Grump
15 Published Stories
Grump's Books and Stories
The Betrayed Prodigy's Spectacular Magical Comeback
Fantasy For five years, I bled to crown Azure Gale House as the champion, enduring brutal combat drills and toxic draughts for my mentor, Dean Alistair Sterling.
But at the exact moment of my victory, a poisoned dagger was driven through my spine.
When I forced my head around, I was stunned by what I saw.
Alistair stood over me with cold, lifeless eyes, casually wiping my blood from his knuckles like spilled tea.
Beside him stood Beverly Wynn, a talentless junior who could barely conjure a shield, looking down at me with gloating pity.
Alistair slowly raised the ritual blade, revealing the horrifying truth.
"Your core will live forever inside Beverly. Be grateful, child. It is the highest honor you could ever achieve."
He had never been mentoring me. All those private lectures and isolating training regimens—he had been fattening me like livestock for the slaughter, just to harvest my flawless celestial core for his favorite puppet.
I couldn't fight back. The venom turned my magic into a freezing sludge, locking my muscles as they prepared to flay my soul.
Until my dying breath, I felt nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred. Out of sheer spite, I reversed the spin of my core, detonating my soul in a blinding flash to ensure they got nothing but ashes.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the day of the Welcoming Ceremony, exactly five years ago.
When Alistair confidently offered me his personal seal in front of the entire school, I smiled and walked straight toward the disgraced, sleeping Dean of the worst house in the Keep. Shattered Bonds: The Ruthless Heiress Returns
Modern Arlena woke up in a sterile hospital room, exactly one month before the apocalypse would unravel the world. Her grandmother and uncle were looming over her bed, shoving a clipboard into her face.
It was the Bone Marrow Donation Consent form for her cousin, Brandi. They had deliberately booked her parents on a cheap European tour, isolating Arlena so they could force her to sign.
In her previous life, she had given in. The donation completely crashed her immune system right before the extreme weather and societal collapse hit.
While she lay weak and suffering, her family had drained her trust fund and occupied her home.
Her aunt had snatched her last loaf of bread with a triumphant sneer, leaving Arlena to freeze to death in a dirty alley.
Now, when Arlena rasped out a firm "No," her uncle locked the hospital door and lunged for her throat.
"You need to be taught a lesson! Your parents are too soft on you. I'll do it for them!"
He roared, ready to take her marrow by brute force.
She stared at the monsters she called family. They never cared if the procedure would cripple her. To them, she was nothing but a spare part, a blood bag to be used up and discarded so they could steal her inheritance.
But the compliant niece died in the snow. Arlena grabbed a pair of surgical scissors and plunged them straight into her uncle's hand. Tearing the consent form to shreds, she escaped the hospital to unlock her grandfather's hidden pocket dimension. This time, she would build an impenetrable doomsday fortress, and let them rot in the coming hell. Sewn Lips: Her Silent Cry For Justice
Modern My husband told me I was a contractual obligation, an irritant he was forced to endure after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a social media influencer, a woman whose lies were as polished as her feed.
But when her baby was found with a small cut on her lip, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous monster who attacked an innocent child.
My husband, the man I had stood by through everything, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he ordered a guard to take a needle and thread and sew my lips shut.
"She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had me hung upside down in the lobby of my own wellness retreat, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I dangled there, bleeding and broken, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I' d planted in the baby's room. And they had no idea that my family could crush his entire empire with a single phone call. Bound To The Ruthless Lycan King
Werewolf I fled my werewolf pack five years ago to hide in a human city, all to escape a recurring nightmare.
Every full moon, a terrifying, golden-eyed Lycan slaughters everything in his path, forces me to my knees with a crushing Alpha command, and claims I am his fated mate.
The vivid dreams were destroying my inner wolf, forcing me to finally agree to return to my pack for the annual Pack Run to seek a cure.
