Karyelle Kuhn
11 Published Stories
Karyelle Kuhn's Books and Stories
He Faked Amnesia To Abandon His Wife
Mafia The neurosurgeon looked at me with pity, delivering a diagnosis that severed seven years of devotion in a heartbeat.
According to the scans, my husband, Dante Rizzoli, remembered how to strip a Glock blindfolded and launder millions.
He just didn't remember loving me.
Overnight, I went from being the cherished Mafia Princess to an unwanted stranger in my own penthouse.
While I filled our home with his favorite lilies trying to spark a memory, Dante brought home Gia.
She was loud, tacky, and draped over him like a cheap suit. The Capo had forgotten his wife, but he seemed to remember his lust perfectly fine.
I swallowed the humiliation, clinging to the hope of his recovery, until I stood outside his office door with a tray of espresso.
I heard his dark, amused laugh rumbling through the wood.
"The amnesia is the most useful card I've ever played," Dante told his soldier.
"It buys me time to enjoy Gia without the family breathing down my neck. Elena is a boring, safe relic. I need fire, not a porcelain doll."
My heart didn't race. It stopped.
The medical anomaly was a lie. He hadn't forgotten me; he was just done with me.
I set the tray down silently. I wasn't going to wait for him to remember anymore.
I walked out of the penthouse and dialed a number I hadn't used in years.
"Get the new ID ready," I whispered into the phone.
"Elena Vitiello dies tonight. Livia Moretti leaves at dawn." No Turning Back, Ethan
Romance The scent of lemon cleaner usually filled our home, a fresh reminder of the life my husband Ethan and I built.
But returning from my architecture conference, I was hit by Chloe' s cloying perfume, a scent that tasted like a premonition.
I found my best friend Chloe on my sofa, eyes red, trembling as she confessed: "I slept with Ethan… on your wedding night. And Ava… I' m pregnant."
Then came the weapon-a positive pregnancy test and a deepfake video, my face superimposed on hers, titled "homewrecker" by an online mob.
My world shattered as Ethan walked in, rushing to Chloe, shielding her with promises of protection, his eyes cold when they met mine.
He chose her, the baby that wasn' t mine, and watched as a rock shattered our window, screams of "homewrecker" filling the air.
I ran, but they caught me, fists and feet raining down, Ethan' s voice shouting Chloe' s name, not mine, as I blacked out.
Waking in a hospital, bruised and broken, I instinctively went home, only to find Ethan feeding Chloe grapes, treating her like royalty.
He dismissed my injuries, stating coolly, "You' re a private person, you can recover. Chloe' s reputation was on the line; this would have destroyed her."
The man I loved saw me as a calculable loss, my safety less valuable than an influencer' s social media career.
The audacity of his request that I accept his pregnant mistress into our home for the "baby' s sake" made my blood run cold.
He even used the unborn child as a weapon against me, threatening my guilt if anything happened to it.
But the anger, the ultimate betrayal, ignited something in me, a cold, clear certainty.
I zipped my suitcase shut, the sound a definitive end.
"Get out of my way, Ethan," I demanded, no longer pleading, no longer afraid.
He stood stunned, his manipulation failing.
"I' m leaving this house. And I am never, ever coming back." When Love Dies, Fury Awakens
Billionaires My life was a perfectly curated symphony, a testament to my hard work. From my luxurious hotel in Napa, overlooking rolling green hills, I believed my children, Leo and Mia, were thriving, showered with everything money could buy.
Then a tiny, discordant note shattered the illusion: a seemingly insignificant $85.50 charge from a pawn shop. Before I could process the unsettling anomaly, my phone rang. Sarah Jenkins from Child and Family Services. Anonymous report. My children.
The world tilted again as a fraud alert flashed on my screen, locking Mark' s account – the bottomless well funding their lives. The house was dark, silent, too quiet. I found my confident son, Leo, thin and bruised, and my vibrant Mia, dull-eyed and bearing circular bruises, clinging to a faded t-shirt.
Through their broken whispers, the horrific truth spilled out: Mark had been selling their possessions, spending my money on his new girlfriend, Karen, and her daughter, Jessica. He' d hurt them, physically and emotionally.
How could the man I trusted with my most precious treasures become this monster? What kind of depraved mind preys on children, especially his own, for profit and pleasure?
A cold, hard resolve solidified in my chest. This ends now. He had stolen their childhood, their safety, their trust. He would pay. I grabbed my phone, and with three taps, cut off his lifeline, ready for war. The Sisters' Evil Boyfriends
Billionaires Five years. Five years I' d spent in that gilded cage, paying for my father' s sins, trembling under the cold gaze of Arthur Blackwood.
