HAZEL MARTIN
15 Published Stories
HAZEL MARTIN's Books and Stories
The Unbroken Heiress
Romance Ava Thompson, a New England political heiress, thought she had it all: a glamorous wedding to rising D.C. star Ethan Cole, a picture-perfect union of two prominent families.
But the silence in their grand Washington house, and Ethan' s constant devotion to Chloe, his adopted sister, hinted at a different truth.
One night, that truth exploded.
Ava overheard Ethan confessing their marriage was merely "a means to an end" and she "meant nothing" - his fierce loyalty belonging solely to Chloe.
Her heart shattered, the beautiful facade of her life crumbling around her.
Ethan openly dismissed Ava' s pain, choosing to protect Chloe' s malicious acts, including Chloe' s chilling confession to murdering Ava' s best friend, Maya.
Using his family' s immense power, Ethan ensured Chloe walked free, twisting reality to frame Ava and threaten her loyal assistant.
The ultimate betrayal came during a disastrous yacht event when Ethan instinctively saved Chloe first, leaving a helpless Ava to drown in the turbulent Chesapeake Bay.
How could the man she loved, the man who was supposed to be her partner, abandon her so ruthlessly?
Why was he so blindly devoted to a sister who was clearly a manipulative sociopath?
Pushed to the brink, utterly broken by the profound injustice and the cold reality of her expendability, Ava collapsed.
But as she healed, a cold, unshakeable resolve built within her.
She would uncover the full truth behind Ethan' s warped loyalty to Chloe and fight for the justice Maya was denied.
Ava, the dismissed wife, was coming for them, ready to dismantle a powerful family, one secret at a time. High Stakes Betrayal, A Winning Hand
Modern My fiancé, Holden, married my best friend, Dominique, in Vegas. Tonight. Just hours before our lavish engagement party was set to begin.
They announced it to our families and friends, calling it a "drunken mistake." Dominique, clinging to his arm, flashed a cheap ring and a triumphant smirk.
She then proposed a high-stakes poker game to "celebrate," a cruel joke designed to humiliate me further.
Holden, my fiancé of years, stood by her side. He even forced me to give up my grandmother's bracelet when I lost a hand, tossing the precious heirloom into a puddle of champagne.
He told me it was just a game, that the bracelet meant nothing.
But they didn't know my secret. I grew up in the underground poker scene. They thought they were playing with a fragile fiancée.
They were about to lose everything to a shark. Marrying The Enemy: My Ex's Worst Nightmare
Mafia I spent ten years as the ward of Kason Oneal, the ruthless Underboss of the city's most dangerous crime family. He saved me when I was a child, raised me, and made me believe I was his queen.
But the moment his ex-girlfriend, Dalia, returned, the illusion shattered.
Kason demanded I return the jade pendant—the one he had hand-carved for my sixteenth birthday—just so he could hang it around Dalia's neck. To him, I was suddenly nothing more than a placeholder who had kept his bed warm.
The cruelty didn't stop there. He stood by and watched as Dalia shredded my clothes with scissors, laughing at my tears.
When I collapsed on the floor in agony from acute appendicitis, Kason didn't call an ambulance. Instead, he dragged me to a shady clinic, accusing me of faking a pregnancy to trap him. He ordered the doctor to "terminate it" while I was dying of sepsis on the table.
He called me trash. He called me property. He stripped away every ounce of dignity I had left, all to please a woman who was lying to his face.
I realized then that the hero who saved me when I was ten was dead. I was done begging for scraps of affection from a monster.
Trembling, I walked to the phone and dialed the number of the one man Kason feared most—his sworn enemy, Hadley Payne.
"Tell him yes," I whispered into the receiver. "I accept the arrangement. I will marry him."
Kason thought he could break me. Instead, he was about to watch his "property" become the Queen of the rival family. The Alpha Who Killed His Savior Mate
Werewolf I came ashore to save my Fated Mate from a genetic curse, but he locked me in a dungeon for three years.
Alpha Silas believed my kind killed his parents. He drained my blood daily to feed his mistress, Emily, who claimed my essence was the only thing keeping their unborn baby alive.
I endured the silver chains and the acid burns, hoping he would one day see the truth.
But when my ten-year-old brother tried to rescue me, Emily smashed his skull with an iron bar right in front of Silas.
Silas didn't arrest her. He didn't scream. He stood between us, shielding the murderer.
"She was protecting our heir," he said coldly, looking at my brother's small, broken body floating in the tank. "You brought this on yourself."
I held my brother’s corpse as my heart finally shattered. The bond between us snapped, and my body began to dissolve into sea foam.
"I tried," I whispered as I faded into nothingness.
Moments after I disappeared, the laboratory door opened.