But right before my flight home, I accidentally bumped into Rick Miller, the most arrogant, tyrannical Alpha on our college campus.
He looked down at the coffee spilled on his expensive leather jacket with pure disdain, publicly humiliating me in front of the entire airport.
"Do you have any idea what this jacket costs? Never mind. It's not like you could afford to replace it."
As he coldly insulted me, a terrifying realization suddenly froze my blood.
He smelled exactly like the ancient pine and storm from my nightmares, and his brief touch sent a mate's electric spark straight to my soul.
How could this cruel, spoiled campus bully possibly be the legendary, terrifying Lycan King who haunted my every sleeping moment?
As he turned and boarded his private jet, I looked down at my trembling hands and realized the horrifying truth.
My trip back to the pack wasn't a journey to heal my trauma.
I was walking straight into the cage of the very monster I had spent five years trying to outrun. The Billionaire’s Contract: Revenge On My Ex
Romance I was a top-tier model with a fiancé I trusted to manage every cent I earned. I thought we were building a life together until a blown fuse at the studio sent me home twenty minutes early.
The silence of the penthouse was broken by a trail of clothes: Haywood’s silk tie, then a red-soled stiletto that belonged to Brandy, the girl I had mentored like a sister. Through the bedroom door, I watched the man I loved tell his mistress that I was "yesterday's news" while they tangled in the sheets I had picked out six months ago.
I didn't scream; I just turned to leave, but the betrayal went deeper than the bedroom. When I checked my banking app, my balance was exactly $12.45. Haywood had liquidated every holding account and savings entry I owned, using a "tax strategy" he’d convinced me of to steal my entire past.
Within hours, the man who robbed me was planting stories in the press, claiming I was having a drug-fueled breakdown. He wanted me penniless, homeless, and discredited so no one would believe the truth. He even tried to force me into a "rehab" facility to silence me forever while he promoted his pregnant mistress.
I stood on a New York curb with nothing left but a desperate, insane idea born from a headline on my phone. Isham Rhodes, the most ruthless CEO in the city, needed a wife by thirty to keep his empire, and I needed a shield to survive mine.
"Mr. Rhodes, I hear you need a puppet," I said, intercepting him in the rain outside City Hall. "I don't want your love. I want a legal document that makes me untouchable."
He didn't ask for a romance; he asked for my ID. Now, with a billionaire’s black card in my pocket and a marriage certificate in my hand, I’m going back to the agency to take back everything they stole. The war has just begun. Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Don
Mafia The man smiling in the silver frame on my vanity was the very same man who, in exactly three months, would wrap his hands around my throat.
I knew this because I had already died.
I had felt the freezing, silty water of the Hudson River fill my lungs while Alexander watched the life drain from my eyes, his mistress laughing in the background.
I had hovered like a ghost above my own funeral, watching the betrayal continue even after my death.
My mother, the perfect Mafia widow, stood stoically next to my killer, unaware she had sold her daughter to a butcher. My fiancé checked his watch, bored, waiting to liquidate my inheritance.
But then I saw him.
Darrian Golden. The Don of the rival clan. The enemy.
He stood in the pouring rain, his expensive suit soaked through, staring at my coffin as if the world had ended. When the earth hit the wood, he didn't just cry; he roared in primal agony. My fiancé killed me, but my enemy was the only one who mourned me.
"The Commission is waiting," my mother’s voice snapped the timeline back into place.
She stood in my doorway, demanding I set the engagement date to secure the territory. She saw a charming Capo; I saw the rat who had cut my father's brake lines.
In my first life, I was a trembling bird. In this life, I was the match that would burn the cage down.
I smashed the photo frame against the marble table, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot.
"Contact the Golden Clan," I commanded.
My mother went pale. "He is a savage, Azalea. He butchers men for sport."
"Tell Don Golden that Azalea Kidd is offering a parley," I said, looking out the window at the city that would soon be ours.
