Marnie Nomura
8 Published Stories
Marnie Nomura's Books and Stories
The Grave They Dug For Her
Modern I lay broken in a hospital bed after a brutal car crash, but my family never came. My father and brother were too busy preparing for my manipulative half-sister Ainsley's wedding.
The groom was my fiancé, Clayton.
While I fought for my life, his last words to me over the phone were a cold command.
"Go to hell for all I care."
They abandoned me, told the world I was dead, and even carved my name on a tombstone. They buried me under a mountain of lies so Ainsley could steal the life that was mine.
But I didn't die. I was reborn.
Five years later, I returned as Ivy Richardson-a bestselling author, married to a tech CEO, and backed by a family with unimaginable power.
I only came back to settle my mother's estate. But the first person I met was Clayton, standing in front of my grave, mourning the girl he helped kill. Possessed By The Mogul's Dark Will
Romance I was his possession. The entire world knew that Jackson Walters, the ruthless tech mogul, had destroyed my life to claim me.
Then he brought home his new intern, Kaila, and sat me down.
"I've decided," he said casually, "I want you both."
When I fought back, he dragged me to a remote warehouse to teach me a lesson. My parents were bound and gagged, suspended by ropes over a massive, grumbling wood chipper.
He gave me ten seconds to accept Kaila, or he'd drop them. "I agree!" I screamed in surrender. But it was too late. A frayed rope snapped, and I watched my parents plunge into the machine's grinding teeth.
The horror of it all killed me. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in his bed. The date on my phone was the day he brought Kaila home. This time, I wouldn't fight him. I would be his perfect, obedient wife. And while he was distracted, I would fake my own death and disappear forever. Left for Dead, Found by Love
Romance My fiancé, tech CEO Cohen Burgess, took me to the city's most exclusive restaurant for our three-year anniversary.
Then his high school sweetheart, Kiera, reappeared, claiming amnesia. To help her "recover," Cohen started a viral "100 Dates Challenge" with her, turning their reunion into a national spectacle.
I became the villain in their love story. When I objected, Cohen locked me in a wine cellar, knowing my severe claustrophobia. He let Kiera wear my deceased mother's priceless dress, and when she deliberately tore it, he tossed his credit card at me and told me to buy a new one.
I finally decided to leave, only to overhear his true plan: he would marry me for my family's status, but keep Kiera as his mistress. I was never his love; I was a beautiful, high-class tool for his ambition.
The final act came when Kiera set my room on fire and framed me. Cohen screamed I was a psycho and left me to burn.
As the roof collapsed, a stranger kicked down the door. He carried me from the inferno and said, "I'm Case Browning. Your husband." No Love, Only Ash
Romance Ten years. A decade of my life, meticulously built into a future with Liam, complete with a secret I was about to reveal: two thin blue lines on a test stick.
Then my phone buzzed, a live video from Chloe-his old muse, the ghost I could never banish. And there he was, leaning against his Mustang at an illegal street race, Chloe' s arm looped through his, her voice purring, "Look who I've got with me… He said he' d win this race for me."
My carefully constructed world shattered, the beautiful dinner, the white rose, the secret blooming inside me, all felt like a cruel joke.
Every therapy session, every late-night talk, every time I' d pulled him back from the brink, mocked by her triumphant smirk as she declared, "Some people just spend their lives cleaning up messes... We make the beautiful messes."
The subtle scent of her cloying perfume clung to him when he finally came home, a stark contrast to his flimsy excuses. And then, the next morning, I found it – a pot of beef soup simmering on our stove, made with peanuts, an ingredient that could kill me, prepared for her.
The final insult came in the form of a field of white roses, delivered to our home, a grand gesture of apology meant not for me, but for his "wildfire" Chloe. He had called me "Ava," someone who "takes care of things," a mere housekeeper to his grand, destructive passion.
But I was done burning. With a single, one-way ticket in hand, and the sound of his whispered endearments to Chloe echoing in my ears, I made a choice that morning: I wasn't just leaving him, I was reclaiming myself. The Bayou Bride: A Pact With Darkness
Romance My brother Julian, driven by family image, left me abandoned in a remote, dangerous hunting cabin, forcing me to give up my fiancé so his perfect fiancée could have him.
