Ken Dahl
8 Published Stories
Ken Dahl's Books and Stories
The CEO's Billion-Dollar Divorce Regret
Mafia My husband, a mafia underboss and a brilliant neurosurgeon, left me to die on the side of a highway in the pouring rain. He had to rush to another woman, his true love, who'd had a minor car accident.
As I lay bleeding on a gurney after being hit by a truck, I learned I was eight weeks pregnant. But my hope was short-lived. The hospital was out of my blood type, and the only reserve had been set aside by my husband for his lover, just in case she had "post-op complications" from her cosmetic procedure.
Over the phone, I heard the nurse beg him. "This woman, and your... this baby will die!"
His reply was ice. "Isabella is my priority."
He let our child die to save her from a minor risk. The ledger where I'd been keeping score of his sins finally hit zero. I was free.
Two years later, I've built a new life, a new career, and found a new love with a man who cherishes me. I'm no longer the broken wife, but a celebrated architect, nominated for a prestigious award.
And tonight, at the awards ceremony, he found me. He got on his knees in the middle of the ballroom, begging for a second chance. Premiere Night Betrayal
Modern I woke up from a car accident, my head pounding, to Ethan's hushed voice on the phone.
Not sweet nothings to me, his injured fiancée, but a deal with his agent to steal my screenplay, "City of Echoes," and give it to A-lister Olivia Monroe.
He planned to propose at the premiere, trap me with a ring, and erase me from the narrative of my own success, all for Olivia's comeback and his own glory.
The agent, surprisingly, spilled the tea: my early career sacrifice to cover Ethan's plagiarism, and Olivia's involvement in the stress that led to my miscarriage, our baby now gone.
Was my entire relationship a carefully woven web of lies, orchestrated by an ambitious man and a manipulative starlet?
Then I saw that framed photo of me in Liam Sterling's office: a gesture of respect towards my writing.
This realization made me start a new life plan: run, collaborate with Ethan's nemesis, and rewrite my history. Her Comeback: Love, Loft, Life
Romance The first thing I felt was the sterile cold of the hospital sheets. My whole body ached, a deep, hollow pain I remembered too well. Then I saw him: Mark, my ex-husband, standing over me, not a trace of concern on his face.
"Jane, you have to sign this." He held a clipboard, ready to trick me into signing away the last piece of security I had left-our loft.
In my past life, this scene was burned into my memory. I had just lost our baby, almost died, while Mark deliberately ignored my frantic calls. Later, he blamed me for everything, claiming our marriage was a trap that kept him from his "true love," Sarah Miller, and that my refusal to sell the loft led to Sarah's brother's death and her subsequent suicide. He never loved me; he resented me. He claimed this was all my fault, a convenient lie to justify his cruelty.
Now, I was back. Reborn to the day he tried to steal my family home, not after my miscarriage, but to the day he attempted to swindle me out of the loft, years before. He saw me as weak, broken, and stupid, an easy mark for his greedy schemes. He thought he had won so easily, but he had no idea what I was truly planning.
A cold calm washed over me. The pain of the past was no longer a wound. It was armor. This time, he would learn what real disappointment was. The Stolen Life: A Billionaire Heiress's Reckoning
Billionaires I died on a Tuesday, run over by a horse. The last thing I saw was my father' s enraged face turning away, and heard my stepsister, Stella, let out a triumphant sob. Then, darkness.
But suddenly, I was back. Standing in our Silicon Valley mansion. My father, a billionaire who controlled everything but his emotions, stood beside me. Across the room, Stella, the girl he' d raised as his own, held the shattered pieces of my mother' s locket-my only memento of her. "Oops," she purred, her voice dripping fake sympathy. That cold smile. I knew this scene. I remembered the rage that blinded me then, the scream that sealed my fate.
In my first life, I had unknowingly played right into her hands. I raged, I screamed, I was banished. Then she swapped our bodies, trapping me in her life of torment at the horse sanctuary, where I eventually died-again. She literally stole my life, my identity, everything.
How could my own father, blinded by her fake piety, always side with her over me? How could I have been so naive, so foolish, to fall for her every trick? The injustice burned hotter than any fury. Why did fate bring me back just to relive this nightmare?
But this time, things would be different. The familiar sensation of horse hooves crushing my ribs was a vivid memory. I knew her plan, every single twisted step. And this time, I was ready. I would not scream. I would not lose. The game was on, and I, Gabrielle, was now holding the leash. Contract Marriage: The CEO's Silent Shield
Modern Aunt Lydia told me that if I didn't secure the loan shark Mr. Jareth tonight, I’d be sleeping on the street. I stood outside the brass doors of the restaurant, my lungs refusing to expand, my hands shaking so violently that my gray wool skirt blurred in my vision.