"Tell him I am offering the only thing he has ever wanted: Me." Eighteen Days to Forget You
Modern Eighteen days after giving up on Jarrett Sheppard, Alayna Dickerson cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend the UC Berkeley College of Music.
Her father, Samuel Dickerson, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she'd always insisted on staying with Jarrett. Alayna forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Jarrett was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him.
That night, she tried to tell Jarrett about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Kisha Prince, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Jarrett's tender words to Kisha twisted a knife in Alayna's heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had given her her first harmonica when she was eight, becoming her musical mentor, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a love letter at seventeen, 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 Kisha 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 Jarrett out of her heart. Fifty Dollar Bet, Million Dollar Revenge
Romance For fifty dollars, I sold a piece of my dignity to the school's golden boy. I was eighteen, starving, and desperate enough to take his bet.
That single photo destroyed my life. I became "Fifty-Dollar Ella," the school slut, haunted by whispers and scorn.
My stepmother and stepsister reveled in my public humiliation, ensuring my life was a living hell.
I spent the next decade clawing my way to the top of Wall Street, but I died alone, filled with the bitter regret of a stolen youth.
Until the end, I never understood why they all hated me so much.
Then, I opened my eyes. I was eighteen again, back in that classroom, moments before the bet that ruined me. A shadow fell over my desk. It was him.
"Meet me after school," Javier Mack whispered, a smug look on his face.
But this time, the scared, hungry girl was gone. In her place was a shark. And I was ready to play. When Forever Crumbles: Love's Harsh Reality
Romance My husband, the tech billionaire Jackson Watkins, was perfect. For two years, he adored me, and our marriage was the envy of everyone we knew.
Then a woman from his past appeared, holding the hand of a pale, sick four-year-old boy. His son.
The boy had leukemia, and Jackson became consumed with saving him. After an accident at the hospital, his son had a seizure. In the chaos, I fell hard, a sharp pain shooting through my abdomen.
Jackson ran right past me, carrying his son, and left me bleeding on the floor.
I lost our baby that day, alone. He never even called.
When he finally appeared at my hospital bed the next morning, he was wearing a different suit. He begged for forgiveness for being absent, not knowing the real reason for my tears.
Then I saw it. A dark hickey on his neck.
He had been with her while I was losing our child.
He told me his son's dying wish was to see his parents married. He begged me to agree to a temporary separation and a fake wedding with her.
I looked at his desperate, selfish face, and a strange calm settled over me.
"Okay," I said. "I'll do it." From Ashes, A Queen Rises
Modern I woke up in the hospital after my husband tried to kill me in an explosion. The doctor said I was lucky—the shrapnel had missed my major arteries. Then he told me something else. I was eight weeks pregnant.
Just then, my husband, Julius, walked in. He ignored me and spoke to the doctor. He said his mistress, Kenzie, had leukemia and needed an urgent bone marrow transplant. He wanted me to be the donor.
The doctor was aghast. "Mr. Carroll, your wife is pregnant and critically injured. That procedure would require an abortion and could kill her."
Julius's face was a mask of stone. "The abortion is a given," he said. "Kenzie is the priority. Florence is strong, she can have another baby later."
He was talking about our child like it was a tumor to be removed. He would kill our baby and risk my life for a woman who was faking a terminal illness.
In that sterile hospital room, the part of me that had loved him, the part that had forgiven him, turned to ash.
They wheeled me into surgery. As the anesthetic flowed into my veins, I felt a strange sense of peace. This was the end, and the beginning.
When I woke up, my baby was gone.
With a calmness that scared even me, I picked up the phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in ten years.
"Dad," I whispered. "I'm coming home."
For a decade, I had hidden my true identity as a Horton heiress, all for a man who just tried to murder me.
Florence Whitehead was dead. But the Horton heiress was just waking up, and she was going to burn their world to the ground. Revenge Of The Discarded Fiancée
Romance For seven years, I dedicated my life to Liam Miller, the charismatic CEO, building his empire and standing by his side as his quiet fiancée. I was his unwavering support, his peace in a world of ambition and noise.
