." The Chess Master's Final Deadly Move
Modern My boyfriend, a chess prodigy, planned to publicly humiliate me at our graduation. He'd spent three years faking our relationship, even secretly filming us, all to get revenge for a lie he believed about my father. I overheard his entire twisted plan just before it was set to happen.
So I fled to Paris, leaving him with the wreckage of his prized antique chess set and a video of me smashing it to pieces.
I built a new life, found real love with a kind man named Kolton, and my art began to flourish. I was finally healing, finally safe. Then, one morning, my ex shattered my apartment door, holding a black rose, his eyes burning with a terrifying declaration: "I was wrong. I love you. And I'm not leaving until you're mine again." The Price of Unrequited Love
Young Adult Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley.
Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him.
That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!"
He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law."
Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart. 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. Ten Years a Lie
Billionaires My husband, David, and I had been married for ten years, a perfect New York power couple on the outside, a carefully constructed lie within. I used his money, he had his affairs, even a secret child. Our lives ran on parallel tracks, never interfering. It was a cold, silent agreement.
Then the school called. An accident. Acid. My son, Liam.
I rushed to the nurse's office. Liam was pale, a raw burn on his cheek and neck. Another woman, impeccably dressed, stood there, bored. Olivia Chen, socialite extraordinaire. David's mistress. She offered me a check. "My Leo said it was an accident. Boys will be boys. This should be enough to cover the medical bills and keep you quiet." Then her phone rang. It was David. "Yes, I' m handling the other boy' s mother now," she cooed. My husband was concerned for his mistress and their illegitimate son, not ours.
The bracelet on Olivia's wrist, an emerald-studded Miller family heirloom, meant for David's wife, for me, shimmered mockingly. My hand went to my phone. David's voicemail. Again. Nothing. My son was hurt, and my husband wouldn't answer.
This wasn't anger; it was a cold, hard hatred. A rage that had simmered for a decade, now boiling over. My family, almost ruined. The Millers saved them, but the price was my marriage to David. He didn't want me; he wanted the inheritance clause in the Miller family trust. His firstborn child would control the bulk of the fortune on their tenth birthday.
Liam' s tenth birthday was in three days. In three days, the trust would activate. Liam would be in control. I looked from my son's pained face to the arrogant woman wearing my legacy. A cold calm settled over me. Let them have their moment. Their last three days of freedom. 
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