Kattie Eaton
18 Published Stories
Kattie Eaton's Books and Stories
Second Chances: Love After Betrayal
Romance My best friend, Emily, and I married into the powerful Thorne family on the same day. We thought we had it all, living a dream life as two of the luckiest women in the world.
That illusion shattered on a Tuesday afternoon when Emily burst into my sunroom, her face pale, shoving her phone at me. The screen showed paparazzi photos of her husband, Liam, with another woman – his "childhood sweetheart," Olivia Hayes.
Before I could process Emily's fury, my own tablet lit up. A press release from my husband Ethan' s company announced Olivia as the new face of his lifestyle brand, complete with a smiling photo of her next to him. Not only was Olivia the source of my best friend's pain, but my own husband, who had been distant and forgotten our anniversary, had made her our company's public face without a word to me.
All my grievances, the neglect, the loneliness-they all flooded back. He didn't even think to mention it, treating me like just another asset to manage, not a wife to love.
A cold resolve settled over me. Emily, still raging about her post-divorce plans, saw the press release on my tablet. A dangerous smile spread across her face.
"Well," she said, "Looks like we' re both in the market for an upgrade."
"Okay," I declared, a hysterical laugh bubbling up. "I' m in. We' re getting divorced. And I' ll find male models who are better than Ethan."
Our laughter, wild and unhinged, was cut short by a low, cold voice from the doorway: "Better than me?" My husband, Ethan, stood there. He must have heard everything. Too Late For Regret: The Mafia King's Despair
Mafia My twin sister Haleigh returned with a fake diagnosis of Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer and a "dying wish" to marry my fiancé, Jameson Blair.
Without a second thought, Jameson, the most feared Underboss in New York, took the three-carat diamond meant for me and slid it onto her finger.
I became the spare. The obstacle standing in the way of a tragedy's happy ending.
When Haleigh planted a brown recluse spider in my room, I was the one bitten and poisoned. Yet, my brothers kicked me while I was delirious with fever, accusing me of trying to terrorize their "dying" angel.
On her birthday yacht party, a grill tipped over during a storm. My synthetic dress caught fire instantly.
As flames seared the skin off my legs, I screamed for help.
But Jameson and my brothers formed a human shield around Haleigh, frantically checking her hand for a single speck of ash while I burned alive just ten feet away.
The final straw came at the cliffs. Haleigh staged a suicide attempt to frame me for bullying her.
To teach me a lesson, Jameson bound my wrists and hung me over the edge of the abyss on a rope, leaving me dangling helplessly over the churning ocean.
They thought they were punishing a monster.
They didn't know I had a jagged rock in my hand.
As they drove away to comfort the liar, I didn't wait for them to come back.
I sawed through the rope myself and let the ocean take me.
Three years later, after discovering Haleigh never had cancer, my brothers and Jameson found me alive in Florence.
They knelt on the cobblestones, weeping, begging for a second chance.
I looked at the men who had watched me burn.
"You aren't sorry you hurt me," I said, turning to walk away with another man.
"You're just sorry you bet on the wrong sister." Never Forgive: His Betrayal, Her Justice
Modern My father died because a drunk socialite, Kenya Cline, blocked the ambulance carrying him to the hospital. She laughed while filming the chaos for her followers.
When I tried to bring her to justice, my husband, Cornell, drugged me and deleted the video evidence from my phone. Just because Kenya Cline is the daughter of his primary investor.
He let her move into our house, where she mocked my father's death. He held me down while she poured scalding coffee on my neck.
"An eye for an eye," he said calmly.
At Kenya's birthday party, they framed me for stealing a necklace and forced me to walk across burning coals to prove my innocence.
The final straw came when Cornell had my father's body thrown into the ocean, just to protect the killer, Kenya Cline.
He thought he had broken me. But my father, a cautious lawyer, had left me two gifts: an ironclad post-nuptial agreement that entitled me to half of Cornell's billion-dollar empire, and a secret, encrypted copy of the video he thought he'd erased. He had no idea he hadn't just destroyed his wife; he had created his executioner. Betrayed Bride, Ruthless Tycoon, Real Love
Romance Tonight was my engagement party, the beginning of the perfect life my fiancé, Mark, had promised me. The ballroom glittered, filled with white roses and the smiling faces of our friends and family.
