Rutledge Shepp
8 Published Stories
Rutledge Shepp's Books and Stories
Married To The Ruthless Disgraced Billionaire
Billionaires I was once the untouchable heiress to the Schroeder empire, until a corporate fraud conviction stripped away my life and threw me into federal prison for five brutal years.
On the day of my release, I stepped out into the freezing rain only to realize I had been utterly abandoned by everyone I loved.
My family sent no one. My former best friends blocked my number, and high-society women took photos of my shivering, pathetic state for laughs. To survive, I made a desperate deal to act as the fake fiancée of Kayden Washington, a ruthless, disgraced billionaire fighting his own blood. But the moment we joined forces, the nightmare escalated. Our safehouse was ransacked, we were hunted by tactical hitmen in the dark, and my adoptive brother stole my dead mother's diary just to bribe me into leaving New York forever. Worse, the digital trail of my framing traced back to a top-tier operative manipulating both our families from the shadows.
I didn't understand why my own family had sacrificed me like a worthless pawn to ignite a massive, invisible war. What dark secret was I actually taking the fall for?
Just as Kayden and I prepared to burn both empires to the ground, a mysterious courier dropped a package at my door. Inside rested the Schroeder Patriarch's solid gold ring—the ultimate symbol of absolute power—sent directly to me, the disgraced exile.
"They took your past, but I will give you the power to forge a new future."
The game hadn't just changed. The board had been flipped, and I was going back to take the throne. Regret Is Useless: The Mafia Queen Rises
Mafia I was a Mafia Princess, and he was the gutter rat I tried to make a King.
On our wedding day, with five hundred guests watching, Luca Moretti didn't say his vows.
Instead, after receiving a photo of a secret child, he looked at me with panic and backed away from the altar.
"I can't do this," he announced to the silent church. "She's here. She'll ruin the kid."
He chose a waitress and their illegitimate daughter over me.
He walked out, leaving me humiliated in a dress that cost more than most people's lives.
Forty-eight hours later, he married her.
He gave the waitress my ring, my future, and his name, all to protect a child he had hidden from me.
When I confronted him weeks later, he looked at me with cold eyes and told me he did it for honor.
He destroyed me to save them, convinced I would fade away into the background.
He thought he could break a Vitiello and not pay the price.
Five years later, I returned to Chicago.
The gala went silent as I walked in, wearing blood-red silk.
Luca approached me, eyes full of regret, begging for a second chance, claiming his marriage to the waitress was a mistake.
He thought he could win me back.
Until a little girl ran into the room—my daughter.
And behind her walked my husband.
Not a soldier, but the Reaper himself, Dante Cavallaro.
Luca’s face turned pale as he realized the truth.
He had left me at the altar to play father, but I had married the Devil to become a Queen. Lies, Love, and Loss
Romance My wedding was three days away when the police told me my fiancé, David Reed, was dead, lost to the sea in a hiking accident. Just like that, I became a pregnant widow, my world turning gray.
Then, David' s older brother, Mark Reed, returned from Africa. When I saw him, the resemblance to David was shocking, a ghost in my living room with a slightly deeper voice. I found myself staring, haunted by his presence.
One night, the baby kicking, I overheard voices from the study. It was David' s laugh. My blood ran cold, and I crept closer, the door ajar. "You have to be more careful, David. She almost looked at you funny today," Eleanor whispered. "Relax, Mom. She' s a wreck," David sneered, his voice dripping with confidence. My grief was a joke.
He had faked his death for Aisha, a mistress he planned to return to once her supposed terminal illness ran its course. I was a backup plan, a safety net. His mother, the woman who had held me while I cried, was in on the disgusting lie.
The pain in my abdomen intensified, a physical manifestation of my agony. I stumbled back to my room, locking the door. My brother Chris called, saying I' d sent a blank text. I heard Aisha' s soft giggle in the hall. She was here, in my house, looking healthy and triumphant.
Her eyes met mine through the crack in the door, a cruel, deliberate look that said, "I have him. You have nothing." My mind went blank with rage, then settled into a chilling calm. The game was on. His Death Day, Her Wedding Day
Romance The phone felt heavy in my hand, a cold, dead weight.
It had been a year since I last heard her voice, a year of silence that felt like a lifetime.
