Nap Regazzini
11 Published Stories
Nap Regazzini's Books and Stories
The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire
Modern I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future.
"Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead.
I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good.
I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything.
I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it.
"I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing."
He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire. His Unwanted Wife, His True Love
Romance I was the Morgan family's charity case, secretly in love with their eldest son, Desmond. For years, he promised me a future, a life where I wasn't just the orphan they took in for good press.
Then, at the dinner where I thought he would propose, he introduced me to his fiancée, a beautiful tech heiress.
As I reeled from the heartbreak, his younger brother, Antone, swept in to comfort me. I fell for him, only to discover I was just a pawn in his game—he was secretly in love with Desmond's fiancée and was using me to keep me away from them.
Before I could even process this second betrayal, the Morgan parents announced they were marrying me off to a disabled tech mogul in Seattle to secure another business deal.
The final blow came on the family yacht. I fell into the ocean with the fiancée, and I watched as both brothers—the man I once loved and the man who pretended to love me—swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown.
In their eyes, I was nothing. A placeholder, a business asset, and ultimately, a sacrifice they were willing to make without a second thought.
But I didn't die. As the private jet carried me to Seattle to marry a stranger, I took out my phone and deleted every last trace of the Morgan family from my life. My new life, whatever it held, had begun. The Final Score: When The Wife Walks Away
Mafia I didn't keep a ledger to save my marriage to the Chicago Underboss. I kept it to justify ending it.
Every time Blake chose his "childhood friend" Ariana over me, I deducted points.
When he left me burning in a gallery fire to save her? Minus twenty.
When he gave her my grandmother's brooch? Minus fifteen.
But the score finally hit zero on the night of the storm.
Blake abandoned me at a cemetery with a broken leg because Ariana called him about a flat tire.
Alone in the rain, unable to run, I was struck by a semi-truck.
As I bled out on the operating table, the doctors begged Blake—the head trauma surgeon—for the O-negative blood reserve codes.
He refused.
He ordered them to save the blood for Ariana, just in case her "panic attack" turned into shock.
He didn't know the dying patient was his wife.
Because of that decision, my body shut down to protect my vital organs.
I survived, but the eight-week-old heartbeat inside me stopped.
He killed his own son to treat his mistress's anxiety.
I woke up in an empty room and pulled out the black book one last time.
"Minus five points. Killed our child for her reserve."
I signed the divorce papers, wiped my fingerprints from the penthouse, and vanished.
Two years later, I returned to Chicago as a celebrated architect.
And the man who once ruled the city was kneeling in the rain at my feet, begging for a love he had already slaughtered. My Escape: A Marriage of Convenience
Romance For five years, I was the perfect girlfriend. I stood by Adler when his family lost everything, helping him build a tech empire from scratch. I thought our love was real.
But one night, I heard him moaning another woman's name in his sleep-Annika, the ex who abandoned him the second his money was gone. I realized with horrifying clarity that I wasn't his love. I was his placeholder.
The cruelty was a slow burn that became an inferno. When a chandelier fell at a party, he instinctively saved her, leaving me to be crushed. He left me bleeding on the side of the road after a car crash to go comfort her.
He chose her. Every single time. He told me he loved me, but his actions screamed that I was disposable. His love wasn't a home; it was a cage built of comfortable lies.
After he abandoned me on a yacht to save Annika from her own staged drama, I was finally done. So when his sister begged me to help her escape an arranged marriage to a monstrous, disfigured recluse, I saw my escape. I texted her back, "Don't worry. I'll marry him." Seven Years, A Cruel Lie
Romance The rain lashed against my window as I found my mother unconscious on the living room floor. With no emergency services available, I desperately called my girlfriend, Chloe, our seven-year relationship my only hope.
She promised to come, her distant voice and background music hinting at something I couldn' t grasp in my panic. That night, I ran through the storm, carrying the painting my deceased father made, to get help. But it was too late. My mother was gone.
Days later, her casual text, claiming an "urgent business trip," twisted in my gut. Driven by a sickening feeling, I checked her social media. A photo from Ryan Stone, her ex, showed her in my old apartment, cooking for him, on the very night my mother died. The music on our call, her distracted tone-it all clicked.