But just before my grand entrance, I overheard him talking to his sister, Isabella.
"She's so ridiculously naive," he laughed. "Swallowed every lie. This sham of an engagement secured it all. Her family's company is ours now."
I threw the door open, only to find them locked in a passionate, desperate kiss.
He just smirked at me, his eyes cold.
"The act is over," he said. "Did you really think I could ever love someone as pathetic as you?"
When I ran to my father for help, he called me hysterical and sided with Mark, the man who had just destroyed my life. A text message confirmed the nightmare: Mark had frozen all my accounts. He'd taken everything.
My only hope was a desperate one: Julian Thorne. A ruthless corporate predator and Mark's biggest rival.
I went to him to beg for help. He looked at me with cold, calculating eyes and revealed a shocking secret. My family's company had already belonged to him for weeks.
Then he made his offer. He would give me my revenge. In return, I had to sign a marriage contract and become his wife. The Billionaire's Contract for Revenge
Romance For five years, I was the steady paycheck that funded my boyfriend Mark's musical dreams. I paid the rent, I believed in his genius, and I thought our future was finally about to begin.
He begged me for one last ride for him and his wealthy patron, Daniel. That favor ended in the screech of tires and the shattering of glass.
I came to in a haze of pain, my right arm shattered and my career as an architect over. But Mark ignored my injuries, screaming at the paramedics to save his patron's precious hands.
Then, at the hospital, Daniel's terrifyingly powerful brother, Julian, loomed over my gurney and promised me I would pay for what I'd done.
While I was lying in a hospital bed, Mark changed the locks on the apartment I paid for and gave a false statement to Julian's lawyers, ensuring I would be blamed for everything.
Broke, homeless, and facing prison, I was summoned to Julian Thorne's office. He didn't offer mercy. He offered a contract.
He slid a document across his desk and gave me a choice: ruin and prison, or marriage and revenge.
"You will marry me for one year," he said, his voice like ice. "In return, I will not only drop the lawsuit, but I will personally ensure the man who betrayed you is utterly destroyed." Her Second Life, His Fatal Invitation
Young Adult The scent of lavender and old books filled my dorm room, a stark contrast to the black void I' d just clawed my way out of.
Then my phone buzzed, displaying a name that froze my blood: Chloe.
Her text, "`Hey sis! Girls' night! Let's celebrate our bday tonight at Club Neon! Can't wait! xo`," was an invitation to my own destruction.
I remembered the last time, walking into Club Neon full of hope to mend things with my half-sister, only for her to frame me for drug possession.
My parents, who always adored Chloe, believed her over me, their "ambitious" but seemingly unlovable daughter.
I lost everything: my prestigious internship, my reputation, my family' s trust, and eventually, my will to live, dying in a cold prison cell.
But in the void, the truth shattered the darkness: Chloe and her boyfriend Brandon planned it all, laughing about ruining my life because of her vicious envy and his need to escape his own drug charges.
Now I was back, breathing, the sun warm on my skin, with their fatal invitation buzzing in my hand.
The naive Olivia was dead; the woman now holding this phone was a ghost with a second chance, her resolve a cold, hard diamond.
"Okay." No Pity For A Mother's Tears
Billionaires The old engine purred under Alex Stone' s skilled hands, a familiar comfort in the dusty garage that was his sanctuary.
Suddenly, a sleek Bentley pulled up, an unwelcome intrusion, and two impeccably dressed strangers, his biological parents Richard and Catherine Davies, stepped out.
They claimed to have finally 'found' him, expressing a theatrical agony over his humble life, then promptly exiled him to the servants' quarters of their opulent mansion.
He watched them defend their adopted son Mark, a charming fraud, over their own flesh and blood, showering Mark with affection while treating Alex with open disdain and snobbery.
Why had they waited decades to seek him out, only to treat him with such calculated contempt?
