Mattie Valelly
13 Published Stories
Mattie Valelly's Books and Stories
Their Perfect Lie, My Unseen Truth
Romance Tentu, saya akan menambahkan POV (Point of View) ke setiap bab sesuai dengan permintaan Anda, tanpa mengubah format atau konten lainnya.
My parents stood over my unrecognizable body in the marsh, complaining that I hadn't returned their calls.
To my father, the lead detective, and my mother, the Chief Medical Examiner, I was just another "Jane Doe" who made bad life choices.
While I watched as a ghost, my mother scoffed at the silver bracelet on my wrist-the one I made for her-calling it "tacky street trash."
They spent the morning dissecting my injuries, all while praising my adopted sister, Hope, and grumbling about how I was "acting out" by missing her violin recital.
They called me irresponsible and ungrateful, unaware that I had been kidnapped and murdered as revenge for one of my father's old cases.
I screamed silently as they dismissed my death as the result of a "rebellious lifestyle."
The insults only stopped when they found the waterproof capsule in my stomach.
My father' s hands trembled as he read the note inside: "An eye for an eye, Detective Hood."
Then, my mother saw the scar on my flank-the unmistakable mark of the kidney donation I had given to their perfect daughter. From Neglected Girl To Unstoppable Heiress
Romance Tentu, saya akan menambahkan POV (Point of View) ke setiap bab sesuai dengan permintaan Anda, tanpa mengubah format atau konten lainnya.
I lay dying on a hospital gurney, my internal organs crushed from shielding my sister during the crash.
Yet, my parents were down the hall, cooing over Estrella' s minor scratches while ignoring my fading pulse.
"She' s faking it for attention," my father spat. "She' ll regret this stunt when she gets home."
When the nurse frantically told them I was gone, my mother didn't shed a tear. She laughed.
"Nice try," she sneered at the nurse. "Tell Carolina to stop playing dead. It' s pathetic."
My spirit watched helplessly as they turned my funeral into a performance, painting me as the "difficult" child who finally ruined their lives.
I thought my suffering was over, but then a violent pull dragged me back from the void.
I opened my eyes in a stranger's body-Claire Tillman, a billionaire heiress betrayed by her fiancé.
Now armed with a new face and unlimited resources, I realized I had a second chance.
I wasn't just going to survive; I was going to destroy the fiancé who wronged Claire, and then I was coming for the family that let me die. His Betrayal, My Sudden Wedding Vows
Mafia For seven years, I was his property. The lover and most trusted operative of Damian Benjamin, Veridian City' s ruthless kingpin. I took bullets for him, balanced his bloody books, and foolishly mistook his possessiveness for love.
Then, he ordered me to seduce his rival, Earl Reid.
It was all a cruel scheme to win the heart of another woman. I followed his orders, luring Earl into a hotel suite at a gala, only for Damian to burst in with the press.
He publicly shamed me, leaving me naked and exposed as his true love called me trash. My seven-year devotion was shattered by the man I thought was my savior.
But as the camera flashes blinded me, Earl Reid, the man I was sent to destroy, shielded my body from the world.
He looked at me, his expression unreadable, and made an announcement that sealed my fate.
"We're getting married." His Second Life Begins
Xuanhuan My soul floated above the cold asphalt, watching my own naked body lying lifelessly on the street. I was 30, a successful architect, but all I heard were whispers of judgment-that I' d thrown my life away for Olivia. Everyone knew she never loved me, that she was always with Daniel. To die like this, discarded and forgotten, was nothing short of a pathetic waste.
Then, a strange, swirling pain, and I woke up not dead, but screaming, my left hand wrapped in a bloody rag. A finger was freshly severed. Before me, tied to a chair, was Daniel. And holding a bloody knife, cold and impatient, stood Olivia. My mind reeled: this was ten years ago, the very day my life began its downward spiral. The kidnapping, the torture, the moment Olivia chose Daniel over me, leaving me for dead.
The memory of my actual death, the whispers of strangers judging my wasted life, burned clearer than any past pain. I watched her look at Daniel, her choice already made in her eyes, just like before. I was nothing to her. I had always been nothing. The desperate love, the years of pining-it all turned to ashes.
Why was I back? Why was I forced to relive this cruel charade, knowing the tragic end it led to? The injustice, the utter pointlessness of my devotion, fueled a cold, hard fury I' d never known. This time, something inside me snapped.
This time, I wouldn' t beg. This time, I' d escape. I' d use every shred of memory I had from the future I' d just left, every bitter lesson learned, to break free and forge a life entirely my own, a life where Olivia had no place. My Best Friend, My Killer: A Reborn Revenge
Modern The world snapped back into focus with a single doorbell chime. It was Debra Fowler, standing on my porch, a clipboard in her trembling hands, her face a mask of grief.
My best friend, Molly, stood in my kitchen, a bright, helpful smile on her face. This scene was hauntingly familiar.
I knew this exact moment. I remembered the cold dread that followed, the fall down the porch stairs, the cracking sound as my head hit the concrete.
The memory was so vivid it felt like watching a movie of my own death. Molly had smiled as she helped set the trap that killed me.
