Irene
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Irene's Books and Stories
The Heiress's Vengeance: A Poisoned Life
Modern My doctor gave me weeks to live. But when I went to tell my family, they didn't care about my terminal cancer.
They were too busy comforting my adopted sister, Isabell, over her latest "flare-up."
They manipulated me into signing over my multi-million dollar company and my entire fortune to her.
Then, my husband announced he was renewing his wedding vows-with Isabell-to lift her spirits.
Even my eight-year-old son begged me to support them, for his "sick" Aunt Isabell.
Stripped of everything and left to die, I was a ghost in my own life, watching them celebrate my demise.
But as I collapsed in a hospital parking lot, I made one last call to the estranged best friend who had warned me about them all.
She rescued me, flew me to the world's best oncology center, and made a single promise.
"You're not dying. And when you're better, we will burn their world to the ground." Million Dollar Hush Money: I Want Divorce
Modern The silence in Sterling Manor wasn't empty; it was heavy, pressing against my eardrums like deep water. I sat on the edge of the oversized velvet sofa, waiting for my husband to return from a "merger closing" that I knew was actually a hotel room.
At 2:00 AM, a notification glowed on his forgotten work tablet: "You left your tie on my nightstand. I'll keep it safe for next time. - S."
When Ethan finally walked in, he didn't look at me. He just smelled like Serena's signature sandalwood perfume and expensive scotch. He didn't apologize for the infidelity; instead, he transferred a million dollars into my spousal account and told me to go buy some jewelry to keep my mouth shut.
I realized then that I wasn't a wife; I was an expensive placeholder. I left my ten-carat diamond ring on the foyer table and walked out into the freezing rain with nothing but a canvas duffel bag. But Ethan wasn't about to let his "ornament" escape so easily. He froze my credit cards, revoked my trust access, and used his billion-dollar influence to blacklist me from every architecture firm in New York City.
He even tracked me down to a restaurant where I was playing piano for tips, throwing a stack of hundreds at me in front of his mistress. When I still refused to crawl back to the manor, he played his final, cruelest card. He leaned in and whispered that if I didn't return to his bed, he would stop protecting my brother from a prison sentence he had manufactured himself.
I stood there shivering, realizing that every "favor" he'd ever done for my family was actually a shackle. He thought he could buy my soul, my talent, and my silence by holding the people I loved hostage. How could the man I once loved turn into a monster who viewed my life as nothing more than a line item on a balance sheet?
I looked him straight in the eye, my voice as cold as the winter air outside.
"Make the call, Ethan. Send him to jail. I'd rather visit my brother through plexiglass than spend another night sleeping next to you."
I'm done being a victim. I've just walked into the offices of Azure Architects, the only firm in the city Ethan can't bully. I'm not just going to finish my degree; I'm going to help his biggest rival burn his empire to the ground. Ninety-Nine Engagements, One Betrayal
Modern After ninety-nine failed engagements, I finally married Brooks Preston, a stoic tech mogul who seemed to be the only man on earth who found my motormouth personality "charming."
But his quiet acceptance was a lie. I was just a convenient prop, a wife he needed to hide his obsessive, incestuous love for his adopted sister, Everleigh.
When I discovered their secret and demanded a divorce, he locked me in a dark, windowless room, weaponizing my childhood claustrophobia to break me. He needed me to take the fall for Everleigh's crimes, to protect her at all costs.
He watched me scream and claw at the walls for three days, my terror a spectacle for his cold, calculating eyes. He wasn't just indifferent; he was a monster.
I didn't break. Instead, I waited. On the night of a live-streamed gala, I looked into the camera and smiled. "Everleigh, darling, congratulations. I've already divorced him. He's all yours." Chloe's Web, Liam's Freedom
Romance Today was supposed to be my fourth wedding to Chloe, my fiancée since we were sixteen.
I stood at the altar, surrounded by friends and family, the grand church filled with white roses.
But instead of Chloe, her maid of honor rushed down the aisle, clutching her phone, her face etched with panic.
Then, my phone vibrated.
A text from Chloe: "I' m so sorry, Liam. I can' t. Mark needs me. He' s at the hospital. He said he was in a car accident."
Not again. Another one of Mark' s car accident lies, the same one he used months ago.
Hundreds of eyes fixed on me, a mix of pity and morbid curiosity.
This wasn't postponement; it was a public execution.
Tears of profound humiliation stung my eyes.
My decade of devotion meant nothing; she chose her manipulative assistant over me, again.
Then, a new notification. A social media post from Mark.
A selfie. Mark, smug and triumphant. And Chloe, asleep on his shoulder, in a hotel room, not a hospital.
"Some things are worth fighting for. So happy you' re finally mine," the caption read.
