Rafaela Kokkotou
11 Published Stories
Rafaela Kokkotou's Books and Stories
He Chose Glass Over His Diamond Luna
Werewolf My husband, the Alpha, refused to mark me for three years, claiming he was waiting for the "perfect moment." Yet, he had no trouble claiming the "stray" rogue we took in.
I found Alessandro in his study, mocking me as a cold "ice sculpture" while Aria sat in his lap. He didn't just give her his affection; he gave her my life.
He cleared my sanctuary, the greenhouse, to plant cheap tulips for her. He drained the Pack's emergency funds to buy her a five-million-dollar necklace meant for a Luna.
But the ultimate betrayal happened in the stables.
My saddle snapped mid-jump. The fall shattered my leg, and the wound sizzled with liquid silver—sabotage meant to maim me permanently.
When the evidence pointed to Aria, Alessandro didn't punish her. He ordered the evidence buried.
He looked me in the eye and said a broken leg might finally teach me some humility.
He destroyed my reputation to boost his own ego, protecting a woman who was actually sleeping with half his council behind his back.
He thought I would break. He thought I would beg.
Instead, I stood before the entire Pack, played the footage of his mistress's treason, and uttered the words that would destroy him.
"I, Katarina De Luca, reject you." Betrayed For A Fake Heir: The Wife's Exit
Mafia At the auction, my husband raised his paddle and bid five million dollars on the only keepsake I had left of my dead mother.
But he didn't buy the sapphire necklace for me.
He handed the velvet box to his pregnant mistress, Mia, right in front of the entire New York underworld.
When I reached for it, Mia faked a stumble.
Dante moved with the speed of a predator. He shoved me hard to clear space for her.
My body slammed into a marble pillar, shattering my hip, while he scooped her up and carried her out, stepping over my dress without a single glance.
That was only the beginning.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her during a false emergency.
He exiled me to a freezing cabin with no heat, leaving me to be buried alive in an avalanche while he comforted her over a lie.
Lying in the hospital bed after surviving the snow, I realized I no longer hated him.
Hate is passion. Hate implies he still matters.
I felt nothing but a cold, heavy silence.
So when he finally left the house to hunt down the truth about Mia’s baby, I didn't wait for his apology.
I left my wedding ring on the bathroom counter.
I dropped my phone into a sewer grate.
By the time the Dragon of New York realized his wife was gone, I was already in Seattle, painting a new life where monsters couldn't find me. He Chose The Mistress Over His Queen
Mafia I was polishing a diamond engagement ring that cost more than a small island when I heard the truth.
My fiancé, the ruthless Don Dante Moretti, was telling his mistress I was nothing more than a glorified bank account.
But it wasn't until the accident that I understood the depth of his cruelty.
While training in the estate gym, a support cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg on impact.
Through the haze of blinding pain, I waited for Dante to save me.
Instead, he rushed to his mistress, Livia—the woman who had cut the wire.
He held her close, soothing her because the loud noise had "startled" her, while I lay broken and bleeding on the floor.
"She won't die," I heard him whisper to her later. "Pain is a good teacher."
My love for him turned to ice in that moment. He didn't just want my father's money; he was letting her plan my assassination to get it.
They thought I was just a porcelain doll to be discarded once the wedding contracts were signed.
They forgot that even a pawn can kill a king.
I wiped the tears from my face and walked straight into the territory of the Valenti Syndicate—Dante's sworn enemy.
"I don't want protection," I told the rival Don, placing the surveillance evidence on his table.
"I want to burn his entire dynasty to the ground." Love, Lies, And A Second Life
Horror The air in the room was stale, thick with the smell of antiseptic and despair.
They told me I was sick, that grief had broken my mind.
My mother-in-law, Martha, would visit, her concern a chilling mask, whispering to doctors how I was hallucinating, a danger to myself and my son, Billy.
"She doesn' t understand that David is gone," she' d insist, loud enough for me to hear.
But the real horror wasn't my madness; it was the truth.