Silas’s parents, the ones he thought I killed, walked in alive and well.
At the same time, the pack doctor rushed in, pale and trembling.
"Alpha," he stammered, pointing at Emily. "There is no baby. She has been faking the pregnancy for months."
Silas looked at his living parents, then at the empty pile of sea foam on the floor where his True Mate used to be.
And for the first time, the Alpha screamed. Rejected by the Alpha: The Pregnant Luna's Secret
Werewolf I was eight months pregnant with the heir to the Hayes pack when my husband, Michael, walked into the gala with another woman on his arm.
She was wearing a blood-red dress and reeked of rotting orchids.
In front of the entire Council, Michael looked at me with cold eyes and announced she was his Fated Mate.
He rejected me.
The force of the Alpha Command forced me to my knees, shattering the bond between us.
To protect my unborn son from his cruelty, I told the greatest lie of my life.
"The baby is dead," I whispered to him later. "Your rejection killed him."
Broken by guilt, Michael fell from grace.
My family stripped him of his wealth and status. He became a homeless Rogue, living in the dirt outside our estate walls, just to be near the place he thought his child was buried.
He didn't know that the little boy playing in the garden, the one with golden Alpha eyes, was his son.
He watched over us from the shadows for years, a ghost haunting his own life.
Until the day the woman in the red dress returned.
She held a silver dagger over my son's crib, ready to end my bloodline.
And the man who had once rejected me finally found his redemption.
He didn't hesitate.
He threw his body between the blade and our boy. Escaping The Ruthless Don's Golden Cage
Mafia I stood at the gala, draped in diamonds worth millions, playing the role of the perfect Mafia wife.
But the illusion shattered when his mistress walked in wearing a necklace identical to mine—a cattle brand dipped in gold.
When I confronted them, Liam didn't defend me. He shoved me aside to protect her.
I hit the floor, and as my blood soaked into the white stage, I realized he had killed our unborn child.
But the nightmare didn't end there.
I woke up to find that Liam had ordered me sedated to "manage my hysteria." The complications from his control and the trauma had forced an emergency hysterectomy.
He hadn't just killed his heir; he had stolen my future.
Yet, he still tried to lock me in his estate, convinced he could force me to love him again if he just kept me hidden long enough.
He thought I was broken. He thought I was his property.
He was wrong.
With the help of a doctor who had loved me from the shadows for years, I faked my death and vanished.
Six months later, the great Don found me in a small-town bookstore, falling to his knees to beg for a second chance.
I looked at the man who destroyed me and handed him a single dollar bill.
"Loyalty is the only currency, Liam," I said, quoting his own vow back to him.
"And you are bankrupt." His Secret Wife, My Broken Heart
Romance The pregnancy test showed two pink lines. After four years of a quiet marriage to Carter Leon, we were finally having a baby. I thought this was the final piece of our story.
But when I went to the county clerk's office for a certified copy of our marriage certificate, I was told there was no record of our marriage. Instead, Carter was legally married to Erlene Fulton, my estranged stepsister and his high school sweetheart.
My world shattered.
I was nothing more than a mistress, a placeholder.
Then, my family, including Carter, pressured me to "step aside" for Erlene, who was supposedly dying and wished to die as Carter's wife. I refused, revealing my pregnancy, only to be locked away by my father and stepmother. Carter later convinced me it was all a charade, a performance for a dying woman.
I watched him marry Erlene, a ghost at their grand wedding. He spent his time with her, while I, like a fool, kept believing his lies. Until I overheard Erlene and Carter. He confessed he had always loved her, and that marrying me was just a plan to wound her pride and make her return.
My four years, my devotion, my love-all a calculated move. I was a pawn, and so was my baby. The promises, the soft touches, the shared smiles-all fake.
How could I have been so blind?
How could he be so cruel?
I had to save myself, and my child, from this poison.
I ran, determined to leave the lie behind. From Neglected To New York Queen
Romance "The wedding is back on," my mother' s voice announced, shattering the calm of my Los Angeles penthouse. An arranged marriage to Everette Bryant, a relic from my grandfather' s past, was suddenly my future.
I thought I could lean on Danial and Ismael, my childhood friends, my rocks during a mysterious illness. But a new intern, Judi Coffey, had entered our lives, and something felt off.
Judi, with her innocent facade, quickly became the center of their universe. She stumbled, she cried, she even deliberately broke my award, all to gain their sympathy. Danial and Ismael, once my protectors, turned their backs, their concern solely for her. "Angelina, what's wrong with you? She's just an intern," Danial accused, his eyes cold. Ismael added, "That was harsh. She's just a kid."