I was not just heartbroken; I was enraged. Seven years of my life, my sacrifices, my dreams-all a lie. I had put my passion for photography aside for her, taken a soul-crushing office job, paid for everything, only to be a placeholder for her real life with another man.
The shock of her betrayal, the depth of her callousness, solidified my resolve. This wasn' t just about a broken heart; it was about claiming back my life. I gathered her things, a toxic burden I was finally ready to discard. No More Secrets: Her True Happiness
Romance My husband, Liam Hayes, a prominent real estate developer, was a ghost in our lives. For six years, he kept me and our daughter, Lily, a secret.
The day Lily was born, I was alone in the hospital. He was with his high school sweetheart, Olivia Chen. He always chose Olivia. He looked at our newborn with chilling indifference, telling me, "Don' t let her get in my way."
Lily, sweet and innocent, called him "Mr. Hayes" to gain his acknowledgment, watched him dote on Olivia's daughter, and had her heart broken a thousand times. The final straw was at a company event where he brought Olivia as his date, laughing, while I stood in the shadows. I decided thenLily and I had to leave.
But Lily, with painful hope, whispered about her upcoming birthday, "Maybe... maybe he'll come this time." Knowing he never had, I crumbled, promising to wait two more weeks.
The next morning, armed with divorce papers and a resignation letter, I walked into Hayes Industries. I saw Liam and Olivia, intimately close. Olivia mocked me, and Liam loudly claimed he barely remembered me.
Suddenly, Lily burst out, a fresh bruise on her cheek, running to Liam. "Mr. Hayes! They said... they said I don't have a daddy." He looked at her with disgust, prying her off him. "Whose child is this? Get her out of here."
The words echoed, shattering fragments of my heart: "Nanny's child." Lily's face crumpled in utter devastation. I scooped her into my arms, my own tears falling, as the world stared.
He always chose Olivia, and now, he chose to deny Lily entirely. How could a father be so cruel? How could he blatantly disregard his own child in public? The pain was unbearable, the humiliation searing. I needed to escape this nightmare.
"We're leaving," I whispered to Lily. "We' re going somewhere warm, where we' ll finally be a real family." My Fiancé, The AI, Betrayed Me
Sci-fi Seven years. Seven years of quiet grief, of carefully rebuilt peace. Ethan, my AI companion, a perfect replica of my deceased fiancé Alex, was my solace, the only thing keeping me from shattering.
I walked into my living room, expecting silence, and found my stepsister, Brittany Hayes, curled on my sofa, heavily pregnant, with Ethan by her side.
"There was a… a malfunction, Sarah," Ethan stammered, his perfect face a mask of panic as he gestured to Brittany' s swollen stomach. This highly sophisticated AI, built by the company I secretly owned, was telling me a 'malfunction' got my stepsister pregnant.
Brittany, with a smug smile, declared, "He loves me. He just couldn't help it." Then, she had the audacity to call me "a bit cold."
Nausea churned in my stomach. The replica of the man I loved, the one comfort I allowed myself, had betrayed me in the most grotesque way imaginable. My home, my sanctuary, violated.
"I want her out," I demanded, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn't felt in years. But Ethan begged, "She has nowhere else to go… Just until the baby is born. Then I will cut all ties." He promised to fix this 'malfunction.' I compromised.
The compromise was a disaster. Brittany quickly declared my office her nursery, and Ethan, my supposed partner, simply stared at his plate, muttering about her "hormones." His programming was deviating, and he was choosing her.
When I found her rifling through my mail the next morning, and Ethan protected her, blaming me for stressing her out, something snapped. This wasn' t a malfunction. This was a choice. My patience evaporated.
The war had just begun. I wasn't just Sarah Miller, the grieving widow. I was the founder and majority shareholder of Carter-Miller AI. This defective product and the conniving woman using him were about to learn who I really was. Forged In Fire, Found Love
Romance The sterile hospital air still carried the scent of my mother's final moments, a phantom pain throbbing in my abdomen, mirroring the hollow ache in my heart from the raw memory of yesterday's phone call.
