Marrvelous
11 Published Stories
Marrvelous's Books and Stories
Flash Marriage To The Predatory CEO
Billionaires Elsie was the Sutton family's perfect puppet, a sickly heiress locked away in a pristine manor and treated like fragile porcelain. Her only purpose was to be a pawn in her mother's corporate games.
Without warning, her mother ordered her to marry Duke Blake, a ruthless, cold-blooded billionaire known for destroying his rivals. Worse, her mother immediately handed over total control of Elsie's life to him, declaring she couldn't even step outside the gates without his explicit permission.
Desperate, Elsie met him and asked if she would be expected to perform wifely duties, praying for a marriage in name only.
"I have a very high sex drive."
He stated it bluntly, shattering her illusions. Yet, when he drove her into the city days later, a sudden swerve sent her tumbling directly into his lap. Instead of the desire he claimed to possess, his body went completely rigid. He violently shoved her away, slamming her hard against the passenger seat. His face was pale, his knuckles white, and he stared straight ahead with a look of absolute, terrifying revulsion.
Humiliation and sharp pain coiled in her chest. She couldn't understand. Why did he demand absolute control over her and boast about his desires, only to treat her accidental touch like a repulsive disease? Why did this all-powerful man secretly smell of hospital antiseptics? What exactly was the Sutton family forcing her to marry?
But she was no longer willing to be a lamb led to the slaughter. Thinking of the provocative black lace hidden behind her wardrobe's false wall, Elsie smiled coldly. She was going to find the fatal flaw in this ruthless billionaire's code, and use it to completely shatter her cage. 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
Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
William Jafferson My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." No More Your Scorned Wife: The Medical Empress Returns
Ela Osaretin "Sign it. Save her, and I'll give you anything."
For four years, I was Damian Wright's 'invisible wife'.
While I played the pauper, he poured his soul into his dying first love. Desperate, he blindly signed a stack of papers to buy the 'Gifted Doctor's' time.
He didn't read the fine print. Buried inside was our Divorce Decree.
"Congratulations, Damian," I said, stripping off my surgical mask to reveal the wife he never truly knew. "You're free."
The submissive Amelia is dead.
The legendary 'Ghost Surgeon'? That's me.
The blindfolded racing queen 'Raven'? Also me.
The shadow behind the global intelligence network V-Null? Still me.
I was ready to vanish, but Lucas Sullivan-the titan who makes the Wrights look like peasants-blocked my path.
When Damian tried to reclaim me, Lucas didn't just stop him; he brought an empire to its knees.
"They don't deserve to look at you," Lucas whispered, his touch a lethal mix of protection and obsession. "But if you crave the world, Amelia, I'll burn it down just to hear you say my name."
His Accidental Cure: The Runaway Contract Wife
Norrra I was drugged and sent to a hotel room to be compromised, but I ended up in the presidential suite with a stranger.
I didn't know the man I clung to in my hallucinogenic haze was my own husband, Devaughn Winters, a man I hadn't spoken to in a year.
When I woke up the next morning, the terror of what I’d done hit me like a physical blow. I fled, leaving behind nothing but a shredded dress and a lingering sense of dread.
I thought I’d finally escaped the cold, suffocating contract of our marriage when I signed the divorce papers, but I was wrong.
My mother-in-law arrived at my apartment, freezing my sick mother’s medical funds and threatening to ruin me for the "infidelity" she claimed I’d committed.
She dragged my secrets into the light, leaving me with no choice but to fight back with a knife in my hand and a 911 call on speaker.
But just as I thought I was free, the man I’d spent the night with—the man who was supposed to be my stranger—tore up our divorce papers and declared that I was his to keep.
I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand, trapped between a ruthless father who wanted to sell me for corporate secrets and a husband who demanded I belong to him in life and in death.
How did he not know who I was that night, and why is he suddenly claiming me as his own?
I’m done being a victim, and if he thinks he can own me, he’s about to find out exactly what happens when a cornered woman decides to burn it all down. Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Haley I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders.
But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked.
I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint.
The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment.
I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever.
The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration.
"Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me." Too Late For Regret: My Dying Breath
Breeze Harlow had stage IV lung cancer and only three months left to live. Her only hope was for her billionaire ex, Ezra, to take in their deaf four-year-old daughter.
But Ezra despised her. Five years ago, Harlow's sister Katherine framed her for corporate theft, sending her to a brutal state prison. Ezra believed the lies completely.
To him, little Clementine was just another man's bastard. When Harlow knelt on his floor begging for a DNA test, he looked at her with pure disgust. On the day the results were revealed in front of both their families, Harlow thought the truth would finally save her child.
Instead, Ezra threw the lab report at her. Secretly manipulated by Katherine's wealth, the paper stated Ezra was excluded as the biological father.
"You are a lying, manipulative parasite, and you are done!" Ezra screamed.
Katherine offered her a fake pity check, while Harlow's own father cursed her as a shameless stain on their legacy.
Harlow stared at the forged paper, her world spinning. She couldn't understand how her own family could be so monstrous, or how Ezra could be so blindly cruel to watch his true daughter be thrown into the streets.
The suffocating despair violently ruptured her diseased lungs. A horrific spray of dark blood erupted from her mouth, soaking the fake DNA report and Ezra's crisp white shirt, before she collapsed lifelessly at his feet. 
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