Herculie Dipietro
10 Published Stories
Herculie Dipietro's Books and Stories
Fake Divorce, Real Betrayal
Romance "Let' s get a divorce, Ava."
My husband, Mark, said the words so calmly, pushing the papers across our dining room table, the morning light making the black letters sharp.
He quickly added, "It' s a fake divorce. It' s for Clara. Lily needs to get into the school district here, and she can' t unless she' s living with my residency."
He promised we' d remarry once it was done.
He thought I was a fool.
I signed the papers, my hands steady, the silence in the room heavy.
That fake concern on his face. That smug confidence that he had me completely under his control.
I had already seen the truth.
Two weeks ago, tucked at the bottom of the trash bin in the guest bathroom Clara used, I' d found it. A pregnancy test. Two pink lines.
It wasn' t Lily' s future Mark was securing. It was the future of his new family.
I said nothing. Just nodded.
The divorce was done, official. Outside the courthouse, I watched Mark walk quickly toward a car. Clara got out, then wrapped her arms around his neck, his hand resting protectively on her stomach. They looked like a real family.
My phone buzzed. A message from Professor Thorne, my old mentor. "The lab door is always open for you, Ava."
I took a deep breath, watched them drive away, and then turned to walk in the opposite direction. My pain was old, familiar. Now, it was time for change. The Divorce That Saved Us
Romance The first thing I felt was a dull ache and a blinding white light. I was in a hospital, my wrist bandaged, my mind a blank slate.
Then I heard the voices: "The guy in 302, Ethan, tried it again." "The one married to CEO Sterling? This is what, the third time this year?"
My stomach turned. They somehow thought I was Ethan, the pathetic, clingy husband of Sophia Sterling, the girl who was always out of my league in high school. And I had tried to kill myself over her.
When a nurse confirmed it, revealing my arm was slit, a wave of nausea hit me. I stared at my older, gaunt reflection in the mirror, five years of my life vanished, all tied to this humiliating existence.
How could I have become this person? This wasn't me. The desperate, attention-seeking man they described-the one who sent bleeding wrist selfies-was a stranger.
I wanted nothing to do with him. So when Sophia, colder and more beautiful than ever, arrived to discharge me, I knew what I had to do. I wanted a divorce, and I would start shedding this unwanted life, piece by painful piece. The Songbird's Revenge: How I Became His Aunt
Romance Three years ago, I was on top of the world.
Engaged to Caleb Scott, pregnant with his child, I, an orphan from foster care, felt like I was living a fairytale at our Belle Meade mansion engagement party.
Then, his childhood friend Jennifer Lawrence, a shadow lurking over our relationship, faked a deadly allergic reaction, screaming I had poisoned her drink.
Caleb turned on me in an instant, his face contorted with rage, tearing my wedding dress to shreds, yelling for security to drag me out like trash.
The next day, he forced me to abort our baby, spitting that a "venomous, scheming woman" like me was unfit to carry a Scott child.
He slapped me with aggravated assault charges, leaving me utterly broken, homeless, and facing prison, a pariah in Nashville society.
How could he believe such a monstrous lie? How could he destroy my life, our child, without a moment of doubt?
Just as I lay shattered in a dark alley, a stranger offered a hand. Now, three years later, I' m back in Nashville, not as his victim, but as Mrs. Andrew Scott… Caleb' s aunt. The Homecoming Queen and the Home-Wrecker
Romance Eleven years. I dedicated them all to Wesley Scott, sacrificing my architect dreams to support his political ambitions.
After a decade of being his unassuming small-town Texas girl, he finally proposed, not out of love, I suspected, but for his political image.
Then, an anonymous email arrived with a photo: Wesley and his childhood friend, Gabrielle, smiling, holding a deed to a luxury Austin condo, purchased jointly under their names.
Beneath it, Gabrielle' s chilling message: "Coming home for good."
Wesley dismissed it as "just a favor," his casual use of "Gabby" a slap in the face.