Cornered by dangerous squatters, with no hope left, I screamed a desperate plea into the darkness, a forgotten bayou pact.
A week later, I calmly walked out, seemingly compliant, only to be subjected to further humiliation and emotional torture by the Sinclairs, culminating in being thrown from their car and forced to drive despite my crippling fear from a childhood accident that killed my foster parents.
They locked me away, berated me as ungrateful, a stain on their name, and openly sided with the "perfect" sister who feigned injury to ensure my isolation.
But they didn't know I wasn't just surviving; I was preparing my true wedding gown, ready to sever ties and claim the mystical groom who had answered my desperate plea. When Your Home Isn't Safe
Modern Thanksgiving Day in our brand-new, dream condo, and my wife Sarah and I were finally settling into our freshly renovated home.
Everything felt perfect, a fresh start.
But the holiday cheer vanished when an HOA email popped up: "Improperly parked vehicle."
My car. In my own deeded parking spot.
Then I saw the neighbor's post on Nextdoor, claiming my spot even though he had no right to it.
The guy, Kevin, was instantly entitled and rude.
The very next morning, my car had a deep, deliberate scratch running down the side, and the HOA cameras were "conveniently" offline for maintenance.
This wasn't random; it was a brazen act of vandalism.
Then Kevin's mother tried to physically block me from my own spot, followed by his father, who smashed my taillight with a sickening crunch.
Even after police got involved, Kevin' s family staged a chaotic scene, and Kevin himself destroyed my phone.
What started as a parking dispute quickly escalated into outright war: while we were away, my condo was intentionally flooded, and Sarah' s jewelry stolen.
My home, violated.
I stared at the water damage, a knot of cold fury twisting in my gut.
How could a simple parking disagreement lead to such malice, such calculated destruction of our property and peace?
The perpetrators were clear, yet the system seemed to turn a blind eye, allowing their escalating vendetta to spiral out of control.
This wasn't merely about property anymore; it was about our safety, our sanity, and fighting back.
With my influencer friend Mike, I decided to take this fight public.
The gloves were off, and I vowed to expose every single one of their twisted acts, no matter the personal cost. The Sabotaged Wife
Modern My life as a promising architect shattered two years ago by a "skiing accident" that left me paralyzed.
My charismatic husband, Ethan, installed smart home devices "for my safety," always smoothing over my dependence with a loving smile.
Then, a blinking red light from a new smoke detector revealed his true intentions.
It was a camera, and he was watching my every move.
My stomach twisted when I found more, hidden everywhere, even as he was betraying me with his young marketing associate, Chloe-who was pregnant.
He wasn't just watching me; he was planning to make me adopt their child, his "heir," leveraging my supposed inability to conceive after the "accident."
He even brought Chloe into our home as my "personal assistant," her smug smile a constant torment.
The surveillance wasn't for safety; it was to ensure my captivity.
But the real horror struck at a gala when I stumbled, stood, and then overheard Ethan railing at a doctor about medication and therapies designed to keep me disabled.
My "accident" wasn't an accident.
He caused it, then actively sabotaged my recovery for two years.
He wanted me broken, dependent, so he could control me and parade his mistress's baby as his own.
My fury ignited into an undeniable resolve.
He wanted a helpless wife?
He got a woman ready to dismantle his entire world.
I pulled out the burner phone I' d hidden for this very moment.
My escape wasn't just a fantasy anymore; it was my next step. Possessed And Retaliated
Romance My body was taken over by another woman, she pursued a scumbag, willingly degraded herself, causing me to cut off ties with my parents, and even caused Felix to have a car accident and become a vegetable. After reclaiming control of my body, I designed a plan to expose the true nature of the scumbag. His identity as a movie star was not preserved, and he begged me desperately. I did not divorce him, but he wanted to hire someone to kill me. After careful calculation, the true identity of the scumbag was exposed, not only losing fame and fortune, but also being sentenced to life imprisonment. I also got rid of the woman who had always been in my mind and welcomed a new life. You might like
Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." 
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