Lila
16 Published Stories
Lila's Books and Stories
Discarded Wife, Unbreakable Soul
Romance My boyfriend died on a mission, and I, a trauma therapist, dedicated five years to piecing his shattered brother, Ethan, back together, even marrying him out of what I thought was love.
Then, Sarah Jenkins appeared, a spitting image of Ethan' s deceased first love, and everything shattered. His dependency shifted, violent episodes returned, and my years of dedicated support became "clinical" in his eyes.
During a severe episode, I tried to help, only for him to turn on me, his hands reaching for my throat. Sarah, with a performance of gentle concern, instantly calmed him, making my efforts seem worthless. He even accused me of setting him off, claiming Sarah "knew how to handle him."
The next day, at our home, Sarah orchestrated a twisted scene, making it seem I' d attacked her. Ethan, blinded by her act, choked me, then screamed at me to get out of "his house." He played the devoted partner to her, while I was left bleeding and heartbroken.
I was discarded like trash, realizing I no longer mattered to the man I sacrificed everything for. There was nothing left for me here.
The phone rang. It was Director Thompson. "I'm in," I said, my voice hollow. "When do I start?" A Monster's Final Goodbye
Modern My boyfriend, Carter, hadn't spoken to me in five days. But when my national architecture competition win went viral, he finally called-not to congratulate me, but to scream that I' d embarrassed him by not telling him first.
His new girlfriend, Brittney, was the one who tagged him in my post. She was also the one whispering in his ear during the call, telling him I was making him look bad.
This was the final straw in a long, cold war. But the real nightmare began when Brittney sent me a video of her torturing my dog, Apollo, in our old apartment.
Then came a photo of his lifeless body.
I rushed over, blinded by rage, and slammed her head against the wall with an ashtray. Carter, the man I once loved, shoved me away, calling me a maniac for hurting the woman who had just murdered my dog.
He chose her. He always chose her.
As I carried Apollo's cold body out the door, I made a vow. I would make them pay. I would make their lives a living hell. The Wedding Bill: A Debt of Vengeance
Romance The honeymoon glow was still fresh in our new condo, a symbol of my perfect new life with Kevin.
That illusion shattered the moment a hotel invoice landed: a staggering $217,453.19 bill for a wedding reception my mother-in-law, Brenda, had turned into a free-for-all.
My husband Kevin, whose dismissive reaction already chilled me, then caved to Brenda's emotional blackmail, allowing her and her unruly relatives to invade our home and sign a fraudulent IOU, publicly humiliating my generous parents in the process.
Trapped in my own sanctuary, now a den of greed and manipulation, I watched my husband' s spineless betrayal, feeling an icy fury morph into a chilling determination. How could the woman who was supposed to be family wreak such havoc?
When Brenda dared to lay her hands on me, the line was crossed: I called the police, charged her with assault and trespassing, and with trembling clarity, looked at Kevin and declared, "I want a divorce," setting in motion a meticulous, silent retribution. When Love Turns To Ash
Fantasy For love, I walked away from ancient power, trading immortality for a quiet life with my wife, Seraphina, and our daughter, Willow. We lived simply, off the grid, far from the world I once protected.
Then came the nightmare. A chilling premonition: Willow in agony, Julian Thorne's smirk in the shadows, and Seraphina, my wife, turning away. I knew I had to go back to the world I'd abandoned – to Seraphina' s opulent Sterling Order, to reclaim my lost power, my Heartwood Staff.
But instead of understanding, I found a stranger. Seraphina, cold and distant, dismissed my warnings, believed Julian's lies, and allowed him to frame me. My daughter and I were thrown into a desolate prison, starving, defenseless. My wife, the woman I sacrificed everything for, watched, indifferent.
I thought my heart was broken then. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared me for the moment Seraphina, my own wife, raised an arcane device and aimed it at our daughter. Willow' s scream still echoes in my soul. Her eyes… blinded by her own mother' s hand.