Three days after my husband, David, a decorated police officer, was supposedly killed, I stood at his memorial, expected to mourn.
The man in the casket wasn't David.
It was Mark, his identical twin, missing the faded scar David always had.
That night, I found David, not dead, but alive in our summer cabin, with his childhood sweetheart, Emily Peterson.
He confessed it all with chilling indifference: Mark was killed in a shootout, and David seized the chance for a new life, free from me and Billy.
"I never loved you," he said, as if explaining a simple math problem. "It was always Emily."
I tried to tell everyone-his mother, his captain-but they looked at me with pity, already conditioned by Martha and David' s lies.
They had me committed to a white room, and David married Emily.
My four-year-old son, Billy, was left in their care, crying for me every night.
Then came the unbearable news: Billy was dead, a "tragic accident" from an overdose of cough medicine.
My world shattered.
Desperate, I fashioned a noose, remembering Billy' s bright laugh, the life David had stolen.
My only regret was that David would never face justice.
I kicked the chair away.
Darkness took me.
Then, a blinding light, and I was back on my living room couch, the day David was supposedly killed.
I wasn' t dead. I was back.
Martha' s face, a mask of practiced sadness, now held a triumphant curl.
I heard David' s voice from the hallway, "Is she stable?"
"She' s fragile, but she bought it," Martha replied. "She' ll break, just like we planned. We' ll have her committed, and Billy will be ours."
"Good," David said. "Make sure she doesn' t get near the body. Mark didn' t have my scar."
This time, I was not the grieving widow.
I was the executioner. The Billionaire's Regret: A Silent Amends
Billionaires While struggling to get by, a call from an unknown New York number shattered my fragile sense of peace.
It was Ethan Vance's assistant, inviting me to his foundation's gala-Ethan, my former guardian who had cruelly exiled me years ago, now pulling me back.
Victoria, Ethan' s wife, immediately launched a campaign of humiliation, subtly branding me his "old ward" at the gala.
She then systematically sabotaged my job search, slamming every door shut on my desperate attempts to rebuild my life.
When I refused her massive bribe to disappear, a brutal fire tore through our apartment, leaving my daughter Lily in a hospital bed, gasping for air.
Clutching my terrified Lily and battling my own PTSD flashbacks, I knew this wasn't an accident; the fire was no coincidence.
This cold, calculated attack was all Victoria, who had effortlessly tried to destroy what little I had.
How could a person be so merciless, deliberately endangering a child to eliminate me?
I hugged Lily tight, promising, "Never. I will never let anything happen to you."
Lying there, battered and bruised, my resolve hardened.
I was through being a victim of his past or her present schemes.
It was time to confront Ethan, expose his wife, and fight for the stable life Lily and I deserved. Reborn on Our Wedding Day
Romance My wedding day. Again.
I stood there, a young woman forced into an arranged marriage, about to become Abigail Blackwood.
In my previous life, a cold, brutal tyrant named Ethan, obsessed with a family vendetta, systematically destroyed everything and everyone I loved.
I suffered silently with a terminal illness no one knew about, watching in agony as he engineered my beloved grandfather' s public humiliation and death, and as my sister Ellie endured a horrific abusive marriage that tragically cost her, and her unborn child, their lives.
His cruelty knew no bounds: public shaming, forcing me to play piano until my fingers bled for his mistress's amusement, endless torment for every desperate plea.
Overwhelmed by despair and humiliation, I chose to die by my own hand.
But somehow, fate intervened. Here I am, back on our wedding day.
And so is he.
Ethan Blackwood remembers everything, just as I do. The monster who tormented me now acts kind, attentive, even regretful, desperately trying to atone.
But my heart is a fortress of old wounds, my soul scarred by unimaginable pain. Can I ever trust him, or is this just another, more sophisticated game?