I was supposed to sell my soul to a monster to pay off my family’s debts. But when I sat down at Table 12, I didn't find a man in a leather jacket smelling of stale beer. Instead, I found a man in a bespoke suit who smelled of cedarwood and cold winter air, a man who looked at me like a specimen under a microscope.
"Sit down," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in my chest. Before I could realize I was at the wrong table, he had already signaled the staff to throw the real loan shark out into the street. Then, he slid a blank black card across the table and offered me a deal: a marriage of convenience to satisfy his board of directors in exchange for my total protection.
I signed the contract and moved into a penthouse he claimed belonged to his "boss," trying to play the part of the quiet, broken wife. But the lies were too loud to ignore. He called a half-million-dollar bottle of wine a "Costco blend" and claimed his $4 million Patek Philippe watch was a cheap replica. He thought he was protecting a helpless, mute girl, but he had no idea who I really was.
I didn't understand why this "manager" had the police commissioner on speed dial or why he was tracking my every move with hidden cameras. While he was busy playing the savior, I was secretly logging onto the dark web as "The Surgeon," the only medical genius capable of treating the chronic, agonizing migraines he kept hidden from the world.
The truth finally exploded when the loan shark cornered us at my aunt’s estate. As I held a corkscrew to a killer’s throat with surgical precision, I saw the mask slip from my husband’s face. I realized then that I hadn't just married a businessman—I had married the most dangerous man in New York, and he was currently wiring thousands of dollars to me to save his life. A Second Chance At The Choosing
Romance In my first life, I married Connor Walls, the golden heir to the Barrett Corporation, believing my father's sacrifice had earned me a fairytale.
Instead, it bought me a gilded cage and a brutal death. He left me to bleed out on the cold marble floor of our mansion while he entertained a guest one floor below.
He was a predator disguised as a prince, a man whose public smile charmed the world while his touch left bruises no one could see.
For years, he tormented me, painting me as the villain while my own cousin, Jana, clung to his side, reinforcing every lie.
The world adored him. They saw a perfect couple, a powerful alliance. No one saw the monster I lived with. No one knew the truth behind my "accidents."
Until I died, I was trapped.
But then, I was reborn and opened my eyes again.
I was back at the Choosing Ceremony, the day I was supposed to bind myself to him forever.
This time, I remembered every agonizing detail.
And this time, his ruthless, outcast brother Brannon was also an option. The Wedding Crasher's Comeuppance
Romance My relaxing weekend at my parents' house was shattered by a call from my Brooklyn HOA.
They claimed my apartment was hosting a raucous wedding party, going on for two straight nights.
I was completely confused, having been single and away from Brooklyn for almost a year.
Then, the HOA emailed security footage, and my blood ran cold.
It was my ex-fiancé, Ethan, in a tuxedo, smiling triumphantly with a woman in a white dress, right in front of my apartment door.
He was getting married there.
The sheer audacity was staggering; this was the man I left because he demanded I add his name to the deed of the apartment I bought.
He had broken in, changed the locks, and was throwing his wedding in my sanctuary.
My father's "that bastard" echoed my own fury.
I drove straight to Brooklyn, only to find he' d changed the locks, preventing me from entering my own home.
His new mother-in-law, a stranger, belligerently told me I was a "crazy ex-girlfriend" and that Ethan had "bought this place" for her daughter.
The injustice burned through me as I stood in my own hallway, accused of trespassing.
How could someone be so brazen, so deceitful, to steal my home and invent such a lie?
This wasn't just about property; it was a violation of everything I had built for myself.
I called my two brothers, knowing this wasn't just a noise complaint anymore; it was war, and I was going to reclaim what was mine. A Blackwood Heiress Bows To No One
Romance The Alliance Summit, a high-stakes gathering where powerful families declared their allegiances, hummed with electric tension as I, Aurora Blackwood, stood poised to make the fateful pronouncement that would bind my ancestral legacy to Caleb Vance.It was the day I once proudly, fatally, linked our futures.
But I woke not as ash, but with a searing gasp, the phantom flames of my death still scorching my skin, flooding my mind with the chilling memory of Caleb Vance's face – devoid of grief, almost relieved – the very last sight before the Crimson Syndicate consumed my family, our generations-old ranch, and ultimately, me.
In that terrifying previous life, Caleb had swallowed Lila Hayes's carefully crafted lies whole, allowing himself to be manipulated into feeding critical intelligence to the Syndicate, which directly paved the way for their brutal attack, culminating in the complete decimation of the Blackwoods and my own agonizing demise.