In that instant, lying broken and helpless, something awakened within me. Not the man I tried to be, but the ancient Guardian I was always meant to be. The Solstice Gala is tomorrow. I' m coming back for my reckoning. And this time, she won' t turn away. Too Late For Regret: The CEO You Fired
Modern I had dedicated three relentless years, sixty-hour weeks, and sacrificed countless lunches to single-handedly launch Project Titan, Momentum Corp' s most crucial software release.
My life was on track, balanced with a career I built from the ground up and a future planned with my boyfriend, David, who worked in sales at the same company.
Then, a seemingly ordinary Friday afternoon was ripped apart by an email landing in my inbox at 4:58 PM, starkly titled: "Team Restructuring."
The harsh reality hit: my name was obliterated from the org chart, brazenly supplanted by Jessica Peterson, the unqualified daughter of Mr. Peterson, fresh out of college and totally clueless.
My boss, with chilling dismissiveness, then flat-out told me to either wholeheartedly support his incompetent daughter or simply go find employment elsewhere, as "it's a family business."
The betrayal spiraled as my boyfriend, David, became increasingly elusive, eventually exposed on Instagram, arm-in-arm with Jessica, brazenly labeled as a "power couple" at a rooftop bar he once deemed too expensive for us.
A devastating email from him followed, abruptly ending our five-year relationship, confirming he' d abandoned me for the very person who usurped my career, leaving me with nothing but a churning knot of indignation.
Everything - my hard-earned career, my loyal team, and my long-term relationship - was brutally stolen, leaving me standing in the ashes, reeling from an unfathomable injustice that screamed betrayal.
But just as despair threatened to consume me, an unexpected call from my father, the head of Miller Real Estate, unveiled a shocking twist: he was gifting me the deed to the very office building Momentum Corp occupied.
It was a moment of profound revelation, transforming me from a victim into a landlord with an unprecedented opportunity to reclaim what was mine, and teach those who wronged me an unforgettable, public lesson. Mr. Hamilton: Too Late, She's The CEO Now
Romance My five years of blood, sweat, and tears? Gone. My startup, NovaSpark, was dead.
But the universe wasn't done with me.
A text from my boyfriend, Ethan, read: "We're done." Just like that.
Five years of supporting his music, funding his dreams, all for nothing.
To add insult to injury, he was already parading a new girlfriend, Chloe, flaunting his sudden "Hamilton inheritance."
I had a custom Cartier ring in my purse, getting ready to propose to him that night.
Talk about timing.
Then I found him, not an hour later, at a high-end lounge, publicly announcing my "tech dream went bust" and sneering, "Look who it is, my desperate stalker."
This from the man whose stepfather's gambling debts I quietly managed, whose career I financed.
The absolute gall.
He thought because he' d stumbled into some inherited wealth, he could rewrite history and label me a gold-digger.
How could he?
The man I loved, the man I poured my soul into, standing there, dripping in new money, spitting venom and lies.
My heart was a shattered mess, reeling from the sheer audacity of his betrayal.
But then, as he launched into another tirade, an unexpected ally, Liam, one of my former investors, stepped between us.
His quiet authority cut through Ethan's arrogance.
And when he took my hand, then softly kissed me, leading me out of that suffocating lounge, I knew something had to change.
My next words to him were clear: "Take me to my grandfather' s estate. Arthur Sterling."
It was time to stop hiding. Left To Burn, She Rose A Queen
Mafia 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." His Ex, My Bed: The Ultimate Betrayal
Modern I'm a neurosurgeon who makes seven figures. I support my husband, Jackson, and his entire family. For months, I planned the perfect St. Barts vacation for all of us, paying for every last detail.
Two days before departure, Jackson dropped a bombshell. He gave my first-class ticket to his ex-girlfriend, Amber.
My new itinerary? A series of budget flights, ending with a plane known for crashing into a cliffside.
His family, living off my money, agreed. "You're resilient," he said. "Amber's more delicate."
My own mother-in-law, whose safety concerns got her a first-class upgrade I paid for, told me Amber "needs this more than you do."