This second chance is both a gift and a terrifying burden. I am determined to protect my family, to rewrite our tragic history, and to never again be the pawn in his brutal game. Can love truly blossom from such a foundation of hatred and despair? The Daughter Who Refused to Break
Mafia Emily Callahan had finally done it. Full scholarship to the state university, a dream come true for her and a testament to her late father' s legacy, her mother Susan beaming with pride from their beloved Sunrise Cafe.
But the aroma of coffee turned to the stench of fear when local crime boss Paddy O' Doyle, whose offers for the cafe were always refused, stormed in. What began as intimidation quickly became a brutal assault, leaving Susan battered and their cafe in ruins.
This attack was no isolated incident; it was just the first domino. The police chief turned a blind eye, revealing a pervasive corruption that shielded the O' Doyles from justice. Emily' s scholarship was mysteriously revoked, her future snatched away. Then came the orchestrated smear campaign, turning the community against her, followed by a terrifying home invasion where her dog was brutally murdered and her father' s cherished Medal of Honor desecrated. Now, even her mother' s vital medical care was at risk.
How could a hero' s family be so horribly betrayed and abandoned, their pleas for justice met with silence or outright hostility by the very system meant to protect them? The injustice burned, transforming her grief into a searing rage.
With every official avenue blocked and nowhere left to turn, Emily clutched her father' s Medal of Honor, a symbol of everything good and true, and embarked on a desperate cross-country journey to seek out the only man who could possibly help: her father' s former commanding officer, a four-star General. The Twin Swap: An 18-Year Deception
Modern For 18 years, I quietly raised my twin sons, Alex and Ben, believing their father Mark and his mistress Brenda were dead.
Now, with their Stanford acceptance, I planned a celebratory dinner, a culmination of my secret pride.
But as the party peaked, the 'dead' burst in—Mark Thompson and Brenda Sullivan, arrogantly alive.
Mark accused me of lies, Brenda feigned heartbreak, and he demanded I sign away my sons, seizing what he claimed was his.
My bewildered sons watched their world crumble as Mark's family rallied behind him.
With a steady hand, I signed the papers, feeling my boys' pain and disbelief.
"Mom, no! How can you?" Alex cried.
Everyone assumed I was broken, defeated.
They saw a mother abandoning her children, a woman succumbing to the pressure.
"You're just... giving us up?" Ben whispered, his eyes clouded with betrayal.
The room buzzed with judgment.
They had no idea this was just the first act of a meticulously planned retribution.
"The party isn't over," I stated, a chilling smile on my face.
As two young men, one dependent on a wheelchair, entered, I revealed their truth.
"Mark, Brenda, meet Cody and Tyler Thompson. Your actual biological sons."
My 18-year revenge was finally set into motion. The Placeholder Wife: A Billionaire's Secret
Billionaires It was my 30th birthday, and I was patiently dining alone at a Michelin-star restaurant, waiting for my finance titan husband, Julian, to arrive.
Suddenly, my phone screen flickered to life, displaying a TMZ headline that stopped my breath: "Julian Vance Spotted with Returning Socialite Chloe Sinclair – Old Flames Rekindled?"
A video showed Julian, my husband, shielding Chloe from the rain and cameras, his arm protectively around her.
Shock, cold and sharp, spread through me, as the bitter taste of betrayal filled my mouth.
This wasn’t just a business meeting; it was a public declaration of his true affections.
The table was set for two, but the untouched food grew cold as countless minutes ticked by, each one deepening the suffocating loneliness I felt.
Five years. Five years I had spent waiting; five years I had been a placeholder for the woman he truly loved, the one he married me to forget.
Then, a text from Julian cemented my despair: "Raincheck on birthday. Next year."
There would be no next year for us.
My quiet endurance finally gave way to a hardened resolve.
I signaled the maître d', trading the lavish, uneaten meal for a sturdy umbrella.
I walked out into the Manhattan rain, a clear decision forming in my mind: this was the end.
But for me, it was also a new beginning. You might like
The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." 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 Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." 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. 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." 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." 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. Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. One Night With The Possessive CEO
Fritz Heaney Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web. 
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