Isidora Zytowski
10 Published Stories
Isidora Zytowski's Books and Stories
The Vicious Family's Cruelest Deception
Modern I handed my resignation to my husband, Charles, ending seven years of being the secret genius behind his jewelry empire.
I thought I was just leaving a cheater, but then I learned the horrifying truth.
My stepsister, Haylee, hadn't just stolen him; she had tampered with my medication, deliberately causing every single one of my previous miscarriages.
When I tried to escape, the nightmare truly began.
Haylee killed her own poodle and framed me for it.
To "teach me a lesson," Charles locked me in a pitch-black closet for hours, ignoring my severe claustrophobia.
He dragged me out, forced my pregnant body to kneel, and slammed my head against the marble floor until I bled.
Then, he made me dig the dog's grave with my bare hands while my own mother watched and sneered.
Lying in the dirt, broken and bleeding, I realized they thought they were destroying Charles's heir.
They were wrong.
I dialed the number of the billionaire tycoon who had been waiting in the shadows.
"Grayson," I whispered through cracked lips. "The baby is yours. Come get us." The Alpha's Regret: Murdered By Her Mate
Werewolf "Sign it," Simon growled, slamming the document onto the rickety table.
As the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack and my fated mate, he wasn't asking. He was commanding me to give my Wolf Essence—the source of my life—to my dying sister, Laila.
"If I give her my essence, I will die," I whispered, my body already trembling from the hidden poison coursing through my veins.
But Simon only looked at me with cold, amber eyes.
"Stop lying, Zora. You're just jealous because she is the future Luna and you are nothing. Sign it, or I will reject you publicly right now."
Broken and hopeless, I signed my life away.
I died the moment the silver scalpel touched my skin on the operating table.
It was only during the autopsy that the surgeon screamed in horror.
She discovered my organs were liquefied by chronic Wolfsbane poisoning.
And worse, she found that I had no essence to give. My primary essence had already been stolen five years ago—carved out of me by Laila herself to fake her own power.
Simon fell to his knees in the morgue, the realization shattering him.
He had forced his true mate to die to save the monster who had been killing her all along.
In a fit of madness, he executed Laila and then drove a silver dagger into his own heart, desperate to find me in the afterlife.
"I'm here, Zora," his ghost wept, kneeling before me in the realm of the dead. "Please, forgive me."
I looked at the man who had watched me rot without seeing me.
"No," I said.
And I turned my back on him forever. The Contractual Wife's Silent Comeback
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. The Billionaire's Regret, The Heiress's Revenge
Mafia I knew my husband, Alessandro De Luca, was the Don of the most powerful Famiglia on the East Coast. What I didn't know was that our five-year marriage was built on another woman's grave.
On our anniversary, I found his hidden safe. The code wasn't our wedding date or our birthdays. It was August 14th—the day his first love, Isabella, lost her family.
Inside was a shrine to her: photos, dried flowers, and a love letter promising her a "castle in the clouds." There was nothing of me, not a single trace of the five years I'd given him. When he found me, he crushed her locket in his fist and threw it all into the fireplace. "Are you done now?" he asked, as if my heartbreak was a tantrum.
He offered a trip to Sicily to "fix" this, then sneered that I had nothing without his name or money. But it was worse than that. He brought Isabella back, gave her my position at the charity I built, and paraded her at our annual gala, publicly claiming her as his own.
He humiliated me in front of our entire world, siding with her after she staged a scene to make me look jealous and unhinged. He roared at me, "Caterina, what the hell is your problem?" while he comforted her.
So I showed him. I walked over, poured a glass of champagne over his head in front of everyone, and said, "That is my problem."
Then I walked out of the ballroom, out of his life, and sent him the separation papers. This wasn't a fight for his love anymore. It was war. From Jilted Bride To Ruthless Queen
Modern On the ninety-ninth time I tried to marry the man I'd loved for twenty-five years, he stood me up at the altar. I went to the courthouse to marry a stranger out of spite, only to find out I was already married. My fiancé, Alexander, had forged the papers, wedding me to his driver to appease his mistress.
