Rollins Laman
13 Published Stories
Rollins Laman's Books and Stories
The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Modern The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity
Modern It was our third wedding anniversary, and I was waiting in our cold Manhattan penthouse with a gift Cedric would never open. He hadn’t even looked at me that morning, adjusting his cuffs and walking out as if I were just another piece of furniture in his museum-like home.
The silence was shattered by a call from St. Jude’s Hospital. My grandmother, the only person who had ever seen me as a human being rather than a charity case, had gone into cardiac arrest. By the time I reached her room, she was gone, her skin already waxen and grey.
As I collapsed by her bed, I smelled it—a cloying, heavy gardenia perfume. It was the signature scent of Chloie Serrano, the socialite who had made my life a living hell while clinging to my husband’s arm. When Cedric finally arrived, he didn’t comfort me; he checked his watch and asked for the time of death. At the funeral, he shielded Chloie from the rain with his umbrella while I stood soaked in the mud, and when I accused her of being in that hospital room, he crushed my wrist and told me I was an embarrassment to the Malone name.
The hospital cameras had been conveniently wiped by a power surge, and the police told me there was no crime. I was left alone in the dirt, discarded and gaslit by the man I had loved for three years, while he comforted the woman who had likely killed my only relative.
I couldn't understand how a man could be so cold. How could he protect a murderer just to save his reputation? Why did his wealth buy a version of the truth that left me with nothing but a broken heart and a shallow grave?
I stopped crying and put on a blood-red silk dress designed to burn worlds down. I walked into his private club, crashed his high-stakes meeting, and slammed the signed divorce papers onto the table in front of the city's elite.
"Happy Anniversary, Cedric," I said, as I dumped a glass of champagne over his mistress's head.
I wasn't his invisible wife anymore. I was a woman with nothing left to lose, a secret heir to a rival empire, and I was going to take everything he owned. Fated to My Best Friend's Father
Werewolf I woke in the Alpha King's bed, a throbbing mark on my neck confirming his undeniable claim. Days after my own Alpha publicly shattered me, I was now Fated Mate to my best friend's powerful, enigmatic father. Caught between ancient magic and devastating family secrets, my world would never be the same.
My body ached with proof: I, a rejected she-wolf, was Kaelen Blackwood's Fated Mate. This terrifying bond, sealed by crimson on his sheets, far surpassed the political alliance I sought after Zane's brutal rejection. This new destiny, tied to my best friend's father, was a complexity I never anticipated.
Kaelen vanished. My best friend, Briar, discovered my Marking Bite, her fury convinced her father assaulted me. My truth-Fated Mates-shattered her. Zane reappeared, desperate, as Kaelen's council debated their "new Luna" and his "lost pup" past. I felt a pawn in a web of secrets.
Driven by a lullaby and Kaelen's silent challenge, I touched the Moonpetal Grotto. Together, we unlocked its ancient magic, confirming our bond. As the sacred cavern glowed, and Kaelen offered a rare smile, I realized this gesture transcended politics, hinting at a truth far deeper. Reborn Heiress: The CEO's Revenge Bride
Modern I lay in the hospital bed, every breath feeling like I was inhaling wet concrete. My husband, Trent, stood by the window, more interested in his reflection in the glass than his dying wife.
My sister, Cristi, sat nearby, complaining about how the rain would ruin her expensive shoes on the way to the car.
Trent walked to my bedside and brushed a finger against my oxygen tube.
"The liver failure is aggressive," he whispered. "But we expected that, didn't we? After all those 'vitamins' you've been taking."
I tried to scream, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. Cristi just giggled, telling me not to struggle because they needed my trust fund voting power by midnight. They held up a Do Not Resuscitate order and told me my hand had "signed" it with a little help.
"You were a depreciating asset, Cleora," Trent said, his lips cold against my forehead. "Now, you're finally liquidated."
As the darkness swallowed me, I saw flashes of my life—my mother’s suspicious car crash, my stolen sketchbooks, and the bitter almond taste in my morning juice. I died in a state of pure, helpless rage, realizing I had been murdered by the only people I ever loved.