Driven by a cold curiosity and a need for answers, Alex walked away from their pretense, but not before issuing a cryptic warning that would shatter their carefully constructed world. Blinded By His Betrayal
Romance The day began like any other.
I, Ava Hayes, lived a fairytale life, the ballerina wife to tech mogul Mark Thompson.
Our world, seemingly perfect, was a carefully constructed illusion.
Then, a car accident stole my sight, plunging me into a suffocating darkness.
Mark became my devoted shadow, my "eyes," his absolute love a fortress against my fear.
But six weeks later, my sight miraculously returned in the dead of night.
And through the sliver of moonlight, I saw my "devoted" husband whispering "I love you" to my stepsister, Chloe.
The air rushed out of my lungs, the joy of recovered sight replaced by world-shattering pain.
My perfect husband, my devoted protector, the man who' d promised to shield me from every shadow, was building a future with someone else.
He thought I was blind, helpless, and broken.
They were both counting on it.
A cold, hard decision formed in the wreckage of my heart.
If he wanted me blind, then blind I would be.
I lay back down, pulling the covers up, my body still, my eyes wide open, now truly seeing everything for the first time.
My plan began to take shape, turning assumed weakness into my greatest weapon. The Landlord’s Game of Control
Modern Mr. Henderson' s smile, wide and greasy, never reached his eyes.
"What is it now, Sarah?" he' d asked, after ignoring my pleas for two weeks to fix the heater in my drafty apartment.
He dismissed the strange, sweet smell coming from the vents as just an "old building" problem, scoffing that "You women are always worried about something."
But the real insult came when my 72-year-old mother, who' d arrived for the holidays, collapsed, pale and confused, her words slurring, from what I suspected was that very smell.
"She' s probably faking it to get some attention," Henderson sneered when I banged on his door in a panic, calling for an ambulance. "You' re a single mom, right? Always struggling. Maybe this is some kind of scheme to get a discount on your rent. A sick old mother, a dangerous apartment. It' s a classic."
His cruelty hit me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling and powerless as paramedics wheeled my barely conscious mother from our apartment, declaring the CO levels "off the charts" and the place a "death trap."
My mother was fighting for her life in the ICU, while Henderson was on the phone, his voice warm and accommodating, promising to immediately fix a torn window screen for "my best tenant," Dave.
"Are you serious?" I whispered, trembling with fury. "You' re going to fix his window screen right now, but you couldn' t be bothered to fix the heater that almost killed my mother?"
His voice dropped, menacing. "That\'s none of your business. Dave is a model tenant. He understands how things work. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him."
He hung up, confident in his power over "hysterical women." But as my mother' s doctor grimly told me she was being moved to the ICU, and I recalled every ignored complaint, every dismissal, every woman Henderson had mocked and endangered, the helplessness burned away, replaced by a roaring, determined rage.
He thought I was just an emotional woman. He was about to find out just how hysterical I could be. A Husband's Treachery Unveiled
Fantasy The bitter wind howled, a physical assault as I clung to the side of the mountain. Every breath burned, a painful reminder of the treacherous climb.
Just yards away, my husband, Ethan, knelt beside Sarah, his childhood sweetheart, his voice a low, soothing murmur that reached her but not me.
"Ethan!" I screamed, my voice raw and thin, "I' m hurt! My ankle…and my stomach…"
He turned, his face a mask of irritation, a cold dismissal in his eyes as he snapped, "Stop being so dramatic, Chloe. Sarah is fragile. You' re strong enough."
I fell to my knees in the deep snow, the pain in my abdomen intensifying. "Ethan, the baby! Our baby!" I cried out, the words tearing from my throat.
He froze for a second, a flicker of something in his eyes before Sarah whimpered, and his expression hardened. He thought I was lying, trying to manipulate him.
He pried my numb fingers from his pant leg, his touch rough, then shoved me. My head hit the jagged rock, the world exploding in white-hot pain.
My last clear sight was of Ethan scooping Sarah into his arms, turning his back, and walking away, leaving me bleeding and broken in the storm.
I tried to call out again, to scream about the ultrasound in my wallet, the one I was going to show him, but he barely paused as Sarah whispered something to him, pointing back at me with a dismissive gesture.