Then, an anonymous text ripped my world apart: "Liam is in danger. The Ophidian Club. Now."
I found him laughing, his arm around a notorious poker player, Isabella Ross, betting away millions of his company' s money, my contribution, on her. My head hit the floor, and in the haze, I heard his voice, cold and dismissive, "Don' t worry about her. She' s just a charity case." At home, I heard Isabella's cruel words, "She's like a lost puppy you picked up, Liam. Loyal, but ultimately just a pet you can get rid of."
"A charity case? A pet?" The words tasted like ash. My seven years, my identity as a software engineer who built his company, reduced to a "convenient background" for his rise. Why had I meant so little? Why was I just a substitute, a cheap copy of a woman he truly loved?
Standing on that stage, forced to smile as his "perfect partner" for the cameras, I vowed that when his deal was secured, I would take my settlement and disappear forever. But when Alex Vance, Liam' s ruthless rival, stepped into my life, claiming Liam had turned my existence into a cruel experiment, I knew I had to fight back, not just for freedom, but for survival. Revenge Wears a Soft Smile
Modern The morning sun streamed into my penthouse, just like any other day.
My fiancé, Liam, walked in with coffee and a croissant, his perfect smile radiating devotion.
But the world had been dark just moments before, stained with the taste of blood and the memory of his smiling face as I lay dying on the cold floor of an institution.
Now, it was two years before that horrific end.
Two years before he destroyed everything and had me committed to a mental asylum.
The last thing I remembered was his betrayal, his cruel laughter as my life, my company, and my sanity were systematically stripped away for his ambition.
I watched him now, playing the part of the loving partner, reminiscing about the "Project Titan" software that was once my life' s work, the very foundation he would steal and rebrand as his own.
He told me I was working too hard, that he would "take the pressure off."
It was the same speech, the same insidious opening move he' d used before.
A practiced performance that had once fooled me completely.
How could I have been so blind, so naive, to open my heart and my world to such a snake?
The memories of his lies, his manipulation, his ultimate act of sending me to an early grave, burned through me.
But this time, the pain was fuel, not weakness.
My smile might have been soft, but inside, a cold certainty settled deep in my bones.
This wasn't a dream.
It was a do-over.
He thought he had won.
He thought this was the start of everything for him.
He was right.
It was the start of his end.
And I was going to enjoy every second of it. The Art of Starting Over
Fantasy At eighty, I lay dying in a sterile hospital room, a life I felt was utterly wasted flashing before my eyes.
My wife of sixty years, Olivia Hayes, sat beside me, her stoic composure a familiar mask.
Then, her whispered confession shattered everything: "Tell Daniel… I've always loved him."
Daniel, her colleague from decades ago.
Sixty years of quiet resentment, of being a placeholder, a fool.
Rage burned in my dying body-a useless, consuming fire.
Then, darkness.
Light. Soft blankets. My young mother' s beaming face.
It was 1987. I was a baby again, but the memories of my eighty-year life, and Olivia's betrayal, were searing.
"Mom," I squeaked, my infant voice unwavering, "I won't marry Olivia Hayes."
Years later, at eighteen, the name Olivia was a constant dread.
Our families had an arranged engagement, a relic I had accepted in my past life.
This time, it was a prison sentence.
I saw her with Daniel Lee at the community center, laughing the unguarded laugh I rarely saw in our marriage, her caring gestures confirming the truth.
She approached me, that familiar stoic calm in place, perhaps to touch my arm.
I stepped back, a deliberate movement.
"Are you avoiding me?" she asked, her tone flat.
I met her gaze directly. "We should keep our distance, Olivia. It's better for everyone."
I walked away. My past life, a suffocating nightmare.
This life would be different. This life was for me.