Their blind loyalty escalated. Judi' s manufactured crisis, a flat tire, pulled them away, leaving me alone. Later, Danial, enraged by a broken vase, shoved me, causing a head injury. He didn't even notice my allergic reaction, a symptom they once rushed to treat.
How could they forget everything? The bee stings, the shellfish allergies, the times they held my hand in the emergency room. The gardenias Danial planted, now the source of my suffering, went unnoticed.
I looked at their faces, at the two men I had known my entire life, and saw strangers. My decision was made. I burned our shared memories, resigned from my firm, and put my house up for sale. I was leaving them, all of them, for good. The Affair That Cost Everything
Romance My heart sank when I heard, "Three million dollars has been withdrawn from your joint savings account." Gone.
The money, our life' s work, our shared dream, was gone. I knew instantly where it went: to Summer Reed, Liam' s high school sweetheart, the ghost of our marriage.
Last night, I overheard Liam on the phone, promising Summer our money, saying, "Of course, it' s our money. Chloe' s and mine. But she' ll understand. Your well-being is the most important thing."
He had tricked me into signing "investment papers," draining our future for his old flame. I felt pathetic, a walking bank account for his true love.
When I returned to our apartment to grab my last things, I found Summer already moved in, wearing my robe, eating dinner cooked by my husband. He even made her favorite dish, forgetting I was allergic to garlic. He then put her in our bed, saying it was "just for a few days."
I finally understood; I was just a prop in their reunion. Liam blamed me, called me "possessive." He then revealed Summer' s husband was abusive, and she had nowhere to go, trying to excuse his betrayal.
The office gossiped about Liam' s affair, his spending company money on Summer, taking her to Paris while I managed our home, his career, and built my own.
How could he do this? How could his devotion to her erase six years of our life, our dreams, our unborn child? What kind of monster pretends to care while actively destroying everything we built?
I wouldn't stand for it. I packed my bags, smashing our wedding photo, and called my estranged brother, Ethan. "I' m coming home," I whispered. This was over. I was getting a divorce. The Surrogate's Secret: A Mother's Vengeance
Modern My phone buzzed with the perfectly captured picture: my husband, Andrew, beaming with the surrogate and their newborn, a son I' d paid a fortune to bring into this world.
I typed a lie: "He's beautiful, I'm so happy for us."
I was a spectator to my own life, my body a continuous failure after six miscarriages, each a tiny ghost in our silent house.
Then, the call came: my eight-year-old niece, Madisyn, was in a terrible accident and needed B-negative blood-my rare type.
But when I offered to donate, Andrew, his family, and even his wife, panicked, refusing my help.
The doctor's chilling whisper shattered my world: "The resemblance is uncanny… Madisyn is your daughter, isn' t she?"
My first "miscarriage" wasn't a miscarriage; it was a kidnappingorchestrated by my husband.
Andrew confessed, not with remorse, but with monstrous casualness: he' d given away our child to his infertile brother to save their "family line."
He even dared to gaslight me, blaming my grief and rage for ruining the "perfect family" he' d built with another woman.
When I confronted him again, he shoved me, leaving me burned and abandoned on the floor after Madisyn staged a horrifying attack on the new baby and framed me.
My heart, already shattered, turned to ice.
Andrew would never believe me; he didn't want to. He had decided long ago who I was-the "unhinged wife"-and nothing I said would change his narrative.
Screaming inside, I signed the divorce papers, picked up the pieces of my life, smashed the symbols of our shared past, and called the most ruthless lawyer on the East Coast.
This wasn't just a divorce; it was a war. I was getting my daughter back, and I was going to make him pay for every stolen child. Framed: The Dancer's Reckoning
Romance My new, hostile stepfamily was hardly a welcome wagon as I fought for a coveted dance scholarship at Northwood University.
Then, my world truly started to unravel.
My crucial audition music mysteriously vanished, thanks to my stepsister Isabelle, whose cruelty was just warming up.
Days later, campus security "found" stolen exam papers and Isabelle' s diamond bracelet meticulously planted in my room.
Overnight, I was branded a thief and an academic cheat, suspended from school, my reputation shattered, my scholarship dreams utterly crushed.
How could everyone so readily believe such convenient lies, turning me into a pariah, a target for the university' s whispers?
How could "evidence" so perfectly frame me, leaving me isolated and utterly out of options?
My anonymous blog, "The Campus Muse," where I poured out raw truths about integrity and overcoming adversity, became my last desperate refuge.
What I didn't realize was that the voice I found there – a voice speaking truth into the echoing chamber of false accusations – was about to resonate deeply with an unexpected ally, setting in motion a chain of events that would expose Isabelle' s calculated malice and fight to reclaim my name. The Husband She Left For A Call
Romance For five years, I, Ethan Miller, was the steady anchor in Sarah's life, a well of quiet devotion for a love she never truly reciprocated.