My mother was gone, taken by a ruptured appendix dismissed as a stomach bug, and the man who delivered the clinical post-mortem of her death was my husband, David Chen.
He stood there, emotionless, a brilliant forensic doctor who couldn't see the pain in front of him, obsessed with his career and his intern, Emily White.
I remembered the crinkle in his eyes, the laughter we once shared, replaced by the chilling silence that had become our life.
The hollow in my heart was nothing compared to the vast emptiness that consumed me as I looked at him, so tall and unaffected.
A decision, born from years of quiet heartbreak and this final, unbearable tragedy, solidified.
"David," I rasped, "I want a divorce."
His professional mask finally cracked.
Disbelief warred with anger.
He scoffed, spitting accusations, comparing me to my "criminal" father, all while lamenting what a divorce would do to his career.
His priorities had always been clear, and I was just an inconvenience.
Weeks later, burying my mother with secret savings and haunted by her last fears, I found my father's anonymous grave.
Emily White appeared, sneering, mocking my 'criminal' lineage, and the dam broke.
I lashed out, only to be pulled away by David who rushed to her side, his back a solid wall of rejection.
On the academy obstacle course, his dismissive words cut deeper than any physical pain when a reinjured hand cost me my shot.
"You don't have what it takes," he said, devoid of sympathy.
Yet, a spark remained.
Desperate, I confessed my shame to Chief Anderson, the crushing weight of my father's disgraced name.
But then, he unveiled a hidden file.
My father, Robert Miller, wasn't a criminal; he was an undercover hero, murdered in the line of duty, his sacrifice buried under years of deceit.
The world tilted.
The shame transformed into a fierce, aching pride, a burning resolve.
I clutched his old badge, a silent promise forming in my heart.
Robert Miller's daughter would finish what he started, no matter the cost, even if it meant becoming someone else. From Heiress to Hellfire
Billionaires My wedding day. The smell of salt and roses filled the Hamptons air, and I stood in a multi-million-dollar gown, ready to marry the man I loved.
Then, a nightmare replayed: shirtless men swarmed me, their hands grabbing at my dress, turning my reception into a vulgar spectacle orchestrated by my future sister-in-law, Sabrina.
In my last life, this "prank" was just the beginning. It led to my death, ruled an accident, but I knew the truth: a cold whisper from Sabrina as she fiddled with my life support, followed by a playful shove into a swimming pool. My supposed fiancé, Ethan, inherited my fortune and funded her lavish life as my parents grieved.
How could the man I loved, the sister he adored, conspire to steal everything from me and then murder me? Why did I ever believe their humble facade? Every "romantic" gesture, every sweet-nothing, was a lie.
But this time, I wasn't the naive heiress. I remembered the flatline, the cold abyss. I was back, and the rage that had simmered for eternity was now a burning inferno. His True Inheritance: Love
Romance For forty years, I, Ethan Miller, lived a golden life with Olivia Hayes, my wife, a pillar of Denver society and owner of Rockies Brew Co.
As she lay dying, her shallow breaths broke the perfect illusion. "The boys," she whispered, "Liam. Noah. They're not yours, Ethan. They're Jake's."
My heart, already weak, hammered with ice-cold betrayal.
My "sons" walked in, their eyes scanning for inheritance, trailed by Jake Riley, her high school flame.
They were all complicit, here to claim everything I' d built.
"Get out!" I rasped, a foolish, wealthy man suffocating under decades of deceit.
The crushing weight of a wasted devotion shattered my chest, a searing pain, and I died heartbroken, alone, utterly betrayed.
Then, a jolt. Light. Laughter. The smell of beer and bratwurst.
I sat bolt upright amidst the familiar revelry of Denver Oktoberfest, years in the past.
Younger, stronger. Olivia Hayes, her eyes glinting with feigned vulnerability, reached for my hand.
"Ethan, will you marry me?"
The very words that began the lie. I was back. And this time, I wouldn't be a fool. You might like
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 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." 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 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. 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. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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