Rage, hot and white-hot, surged through me.
This was a calculated, public humiliation. They weren't hiding; they were celebrating.
Then, a message request from Mark. A picture.
Chloe, asleep in the hotel bed. My wedding dress, draped over a chair in the background, a ghostly white sentinel.
He had planned this. He was taunting me.
Mark answered my call, his voice smooth and arrogant.
"We're at the Grand Star Hotel, room 1208. You know, the one right next to the general hospital. It' s so much more comfortable for Chloe to rest here while I recover from my, ah, 'terrible accident' ."
He laughed, a smug, ugly sound.
He sent another picture: Chloe' s hand, intertwined with his. My great-grandmother' s engagement ring gone, replaced by a simple gold band.
"It feels like nothing," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "You can have her."
I hung up. I left it all behind, the house, the memories, the woman.
I was free, but I had to fight to stay that way. The Scorned Husband's Vengeance
Romance My perfect life, a meticulously crafted facade, shattered the moment I walked into my lawyer' s office, signing a new will to kill the man everyone thought I was.
That night, at my pre-wedding dinner, I saw it: my fiancée, Olivia, laughing with my half-brother, Liam, his hand possessively on her back, their betrayal so blatant it stole my breath.
The pain intensified as Olivia, with a perfectly fake smile, kissed my cheek, reeking of Liam' s cologne, then dismissed the custom-made key to our dream home as "just a key," leaving me standing alone with my rejected love.
As I saw them kiss the next morning, followed by a voice recording of Olivia' s cruel laughter describing me as "poor, sad Ethan" and her "ticket" to Liam and wealth, a terrifying clarity pierced through me.
They thought I was weak, a fool to be manipulated, but the man they knew died that day; I would rise from the ashes, a new man ready to enact a revenge they would never see coming. A Second Chance at Forever
Romance The rain outside mirrored the chill in my grand, empty house, a constant reminder of how Liam, my guardian and the man I loved, had grown distant. On the eve of my birthday, he returned home, dismissing my wishes and harshly criticizing my art, his words a familiar sting. Just as his cold judgment left me reeling, a call came from the hospital: late-stage pancreatic cancer.
In that hollow silence, a flicker of hope arrived in the form of an experimental cryogenic program-a chance, however small, for a future cure. But my desperate private choice was cruelly exposed when the brochures for my "coffin-like sleeping pod" scattered across the living room floor, revealing my grim secret to Liam and his stunning fiancée, Chloe Vance, who sneered at my "morbid projects." Liam, already distant, erupted in fury, convinced I was staging a dramatic plea for attention.
Chloe, the insidious socialite who had usurped my place, spun a web of lies to solidify the deception. She faked my medical records, planting doubt in Liam's mind and confirming his belief that I was a manipulative liar inventing a terminal illness for sympathy. His anger and disgust were a final, crushing blow. He banished me from my longtime room, his disdain a heavy cloak.
How could he not see the truth? How could the man who had once been my protector, my entire world, now believe I was a vile, twisted monster? The injustice burned, transforming my grief into a quiet, icy resolve.
With nothing left to fight for, and the world stripped bare of hope, I confirmed my place in the Neptune Project: deep-sea cryogenic preservation, set for December 12th-my birthday, and his wedding day. I would disappear, quietly and permanently, leaving him to his new life, unaware of the profound lie that had shattered mine. The Scapegoat Daughter
Young Adult My brother didn't die.
He just used a hurricane to run away, leaving me to pay for his escape.
For eight agonizing years, my parents blamed me, punishing me for a "sin" I didn't commit, calling my very existence a penance for their lost golden child.
On my nineteenth birthday, I tried to break free from their toxic grip.
But as a notorious killer stalked me, I begged my father-a detective hunting this very monster-for help.
He had already broken my only self-defense, a pepper spray he'd derided as a "useless toy," and then he dismissed my desperate texts as just another one of my dramatic cries for attention.
I died because of their callous neglect, because the weapon I relied on failed me.
As a ghost, I watched in horrifying silence as they grieved for a son who was never truly gone, while simultaneously dismissing my actual death.
My dismembered body on their evidence board was just another case; my own parents were too consumed by mourning a lie to see the devastating truth of my final moments.
How could they be so utterly blind?
How could they condemn me for a lie, only to be completely untouched by my real, horrific truth?
My entire life was an inconvenience, my death an unacknowledged whisper.
But then, Ethan returned, alive, shattering their carefully constructed grief and revealing his selfish deception.
And my killer, caught by my father, delivered the final, crushing blow: a confession detailing how my parents' neglect had sealed my fate, forcing my father to finally confront his own daughter's terrifying final pleas. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. 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.
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