He liked me broken, delighted in my anxiety, while his brother, Ethan, used my mute sister, Daisy, as a silent stand-in for his dead lover.
The breaking point shattered with the ceramic cat, a symbol of everything I' d lost, everything they' d taken.
I tried to leave, to finally escape the mansion and the men who called themselves family, only to be dragged back, the cold steel of a knife at my throat.
They thought I was helpless, a victim easily silenced, but they underestimated a desperate woman' s fury, a sister' s love, and the truth hidden deep within their own family' s dark past. The Rolex & The Ruin: My Family's Greed
Modern Divorced and a multi-millionaire, I finally packed my bags and left Silicon Valley behind.
All I wanted was to return to my hometown in Ohio, reconnect with my blue-collar family, and embrace a simple, honest life, especially with my sister-in-law expecting.
But when I arrived, their embrace was anything but warm.
To test their loyalty, I lied, claiming I was broke, expecting sympathy.
Instead, my brother raged that they were "counting on my payout," and my pregnant sister-in-law, wearing the expensive Rolex I gifted her, sneered, demanding I pay rent to live in the very house I bought and owned.
The betrayal escalated. They claimed my master bedroom, threw out my belongings, and openly mocked my alleged financial ruin. My mother and stepfather, whom I' d supported for years, stood by, silently endorsing the cruelty.
My stepfather even tearfully confessed he'd put my house in my brother's name to secure his marriage, then tried to manipulate me with a fabricated story about paying for my college.
How could my own family turn on me like this? Why were they so filled with greed and contempt? What hidden resentments festered beneath their supposed love?
When I finally ripped off the mask of poverty and exposed my true wealth and ownership, their carefully constructed lies shattered.
But the shocking truth about their betrayal was nothing compared to the dark secret I was about to uncover, a secret buried for two decades that connected them directly to my father' s mysterious death and a chilling attempt on my own life. His Political Asset, Her Perfect Revenge
Romance It started as our eighth wedding anniversary, a day I used to circle with a red heart, but this year the circle was empty.
I baked Andrew, my rising City Councilman husband, his favorite chocolate lava cake, hoping to surprise him at his "late-night strategy session."
Instead, I found him at a high-end steakhouse, clinking glasses with his sycophantic aides and his 21-year-old intern, Madisyn, practically glued to his side.
Hiding behind a pillar, I heard him laugh and call me his "perfect political asset," a "boring sedan" he was "stuck" with, admitting he "can' t even stand to touch her anymore."
The words hit me harder than any physical blow, crushing eight years of foolish hope and love.
Andrew returned the next day, reeking of Madisyn' s perfume, offering fake apologies and a lavish trip, still lying even as her texts buzzed relentlessly on his phone.
The next shock came at a clinic where I' d gone to confirm I wasn't pregnant; I overheard Andrew coldly demanding Madisyn get an abortion, threatening to ruin her life if she didn't-all to protect his career and public image.
I knew he was selfish, but this was monstrous; he' d destroy anyone, even his own child, for personal gain.
That's when I decided I would burn it all down.
The game changed when Madisyn, pregnant again, brazenly texted me taunts and ultrasound photos, claiming Andrew was moving her into a luxury condo near me.
She celebrated my broken marriage, boasting Andrew found me "old and dried up," but she had no idea who she was truly up against.
I calmly sent her the recording of Andrew coercing her into an abortion, and her frantic pleas instantly confirmed her terror.
The polite wife who endured humiliation was gone; I was ready to use every weapon at my disposal.
I left the luxurious life, packing a single suitcase, leaving divorce papers on his desk, and booking a one-way flight to Rome-ready to start over.
Andrew' s desperate phone calls to "fix things" were met with my chilling truth: "The problem is you."
He tried to trap me by withdrawing the divorce papers, but with one furious kick to his groin, I made my intentions clear.
That night, utilizing his mother' s desperate desire for an heir, I forged a medical report stating I was barren and anonymously sent it to her.
She immediately forced Andrew to sign the divorce papers himself, ironically ending his own quest for a legacy.
At his lawyer's office, Andrew pleaded for me back, still blind, clinging to the naive idea it was just about another woman.
With a final, devastating blow, I handed him his true fertility report, revealing his low sperm count and the tragic irony: he had forced Madisyn to terminate what was likely his only chance at a biological child, the heir he so desperately wanted.
Watching him crumble, finally understanding his self-inflicted destruction, I knew I was truly free. He Stole My Money, I Stole His Regret
Romance I poured five years, every dollar I earned as a graphic designer, into funding Ethan' s dream, believing our life was building towards a future, a marriage he promised me.
