Maiga Ardeni
14 Published Stories
Maiga Ardeni's Books and Stories
His Canary, Her Revenge
Mafia For seven years, I was the loyal fiancée to Julian, the city's most ruthless Mafia Don.
Then I found a mint condom wrapper in his bathroom and a voice note from his young assistant, Valentina, bragging about his relentless appetites.
When I confronted him, he didn't apologize.
Instead, he gaslit me, calling me a paranoid liability, and let Valentina replace the decor in our private sanctuary.
"You are manufacturing drama from nothing," he sneered.
After they publicly humiliated me at a family dinner, I broke the engagement and exposed their affair to the syndicate.
Julian retaliated with absolute destruction.
He ruined my career, vandalized my art studio, and orchestrated a hit on my father, leaving him bleeding out in a hospital.
Cornered and desperate, I jumped from his corporate balcony just to escape his control.
When I woke up battered in a hospital bed, Julian stood over me, cold and arrogant.
He demanded I publicly apologize to his mistress for causing her trauma, threatening to finish the hit on my family if I refused.
He thought I was a caged canary who would finally submit to his power.
He didn't know I had already hired a syndicate cleaner to plant hidden cameras in his penthouse.
As I stared at the man I once loved, I was already preparing to broadcast his ultimate treason to the Five Families and burn his empire to ashes. He Drowned Me, I Burned His World.
Romance My fiancé, Anthony, built an entire virtual world for me after a climbing accident left me in a wheelchair. He called it Aethelgard, my sanctuary. In his game, I wasn't broken; I was Valkyrie, the unrivaled champion. He was my savior, the man who patiently nursed me back from the brink.
Then, I saw a live stream of him on stage at a tech conference. With his arm wrapped around my physical therapist, Dahlia, he announced to the world that she was the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with.
The truth was a waking nightmare. He wasn't just cheating; he was secretly switching my pain medication for a weaker dose with sedatives, intentionally slowing my recovery to keep me weak and dependent.
He gave Dahlia my one-of-a-kind bracelet, my virtual title, and even the wedding plans I had made for us.
He leaked a humiliating photo of me at my lowest point, turning the entire gaming community against me and branding me a stalker.
The final blow came when I tried to confront him at his victory party. His security guards beat me, and on his casual command, they threw my unconscious body into a filthy fountain to "sober me up."
The man who swore to build a world where I would never struggle had tried to drown me in it.
But I survived. I left him and that city behind, and as my legs grew strong again, so did my resolve. He stole my name, my legacy, and my world. Now, I'm logging back in, not as Valkyrie, but as myself. And I'm going to burn his empire to the ground. Finding Freedom In A Small Town
Modern I was a billionaire's trophy wife, but when I fell ill, I had to beg my husband, Adam, for fifty dollars just to buy tampons.
He refused, humiliating me for mismanaging my meager allowance.
Minutes later, my phone lit up with photos of him on a yacht, gifting his ex-girlfriend a five-million-dollar necklace. The messages from other wives were brutal: "Poor Aubrey. Always second best."
He had forbidden me from working, from having any independence, calling me an "ornament." I was a possession he'd bought, worth less than the jewelry he gave another woman.
The humiliation burned hotter than any fever. He controlled my life, but he wouldn't control my escape.
Standing drenched in the rain, I made a decision. If money was freedom, I would earn it myself. I pushed open the heavy door to The Velvet Lounge, a high-end club where secrets were sold and fortunes were made. My new life was about to begin. Flash Marriage To The Mysterious Doctor
Romance I was an exhausted Wall Street analyst, suffocating under the weight of my father's massive debt.
Just when I thought my life couldn't get worse, my boss ordered me to cover up an eight-figure corporate fraud for a VIP client.
If I refused, I would be framed and fired. If I agreed, I would become their scapegoat and go to federal prison. Cornered and desperate, I hit rock bottom when a ride-share driver locked me in his car on a dark street.
But I was saved by Donovan Beasley, a billionaire heir and the most untouchable bachelor in New York.