He walked on, his pace quickening, a shrinking dark spot in a world of white. That was the moment I knew.
I wasn' t just abandoned; I was erased.
My body was found, and the truth of my pregnancy was revealed, shattering his meticulously crafted lies. His career, his reputation, everything crumbled.
Then, he learned Sarah's vile secret: she had known I was dying and had deliberately made sure I couldn't be found. The monstrous truth ignited a primal rage in him.
He found her, his wife's killer, and exacted a brutal, watery vengeance without a single moment of pity. He left her drowned, just as he had left me to freeze. He survived, living with the ghost of his actions until my father, with a quiet, terrifying resolve, finally delivered his own brand of justice.
My father trapped him, just like I was, in a concrete pit.
I watched, a detached soul, as he descended into the earned darkness, his screams echoing. He would not follow me.
Finally, I was free. The Stolen Kidney: My Husband's Betrayal
Modern Six months ago, our perfect family shattered. My son, Leo, suffered a profound brain injury, and I lost a kidney in a traumatic hit-and-run. My husband, Andrew, was my rock, always there with a soothing hand, a comforting word.
But then, I heard it. A whispered confession from his office. Andrew, my loving husband, orchestrated Leo' s accident to gain an inheritance for his secret son. My hit-and-run was a setup, designed to harvest my kidney for his mistress, who needed a transplant.
The man I married, the father of my child, tried to murder our son and carved me up like an animal for his other woman. He forced me to be a human blood bag for her, then threatened to bleed Leo dry and replace him with his illegitimate child. The ultimate horror struck at a party, when Andrew, consumed by rage, shoved Leo, causing a severe head injury. His ultimate act of betrayal? Leaving our bleeding son to fuss over his mistress' s minor scratch.
How could the man I loved be such a monster? How could he betray us so utterly? The rage, the grief, the sheer disbelief threatened to consume me.
But as he walked away, abandoning our child on the floor, something within me snapped. I would not break. I would play along, biding my time. My son was not an accident; he was a target. And now, so was I. But they had underestimated this mother' s rage. I was going to fight back. The Disbarred Lawyer's Second Chance
Fantasy The stale smell of burnt coffee and dread filled the air. I knew this night. The final, all-night document review for a billion-dollar merger.
Last time, my husband, Mark, the senior partner, abandoned his post for his intern mistress, Chloe, after she ruined critical documents. Their negligence cost us the deal and ruined Mr. Thompson, our biggest client.
They pinned it all on me. I was disbarred, sued into oblivion, and died poor and alone, while Mark and Chloe thrived, protected by her powerful family.
Now, I was back. Reborn on the worst night of my life, with only four hours to save everything.
But the past was insistent. Chloe, with her shrill apologies, again spilled coffee-this time directly onto the irreplaceable signature page. Mark, predictably, jumped to defend her, leaving the crucial filing to comfort his "distressed" mistress.
"Chloe needs me!" he hissed, as his phone blared with her manipulative threats: "If you don't come to me this second, I'm going to the clinic! I'll get rid of it!" He shoved me aside, spitting, "The firm has malpractice insurance for a reason." And just like last time, he was gone, leaving chaos in his wake.
How could a man jeopardize a billion-dollar deal, his reputation, and his client' s legacy for a flighty intern? How could such selfish, incompetent people rise to power while I was destroyed?
This time, I wouldn't just watch. I wouldn't break. With pain in my heart and hip, I walked to the head of the abandoned table. The game had changed. This time, I' d take the lead. And this time, I wouldn' t just survive-I' d make sure they burned for it. The Unwanted Fiancée's Sweet Escape
Romance My eyes snapped open in the blinding hospital light.
A nurse murmured the date: July 15th, 2013.
The number slammed into me.
It couldn't be.
That was ten years ago.
Ten years before the crash that supposedly just happened.
Ten years before I, Sarah Miller, endured a decade of quiet suffocation married to Ethan Hayes.
In my real recent past, just before the crash, I'd discovered gut-wrenching betrayal: Ethan and Olivia Cartwright, his high-school flame, renewed vows in secret.
