Noah Reed
8 Published Stories
Noah Reed's Books and Stories
Trapped In The Reborn Billionaire's Embrace
Romance Dalton woke up drenched in cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The room was dark, but the date on the nightstand screamed the truth: it was three years ago, the exact night his nightmare began.
Beside him, Audriana was thrashing in a drug-induced fever, her body burning as she clawed at her blouse. The memory of her lifeless, broken body from his past life slammed into his skull, and the suffocating realization hit him—he had been given a second chance.
But before he could even process the miracle, the bedroom door clicked. Chadwick Kowalski, the man who had ruined Audriana in his past life, was outside with a pack of paparazzi, shoving a cloned keycard into the lock, ready to capture her at her most vulnerable.
I watched as the reporters burst in, cameras flashing, desperate to document her destruction. They pointed fingers, screaming that I had forced her, while Chadwick played the heartbroken boyfriend to perfection, his eyes gleaming with greed as he sold her out to a debt-ridden poker ring.
How could he be so cruel? How could he trade the woman he claimed to love for a stack of cash? I looked at Audriana, trembling and terrified in my arms, and felt a cold, lethal rage turn my blood to ice.
I stepped into the frame, my voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Audriana Christensen is my fiancée," I declared, silencing the room instantly. This time, the nightmare ends with me, and I will burn everything to the ground to keep her safe. The Architect's Vengeance: Empire Falls
Romance My husband, Caden, was a real estate mogul who built his empire on our love story. The world swooned when he named his latest skyscraper the "Allisson Tower," calling it a modern-day Taj Mahal. But it was my design, and his grand gestures were just a cover for a grander theft.
I discovered he wasn't just cheating with his pregnant mistress. He had stolen my architectural blueprints-the very foundation of his celebrated career.
He' d bring me to the same restaurant where he' d just entertained her, recycling his romantic gestures. I watched him smile genuinely at her livestream while holding my hand, sending her virtual gifts with the message, "My princess deserves all this and more. You' re the only one for me."
The man who swore "absolute honesty" on our wedding day had built our entire life on a mountain of lies. He didn't just break his vows; he pulverized them, turning our love into a public spectacle.
So I planned my escape. I signed the divorce papers, packaged them with irrefutable proof of his plagiarism inside a model of the first building he stole, and handed it to him as an "anniversary gift."
"You can't open it for two weeks," I told him.
He had no idea that in two weeks, his wife would be a ghost and his empire would be ashes. His Brother's Promise, My Silent Revenge
Romance For one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days, I honored a deathbed promise to the man I loved. I stayed by his brother's side, acting as Grafton Mcleod's loyal assistant, his shadow, and the keeper of his secrets.
When my five-year sentence was finally up, he announced his engagement to Cherrelle, the woman who took cruel pleasure in tormenting me. His celebratory gift to me? The task of planning their perfect engagement party.
At the party, he publicly dismissed me as an "old obligation." Later, drunk and angry, he cornered me in a back office. He slammed me against the door, his mouth crashing down on mine in a brutal, clumsy kiss.
He pinned me there, his body pressing into mine, and whispered a name against my lips.
It wasn't my name.
"Cherrelle."
The violation wasn't the assault; it was the complete and utter erasure. I wasn't a person he hated or desired. I was just a stand-in, a warm body, a substitute for the woman he actually wanted. The last flicker of loyalty to his brother's memory died, leaving only ice in my veins.
The next morning, Cherrelle screamed that I'd tried to seduce him, and he stood by and let her. My own mother called to shame me. That was it. I drove to a cliff overlooking the ocean, pulled the SIM card from my phone, and snapped it in two. It was time for Cayla Bass to die. A Mission Forged in Torment
Fantasy My mother was dying, her laughter stolen by a rare disease. A cosmic system offered me a deal: travel to another world, make a man named Ethan Stone love me, and she would be cured. It seemed easy; Ethan was sweet, attentive, and kind at first.
But then, everything changed. Ethan became a monster, breaking up with me repeatedly, each time devising public, humiliating "tests" to win him back. From public apologies to standing in the pouring rain with a sign, I endured it all for my mother.
The "tests" escalated - a high-stakes, uninsured motorcycle jump over a canyon that left my leg shattered, a forced tequila chugging contest that ended with me violently retching, and being forced to slap myself senseless on my knees in front of him and his new "protégé," Brittany. The ultimate humiliation came when he forced me to donate a kidney to Brittany without anesthesia, dangling the promise of marriage as incentive.
I became numb, a puppet going through the motions. The love I once felt for him died, replaced by a profound emptiness. But the mission parameters were clear: get him to say he loved me, to commit, and my mother would be saved.
After enduring unimaginable physical and emotional torment, I finally secured his verbal confirmation. The system announced my mission was complete, and I returned to my own world, my mother miraculously healed. I started a new life, finally free. But my hard-won peace was shattered when Ethan, having traded everything, suddenly appeared, desperate to win me back. The Price of Deception, A Broken Man
Romance For three years, every ache in my artist' s hands, every mile on my delivery bike, every humiliating monster costume in a haunted escape room, had a purpose: Sophia.
"Her mother is sick," she' d told me, her eyes wet, "crushed by a mountain of medical debt."
