Marrvelous
10 Published Stories
Marrvelous's Books and Stories
He Denied My Brother's Last Journey
Modern My billionaire boyfriend refused to loan me fifty thousand dollars to bring my brother' s body home.
Three days later, I found his assistant wearing my silk robe in our penthouse.
That was the moment I decided to marry my childhood friend instead.
For eight years, I was Callen House' s dirty little secret.
I accepted the shadows, believing his "Relationship Protocols" were just the quirks of a tech genius.
But when my brother died tragically overseas, Callen didn't offer comfort.
He offered me a corporate loan application, which his assistant, Daniella, promptly denied.
While I was drowning in grief, Jaren stepped in.
He paid for the repatriation without hesitation, proving what real love actually looked like.
I went to Callen' s apartment to end things, only to find Daniella there, sporting a fresh hickey and a smug grin.
The truth came out like a landslide.
She hadn't just stolen my boyfriend; she had been intercepting my bonuses and sabotaging my career for years.
And Callen? He defended her.
He called me a liability and threatened to ruin me if I made a scene.
So I didn't just quit.
I sent a picture of me and Jaren to the company group chat with a caption that silenced the entire office.
"I' m getting married. And it' s not to Callen House." Seven Years of Poison
Romance Ava Green pressed her back against the cool wood of her bedroom door, listening to the quiet hum of her foster home. Ahead of her, her foster brother, Jake Stone, held her close, his hands on her waist. For seven years, he had been her secret, a dangerous poison she had been drinking, waiting for his thirtieth birthday when he promised to finally claim her.
But in a crowded bar, clutching his phone she had rushed to return, she overheard his cruel confession to his friends: she was merely a "convenient distraction," a "placeholder" until the "real thing," Chloe, was ready. The future she had so carefully built shattered around her.
His words, "She's not Chloe. She's not the future Mrs. Stone," hit her like a physical blow. The seven years of whispered promises were a brutal lie. She was just a toy to be discarded.
The phone grew impossibly heavy in her hand, her legs unsteady as she stumbled away from the bar, away from his laughter, into the cold night.
Back in her room, a lifeline appeared: "Your Application to Architects Without Borders," an acceptance to a conflict zone in the Middle East. It felt perfect, a place to tear down her old life and build something new.
She replied with two words that promised to erase him and everything he represented: "I accept." No Longer His To Break
Romance The drug pulsed through my veins, every inch of my body screaming for release, yet my husband, Ethan, stood over me, his face etched with familiar disgust.
Just thirty minutes earlier, his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett, had forced 99 pills down my throat, challenging me: if Ethan was still repulsed by my 200-pound body, even under the aphrodisiac's influence, I had to sign the divorce papers.
Scarlett' s taunt echoed: "I bet even if you strip naked and beg like a dog, he won't touch your two-hundred-pound body!"
Consumed by the drug, I sank to the floor, pressing my lips against Ethan' s polished shoes, begging for help, for the man who once swore to protect me.
He commanded, cold and devoid of emotion: "Use your mouth. Unbuckle my belt." He promised to help if I complied.
My heart, already shattered, splintered as I fumbled with his belt, a memory piercing through the haze: I had endured agonizing experimental treatments, nearly dying, to cure the rare disease that was killing him.
He had vowed eternal gratitude, promised to cherish me forever. But the cure had ravaged my metabolism, ballooning my body and his affection dwindled just as fast.
Then, his sneer: "You really think I'd touch this? You' re disgusting. Trying to manipulate me with drugs? You' re pathetic."
He kicked me away, walking out, leaving me to burn while Scarlett posted a triumphant selfie with him: "He's mine. Alone." I was just a placeholder, a life-saving tool that had outlived its usefulness.
The fire inside raged, but a chilling resolve hardened. I wouldn't die here. A numb voice whispered: "I will erase Ava Miller, the hopeful artist, the loving wife, the pathetic, two-hundred-pound woman begging on the floor. I will leave this life behind and become someone else. Someone powerful." Paid In Betrayal
Modern After two decades in a black-site prison, Elara was finally free, stepping back into a world she believed her husband had fought to reclaim for her.
But an overheard conversation shattered that illusion: her husband, Marcus, coolly admitted he' d orchestrated her imprisonment as a 'perfect sacrifice' to protect their son, Alex, and clinch his climb to power, all while collaborating with Elara' s own adopted sister, Chloe, his mistress.
Returned home a ghost, Elara watched as Chloe usurped her prestigious position, flaunting Elara' s own uniform.
At a public gala, her father openly slapped her, demanding she yield her family legacy to Chloe, while Marcus and Alex turned their backs, leaving her isolated and humiliated.
The final blow came when Chloe feigned an attack, leading Alex to violently shove his mother against a pillar, and Marcus to threaten Elara with a return to the very prison she'd just escaped.
Twenty years of torture and isolation, endured with the false hope of vindication, were exposed as a cold, calculated transaction by those she loved most.
The once unwavering love she held for her family incinerated into ash, leaving only a chilling clarity: they valued power over her life.