How could they be so heartless? How could I have been so blind to the monsters living in my own home?
Then came the sensation of falling.
I sat up with a gasp, my lungs burning with fresh, salty air. The hospital was gone. I was in a luxury stateroom on our family’s charity cruise, three years before my death. I was alive, healthy, and back at the beginning.
When a blood-stained billionaire named Clemente Pennington walked out of the suite's bathroom, I didn't run. I looked him in the eye and realized that this time, I wouldn't be the one liquidated. I was going to make them pay for every drop of poison they ever fed me. From Workhorse To Queen: My Reign
Modern For seven years, I was the secret weapon behind my fiancé Josh Palmer's political career. I was the ghostwriter, the strategist, the one who used my family's hidden resources to make him a star.
On my way to our engagement party, a news alert flashed across my phone. Josh was on live TV, announcing his engagement to a famous anchor, Kassandra Dixon.
When I confronted them, Kassandra mocked me, calling me a "useful workhorse" before her bodyguards beat me to the floor.
But her true cruelty was finding my late mother's journal.
She ripped it to shreds and ground the pieces into the marble with her stiletto.
In that moment, staring at the tattered remains of my mother's memory, the naive girl who loved him died.
They made a fatal mistake. They thought they had broken a powerless girl, but they had just awakened a queen. My name is Aurora Tyler, and my reign was just beginning. Helene Richard: The Truth Unveiled
Modern For ten years, I was the perfect wife to Wall Street heir Garrett Wise. I was the polished GNN anchor who cleaned up his scandals, all while his family paid for my mother's mounting medical bills.
But when a photo of him draped over my on-air rival went viral, I finally had enough and served him divorce papers.
His revenge was brutal. He had me fired, framed for taking bribes, and publicly humiliated on my own network.
Even my own son was turned against me, calling me a "bad mommy" after his grandmother and Garrett's mistress poisoned his mind.
Trapped in our penthouse, Garrett offered me a disgusting deal to stay as his quiet, compensated wife while his mistress, Daphne, faked a pregnancy to secure her place.
That's when I discovered the cruelest irony: I was actually pregnant with his child.
As he lunged at me, his hands reaching for my throat, I grabbed the nearest weapon.
"You did this," I whispered, looking him dead in the eye.
Then I plunged the silver letter opener into my own stomach, sacrificing our unborn child to ensure he would carry the guilt, and I would finally be free. Too Late To Apologize, Mr. Billionaire
Mafia For seven years, I scrubbed floors, cooked books, and hid my identity as the Vitiello heiress just to test if Dante Moretti loved me for me, not my father’s power.
But the massive digital billboard in Times Square froze the blood in my veins.
It wasn’t my face next to his under the headline "The King and his new Queen." It was a cocktail waitress named Lola.
When I walked into the lobby to confront him, Lola slapped me across the face and crushed my late mother's locket under her stiletto heel.
Dante didn't defend me. He didn't even look sorry.
"You’re useful, like a stapler," he sneered, checking his watch.
"But a King needs a Queen, not a boring clerk. You can stay on as my mistress if you want to keep your job."
He thought I was a nobody. He thought he could use me to launder his money and then discard me like trash.
He didn't realize that the only reason he wasn't in federal prison was because I was protecting him.
I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out a secure satellite phone.
Dante laughed. "Who are you calling? Your mommy?"
I stared him dead in the eyes as the line connected.
"The pact is void, Papa," I whispered. "Burn them all."
Ten minutes later, the glass doors shattered as my father’s military helicopters descended onto the street.
Dante fell to his knees, realizing too late that he hadn't just lost a secretary.
He had just declared war on the Capo dei Capi. The Inferno Of His Betrayal
Modern At my tenth anniversary party, my tech CEO husband, August, declared his undying love for me in front of hundreds of cameras. But as he held my hand, I knew the truth: he'd been having a decade-long affair with the movie starlet, Krystal, standing in the crowd.