While I was still his wife.
The misery, the constant, gnawing neglect, Ethan's emotional energy poured into Olivia like water into sand—it all came rushing back.
He had lived a double life, building a separate future with another woman while married to me.
My spirit, a withered thing, had accepted it.
Now, I was back.
Before the suffering, before the constant, soul-crushing betrayal.
A cruel irony: my alleged accident had sent me backward in time, to before the misery even began.
The quiet misery was a screaming void.
I just relived it, and realized I was about to restart it.
But not this time.
This was it.
My second chance.
Ethan could have Olivia.
He could have her from the start.
Sarah Miller was not walking that path again.
I was going to orchestrate their "happiness" and secure my own escape into a real life. My Roommate, My Nightmare
Modern I was just a normal college sophomore, studying journalism, living with my roommate, Britt. She was a self-proclaimed social justice warrior online, constantly posting, but sometimes her "activism" felt more like twisting things to make people feel small.
This Thanksgiving, I posted a simple, sweet photo of my dad and me, saying how thankful I was for my hero firefighter father. A few hours later, a friend sent a screenshot from CampusWhisper, our anonymous gossip app. It was my photo, my dad, with a vile caption calling me a "pick-me" celebrating "patriarchal figures." My stomach dropped when I saw the edge of my phone in the background. Only Britt could have taken that screenshot from my phone.
When I confronted her, she sneered, defending herself as "speaking truth to power," even calling my dad an "oppressive machine." Campus security ordered her to apologize, but Britt retaliated, mocking me on TikTok, painting me as a sensitive, "triggered conservative." Then came the rumors, and a guy, clearly put up to it by Britt, made a disgusting comment implying she' d shown them fabricated, explicit images of me and my dad. My blood ran cold imagining what she created.
I charged her, demanding to see her phone, and she screamed, faking an assault. Me, assaulting her? The humiliation was unbearable. I couldn't understand why her hatred was so personal, so extreme. What kind of person creates something like that about someone's father? What was wrong with her?
That' s when I called my Uncle Dave, a no-nonsense lawyer. He told me to start gathering every piece of evidence. This wasn't just online drama anymore; this was a war, and I was going to fight back. I had no idea then, how far she would be willing to go, or what I would have to do to stop her before she destroyed my life – and potentially ended it. From Ashes, A Phoenix Rises
Modern My 21st birthday, meant for celebrating my engagement to Ethan, turned into a nightmare when Brooklyn's "art installation" exploded, disfiguring me.
Caleb and Ethan, my brother and fiancé, feigned concern, but a phantom "gossip blog" in my vision exposed their gruesome truth.
They weren't protecting me; they were using my injury as an excuse to exile and neglect me, diverting my critical burn medicine to Brooklyn while plotting to steal her tech.
The blog revealed their plan: to commit me to a remote facility once their scheme was complete, while they praised my tormentor.
They stripped me of my home, sent thugs to "therapy" me, and Ethan shamelessly broke our engagement, leaving me to face violence.
The betrayal reached its horrifying peak on my 22nd birthday when Brooklyn desecrated my mother's bracelet, and my own brother and fiancé dragged me into a frigid lake.
They repeatedly submerged me, watching my wounds bleed, all for their twisted corporate gains.
How could the people who swore to love me unleash such calculated cruelty?
My burning pain and utter dehumanization revealed their true faces.
Lying bloody by the lakeside, as the phantom blog vanished, I realized the full depth of their treachery-and found my unshakeable resolve to fight back and escape their grasp forever. The Woman He Thought He Broke
Romance My life with Ethan, my architect husband, seemed perfect, a harmonious blend of shared dreams and urban aspirations.
But that illusion shattered one terrifying weekend when I suffered a life-threatening allergic reaction, struggling to breathe as I collapsed before his eyes.
Instead of rushing my EpiPen, Ethan prioritized a "crisis" orchestrated by Chloe Sanders, his scheming intern, leaving me to suffocate while he secured her coveted project files.
I woke up alone in a sterile hospital room, realizing the devastating depth of his betrayal, only to then discover I was pregnant with his child.