Instead of just driving me home, he slid a thirty-page prenuptial agreement across the table.
"I'm proposing a merger."
He would clear my father's $2.7 million debt overnight. In exchange, I would be his temporary wife for three years. No emotional expectations, no physical intimacy.
I didn't understand why a powerful, flawless man like him needed a broken, indebted woman like me as a shield. Was he hiding a dark secret? What was the real catch?
But I had no choice. I signed the devil's contract and mercilessly exposed the fraud at work.
Standing on the steps of City Hall, looking at the platinum ring he just slid onto my finger, I watched his black Maybach drive away.
I had bought my freedom, but as I clutched the key card to his penthouse, I knew my real trial was just beginning. Rejected Omega: The Lycan King's Obsession
Werewolf I was an Omega married off to the powerful Gamma Ryker Blackwood to save my dwindling pack.
But on our wedding night, he threw me into the spare room, declaring our bond a mere political alliance.
He refused to mark me, leaving me to suffer through my agonizing heats with nothing but toxic suppressants.
I soon discovered his heart belonged to a powerful Alpha warrior named Jessa.
They openly humiliated me at pack events, mocking my unmarked status and telling me to initiate a rejection.
When I finally found the courage to leave, his mother threatened my family's survival if I didn't produce an heir.
That night, a drunken Ryker came home and used the forbidden Alpha Command on me.
"Kneel."
My knees crashed onto the cold marble floor, the dark magic breaking my will and tearing our sacred bond apart.
I was trapped in a gilded cage, abused by my fated mate, and forced to bear his cruelty for the sake of my people.
How could the Moon Goddess shackle me to a monster who would profane our bond just to show his dominance?
The next morning, a terrified Ryker woke up realizing he could be ruined by the council for using the Command.
I didn't scream or report him to the Alpha King.
Instead, I wiped away my tears, gave him a gentle smile, and pretended to forgive him.
He gave me a crumb of remorse, and I will use it to bake a loaf of revenge. From ATM To Tech Queen's Empire
Modern For thirteen years, I worked myself to the bone for my boyfriend, Angel. We were just $500 shy of our $100,000 goal for a house and a wedding.
Then came the frantic late-night call. His aunt needed $50,000 for life-saving surgery. I sent our entire life savings without a second thought.
But when I fell and injured myself rushing to the hospital, he told me he was busy and hung up. I found him there, not in an ER, but in a private wing, coddling his influencer mistress over her sprained ankle. My money was for her.
He wasn't a struggling artist; he was a secret millionaire who'd used me as his personal ATM for over a decade. When I confronted him, he leaked my private photos to the world, painting me as an unstable ex to protect his new life.
He left me broke, humiliated, and physically injured on the street. He thought he had won.
But he forgot who I was.
I picked up the phone and called my mother, the CEO of Mayli Tech. "Mom," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready to take you up on that offer." His Obsession, Her Second Life
Romance My fiancé, Declan, was my childhood sweetheart. But a traumatic brain injury from a car wreck turned him into a violent monster. I stayed, determined to wait for the man I loved to come back.
Then his new therapist, Dr. Christie Howard, arrived. She was supposed to help him heal, but instead, she began to manipulate him, turning him against me.
At a charity auction, a man lunged at them with a knife. I screamed a warning. But Declan didn't protect me. He pulled me in front of himself and Christie, using my body as a human shield.
The blade sank into my side. In my previous life, that was just the beginning. For Christie, he let his men throw me down a flight of stairs. For Christie, he stood by as she desecrated my mother’s ashes.
And in the end, the two of them murdered me in a staged car crash, leaving me to die in a heap of twisted metal.
But I woke up, not dead, but in my bed.
A full year before they killed me. This time, things would be different. I had a plan. Building a Second Life
Sci-fi The cold seeped into my bones, each beat of the heart monitor a countdown to my end.
My name is Ethan Miller, and I was dying, wasted by an illness the doctors couldn't explain.
The System, an emotionless voice in my head, confirmed my mission failure: I had refused to play the villain, refused to hurt my adoptive aunt, Eleanor Vance, the woman I loved with everything I had.