I wasn't family. I was just their ATM, and my life was a small price to pay for their comfort.
That night, I found Amber sleeping in my bed. The rage was cold and clear. I canceled the trip. I froze their accounts. And I called my lawyer.
"File for divorce. And prepare to collect on the multi-million dollar loan they owe me." Predictive Text Couldn't Predict Our Love
Fantasy My world was painted with words nobody else could see, predictive text shimmering over everyone, even future adoptive families. When the chance came to pick a family, the perfect Hendersons offered sunny picnics and acceptance, but the text over Liam Henderson screamed a crimson warning: "AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Heartbreak."
Instead, it pointed to Blake Sterling, a boy drowned in the corner, with a soft blue message: "RECOMMENDED. A cold and difficult beginning. This boy is broken, but you are the key to his healing." I chose him, stepping into a life of cold silence, a museum of a house, and a father who disappeared even when he was home.
What started as quiet mutual support quickly devolved. Blake's mother's death, a supposed "wellness program," became his obsession, fueling a terrifying need for revenge against the Hendersons and Dr. Evelyn Reed. He was falling apart, spray-painting their mansion, self-destructing. Desperate, I confessed my secret, my ability to see the "text," telling him it warned me about his dangerous path.
Then, the true horror unfolded: the 'wellness program' wasn't just for his mother. Blake found a list, and my name was on it. The text I saw, my supposed "gift," wasn't magic-it was a side effect of the same experimental trial that killed his mother. I was a lab rat, just like her.
And then, his father-Mr. Sterling-came into focus. Not only had he known the program was dangerous, he' d taken money to keep quiet about the 'wellness program' and its child victims, including me. The connection between Blake and me shattered, a bond born of shared pain now poisoned by his father' s monstrous betrayal. Blake turned on me, his eyes filled with terror, accusing me of being part of the conspiracy, a living symbol of his family's betrayal.
I was alone again, more lost than in the orphanage, the text over my head a flat, dead gray: "Connection Severed." But then, a terrifying alert flashed, not for Blake, but for the man who had destroyed us both: "CRITICAL ALERT: STERLING SENIOR. ALCOHOL AND PRESCRIPTION DRUG INTERACTION. LETHAL PROBABILITY: 95%." Our personal tragedy was about to be eclipsed, and I knew-we had to save him. From Trailer to Tycoon: A Billionaire's Secret Legacy
Billionaires The splintered wood of my trailer door vibrated with each heavy blow from Spike' s thugs.
"Sarah! Open up! We know you're in there!" they roared.
Inside, my "best friend" Jessica pressed a waiver into my hand, her manicured nails digging deep.
"Sign it, Sarah! Renounce Ethan's estate, his debts! You'll be free!" she urged, her voice a desperate whine.
My blood ran cold.
This was the exact moment it happened before-the trap that destroyed my life.
In my past, I foolishly signed that paper, believing it was my salvation.
But it freed me only to an unimaginable hell.
Because Ethan Vance, my "poor" handyman husband, was no struggling family man; he was a billionaire, and Jessica, his secret partner, was set to inherit everything.
They orchestrated my ruin, stealing my future and burdening me with debt.
The gravest cost was my precious son, Leo, lifeless due to their cruel machinations.
My world collapsed, leaving me with nothing but ghosts and despair.
The memory of that betrayal, a searing brand, ignited a cold fury within me.
I had been a pawn, fed lies, while they laughed in their luxurious hidden life.
The injustice was a physical ache, begging for retribution.
But now, I was back.
Returned to the very precipice of their deceit, armed with brutal foresight.
This time, I would not sign their treacherous waiver.
I opened the shaking door, ready to face my tormentors, not as a victim, but as the architect of their downfall.
Let their nightmare begin. Beyond the Billionaire's Shadow
Fantasy The air in the small living room was thick, heavy, mirroring the cold dread gripping my stomach.
My father, Richard, cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding mine, avoiding my mother' s.
"Emily, the papers are signed," he said, his voice flat.
"It's done."
He then looked at me and my younger sister, Jessica.