I would be free. Wedding Day Showdown: I Married My Best Friend
Romance Vegas wedding day. I stood in my dress, heart pounding, ready for my fiancé, Bryce. Then, a scene out of a nightmare unfolded: a woman and a child burst in, the boy crying, "Daddy!" Unbelievably, Bryce revealed this was his ex, Kelli, and their son, Jayden. He announced he was marrying her instead—right then and there—and asked me to pose for a "friend photo" for social media. My world shattered as they walked into the chapel, leaving me publicly humiliated.
The nightmare, I soon learned, was just beginning. Not content with abandoning me, Bryce and his crew invaded my beautiful Malibu home, trashing it, defiling my most cherished possessions. The very next day, they threw a brazen party on my private lawn, mocking my pain. When I confronted them, their malicious posse turned violent, shoving and hitting me, screaming accusations that I was the "homewrecker." Bryce, the coward, just stood by. I was bruised, violated, and utterly alone, my sanctuary desecrated.
How could someone I loved unleash such monstrous cruelty? How could I, the victim, suddenly become the villain in the eyes of a hostile crowd? My spirit was crushed; I felt utterly helpless against this wave of injustice.
Just as I thought all hope was lost, a sleek black SUV screeched to a halt. Nolan. My oldest friend for ten years. He'd left a multi-billion dollar deal mid-signing to get here. He stepped out, eyes blazing, and in a voice that brooked no argument, he simply said, "I'm her husband." You might like
The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. THREE-YEARS CONTRACT MARRIAGE WITH THE HOT BILLIONAIRE
Ashley Ray "Sign the contract, or lose everything."
I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King.
My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction.
Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love."
He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end.
I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his.
But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective.
Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything.
They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn.
With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?
Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy-The Nightingale Ranch-as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
Hei Baidong I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up.
When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience.
"Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff."
Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me.
I gave birth to twins all by myself.
The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped.
They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child.
I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister.
I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies.
But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test.
It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years.
Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband.
This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing. The Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback
Out Of Town "From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer."
In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title.
The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry.
His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt.
Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get."
They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps.
The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world.
When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance.
"She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel."
I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face.
"This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole."
But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey... They Broke Me, Now They Beg
Shore Tour For ten years, Eleonora devoted herself to Julian Sterling, waiting for the day she would finally become his wife.
But at the grand ball, just three months before their wedding, Julian walked in with her cousin Isabella on his arm.
In front of the entire high society, he publicly broke their engagement, announcing he would marry Isabella instead.
Worse, he arrogantly declared that Eleonora would become his "treasured mistress" so he could still use her massive dowry to fund his army.
When she looked to her father for defense, Lord Reginald actually agreed.
Her entire family-her father, her uncle, the elders-all demanded she accept this humiliating arrangement, eager to drain her mother's fortune to secure their own parasitic ambitions.
Ten years of quiet devotion and her late mother's dying wish were trampled into the mud.
She finally realized her family was nothing but a nest of greedy vipers, and they fully expected her to kneel and accept her utter ruin.
But she refused to be their sacrificial lamb.
Taking the secret ledgers of her vast inheritance, Eleonora walked straight into the fortress of the most ruthless and feared man in the empire.
"I will fully equip three legions of your heavy cavalry."
"In exchange, I require a title. I wish to become the Duchess of Vanderbilt." The Discarded Genius Heiress Strikes Back
Xiao Ye For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien's secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company.
On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his "charity project."
Julien's voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy.
He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left.
He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish.
He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn't even afford next month's rent.
Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering.
She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool.
He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute.
Logging into his company's secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him.
Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn't called in years.
"I'm ready. I want to come home."
It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress. The Billionaire I Slept With Became My Husband
Apache I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce.
Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence.
When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway.
They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher.
"And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop."
The revelation chilled me to the bone.
My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault.
It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted.
I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city.
One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged.
But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man.
It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage. 
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