My reward for being the "good guy" was this hospital bed, my body shutting down because I wouldn't sabotage Eleanor' s perfect romance with the sculptor Liam Stone.
The door opened, and Eleanor entered, radiant in a tailored dress, her arm linked with Liam' s.
Her voice, smooth and practiced, feigned concern, but her eyes held impatience and distaste.
She played the grieving aunt, while Liam, naive and kind, looked at me with pity.
I rasped out that I was fine, but Eleanor, with a cruel smile, claimed the doctor said it wasn't looking good.
She then held up a wooden bird, a phoenix I had carved for her years ago, a symbol of hope.
On a live news broadcast, she declared it a symbol of "misguided love," then nonchalantly tossed it into a staged fireplace, burning my creation, my heart, to ashes.
As the monitor flatlined and the System bond terminated, her triumphant smile was the last thing I saw.
The rage was a physical thing, burning hotter than any fever.
But then, a new, ancient voice offered me a second chance, a Rebirth Protocol.
This time, I would embrace my designated role as the villain, and survive. Not This Time, Scammer
Fantasy My engagement party was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
My fiancé, Ethan, announced he had a $100,000 down payment for our dream house, all real cash.
Then, his mother dramatically collapsed, feigning a heart attack, and Ethan immediately demanded my $50,000 paramedic bonus for her emergency surgery.
But I knew this wasn't real. I'd lived this day before.
Last time, I believed him, handed over my money, and watched as his elaborate scam unfolded.
They framed my father with fake texts demanding more money, stressing him into a fatal heart attack.
I lost everything-my father, my reputation, battled crushing debt, and in my despair, ended my own life.
But by some miracle, I woke up, back in my bed, just before the party.
I had a second chance. This time, I wouldn' t be the naive victim.
As Ethan pleaded, a perfect picture of terror for the crowd, I just looked him dead in the eye and said, "No."
Forget the money. I had a camera phone, a past life's bitter knowledge, and a plan to expose every single one of their lies, save my dad, and utterly destroy them. The Contracted Marriage Five-Years Lie
Romance My marriage to Isabella Vance was a carefully constructed lie, a five-year contract to secure my family's legacy.
It looked perfect on the outside, a power couple united, but inside, it was a cold charade, a grim reminder of the love I'd lost.
The terms were clear: at the contract's end, freedom.
But Julian, Isabella' s obsessive adopted brother, saw my impending divorce as a threat to his stranglehold on her, escalating his petty torments into terrifying attempts on my life.
He ambushed me, kidnapped me, then doused me in gasoline within a desolate desert shack, ready to watch me burn.
Isabella, my wife, then walked in, and Julian forced her to publicly humiliate me and declare her sole devotion to him, all to prove how little I truly meant.
As the flames ignited, a chilling realization hit me: was this my penance for a contract unfulfilled, or for daring to seek solace with a woman who resembled my beloved Clara?
Every blow, every humiliation, felt like a perverse tribute to a past I thought I'd finally escaped.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, a surprising act of selfless defiance, born from unexpected courage, shattered the nightmare.
This desperate sacrifice changed everything, setting me on an unforeseen path toward profound healing and a true love I never dared dream of again. The Billion-Dollar Dirt Farm
Modern The air in the Oakhaven County Courthouse records office was thick with the smell of old paper. My pen hovered over the sales agreement for the little house on Elm Street, my entire inheritance from Grandma about to be invested, mostly in my boyfriend Mark' s name. I envisioned our future, eager to make his big dreams a reality.
Then, a cold dread washed over me – a memory both utterly foreign and terrifyingly real. I had signed these papers before. In that forgotten life, Mark, emboldened by newly discovered fracking rights on the land, took my money, left me for Brenda, and abandoned me. I was left with nothing, ultimately dying alone from pneumonia in a brutal winter.