But the next day, the building manager casually confirmed Gabrielle was the primary owner, and I, his fiancée, was merely "the friend," a temporary guest.
That night, at Gabrielle's welcome dinner, Wesley sat beside her, radiating ownership, as everyone toasted them as "the perfect couple."
Then, a friend goaded them into a kiss, and Wesley, playing to the crowd, gave Gabrielle a soft, lingering kiss, a gesture of intimacy he never showed me.
All eyes turned to me, expecting tears, a scene, but I just smiled.
"If Gabrielle wants him," I said, my voice clear and calm, "she can have him."
He dragged me out, furious, but a later anonymous message, a screenshot of their secret Instagram post-"To our future!" and his reply, "Whatever you want, you get. Always"-extinguished any lingering hope.
It was the same day he'd asked me to move in, calling it "our first real step."
His betrayal culminated when a mob of HOA women, spurred by Gabrielle, publicly assaulted me at the condo, and Wesley stood by, calculating the optics of defending me.
I collapsed, humiliated, only to later see his reply on the HOA Facebook chat, throwing me under the bus: "The owner on the deed is the one who matters."
He had confirmed I was nothing, a squatter to his entire world.
When he abandoned me in the hospital for Gabrielle's fake allergic reaction, I knew. It was over.
Three days later, at our lavish engagement party, instead of our romantic slideshow, I played the video of their kiss, the condo deed, and his damning words on the jumbo screens.
His political career ignited in a glorious fireball.
"Why, Wesley?" I told him calmly when he screamed down the phone. "I was just making way for the real couple. After all, the owner on the deed is the one who matters."
I hung up and blocked him, and everyone from that life. I was free to build my own. The Shed: A Family's Dark Secret
Modern For three years, I' d been free from my toxic Appalachian family, living a new life built on respect, not obligation.
Then, a call from my mother, soft and warm, inviting me to my brother Caleb's wedding, made me foolishly hope things had changed.
I drove back to the mountains, a $25,000 peace offering for the wedding in my bag – $5,000 from me, and $20,000 from Ethan' s parents never touched since our own marriage – only to be greeted with cold demands for the "money I owed."
They scoffed at my gift, then my father calmly declared they now wanted $80,000, and when I refused, my brother Caleb snatched my phone and keys, my parents locked me in the cold, spider-filled shed I' d known as a childhood prison, and commanded me to call my husband to wire the money.
Beaten and terrified, I refused their extortion, but found a sliver of hope in a dusty window, determined to fight back against the family that wanted to break me. When The Quiet Wife Roared
Romance I was Sarah Miller, publicly humiliated and discarded by NFL star Ethan Vance on his draft day.
Branded a gold digger, I vanished, rebuilding my life and secretly marrying billionaire philanthropist Alexander Sterling.
Five years of quiet happiness passed.
But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.
While on a simple errand, I unexpectedly collided with Ethan and his arrogant fiancée, my former intern.
Their taunts instantly dragged me back into the nightmare.
My attempt to assert my new reality – that I was married – was met with cruel laughter.
Ethan snatched my Sterling Foundation card, mocking it as a fake, calling me a delusional liar and a thief.
His rage escalating, he brutally crushed my hand in a car door, then locked me in a stadium utility room.
Later, he dragged my battered self onto a championship ballroom stage, publicly branding me a stalker and criminal, while displaying my bandaged hand.
Why was this nightmare happening again?
Was I destined to be forever haunted by my past, my worth shattered anew?
But just as he prepared to deliver his final, devastating blow, the grand ballroom doors dramatically swung open.
My husband, Alexander Sterling, stood there, a quiet force of nature.
My past had tried to consume me, but it was about to meet its match. My Wife, The Narcissist CEO
Modern I just closed a fifty-million-dollar deal for Innovatech Solutions, the company I co-founded with my wife, Jess.
My team, the Trailblazers, cheered as Jess, our CEO, hugged me, promising a "really special bonus."
That bonus was a crudely drawn Sharpie watch on my wrist and a flimsy "next year" promise.