The bitter taste of betrayal choked me, the searing injustice of loving a fool who believed every insidious whisper from a viper like Lila, sacrificing my family' s very existence to appease his warped sense of victimhood.
But not this time; reborn with searing clarity and a heart hardened by fire, I would not repeat the past, because today, here and now, a Blackwood Heiress would definitively bow to no one but herself, and Caleb Vance would witness the true cost of his betrayal. 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. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." 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. My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. The Mafia's Forgotten Obsession
Sophie Abou "Don't die on me, Tom, I can't lose you for the second time. It will ruin me." Vivienne said desperately, holding his sweaty face in her hands.
Tom hid his pain and smiled up at her. "There are too many filthy fantasies of you and I in my head that I'm yet to carry out. I won't forgive myself if I die, Vee."
She couldn't look away...
~
For Eight years, Vivienne lost her light after the death of her teenage lover, Tristan Bennett. Forced to engage his cruel stepbrother based on based on family's agreement, she made the decision to flee on their wedding day.
Now, hidden in a city where no one knows her name, she sort for a new job only for her to discover that her new billionaire boss was her lover who died eight years ago.
He doesn't remember her. He bears another name. And he has another woman now? Not any ordinary woman-A dangerous mafia lord's daughter who happens to be obsessed with him.
But Tristan, now known as Tom in his new mafia world wants to bail out, and he needs a contract marriage with a new woman to leave his obsessive girlfriend. Vivienne agreed to the marriage contract with every intention to help him get back his past memories.
But what happens when all circumstances surrounding them threatens to sabotage her efforts? Tom's cruel stepbrother who wanted Vivienne than breath itself-His Mafia boss, and his obsessive girlfriend.
Vivienne must risk danger and death to be with her lover again.
But some problems are far too complicated with many secrets to solve, and Vivienne is about to find out.
His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms
Temple Madison For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.* Too Late, Mr. Don: The Wife You Buried
Cinderella's Sister I went to the family lawyer for a routine travel clearance. Instead, I was handed a divorce decree. The ink was three years old.
While I had been playing the role of the dutiful Capo's wife, Dante had secretly divorced me the day after our fifth anniversary.
Twenty-four hours later, he legally married the nanny, Gia, and named her cruel-eyed son as his heir.
I returned home to confront him, only for the boy to throw boiling tomato soup on me.
Dante didn't check my burns. He cradled the boy and looked at me with pure, drug-fueled hatred, calling me a monster for upsetting his "son."
The final blow came in a parking garage. A car sped toward us.
Dante didn't pull me to safety. He shoved me into the vehicle's path, using my body as a human shield to protect his mistress.
Lying broken on the asphalt, I realized Aria Vitiello was already dead to him. So, I decided to make it official.
I arranged a private flight over the Atlantic and ensured there were no survivors.
By the time Dante was weeping over the wreckage, realizing too late that he had been poisoned against me, I was already in France.
The Canary was dead. The Reaper had risen. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." 
/0/99240/coverorgin.jpg?v=3608470e21b86e47b0c659585c06fb4f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79036/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1076ac1e006bc2f7676f105ef4f5bad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86571/coverorgin.jpg?v=fddff7eb019811ebba861a0b9ef27a67&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84142/coverorgin.jpg?v=e5411e7a0539dfe4dd1d15426771e034&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/108482/coverorgin.jpg?v=c63bb9db7b2d738a179f697cd90244f3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/94004/coverorgin.jpg?v=b60a667d0608e3b12330f24ff5707f8c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84370/coverorgin.jpg?v=f5f9152762eae020242da316bf834876&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81850/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4e92e9025a3452250a734aad831b38e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=2993ae90a66b7c82c22fce8075ae3fb4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106734/coverorgin.jpg?v=c7ef0ae7a01b8941d249a96e5d9ca057&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104479/coverorgin.jpg?v=96b08700bb860257b3b14ca84fd299f4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100248/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1dec4753a5c9ea677f050c0b517bc01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80323/coverorgin.jpg?v=12f327266f12b4fc1eced208f6ccbd1c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104694/coverorgin.jpg?v=fba18a636a565aead7b3c1a8f143979b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79184/coverorgin.jpg?v=ff9a70806548507a5136ba836b15edcb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104843/coverorgin.jpg?v=3c60e31b25c3507535767491f6bf894e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104851/coverorgin.jpg?v=078a0928f2d792fd2e0b557965a2d816&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104703/coverorgin.jpg?v=8043da784c3a05bbc8de63cf9d0b415f&imageMogr2/format/webp)