With her past reduced to embers and her future with them extinguished, Elara activated a secret family protocol, erasing every trace of her existence, and walked out into the night, reborn to forge a new identity-and a new life-far from their toxic shadow. The Daughter I Lost to Greed
Modern I'd built my catering business from scratch, pouring every dollar into my daughter Emily's future, envisioning a modest, joyful wedding.
But then Kevin's mother, Brenda, dropped a bombshell: Emily was pregnant, and they demanded a $50,000 wedding plus another $50,000 for a house – my "responsibility."
My own daughter, manipulated by Brenda, sided against me, echoing their absurd demands and cutting me off.
They married without me, then Emily even tried to set me up with a strange man, and Brenda openly demanded my house.
How could my sweet, cherished Emily become so unrecognizable, so deeply brainwashed by this monstrous greed?
The absolute betrayal tore my heart apart, leaving me shattered and utterly bewildered.
Desperate, I listed my house, planning to escape to Oregon.
But Emily's final call, a plea for reconciliation over dinner, was a trap.
Drugged and helpless, I overheard Brenda order Kevin to murder me and inherit everything.
This wasn't just about money anymore; it was about survival. Rewritten Tides: Her Second Chance
Romance My college graduation trip was supposed to be a final adventure, a last taste of freedom.
My best friend, Jessica, was squealing with excitement beside me on the wild coast.
Then, two men emerged: Ethan, the enigmatic Selkie leader from the crashing waves, and Marcus, the formidable werewolf Alpha from the treeline.
While Jessica's gaze fixed on Ethan, Marcus's amber eyes found mine with a predatory intensity, sealing my fate with three chilling words: "You're mine."
My life spiraled into a nightmare.
Trapped as Marcus's captive "Luna" in his brutal pack, I endured his suffocating control and the jealous glares of his she-wolves.
When Jessica, weary of her quiet life with the Selkies, sought my help after her own reckless mistakes, I created a risky diversion.
But she repaid my loyalty with a chilling betrayal, screaming lies that sentenced me to death.
I drowned, my life extinguished by the cold ocean, murdered by the very people my supposed best friend had chosen, all because of her cruel deceit.
How could I have been so blind?
How could someone I loved betray me so utterly for nothing?
But then, I opened my eyes.
The salt spray hit my face.
Jessica squealed beside me.
I was back.
Back at the beginning.
This time, as the two powerful leaders emerged, my choice would be different.
I would not be his captive.
I would not be her victim.
I would choose my own path. My Second Chance, His Last
Young Adult The Northwood University acceptance letter felt heavy in my hand.
It was a golden ticket, meant for both me and Ethan.
We were young, hopeful, ready to build our future together.
But I'd already lived this life once, and it ended with Ethan's hands around my throat.
He blamed me for Tiffany Bell's death, his forever crush.
Now, Tiffany beamed, announcing she wasn't going to Northwood.
And Ethan, standing beside me with his own acceptance letter, chose to follow her instead.
"Northwood can wait. You're more important," he told Tiffany.
He dropped his future onto the coffee table like trash.
"You wouldn't understand, Sarah. This is something I have to do," he said to me, already casting me aside.
His obsession to "save" Tiffany was already in motion.
His twisted narrative was forming, just as it had before.
He thought he was rewriting his past, but he was mirroring the delusion that killed me.
A cold wave washed over me – he was convinced of his heroic path, even if it meant abandoning our shared dream.
How could he not see he was stepping onto the same dangerous road?
This man, who had crushed me once, was now alienating me, with a smirk on his face.
I wouldn't beg him this time.
My survival was paramount.
I was back, and this second chance was mine to seize.
Let him chase his ghost; I was going to rewrite my own destiny, without him. Seeds of Fury: The Discarded Wife's Rise
Romance It was supposed to be my ten-year anniversary, a glittering party celebrating a decade I’d devoted to building Ethan’s empire.
As I stood under the opulent chandeliers, Chloe, his sister, beamed, raising a toast "to new beginnings"—then pressed divorce papers into my hand.
The celebratory evening shattered, turning into a public nightmare.
While Ethan schmoozed with his Ivy League "ideal," Victoria Vance, I suffered a violent miscarriage right there on the polished ballroom floor.
His family hissed, stepping back as if I carried a plague, and Ethan’s only concern was for the “scene.”
Later, I found my meager belongings shredded, my grandmother’s cherished letter torn, and “GET OUT” scrawled in my own lipstick on the bathroom mirror.
How can a man, who knelt at my grandmother’s grave swearing eternal vows and built his fortune on her ancient wisdom, accuse me of being ungrateful?
For ten years, I was the mud from his bayou origins he desperately tried to scrub away, yet the foundation of everything he built.
Now he wanted to erase me completely?
But when his sleek new fiancée arrived with bulldozers, threatening to desecrate my ancestors' precious burial ground, the meek "swamp girl" Elara they thought they'd broken finally snapped.
Clutching my grandmother's secret, powerful seeds, I vowed to reclaim my power, one fiery breath at a time.
They wanted a show? I was just getting started. You might like
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. 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. 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 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." 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. 
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