But then I found the bank statement: $20,000, my life' s savings for my own studio, gone from our joint account, spent on a "spiritual connection" weekend for him and his wellness guru, Sabrina.
As their social media bliss exploded, I became the publicly jilted woman, scorned by his mother, taunted by Sabrina, and ultimately, deliberately used as a human shield by Ethan when Sabrina' s past caught up to her.
He then stole my work computer, my remaining cash, and escalated his cruelty by drugging me and arranging for a homeless man to enter my room, attempting to utterly destroy me.
Broken, penniless, and fleeing a literal nightmare, I had one desperate, unexpected option: a childhood friend from Montana, Andrew Scott, whose quiet voice on the phone asked, "Maria, is everything okay?" The Man She Forgot To See
Romance I gave her everything for five years – my love, my devotion, my entire life.
I meticulously planned our engagement party, hoping it would finally make her see me, truly see me.
Instead, at that very party, she publicly humiliated me, calling me her "charity case" and her "lapdog," then abandoned me to rush to another man's side.
As her car disappeared, a cold, synthetic voice in my mind announced "Objective Failure," initiating a memory wipe sequence.
I was forced to watch a live feed of her tenderly caring for him, realizing she' d never once shown me such warmth, before five years of my life and every emotion tied to her dissolved into pure white noise.
I woke up in a hospital, five years of memory a blank, the woman whose name was the only emergency contact treating me with utter contempt.
Sent back to her ranch, I found a journal detailing her casual cruelty, her abuse, and my desperate, unrequited love for a stranger.
How could I have been so blind, so pathetic, so completely devoted to someone who treated me like a disposable toy?
Leaving her behind, I started a new life, finally free from the shadow of a love I no longer remembered, yet whose documented pain was undeniably mine. A Second Life, A Fiercer Love
Romance The gavel fell, sealing my fate as a spectacle on a hidden auction stage in New Orleans.
My once-great family, the Sinclairs, was bankrupt, and my parents had sold me.
Just hours before, my fiancé, Liam Vanderbilt, had broken our engagement, his handsome face a mask of pity as he declared a Vanderbilt couldn't be associated with disgrace.
Now, I was a piece of property, and the man who bid for me was Jax Devereaux, my lifelong rival.
In my first life, I spat at him, screaming I'd rather die than be his charity case.
I still believed Liam would save me.
I was a fool.
My rejection humiliated Jax, and a man named Julian Croft bought me instead.
He was a monster, putting a diamond choker around my neck, and my life became a living hell.
When Liam saw me later, he laughed, calling me "high-class trash."
I learned Jax died trying to save me-the woman who publicly shamed him.
The abuse, the betrayal, Jax' s sacrifice… it was too much.
I found a way to end it all.
Then I woke up, back on that stage, the auctioneer's voice booming: "Jax Devereaux bids one million dollars. Going once…"
This time, I didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
My voice was quiet but clear, cutting through the silence.
Jax, typically arrogant, was utterly speechless.
He had expected a fight, a scene, another public rejection.
He didn't get one.
Instead, he got me, and I kissed him, hard and desperate-a silent 'thank you,' 'I'm sorry,' and 'please, don't let Julian get me.'
But Julian Croft, the monster from my past, was already banging on Jax's penthouse door, screaming that I was his property.
My body trembled, the memories of torture flooding back.
How could I escape him again, now that he knew where I was?
And what was Julian' s real connection to this horrifying human trafficking ring? The Lawyer Who Disappeared
Romance My life was a gilded cage, bought and paid for.
Ethan Vance, the man who saved my mother's life, owned me.
I was his successful lawyer, his beautiful lover, his "investment."
Then, his college sweetheart, Chloe Davenport, returned to New York.
The termination letter came first, cold and impersonal, followed by public displays of their rekindled romance.
Just like that, I was disposable.
The harassment began subtly, then spiraled.
Chloe's best friend, Brittany, smeared my name online, then ambushed me, photos flashing, leaving me bruised and broken.
Ethan visited me in the hospital, not concerned for me, but worried about Chloe's reputation, ordering me not to press charges.
He told me I was still his possession, that our "arrangement" meant eternal servitude.
He thought he owned my life.
But I was done submitting.
So, I began to plot my escape.
My mysterious illness wasn't a sickness; it was a strategy.
I repaid my debt, cutting the financial cord, and meticulously planned my dramatic disappearance, ensuring his perfect proposal unveiling would be ruined, leaving him with an unforgettable loss. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Reborn, I Ruined Their Perfect Life
Priority I spent five years laundering my family's wealth and buying military-grade weapons to crown my husband, Alistair, the Don of the Chicago Mafia.
But the night before his coronation, he drove an Italian stiletto into my stomach.