Later, my blood froze seeing Liam Walker, her incompetent "Executive Assistant," beaming with keys to a company-leased Porsche, courtesy of Jess.
His Instagram: "Real love means exclusive pampering. #BestBoss."
Humiliation burned as Jess frantically spun excuses, then offered me the baby I' d always wanted if I' d "unlike" the post.
When I refused, she retaliated, punishing my loyal team while Liam' s cronies went untouched.
"You'll get over it," she snapped, hanging up.
The Porsche was just the latest, undeniable symbol of her two-faced hypocrisy and a years-long affair.
My love for the woman I married had completely evaporated, replaced by a profound, weary exhaustion.
I was done enabling her narcissism, done absorbing her endless betrayals.
"Let's just get a divorce," I told her, my voice flat and final.
Then, I called Innovatech' s biggest competitor, ready to secure not just my future, but my entire team's, forcing her to finally face the consequences. The Sweet Friend's Deadly Secret
Young Adult I was a driven high school student, about to embark on the biggest national scholarship competition of my life in Washington D.C.
It was a life-changing opportunity for everyone on our team, especially my boyfriend, Mark Olsen, and my seemingly sweet best friend, Jessie Evans.
But that life ended in betrayal.
A drink spiked with my fatal allergen, followed by swift anaphylactic shock.
Mark and the others testified I drank it knowingly, painting me as a distraught villain.
Jessie, playing the grieving friend, became a national sensation, a "survivor" online, while my Pulitzer-winning investigative journalist mother fought for justice.
Jessie's powerful family allies launched a merciless smear campaign, shattering my mom's reputation, costing her job, and ultimately, her life to a stress-induced heart attack.
After I died, the chilling truth unfurled: Jessie orchestrated my demise and my mother's ruin.
Her motive? Pure, unadulterated revenge.
My mother had exposed her CEO father's massive corporate fraud, sending him to prison, and Jessie wanted us both to pay.
The injustice burned through me, leaving an icy trail of hate.
Then, I woke up.
The familiar lurch of the bus, Mark's voice arguing with the driver, demanding we wait for Jessie's "lucky locket"-the exact same words, the exact same moment.
I was back, armed with the horrifying knowledge of what was to come, and a powerful secret: a full-ride Stanford scholarship I already secured.
This competition was meaningless to me.
This time, things would be different. The Billionaire's Secret Twin Wife
LGBT+ My husband, Marcus, was already late for our second anniversary dinner when he walked in, reeking of another woman's perfume. He introduced her as his "indispensable" new assistant, Chloe Sanders. My heart, already terminally ill, tightened further – a painful reminder of the lie I was living.
He never truly saw me; he saw my dead twin sister, Eleanor, the woman he still claimed to love, the one he believed I, Tori, had killed. I, Eleanor, was forced to impersonate her after a tragic accident, trapped in a marriage where Marcus constantly abused me, seeking vengeance for a death I didn't cause.
Then, he overheard a conversation that revealed the shocking truth: I wasn't Tori at all. I was Eleanor, his actual wife. I hoped this truth might change everything, but barely ten days later, a text from Chloe solidified his betrayal – a photo of her pregnant stomach, her message simple: "I'm pregnant with Marcus's child. He's known your real identity for weeks and told me everything."
His brief, feigned kindness dissolved, confirming his calculated deceit. He continued his blatant affair, shamelessly using my terminal heart condition for a monumental P.R. stunt, playing the heartbreakingly devoted husband while his mistress smirked triumphantly. All the years of abuse, the forced identity, my dying heart – it had been for nothing.
A cold, simmering rage ignited within me. He believed he was still in control, but I wouldn't die as his victim. I decided to play his game, but by my rules, turning his public display of affection into the perfect stage for ultimate retribution. I would use his own deceit to expose his entire empire, allied with a man connected to him in ways he never imagined. You might like
The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen
Lila Wren Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham.
Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding.
Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed.
Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer.
When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?" 
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