So, I worked, pouring every dollar and ounce of my being into a future where her worry would finally vanish.
But on a Saturday night, lurking in the stale, fog-filled hall of that escape room, an emergency exit burst open, flooding the space with laughter.
And out stumbled Sophia, tangled up with a man, Liam, in an expensive suit, his hand possessively on her waist.
"My boyfriend is one of these poor, struggling types," she sneered, oblivious to my presence behind the flimsy foam mask. "An artist. It's almost cute, in a sad way. He thinks my mom's sick. The fool."
The world tilted. My vision blurred. She wasn' t just with another man; she was mocking my every sacrifice.
Then, a check for fifty thousand dollars, signed by Liam Davis, fluttered from her dropped purse.
I, the "starving artist," the "toy," the "fool," had been systematically fleeced, my love twisted into a sick joke.
The real Sophia – vibrant, passionate, and deeply in love with Liam – appeared on a security monitor, kissing him, shielding him from the camera, as employees whispered about their engagement.
"She' s been playing him this whole time," one said, a chilling confirmation of my shattered reality.
Her "mom," Evelyn Davis, Liam' s mother, appeared in a photograph on my nightstand - stark evidence of Sophia' s audacious lies.
"It' s over, Sophia," I whispered, broken, walking away from the screams and lies, embracing the cold, hard choice of letting go.
Now, stripped of everything, lost and collapsing on a wet street, I knew one thing: I was done waiting for her. From Fairy Tale To Broken Dream
Romance In everyone' s eyes, I was living a fairy tale: Ava Green, rising architect, with Liam Miller, the city' s most coveted real estate developer, by my side.
Three years into our perfect life, his phone buzzed, and a single name, "Chloe," shattered my world, revealing the meticulously crafted lie I' d been living.
He effortlessly dismissed our past, reducing me to an "old friend" before confessing I was merely a placeholder, a stand-in for the woman who owned his heart.
The bitter truth felt like a physical blow: my entire relationship was a secondhand experience, every compliment, every loving gesture, a mere reflection of her.
Trapped by his financial leverage over my ailing mother, I watched him erase me from his life, then realized I wouldn' t just survive his betrayal-I would meticulously plot my escape. No More Victim: Love's Dark Turn
Xuanhuan The last thing I saw in my first life was my sister Chloe' s enraged face, her hands squeezing the life out of me.
"This is your fault," she hissed, as my parents, Sarah and Richard, watched-my mother holding me down, my father glaring at me from beside the wrecked car.
They blamed me for everything: the cross-country road trip that was Chloe' s selfish whim, her high-risk pregnancy, and ultimately the fender bender that led to her premature labor and the loss of her baby.
Despite my warnings, they only saw my supposed jealousy and the money Chloe's rich husband, Ethan, offered.
"She was always a burden," my father' s cold voice was the last sound I heard before darkness consumed me.
Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open, the smell of turpentine filling my nose.
I was back in my art studio, unharmed, just as my phone began to ring.
It was Mom.
My blood ran cold; I knew this was the day they' d propose the trip. Every memory of their betrayal, their hatred, and my agonizing death flooded back.
This time, things would be different.
"Hello?" I answered, my voice steady.
"Ava? Finally," my mother' s impatient voice said. "Listen, dear, we have the most wonderful news."
A cold, quiet resolve settled over me. They wanted a pawn, a servant, a scapegoat, and they had gotten me killed for it once.
Now, I would give them what they wanted, and watch them choke on it. Called by the Token: Her True Mate
Xuanhuan The fluorescent hum of the county clerk's office was the soundtrack to my defiance.
I clutched the pen, ready to marry Liam Thorne, a man I' d run seven days and suppressed a blood-bound token for, all to rewrite a past that still haunted my reborn soul.
Before the ink could touch the paper, Liam snatched the license.
Rip.
My heart stopped.
"I have to marry Chloe first," he said, his words echoing the betrayal I remembered from a lifetime ago.
He spoke of a week, of saving Chloe' s reputation, but I remembered years in a damp root cellar, the loss of our children.
My blood-bound token throbbed as his guards abducted me, dragging me to his coastal estate.
There, Chloe, the cousin whose manipulations haunted my first life, paraded in my wedding gown, her triumph chilling.
With a staged cry and a splash of fake blood, she framed me.
Liam, blinded by her fake tears, roared, "Take her to the old root cellar!"
My nightmare was real again.
The sting of his slap echoed the cruelty of a past he seemed to have forgotten, but I hadn't.
Had he learned nothing?
Did he truly believe a week could erase my agony, our lost children, the years in that dark cellar?
The blood-bound token, suppressed for so long, now pulsed with a furious, undeniable call.
As the heavy door of that dreaded root cellar slammed shut, I finally let go.
No more running.
No more pretending.
My forced apology was a lie, a means to an end.
It was time for my people to find me.
It was time to go home.
And this time, I wouldn't be marrying him.
I was going home to Elijah. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. 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. 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. Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract
Sibeal Sallese I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash.
To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars.
I thought it was a clean transaction.
But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty.
He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me.
My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire.
Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner.
"Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly.
His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand.
"Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler."
They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog.
I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth.
But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood.
"She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison."
They murdered my parents.
I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call.
Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell. 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. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. 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.
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