"Girls, you need to decide. Who you want to live with."
I was Sarah, and this was my second chance, my second life.
The memories of the first one were branded into me.
Jessica, beside me, shifted, her eyes holding a greedy flicker I recognized from before-she remembered a life she called poor, a life she hated.
"I choose Dad," Jessica said, her voice far too quick, too eager.
"Victoria will be pleased," Richard affirmed, a thin smile on his face.
Victoria Sterling.
The tech billionaire, my future stepmother, her name a scar.
In my first life, she had chosen me.
I remembered the endless lessons, the cold praise, the constant pressure to be perfect.
She broke me down, piece by piece, until Jessica, twisted by Victoria' s influence, ended my life.
No.
Not again.
My father urged me to be "sensible," to consider the "opportunities" Victoria offered.
Jessica scoffed, "You're an idiot, Sarah. You want to stay in this dump? With her?"
She chose the fire, thinking it was gold, unaware of the torment that awaited her.
But I knew the price.
I looked at my mother, her eyes full of pain, but also a quiet strength I hadn't truly seen before.
This time, I would protect her.
I would protect myself.
"I choose Mom," I declared, my voice clear and firm, irrevocably altering the script of my reborn life. Discarded By The Country Queen
Romance I was Liam Walker, songwriter and husband to the Country Queen, Izzy Hayes. When she announced a hiatus, citing vocal strain and crippling debts, I believed she was protecting me. I sacrificed everything to support her, working odd jobs, my guitar gathering dust, believing it was for us, for our future.
Then, one night, I overheard her. Speaking in fluent Cajun French, a language I understood, she wasn't discussing her career. She was orchestrating my downfall, planning a fake divorce from me to marry Cody, her childhood friend, whose "dying wish" was to be with her. The entire crisis was a meticulously constructed lie, designed to discard me.
The next morning, she presented the divorce papers, feigning sorrow. I signed, in a haze of betrayal. But the nightmare truly heightened when Cody, freshly "married" to Izzy, began a relentless campaign of psychological torture. He sent intimate photos, detailed their fervent nights. It culminated when Izzy dragged me, her "disposable blood bank," to the hospital, ordering doctors to save Cody "even if it kills Liam."
Manageable. Disposable. Every sacrifice, every loving gesture I' d poured into our marriage, built on a sickening foundation of deceit. How could the woman I adored be so utterly callous? How could my existence mean so little?
I wouldn't let them break me. Nashville, with all its hollow promises and suffocating memories, had to go. I would leave, start fresh, and somehow, find a new song to live by. The Scapegoat's Sister
Romance It was my birthday, and my boyfriend Ethan, my rock for three years, promised something truly memorable.
He led me to a raging house party, then abandoned me as a group of leering men closed in.
I screamed for him, but he just watched, his face chillingly blank, before revealing our entire three-year relationship was a meticulously calculated lie – his twisted plan to make me pay for what his ex, Jessica, claimed my brother had done to her.
My humiliation was then meticulously documented and splashed across the internet for the world to witness.
I faced relentless cyberbullying, lost my job, and was hounded by Ethan' s goons who enforced his promise: to ensure I lived in constant fear, just as he' d intended.
The betrayal was crushing, stripping away my dignity and leaving me broken, tormented by the incomprehensible cruelty and my family's destroyed reputation.
Desperate to escape the unbearable shame, I walked to a bridge where we once dreamt of a future, ready to wash away all the pain.
But just as I fell, a panicked call from Ethan, followed by Jessica' s furious hospital room confession, revealed a deeper, more chilling lie – a lie I managed to capture, finally empowering me to expose the truth and fight back. My Sister's Last Letter
Fantasy My eyes snapped open, a raw scream tearing from my throat.
It wasn't a dream; it was the horrifying reality I'd already lived: Emily's agonizing death.
But now, miraculously, I was back.
Back to that very morning, with one mission: stop the tragedy fueled by a letter.
Emily's letter, meant as a desperate survival guide for us in her absence, was turning into a death warrant in the wrong hands.