My eyes snapped up. Across the room, Mark leaned against the wall, whispering to Brenda. She giggled, glancing at me with a sly, triumphant smirk. "We'll paint the kitchen yellow," Brenda declared, her voice carrying, "That awful blue Sarah likes has to go." Mark chuckled, "Anything you want, Bren. It's gonna be our place, after all."
My place. My inheritance. A sickening punch to the gut. This was it – the exact, soul-crushing moment of betrayal, relived. How could this be happening? Was I insane?
But then, a fierce realization ignited within me. I wasn't dead. I was here. My heart hammered, "A second chance!" The naive Sarah was gone, frozen to death in another timeline. This Sarah remembered everything. My hand, trembling no longer, closed into a fist. And with a defiant roar of paper, I ripped the sales agreement in half. Three Times I Died, His Calls Unanswered
Modern I returned to Arizona after four years, happily engaged and hoping to invite my guardian, Marcus, to my wedding.
But I found a nightmare: Marcus was engaged to Chloe Davenport, my high school bully.
He instantly dismissed my wedding news as a “lie,” blindly favoring Chloe as she systematically tormented me.
He allowed her to frame me, forced apologies, and let her steal my cherished artwork.
When I reported it, he quashed the police investigation, accusing me of “causing trouble” and confining me.
His cruel disregard and blind favoritism was a profound betrayal.
Overwhelmed by injustice, I resolved to cut all ties.
I repaid every cent he'd spent, leaving a note: “The debt is repaid. I'm gone.”
As I flew to Florence, Marcus’s delusion crumbled.
He raced across continents, frantic to stop my Tuscan wedding.
He burst in, desperate and tearful, only to find me radiant.
Calmly, I revealed the three times I nearly died, alone and abandoned, after he sent me away – each time, my calls unanswered.
My unwavering happiness with David, and the cold truth of his neglect, utterly shattered him. My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant
Modern Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the tenth anniversary of Ellie's Sweet Sensations, my beloved bakery.
But amidst the flash of cameras and Dan's charming politician's smile, a cold knot tightened in my stomach. Late-night texts, a mysterious credit card charge from a boutique I'd never heard of, "Jolie's"... then I heard it, Dan cooing "Love you too, Maddie" into the phone. The perfect facade cracked; my husband was having an affair.
The betrayal was bad enough, but then she popped up – Maddie Bell, young, blonde, influencer – flaunting my husband online. Vacation photos, the same necklace from Jolie's, and always always right next to my husband. Then I caught wind of THEIR baby. My carefully constructed world started crumbling as I came to terms with the stark reality: He wasn't just cheating; he was building a whole new life with her.
I baked him that cake for our anniversary, knowing I'd soon be but a memory. Then, the ultimate slap – he was going to take Maddie home to meet his parents. The next day, she was at my doorstep feigning sympathy while my world burned. I couldn't stay with all of this on my plate. Not even for Liam.
So I plotted my escape, a theatrical end: a staged car accident with me declared the victim. What kind? The one he causes. Was this revenge or survival? I thought it was both. But what would my story have in store? I started by documenting the full account of his disgusting deed in a diary I knew he would stumble on post-"mortem."
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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.
Carved From My Body, His Regret
Ive Gutterson My eyes struggled open, but a heavy weight held them shut. I was paralyzed, trapped in a cold hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor a cruel reminder of my mother's death. I, Elena Vitiello, who controlled everything, was now helpless, reduced to a slab of meat.
Then I heard his footsteps. Dante. My husband, my anchor. But his voice was chillingly devoid of warmth as he ordered, "Do not increase the dosage. I will not risk damaging the organ's viability." The organ. My mind went blank, ice filling my veins.
Trapped and unable to move, I realized Dante saw me only as a "political placeholder," never loving me. He was having my kidney removed, carved from my body like livestock, to save his mistress, Sofia-the woman whose messes I'd cleaned for ten years. His hand, usually my comfort, smeared away my tear with sheer disgust.
The scalpel tore into my flesh, a blinding, white-hot agony. Every tug and pull hollowed me out, stripping away my potential, my love, my future. How could the man I bled for reduce me to a mere object, a spare part for his true love? The sheer insult of it fueled a volcanic rage.