But his betrayal was more than just a lie. He locked me in a hospital morgue, forced me to kneel before her, and stood by as she had me stabbed and thrown off a cliff.
As I lay bleeding at the bottom of a ravine, I finally understood that our twenty-five years of love meant nothing. I was just an obstacle to be discarded.
But as I was about to die, a helicopter descended from the sky.
The man who came down was Case Dyer-my legal husband and Alexander's biggest rival. He saved my life, and I made a new vow.
I would fake my death, return as a queen, and burn Alexander's world to the ground. Love's Cruel Game, A Second Chance
Modern The last thing I saw in my previous life was the Auctioneer's cold face. My sister, Sarah, had just jumped from a rooftop, her manipulated private photos still flickering on a giant screen for a jeering crowd. They wanted to steal my perfect SAT score, my family's fortune, and our future. All orchestrated by the girl I loved, Ashley Stone, and her boyfriend, Kyle Peterson.
Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the same opulent ballroom, and Sarah was alive, terrified, clutching her hands in front of her. The same giant, blank screen loomed, ready to display her photos. My world had reset, but the nightmare was beginning anew.
As Kyle began to bid on Sarah's "private collection"-a humiliating ten thousand dollars-my stomach churned. He then grandiosely offered a million, claiming to protect her honor, a sickening charade that infuriated me. In my past life, I' d been bled dry trying to outbid him; this time, I knew his true motive: my perfect SAT score, the real prize that would elevate Kyle to scholar status.
"One million dollars from Mr. Peterson. Do I hear another bid?" the Auctioneer announced. But I knew this wasn't about money alone; it was about abstract assets: reputations, futures, lives. I also knew that the system, once a bid was accepted, was absolute.
The memory of Ashley, in my past life, whispering to Kyle, "With his score, you'll get into Harvard. We'll be unstoppable," fueled my resolve. They had repaid my family's kindness with ultimate betrayal.
"Ethan?" Sarah whispered, her voice pleading. "Do something." I stepped forward, facing my tormentors. Kyle' s smug face awaited my surrender, oblivious to the storm I was about to unleash. The Scent of His Vengeance
Modern I was Liam Hayes' s human diffuser, a vessel for a scent he owned, a living reminder of his mother' s tragic death that he blamed on my family. Tonight, I watched him with Chloe Thompson, hidden in the shadows where he told me to wait.
Then, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. It was happening again. The baby, our seventh, was only three months along, but I knew the signs.
Liam' s smile vanished when his eyes found mine. He dragged me to our bedroom, screaming, "You are useless, Ava!" He paced like a caged animal, snarling, "I gave you one job, and you can' t even do that." He wanted me to suffer, to feel the same emptiness his mother felt, for the rest of my life. The next day, he paraded me at a gala, a trophy for his business associates to touch. He said, "She' s all for you tonight, Marcus. Enjoy." As Marcus' s hands roamed, Liam whispered, "I own you. Your body, your scent, your shame. This is what Monroes deserve."
I had lost seven children, seven tiny sparks of hope. Chloe, the woman for whom my babies' "essence" was harvested, gloated over my most recent loss, wanting to use my dead son' s ashes for a ritual bath.
My grief turned to rage. "They were my children!" I screamed, clutching the urn to my chest. "Let them rest in peace!" But she threw it, and Daniel' s ashes spilled into the birdbath, dissolving into murky water. I cradled my hands, bleeding as I tried to scoop them up, when Liam appeared, his face a thunderous mask. "You dare to lay a hand on her?" he growled, fueled by Chloe' s lies.
"What do I owe you, Liam?" I asked, a cold clarity settling over me. "I have given you my body, my scent, my children. What more do you want?" He grabbed me by the throat, squeezing. "I want your soul. I want you to suffer until you beg for a death I will never grant you." As the world faded, I welcomed the darkness, whispering my children' s names. He released me, then ripped my dress, exposing me to the guards. "Do what you want. Let everyone see what a Monroe is worth." Something snapped. I ran, throwing myself in front of a truck. This time, I would choose my own ending. No Love Left for Her
Fantasy The first gunshot was a flat, ugly pop.