She wanted me dead. She wanted my house, my inheritance, and Matthew, Debra' s charismatic, cheating husband.
They had a simple, brutal plan: frame me for weakening Caleb, use his death to turn the neighborhood against me, then get rid of me. In the first timeline, it worked perfectly.
But I was back. This time, I knew everything. When the Future Called
Modern My eyes shot open in "The Daily Grind," our favorite coffee shop, the bitter taste of espresso echoing a nightmare I couldn't shake.
Across from me, my boyfriend, Ethan, scrolled on his phone seemingly oblivious, while the barista, Sabrina Chavez, zeroed in on my new work laptop.
Her sweet voice dripped with poison as she commented on my "corporate" success, hinting at how Ethan "worked so hard" and how "nice" it must be to afford luxuries.
But her words weren't sweet to me; they were a chilling echo of a vivid nightmare, a terrifying memory of betrayal, public humiliation, and ultimately, absolute despair.
In that fading dream, this very conversation was the first domino in an avalanche that buried my career, my reputation, and eventually, my life, ending with a handful of pills.
I watched her, a chilling certainty settling in my bones: Sabrina, the "sweet small-town girl," wanted Ethan, but more, she wanted my life, and she saw me as nothing but an obstacle.
The memory of the nightmare became horrifyingly clear: a spilled coffee, a piercing gun, a Hepatitis C diagnosis, my life in ruins, ending tragically.
But this time, I wasn't just remembering; I was reliving the day it all began, and in this horrifying déjà vu, one thing was crystal clear.
This time, I would not be the victim. The Mistress, The Baby, And The CEO's Wife
Romance I flew from Texas to Boston, a bouquet of yellow roses beside me, ready to surprise Chloe for our fifth anniversary.
I imagined her delight, the simple life waiting for us back home.
But when I used her spare key and found her in that sterile city apartment, the surprise was all mine.
Chloe was heavily pregnant.
The roses fell as she confessed: our five years of shared sadness over infertility was a lie.
This baby wasn't ours; it was for her ex, Julian, who allegedly had a terminal illness.
Then Julian himself walked in, casually possessive, and Chloe defended him, shooing me out of what I thought was our home.
My heart didn't just break; it evaporated.
A "noble sacrifice"?
It felt like a sick joke, a cheap trick to excuse an unthinkable betrayal.
Why was he really here, and why did her story about his illness sound so rehearsed?
Something snapped.
Instead of walking away, I opened my laptop.
"Julian Croft Boston."
What I found-that he was already married to a powerful heiress, Scarlett Ashworth-Croft-ignited a cold fury.
I sent his wife an email.
Now, I had a plan. The First Lady's Secret Weapon
Romance They hailed me a hero when I finally awoke, weeks after taking a knife for the First Lady.
My father had garnered a new position, and my fiancé, Ethan, a prestigious fellowship, all thanks to my sacrifice.
I believed my immense pain had meant something noble for their future.
But my anticipated homecoming was no joyful reunion.
I found my adopted sister, Chloe, wearing my custom wedding dress, about to marry my fiancé, Ethan, right in my own living room.
My parents watched, their faces etched with complicity and defiance.
A brutal past instantly surfaced: the last time this occurred, it culminated in Ethan' s violence and my fatal abandonment.
I had been utterly discarded.
The searing pain of that past life' s betrayal and their brazen attempt to repeat it ignited a cold, calculated fury I'd never felt.
How could they so ruthlessly steal my honor, my very life, again, after I nearly died for them?
This time, the world wouldn't go dark.
I stood silent as they left for their 'perfect' day, my stillness a new weapon.
My resolve, forged in the fires of a terrifying past, was unshakeable.
Their carefully constructed world was about to crumble, and I knew exactly how to make it happen. The Alibi Killer
Modern As a film producer, late nights editing were normal, usually accompanied by the comforting thought of my daughter, Olivia, home from her film club.
But then the phone rang, and a police officer's chilling words sliced through my world: "It' s about your daughter, Olivia."
She was found brutally beaten in an alley and was clinging to life, her precious vintage camera shattered beside her.
At the hospital, amidst the sterile air, the true horror began as my wife, Isabella, Olivia' s own mother, calmly and chillingly framed me for the attack.
My alibi crumbled under her calculated lies, leaving me exposed as the prime suspect in my own child' s assault.
Later, a dashcam recording shockingly revealed Isabella conspiring with her lover, Marcus, planning my downfall and casually discussing Olivia as merely an inconvenient witness they needed to silence.
They froze my accounts, obstructed Olivia's critical medical care, and eventually, Isabella lured me to an alley, intending to drug me and plant 'evidence' to seal my fate.
How could the woman I loved orchestrate such a monstrous betrayal, not just against me, but against our critically injured child?
Why would she meticulously plot my destruction and casually allow our daughter to be silenced after all these years?
Left for dead, barely conscious, Marcus-my lifelong rival-leaned in to gloat, and as he adjusted his shirt, I saw a familiar tribal tattoo.