When I announced my wish for a divorce on stage, the party descended into chaos, and a fire suddenly erupted.
As the flames grew, August didn't look at me. He pushed me aside and ran to save Krystal from a falling light fixture, leaving me trapped under a collapsing chandelier.
He abandoned me to die in the inferno he created.
I watched him cradle his mistress, his back turned to me as the fire consumed everything. He never looked back.
But just as the chandelier snapped, a powerful force slammed into me, pulling me from the flames. It was my estranged brother, Cass, a man I hadn't seen in years.
Later, at the hospital, August didn't ask if I was okay. His only concern was the damage to his company's stock. "You're fine, aren't you?" he sneered. "Krystal was actually hurt. She's fragile."
That was the moment the woman who loved him died.
"Fine," I said, my voice chillingly calm. "I'll deny everything and save your reputation. But on one condition." I activated a hidden clause in our contract, one he'd dismissed years ago, giving me a massive portion of his company. The real war had just begun. His Substitute's Billion-Dollar Secret Empire
Billionaires For five years, I secretly built my boyfriend, Connor Tate, from a broke musician into a celebrated tech CEO. I was the silent angel investor who funded his entire empire, all while pretending to be the simple girlfriend who could barely pay her own rent.
Then he brought home Katerina, a woman from his past who looked eerily like me.
She began a slow, deliberate invasion of my life-wearing my clothes, using my things, stealing his affection. When I finally fought back, he decided to teach me a lesson.
He had me kidnapped, bound, and thrown onto the stage of a grimy underground auction. He watched from the shadows as leering men bid on my body, only stepping in at the last second to play the hero and put me back in my place.
He thought he had broken me. But then he delivered the final, soul-crushing blow, admitting the truth I never saw coming.
"Harley was a substitute," he whispered to Katerina, not knowing I could hear. "Because she looked like you."
He believed I was a helpless dependent he had created. He had no idea that as he spoke, our divorce was already being finalized. I picked up my phone and dialed a number he never knew existed.
"Killian," I said, my voice calm and steady. "I'm ready. Let's get married." Curator of My Own Life
Modern The plane ride felt endless, but a rush of excitement washed over me, eager to see my Uncle Julian, the man who' d raised me since my parents died.
I pictured his welcoming smile, the scent of turpentine, the way he' d call me his "little artist."
But the grand foyer greeted me with an unsettling silence instead of his usual classical music.
Then I saw them: Julian, his hands covering a woman' s visibly pregnant stomach, his head bent, whispering, before a slow, tender kiss that shattered my world.
My suitcase, filled with paintings for him, crashed to the marble floor, but the expected scream or tears never came.
Instead, a chilling calm settled over me as I simply nodded, congratulating them both, while Julian stared, expecting a scene I' d given him countless times in another life.
That vivid phantom memory, a brutal replay of past heartbreak where I' d screamed, pleaded, and ultimately lost everything – my art, my self-respect, my will to live – became my shield.
It was a ghost, a warning. This time, I wouldn' t make the same mistake. This time, I chose to let go and disappear from a life that was never truly mine. The Unwanted Man's Triumph
Modern My wife, Vicky Sterling, delivered the news over breakfast as casually as she' d asked for more coffee: she was pregnant, and the father was Julian Vance, her personal trainer, who was also moving into our penthouse today.
I felt the last thread snap.
She told me I' d be moving into the guest room, as Julian preferred the master suite.
This was just the latest in eight years of humiliation, where I' d gone from architect to trophy husband, then just… Ethan.
My family' s firm had been saved by hers, but it cost me everything.
When I tried to leave, her contempt was a familiar sting, reminding me I was nothing without her.
The final insult came when Julian, a preening narcissist, lunged for my grandfather' s Purple Heart, the only thing of true value I owned, and it shattered.
Then, the real torture began: Vicky, concerned only for Julian' s barely scratched nail, forced me to undergo a horrific skin graft, even as my own head bled from hitting a table.