He sneered that a Don needed a true Mafia Queen, and that was always meant to be his "fragile" friend, Kylie.
As I bled out on the Persian rug, he revealed the sickening truth.
The night I was found in a rival Irish boss's bed two years ago wasn't a setup by our enemies. Alistair had ordered his own mother and sister to drug and frame me.
He just needed me terrified enough to sign over my merchant trust fund to prove my loyalty.
My entire marriage, my sacrifices, and my stolen wealth were just stepping stones for him and his mistress.
I had bled for him and won him the city, only to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb so he could hand my empire to another woman.
Before the flames I started consumed us both, I swore I'd drag his entire family to hell.
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of lavender and the bitter taste of chloral hydrate.
I was back on the exact night of the frame-up two years ago.
Outside the door, my sister-in-law was whispering, waiting for the Irish boss to arrive so they could ruin me.
This time, I was going to make sure she was the one in that bed. The Enforcer's Jilted Princess
Bone Possolo Tomorrow was my wedding day to Jason Brennan, the heir to a powerful Mafia family.
My family, the Falcones, had even taken in an orphaned girl, Elena, treating her like my own sister.
But in my nightmare of a past life, I choked on my own blood, poisoned by the arsenic Elena slipped into my food every day.
As I lay agonizingly close to death, Jason stood over me with a cold laugh, holding Elena in his arms.
"We just needed the Falcone wealth, Bella. And the docks."
Then came the gunfire. I was forced to watch them slaughter my father and my brother, tearing my family out by the roots.
After my death, Elena even spread vicious rumors that I was a barren spinster, twisting their foul betrayal into a tragic tale of noble sacrifice to completely destroy my legacy.
The metallic tang of my own blood was so real I could still taste the ash.
I didn't understand why the girl my family sheltered for eight years would repay our charity with such venom.
And I understood even less how the man who swore to love me could orchestrate my brutal murder without a shred of hesitation.
Bolting upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, I realized I had returned to the night before my wedding.
This time, I wouldn't just cancel the engagement. I would hand their treason directly to the Mafia's most terrifying Enforcer, and watch them burn. The Ugly Substitute Bride of the Mafia King
Finn Mercer My adoptive family, the Castillos, treated their biological children like royalty, but used me as a disposable pawn.
To secure a mafia alliance, they forced me to take my beautiful sister's place and marry Don Damien Moretti, a man rumored to be a ruthless, bloodthirsty monster.
They thought they were sending me to my execution. At our engagement banquet, my mother and sister deliberately gifted me a cheap, counterfeit gown to humiliate me in front of New York's elite.
When I publicly exposed their lie, my father demanded I apologize. My mother even raised her hand to slap me in front of everyone.
"You are a vicious curse! You ruin everything!"
They eagerly waited for the Don to execute me on the spot for embarrassing them.
I had spent years secretly saving their company from bankruptcy and supplying the underground experimental drugs that kept my brother's mafia career alive.
Yet, they threw me to the wolves without a second thought, disgusted by my very existence.
But they didn't know that just an hour before the banquet, I had saved a bleeding, masked stranger in a dark alley-who turned out to be Damien Moretti himself. The Dark Don's Captive Mafia Queen
Wo Ruo I was kidnapped by the most dangerous mafia boss in Chicago, and the whole city wept for my heartbroken fiancé.
Julian Hayes, the righteous Assistant District Attorney, played the tragic hero perfectly in the press.
But the truth was, he orchestrated my kidnapping himself.
For years, he manipulated me into draining my mother's untouchable mafia fortune to fund a rival mobster. Once he got the money, he threw me to Damien Moretti, the ruthless Dark Don, to be ruined.
Julian did it all so he could cleanly break our engagement and marry my illegitimate half-sister, Mona, taking my birthright along the way.
For a month, high society pitied the defiled girl locked in a monster's gilded cage, while my father eagerly prepared to hand Mona my legacy.
They all thought I was weeping in the dark, waiting to be killed by a cold-blooded savage.
They didn't realize the monster they threw me to was exactly the weapon I needed.
When Mona sneaked into my gilded cage to gloat and demand I sign away my inheritance, I didn't cry.
Instead, I grabbed her silver letter opener, ruthlessly sliced my own arm open, and let out a terrified scream.
Damien descended like a god of death, violently hurling Mona against a stone fountain just for spilling my blood.
I looked at the Don, my arm dripping crimson, and made a devil's bargain.
"Let me go back to my father's house to wage my Vendetta. When I'm done, I will be your wife."
The beast smiled and agreed. Tomorrow, my betrayers will learn what happens when you throw a princess to a monster, and she comes back a queen. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. 
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