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Rabbit

47 Published Stories

Rabbit's Books and Stories

My Sister's Lover, My Husband

My Sister's Lover, My Husband

Modern
5.0
My life with Mark was perfect, a picture of happy marriage. He and his identical twin, David, ran a thriving brewery, and together with my sister Jess, we were an unbreakable foursome. Then, a shattering phone call. David, always so full of life, had collapsed and died. Weeks of agonizing grief followed, but the true nightmare began at a solemn family dinner. Mark's mother, Brenda, demanded the unthinkable: I was to carry David's child for my sister, a vessel for the "Thompson legacy." My own mother, always favoring Jess, twisted the knife, urging me to "be understanding." I stood paralyzed, while Mark, my supposed anchor, vehemently defended me. But that defense was a cruel facade. One night, I found him in my guest room, not comforting my grieving sister Jess, but kissing her. And then I heard it: "I want your baby, Mark. Openly. Not... not David's ghost." Jess was pregnant with his child. The man who swore to protect me was betraying me with my own sister, all while their desperate family tried to force me into a truly monstrous act. Every loving gesture, every word of trust, twisted into a grotesque lie. Was I truly so blind? So easily manipulated? Why me? Why this profound and sickening betrayal? That night, the naive wife died. A cold, hard rage ignited. I demanded a divorce, packed my bags, and moved halfway across the country. But Mark, Jess, and their twisted family thought they could sweep me aside. They were wrong. I wasn't running; I was retreating to draw the battle lines. This wasn't just about escape anymore. It was about meticulously crafting the perfect retribution, a revenge so complete, they'd wish they never crossed me.
Alpha's Oath, Omega's Rise

Alpha's Oath, Omega's Rise

Short stories
5.0
I ran through the storm, clutching the one herb that could save her. My mate, Seraphina, had lost her memory in a Rogue attack a month ago-an attack where she'd thrown herself in front of an arrow meant for me. This rare Moonpetal grass was our last hope of bringing her back to me. As I neared her villa, I reached out through our Mind-Link, only to hear her voice already there, laughing with someone else. "Honestly, it's just a game," she said, her thoughts sharp and cruel. "I'll play with the little Omega for another month, tops. Then I'll stage a dramatic 'recovery' and go back to being Kaelen's devoted Luna." The world went silent. The herb slipped from my numb fingers, its silver light extinguished in the mud. Seven years of devotion, the three years she'd relentlessly pursued me, the sacred vow I broke to make her my Chosen Mate-it was all a game to cure her boredom. The Rogue attack, the memory loss, her near-death experience saving my life... all of it was a lie. A growl tore from my chest, my inner wolf clawing at the cage of my control. The woman I had spent a fortune trying to heal, the mate I would have given my life for, was laughing at my devotion while planning her next move. The irony was a physical blow, leaving nothing but a hollow ache where my heart used to be. I turned my back on the warm, lying light of her villa and walked straight to the Hall of Elders. Kneeling before the Moon Goddess, my voice stripped of all warmth, I invoked the Rite of Severance, breaking our bond forever. Then I relinquished my title as Alpha. I chose exile.
The Billionaire's Disposable Husband

The Billionaire's Disposable Husband

Short stories
5.0
For five years, I was the perfect husband to a woman who didn't love me. It was a contract. I was hired to help the broken heiress, Jorja Romero, heal after her fiancé left her. In return, her family funded my art, but the price was my dream-a scholarship to study painting in Paris. With only two months left on our contract, the man she never got over came back. Overnight, the fragile peace we'd built vanished, and I became invisible. At dinner, a sizzling platter of fajitas fell towards her. I threw my arm out to block it, the scalding metal searing my skin. Jorja barely glanced at my blistering arm. Instead, she rushed to her ex-fiancé, Cale, panicking over a single drop of hot oil that had splattered on his finger. On my birthday a week later, she tossed me a tube of burn cream-the same one she'd obsessively bought for Cale's tiny red mark. At a party, she took the cufflinks she once gifted me and told Cale they'd look much better on him. I had spent five years memorizing her favorite foods, comforting her through nightmares, and being her constant, silent shadow. I thought my devotion might one day be enough. But I was wrong. I wasn't her husband; I was a placeholder. The night before her engagement party to Cale, she stumbled into my room, drunk. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. Then she whispered the name that destroyed the last piece of my heart. "Cale... I missed you so much." In that moment, something inside me didn't just break; it was reborn in ice. The next morning, I handed her the divorce papers she would sign without reading, and booked my one-way ticket to Paris.