Our marriage was a beautiful, empty shell, and I, her husband, felt increasingly like a ghost she barely saw.
Then Mark Vance, her college flame and unaddressed obsession, reappeared.
The facade swiftly crumbled.
My gut clenched discovering her hidden shrine of his photos, and watching her eyes sparkle for him, while for me, they were always flat.
The final, devastating blow came with finding a positive pregnancy test – and Mark's intimate email to her, discussing "our baby" and a shared future.
My wife was pregnant with his child, right there in our home, and he was claiming paternity.
The humiliations piled on: she introduced me to Mark as someone who "helps with things," ditched my award ceremony for his event, and callously abandoned me in a hospital bed for his phone call.
My life, my very existence, was systematically erased from her world, replaced by him.
How could she be so oblivious, so savagely dismissive of the man who had poured his soul into making her happy?
The silent anger gnawed at me, a cold, hard certainty solidifying deep within.
This was no longer just grief; it was a profound disgust for the sheer scale of her betrayal.
So, while she was busy celebrating her engagement to Mark—on our fifth wedding anniversary, no less—I sent her a video.
In it, I calmly laid out every lie, every deception, every cruel slight.
Attached was the signed, finalized divorce decree.
Our cooling-off period was over.
Our marriage was a relic.
I was done.
And I was leaving. The Five-Year Contract's End
Romance My five-year contract marriage to Ethan Cole was finally over.
Five years of polite estrangement, a polished cage built on a merger of empires.
I had signed the divorce papers, ready to escape to Austin, chasing a desperate echo of what I'd lost.
My fiancé, Michael, had died five years ago, and now, a musician named Noah Evans, his spitting image, offered a fragile hope he could bring a piece of him back.
But Ethan' s manipulative stepsister, Chloe, had other plans.
Consumed by a twisted possessiveness for Ethan, she launched a campaign of terror against me.
First, a poison attempt, then a brutal kidnapping, and finally, a chilling plot to throw me off a cliff.
Each escalating attack was met with Ethan' s blind indulgence, his desperate attempts to protect Chloe at all costs, leaving me brutally exposed and utterly alone.
Why couldn't he see her true nature?
Why did he always choose her over basic decency?
My life was a constant dance with death, fueled by Chloe' s deranged jealousy and punctuated by Ethan' s hollow apologies.
I clung to Noah, an unwitting lifeline in this nightmare.
Then, during Chloe's final, explosive act of madness, Noah made a choice.
He sacrificed himself, pushing me to safety as the world erupted in flames.
As he lay dying, he revealed a truth that shattered my carefully constructed world: "Michael... Michael was my older brother."
Suddenly, the desperate echo became a profound connection.
My anonymous benefactor for years, the boy I unknowingly sponsored, was Michael' s flesh and blood, a man who loved me not merely as a proxy, but for who he was.
With Chloe gone and Ethan finally facing his own devastating regrets, I chose a new path.
A path not away from loss, but towards a genuine, healing love with Noah.
Ethan, adrift in his remorse, was left with only the bitter taste of everything he' d so carelessly lost. The Billionaire's Grave Mistake
Romance My beloved Mike was dying. So when a mysterious "Program" offered a cure, I agreed to their impossible demand: marry arrogant billionaire Ethan Vanderbilt in a highly publicized ceremony.
The clock was ticking. I endured public humiliations, the callous indifference of my forced fiancé, and the cruel games of his venomous ex-girlfriend, Chloe Astor.
After she framed me for theft, Ethan furiously canceled the wedding. Desperate, I humiliated myself, begging, even kneeling to lick Chloe' s shoes, all to keep Mike's lifeline intact. Ethan, provoked by a new slight from Chloe, reignited the wedding plans into a grotesque spectacle of revenge.
The ceremony finally happened, but just as the vows were complete, Ethan abandoned me at the altar, rushing to his "distressed" ex. As I lay there, broken, a message confirmed Mike was stable, my contract fulfilled. My public "suicide" was my ultimate escape, a final act in his world.
But death wasn't the end. Haunted by my fall, Ethan discovered the horrifying truth: I wasn't just his fiancée, I was an operative in a fabricated reality, and his entire world was a staged "narrative." Now, consumed by a desperate, possessive love he never knew he had, he' s accepted a suicidal "new task" from "The System" to cross dimensions and reclaim me. He thinks I'm his. But I'm building a new life with Mike, the man I loved enough to fake my death in another reality. And he's about to find out how truly impossible that reunion will be. You might like
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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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.
Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge
Rabbit My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world.
Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage.
An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity.
The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity.
How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation.
Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free. 
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