As my kidney was lifted out, the final illusion of our marriage shattered completely. My fear dissolved, replaced by a chilling, absolute calm. The darkness that embraced me was not defeat, but the coiling silence of a viper preparing to strike. This kidney was not a sacrifice. It was the down payment for Dante Moretti's life. The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Comeback
Baxy Koseluk I was the dutiful wife of Julian, a ruthless Capo in the Chicago Syndicate.
Six months ago, my convoy was ambushed by a rival cartel.
While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor of the car, my husband was on the phone with his mistress, Mia.
"Lock your doors, stay inside," he told her, never once asking if I was alive.
I survived, only to watch him flaunt his betrayal.
He brought his mistress into our home, booked her luxury suites in Tokyo, and bought her massive diamonds with Syndicate funds.
When I refused to play the part of his obedient, blind wife, he publicly humiliated me and orchestrated rumors to isolate me.
He thought I was just collateral, a powerless figurehead he could control and eventually discard to settle his debts.
I had endured this loveless marriage to survive in the family, yet he treated me worse than dirt while elevating a mistress who knew nothing of our world.
I was suffocating in a cage of neglect, enraged by the audacity of a coward who broke every sacred vow.
So, I took off my vulgar wedding ring and left it on his bathroom sink.
I picked up my phone and sent a message to Dante Falcone, the exiled heir who had stitched my flesh back together in secret.
This time, I chose to burn my husband's empire to the ground. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." 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. Pampered By The Rival Syndicate Don
Jing Yue As I lay in the cold underground clinic, terminating the unborn heir of the city's most feared mafia underboss, my phone lit up.
My fiancé of seven years had just publicly pledged his protection and a home-cooked meal to his ex-lover, moments after telling me to risk a deadly ambush by ordering takeout.
When I returned to our penthouse, bleeding and broken, he didn't even notice.
He gave my specialized prenatal milk to his ex because she had a "delicate stomach," leaving me only a hollowed-out egg white and dry crusts.
When I begged him to stay, he violently kicked my packed suitcase across the marble floor.
"Elena's medical needs take priority right now," he snapped, rushing out because his ex felt cold.
He even blocked my secure number when I frantically tried to reach him one last time.
For seven years, we had built an empire together.
I couldn't understand how a past flame playing the fragile doe could make him discard my life and our child's existence so callously, treating me like worthless scraps.
Sitting in the empty penthouse, I wiped my tears and opened the global Syndicate network.
"My betrothal to Vincent is officially dissolved. Act accordingly."
I powered down my phone, grabbed my tactical gear, and boarded a private jet to leave his territory forever. The Mafia Bride's Lethal Revenge
Norrra To save my crumbling family, I was married off to Julian Moretti, the terrifying Underboss of the Chicago mafia.
But he didn't even wait for the wedding reception to end before slipping Rohypnol into my champagne.
I woke up on the cold marble floor of the penthouse, only to see my new husband sleeping with his long-time mistress right in front of me.
He dragged my unconscious body there just to let me wake up to this humiliation, to show me I was nothing but discarded trash.
When I escaped and returned home for help, my father threw a heavy crystal glass at my head.
"You ruined us, you stupid bitch! Go back and beg for his mercy!"
My stepmother cursed me for not knowing my place, while I discovered they had been embezzling my dead mother's trust fund to pay off debts.
Even worse, the mistress in my husband's bed was actually my father's illegitimate daughter.
My own family had served me to a Capo's bed just to beg for scraps, sacrificing my life for their beloved bastard.
They all thought I was just the obedient, fragile Rossi princess they could easily manipulate and feed to the wolves.
They expected me to cry, surrender, and let them bleed me dry.
But the fragile mafia princess they knew was already dead.
In her place, the dormant instincts of "Seraph"—the lethal Mossad operative I used to be—snapped awake.
I wiped my husband's blood off my knuckles, stepped over his groaning body, and made a deal with his deadliest rival.
This time, I'm going to burn their entire empire to the ground. 
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