Later, Julian framed me for kidnapping myself, and Vicky, believing him, then locked me in a burning cellar.
How could the woman I once loved, the one who controlled my entire life, be so utterly cruel, so blind to the monster she embraced?
Lying there, choked by smoke, I realized this life was a charade.
But then, a glimmer of hope: my old housekeeper, Maria, opened the door, and I heard Olivia' s voice, a promise of freedom in Austin.
I was done. You might like
The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener's shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose-the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." Dumped My Fake-Poor Ex, Married My Wealthy Boss
Hansiain Finley-moise For six years, I worked myself to the bone to support my "struggling artist" boyfriend, Kasen. I paid the rent on our leaky Brooklyn apartment and believed in his dream, thinking our love was real.
That all ended one rainy night when I delivered documents to an exclusive club and overheard him with his wealthy friends. Our life, he said, was just a "sociological experiment."
He wasn't poor at all. He was a trust fund heir with a fiancée in the Hamptons, waiting to close a corporate merger.
"Kaia is just a naive pet who voluntarily pays my rent," he laughed over a three-thousand-dollar glass of scotch.
He told them girls like me were so desperate we'd come crawling back for a scrap of affection. My entire world shattered.
I packed my bags and walked out that night with eighty-four dollars to my name, ready to start over. But escaping one monster only threw me to another. The next day, a predatory client tried to drug me during a business meeting.
My boss, the terrifyingly powerful CEO Camden William, intervened. But after a night of drug-induced chaos, I woke up in his bed.
He didn't offer an apology. He offered a contract. "Marry me for three years," he commanded, "and I'll give you five million dollars and make sure Kasen can never touch you again." Sweet Captive Wife: You Belong to Me, Forever
Escritorapalacio Kiara Watson had lived an unhappy life with her family, always overshadowed by her sister, Cloe, who stole all the attention with her beauty.
However, Kiara's fate took an unexpected turn when, by mistake and out of obligation, she found herself linked to Archie Villarreal, the man who caused a sensation in the most powerful family, the Villarreals.
A dirty trick by Cloe awakened the fury of billionaire Archie. For Kiara, being Cloe's twin became her greatest sin.
She received cruel punishment from Archie, who would do everything in his power to keep her from escaping, creating a stormy and passionate game of love and vehemence. The Heiress' Secret: Ex-Husband, Meet The Real Me
Mary Johnson For three years, Deanna endured scorn in a one-sided marriage. When Connor forced her to choose between her career and a divorce, she didn't hesitate-she walked away.
Determined to reclaim her birthright, Deanna returned as the brilliant heiress to a medical conglomerate.
Her ex and his family begged for another chance, but it was too late. With a tycoon father, a legendary healer mother, a CEO brother who adored her, and a showbiz powerhouse sibling, Deanna's life overflowed with power.
Even her arrogant rival, heir to billions, only ever had a soft spot for her. He Return of the Discarded Heiress
Ying Luo For three years, I wasn't a foster child. I was a living, breathing cure.
Hidden away in the attic of the Thomas mansion, my sole purpose was to keep their precious daughter alive. Every week, they drained my blood to treat her rare disease, leaving me anemic, scarred, and invisible. I was the "walking blood bag" from the wrong side of the tracks-a stray they'd reluctantly taken in.
The day Katharina was finally cured, I overheard the truth. "That walking blood bag has served her purpose," the grandmother hissed. "We are done with her."
They threw me out into a freezing rainstorm, tossing a crumpled check at my feet like a tip for a beggar. Payment, they said, for the years I'd "leeched" off their family. Payment for the six thousand milliliters of blood they'd stolen, for the chronic anemia, for the scars.
I shredded their charity in front of their faces and walked into the storm.
They laughed, screaming that I'd be back, that I'd be begging on the streets by morning. But as I stood alone on that dark road, my world shifted. A sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up in silence. The door opened, and my real family stepped out.
I wasn't a stray from the slums. I was their lost heiress. And the Thomases are about to learn that the girl they bled dry is now the one holding all the power. 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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