His ongoing public neglect and Chloe' s brazen flaunting of my stolen family heirloom cemented the horrifying truth: they thought they had succeeded in making me disappear, dismissed as merely an accessory.
But they were gravely mistaken; driven by a cold fury and the silent beat of a new life within me, I, Ava Thompson, was about to unleash a meticulously planned reckoning upon them both. The Betrayed Groom's Vengeance
Romance Hollywood's A-list actor, Alex Miller, stood at the altar, ready to marry studio executive Jessica Hayes, convinced it would be the perfect day.
But his bride made a grand entrance – not in white, but in a flashy sports car with pretty-boy influencer Ryan Vance, live-streaming her public ditching as "lesson one" in his "cure" for possessiveness.
That public humiliation was merely the overture. For months, Jessica orchestrated Alex's systematic dismantling: forcing him to yield coveted roles to Ryan, literally cleaning Ryan's shoes at awards shows, and issuing televised apologies for fabricated incidents. The crescendo hit when Ryan, with Jessica's dark approval, brutally slashed Alex's face and set him ablaze in a studio, as Jessica rescued Ryan and left Alex to burn.
Lying in agonizing pain, abandoned to the flames, Alex comprehended the chilling truth: this wasn't love, or even a lesson. It was a calculated, sadistic demolition, designed to break him. The humiliation transformed into an icy, unshakable resolve.
What they didn't foresee was Alex's quiet preparation. Already armed with irrefutable hidden evidence, he began a strategic withdrawal, cutting all ties while securing his future. Now, with a new fiancée and a life far from Hollywood's toxicity, Alex is ready to reveal his own "final cut" – a masterpiece of retribution. You might like
He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. 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. 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.
After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
/0/86956/coverorgin.jpg?v=14097d6f1713ea0b7a8bda357ecd9d2b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/103317/coverorgin.jpg?v=8001838f87ada9a0658d4d1828d3b3af&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/93399/coverorgin.jpg?v=c16ae8b2b535aecf1b9e0afcf63156cd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/92063/coverorgin.jpg?v=7916b6957ad5bf48bc86370b6003be6f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/91550/coverorgin.jpg?v=c19978ee32a856a23748a6a71ded4197&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86606/coverorgin.jpg?v=5144b285225ad6901e5bd3a80fdf1207&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86244/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106211443&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86238/coverorgin.jpg?v=231f8631ea3300f75575f1f815c1229a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85891/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9d72e5d28184156d0b5846402d6ca63&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85878/coverorgin.jpg?v=1e09144af8f4b840093366d2766365e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84375/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204448&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83674/coverorgin.jpg?v=e37d59e587a502c666fb4a809337f73f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82871/coverorgin.jpg?v=f5dc906e4e75e4f679484fb7f790d43d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82603/coverorgin.jpg?v=edfc0a088b4ff5f2b788671c6fdff151&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81866/coverorgin.jpg?v=b26e92896690c0c25406e48a7361ce1f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81644/coverorgin.jpg?v=41245a050e311932ff97b3c418f6f8fd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81054/coverorgin.jpg?v=557aa4e32cddbe007cc03a48718354d7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/61270/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9170fa8925361a8bde6efb1a57e829d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102860/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd4279179a94dd229627ce7640bf190d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102856/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab447bb3dfea8a92331d6f2abd61bff7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101423/coverorgin.jpg?v=46b8ac4ba2161e0b69a9b73304ac43c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79054/coverorgin.jpg?v=248fd387f8a7ef06a95d551925555a22&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101421/coverorgin.jpg?v=c057fb8d460e14f164780fa0f4313597&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101926/coverorgin.jpg?v=368e7983714c1a0bd18be7d5ea10f6b7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102857/coverorgin.jpg?v=5276123ce725745b44ab39f7aa4668f4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/71834/coverorgin.jpg?v=a02c11e70d1035f06cc6cfb5b697a8a7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89487/coverorgin.jpg?v=30c72fb6b095854b815d695ff85f75a6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101428/coverorgin.jpg?v=a6edc7fa863c44c8d677b68f6b8753a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)