It wasn't like the movies. It just sounded wrong.
I looked up from my SAT prep book, but my sister Sarah didn't even flinch.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I knew this sound.
I knew this exact moment.
In my last life, this was when I grabbed Sarah, screaming for her to run.
The second shot came, closer.
I dragged her under the table, promising to protect her.
The shooter found us anyway.
I felt the searing pain in my shoulder.
But my focus was on Sarah, bleeding from a bullet to her abdomen.
I called my mother, Dr. Olivia Vance, the world-renowned neurosurgeon.
"Liam? What is it? I' m busy," her voice was clipped.
"Mom, it' s Sarah! She' s been shot! At the school library, there' s a shooter!" I yelled.
"Don' t be ridiculous, Liam. Stop trying to get attention with these sick jokes. I' m on my way to the beach with Ethan."
"It' s not a joke! Mom, please! She' s bleeding, she needs a doctor, she needs you!"
But the line went dead. She had hung up on me.
Sarah died in my arms, waiting for an ambulance that came too late.
My family never forgave me.
They looked through me, not at me.
Olivia painted me as the monster.
"He was jealous of her," she' d said. "He probably distracted her, kept her from hiding properly."
They believed her.
They always believed her.
They ostracized me, the son who failed to save the perfect daughter.
A few weeks later, my mother found me in the kitchen.
Her eyes were hollow, dead.
She held a syringe.
"It should have been you," she whispered. "It' s all your fault."
She plunged the needle into my neck.
The world went dark.
And then I woke up.
I was back in the library, the SAT book open to the same page.
Sarah was across from me, alive.
The date on my phone confirmed it.
It was the same day.
Then came the pop. The first gunshot.
This time, I looked at Sarah.
I saw the daughter our parents adored.
The girl who got everything while I got scraps.
The centerpiece of the family that cast me out and left me to die.
The memory of my mother' s dead eyes, the cold prick of the needle, flooded my senses.
The choice was not a choice at all. It was survival.
A second shot, closer this time.
Sarah finally looked up, eyes wide. "Liam? What was that?"
I didn' t answer.
I didn't grab her hand.
I didn't scream for her to hide.
I stood, my chair scraping loudly.
I turned my back on her.
And I ran.
I pushed through the heavy library doors just as the first real screams echoed down the hall.
I didn' t look back.
This time, I would not be the hero.
This time, I would save myself. That Freezing Night, My Love Died
Romance For years, I was two men: Ethan Miller, the indispensable executive assistant to Victoria "Tori" Sterling, and Ethan Miller, her secret lover, foolishly hoping she would choose me.
I ran her demanding empire, anticipated her every need, and cherished every stolen moment, believing it would lead to a shared future.
Then, she announced her engagement to Chase Albright, a manipulative con artist, shattering my world.
Her casual indifference to my pain was the first shocking blow.
As Chase systematically humiliated me—from public shaming to physical assaults—Tori actively enabled his cruelty, prioritizing her new obsession.
The ultimate betrayal came after a devastating car crash, when, severely injured, I heard her scream, "Save Chase first! He’s more important!" followed by her chilling dismissal, "You're just a secretary, after all."
I endured, clinging to a dying hope, until Chase, explicitly condoned by Tori, forced me to stand shivering for hours in the biting cold, fresh out of the hospital.
In that freezing moment, battered and utterly broken, I saw not a woman I loved, but a callous stranger who had systematically used and dehumanized me.
How could she so readily abandon the man who gave her everything, then witness my suffering and dismiss it as insignificant?
My years of devotion died a swift, brutal death, replaced by a cold, unwavering resolve to reclaim my life.
I walked away from Sterling Capital, from New York, and from Victoria Sterling, determined to finally claim the freedom and new beginning I deserved in Denver.
But Tori, left with Chase and the ruin of her empire, would now confront the true cost of the love she had carelessly destroyed—a love that, for me, was irrevocably gone. You might like
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 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." 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." 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. Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. 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."