That tattoo, seen once years ago, instantly shattered Isabella' s entire narrative, revealing Marcus as the true architect of her past 'betrayal' and a shocking, decades-long manipulation that fueled her rage.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a miraculous phone call echoed: "Mr. Miller, your daughter, Olivia. She' s awake. She' s talking!" Loved Him Once, Cursed Him Forever
Fantasy Years ago, I, Elara, the last Silverwood Spirit Keeper, poured my very life force into the man I loved, Jackson Thorne, using forbidden magic to save him from a deadly illness, forever binding a part of my spirit to his.
But his gratitude withered into monstrous ambition, and the man I healed partnered with a vindictive lawyer, Tiffany, to unleash a fiery devastation upon my sacred Silverwood, burning our ancestral grove and slaughtering my peaceful tribe.
Now, a captive in their opulent lodge, built upon my people's ashes, I'm forced to endure a grotesque "celebration" where Jax and Tiffany auction off my tribe's most sacred relics, mocking my heritage and even branding me like cattle for my defiance.
As I watch my history turn to smoke and feel his corporate mark burning my skin, a searing injustice consumes me-how could the man I loved become such a monster, reveling in the utter desecration of everything I hold dear?
But with a final, desperate breath and the last sacred seed in my palm, I begin an ancient chant, unleashing the forbidden Soul-Echo ceremony, a terrifying spiritual reckoning that will force him to experience every agonizing memory, every ounce of my love, my sacrifice, and the unbearable pain of his betrayal, even if it's the last act of my shattered life. The Neglected Wife: Now Watch the Grove Roar
Fantasy My family has always been the quiet guardians of the Beaumont fortune, bound by an ancient Life-Pact to the sacred Redwood trees on their vast estate.
My own life force, and the prosperity of the Beaumonts, was intrinsically linked to the magnificent Patriarch tree and the ancestral Heartwood Amulet I wore.
Then, Evelyn arrived.
My husband, Arthur Beaumont, was instantly ensnared by his childhood sweetheart' s supposed terminal illness.
A "specialist" doctor declared her only hope lay in draining the life from our sacred Patriarch or my very own amulet.
Arthur, the man who once pledged eternal devotion beneath the ancient Redwoods, looked at me, not at Evelyn, and demanded I hand over the necklace or allow him to harm our holy tree.
He didn't wait for my consent.
He ripped the Heartwood Amulet from my neck, then smashed it against the Patriarch' s ancient roots, shattering both my legacy and my soul.
A searing agony ripped through me, and I watched in horror as my hair faded to grey and my body withered, each cut branch of the sacred tree echoing in my bones.
He dismissed my anguish as "theatrics," blinded by Evelyn's manipulative lies, even forcing me to witness the sacred desecration.
The betrayal wasn't just physical pain; it was a profound spiritual severing, a dismissal of everything I was and everything our pact represented.
How could he exchange our true, ancient bond for a baseless lie and a con artist's whim?
He accused me of selfishness, of hoarding the forest's magic, claiming Evelyn' s life mattered more than generations of sacred duty.
The Beaumonts had taken our protection for granted, but now they were actively destroying it all.
A chilling certainty formed through my suffering: this desecration would not end well for them.
Too weak to fight, I declared the Life-Pact broken, nurturing a single, tiny seedling from the Patriarch' s line as my last act.
My physical form died, but my spirit transcended, merging with the Redwood forest itself.
I became its eternal consciousness, a silent guardian over all Redwoods, watching as the land, no longer protected by our ancient magic, began to reclaim what was truly its own, ensuring the Beaumonts faced the full, brutal consequences of their sacrilege. The Unwanted Husband's Revenge
Romance My wife, Sarah, always craved something louder, something more, unlike my quiet integrity.
She'd called me to a Boston steakhouse, claiming a critical deal for her family's company, Ross & Sons.
But the meeting quickly devolved into a predatory ambush, led by the infamous corporate raider, Vic Sterling.
When I pointed out the deal's fatal flaws, Mark Jenkins, Sarah's COO, called her, and her voice, impatient and dismissive, echoed through the phone: "Alex, just stop creating problems.
Let the professionals handle it. Don't ruin this for us."
Sterling, appearing like a predator, then openly mocked me, calling me "the anchor" and a "relic" while Davies, his accomplice, snickered.
The ultimate betrayal came when Sarah herself walked in, ignoring my warnings, and with a star-struck smile, publicly announced, "Our marriage... it's run its course.
I'm choosing a future with Vic. Professionally, and personally."
They snickered and pushed divorce papers towards me, ready to discard me and our shared legacy like yesterday's trash.
The humiliation burned, a bitter taste, as they mistook my quiet nature for weakness, and my principled stand for a lack of ambition.
They boasted of their boundless power, completely unaware of the true, silent influence I possessed, built on generations of uncompromising integrity.
My patience had reached its limit.
With a calm hand, I signed the divorce papers, then reached for my phone, meticulously dialing a number that would shatter their carefully constructed illusion of invincibility. You might like
After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything
Rabbit My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune.
For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me."
He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster.
He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous.
The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built. 
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