I knew its true, terrifying purpose, and I desperately tried to intercept it before my family could find it.
But fate, it seemed, had other, crueler plans.
My brother-in-law, Mark, found it first.
Then my fiancé, David.
And finally, my own younger brother, Kevin.
Ignorant to Emily's true meaning, they twisted her protective warning into a terrifying prophecy of doom, unleashing their worst fears.
Driven by pure panic and overwhelming selfishness, they actively sabotaged Emily.
Mark publicly exposed her top-secret mission, David leaked her operational area to the dark web, and Kevin, my own brother, became their accomplice.
They repeatedly betrayed me, physically assaulted me, and even bound me, watching as Emily was caught in their self-made trap while I was powerless.
My heart shattered into a million pieces, consumed by a searing rage and agonizing despair.
How could the people I loved become the greatest threat to my sister's life and my own sanity?
But then, through a horrifying live video of Emily captured, I heard her speak.
Her seemingly nonsensical words were a secret code, a childhood encryption only I understood.
A final, desperate plea from a sister against all odds.
I deciphered her hidden message, pinpointed her location, and alerted a retired FBI Director.
Emily was rescued, but the unimaginable cost of her family's betrayal came due.
Those who acted out of fear and selfishness now face federal charges, consequences for their reckless actions.
Justice, tempered by the bitter taste of shattered trust, finally arrived. When His Past Met Present
Romance My argument with Jake still echoed, his excuses about Emily ringing in my ears. I drove to our old, tiny apartment, a monument to a past that now felt like a cruel joke.
My comfortable suburban life, built on what I realized was a lie, mocked me. My Jake, the boy I married, was gone, replaced by a stranger.
That stranger was having an affair with Emily, a young woman we' d once helped, and then the ultimate betrayal: Emily appeared on my doorstep, tearful and pregnant with Jake' s child.
The irony was a bitter pill. While I reeled, my own body betrayed me. A miscarriage. Our baby, gone before I even knew it was there, while his mistress carried his.
His true callousness emerged later. He confessed his twisted logic: years ago, after an illness, I' d been told conceiving might be difficult. Desperate for a child, he' d arranged for Emily to carry his baby.
The monstrous deception: she' d disappear, and we' d raise the child as our own. He thought I' d be happy for this sick manipulation of my deepest desires.
Disgust curled in my gut. My entire life with him was a brutal, calculated farce.
Just as the last shred of my world crumbled, a thud from the bedroom jolted me. There he stood. Not the man who' d shattered my life, but a ghost of love lost.
Eighteen-year-old Jake, confused, innocent, staring directly at me. The boy who was once my lifeline, now a stark, impossible reminder of everything I' d lost, and everything I still had to fight for. The Devil's Addiction: A Wife's Escape
Romance I thought I had the perfect life: a thriving career and a charming fiancé, Ethan, a rising star in finance. I' d built it all on my own terms, away from my wealthy family' s influence.
But Ethan was a serial cheater, always blaming a "sex addiction." I believed him, even after finding explicit texts with his intern, Jessica. Then, Jessica got pregnant. Again. I discovered this at her baby shower, simultaneously realizing I was pregnant too, and made the agonizing choice to have an abortion.
The day after my procedure, Ethan accused me of poisoning Jessica, then sexually assaulted me. The next morning, as I hemorrhaged, he abandoned me for her. I nearly died. I later found out he' d swapped his addiction medication for vitamins for years – his remorse a cruel lie.
How could a man I loved betray me so profoundly, abuse me so brutally, and abandon me to die? The injustice burned, knowing everyone believed his calculated deceptions and her malicious lies.
But I didn't die. My childhood friend, Daniel, saved my life. As Ethan and Jessica celebrated their lavish wedding, my recovery fueled an unshakeable resolve. This wasn't just about survival; it was about exposing the truth. 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. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. 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. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. 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.
Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. 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." Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge
Rabbit My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world.
Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage.
An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity.
The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity.
How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation.
Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free. 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. 
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