My doctor' s words echoed in my head: "Glioblastoma, stage four. I' m sorry, Ethan. We' re talking months, maybe less."
I called her, my thumb hovering over the button.
"Happy wedding day," I said, pushing the words out. "And the second thing… you once promised that you' d carry my coffin after I die."
The line went dead.
A week after that promise, Olivia had left me. "I never loved you, Ethan," she had said, her face a mask of indifference.
Her words broke me more than the illness ever could.
That' s why I was in Zurich, in a sterile room, scheduled to end my life tomorrow.
But then I saw her, by the lake, skipping stones, just like we used to.
As I took a step towards her, a man came up, wrapping his arm around her waist. Liam Stone.
"Olivia' s fiancé," he said, extending a hand. "We' re actually getting married tomorrow."
My death day would be her wedding day. The universe had a sick sense of humor.
I fled, only to stumble into the path of an oncoming tram. Olivia saved me, pulling me back.
But as she pulled me up, her sleeve rode up, and I saw it: a silver bracelet, engraved with "L.S."
She had been with him while we were still together. My life, my love, my everything, was a lie.
"I' m dying," I told her, hoarse. "I have a brain tumor."
Her facade cracked. Then, she asked me for a favor. "I need you to take the photos, Ethan. Just for the ceremony."
I agreed, on one condition: "I want a photo. Just one. Of you and me. Together."
She agreed, then immediately abandoned me for Liam.
At the wedding, she used my origami stars, our special date on her new wedding ring.
"It never meant anything, Ethan," she said, her eyes cold. "It was never real."
I was numb. I left, heading back to the clinic, my fate sealed.
Then, a text from Liam: We could use an extra hand with some last-minute wedding preparations.
He was trying to buy my compliance, to turn my final day into a transaction.
Fine, I replied.
I didn' t know why I agreed. Maybe I needed to burn the image of her happiness into my brain so I could finally let go. The Chef, The CEO, and The Second Chance
LGBT+ We were two weeks away from our wedding, a culmination of seven years I' d poured into supporting Nicole' s dream.
Then, she dropped a bomb: she was going to be a surrogate for Ryan, her deceased mentor' s manipulative son, because "he needed this."
She left me stranded at a funeral in a storm, prioritized his emotional needs over my life-threatening allergy, and when I faced a high fever alone, she quietly packed an overnight bag to go stay with him.
Each abandonment was a calculated betrayal, a casual cruelty that ripped through my heart, leaving me invisible and discarded.
I looked at her, at the woman who had systematically erased my worth, and realized: my future, my very existence, meant absolutely nothing to her.
So I wrote a desperate Instagram post: "Wedding in two weeks. Need a new bride. Any takers?" My phone buzzed, and an unknown number with a Seattle area code changed everything. Wives of War: A Hale Family Saga
Billionaires We were the Hale brothers, Liam and Ethan, groomed to inherit an empire of power and influence.
Our upcoming engagement dinner wasn't just a celebration; it was the strategic alliance that would cement our dynasty.
But on the eve of that pivotal night, a blinding flash, a screech, and a brutal car crash threw us into a living nightmare.
I saw it all with horrifying clarity: our future, laid bare.
Our names, smeared across every screen as traitors.
Our father' s empire, dissolving into dust.
And leading the charge?
Our fiancées, Ava and Chloe, their faces masks of cold righteousness as they delivered soul-crushing lies to federal investigators, all orchestrated by Julian, their hidden puppet master.
Ava accusing me of illegal server access, Chloe claiming Ethan's desperation.
Two unforgivable lies, whispered by the women we loved, fueled by a shadow.
The memory of a gun in my hand, Ethan's shot, then my own – the only escape from prison – was an unbearable weight.
Then, a gasp.
The smell of antiseptic.
Waking in a hospital bed, Ethan beside me, his eyes wide with the same shared horror.
The nurse smiled brightly: "Just in time for your family dinner tonight!"
The engagement dinner.
Our last chance.
Not fools this time. Her Ice Heart, His Bitter End
Romance My father arranged my marriage to Liam, the man I' d secretly loved for a decade.
But on our wedding night, Liam, seeing only a gilded cage and forced manipulation, turned his back, muttering, "You got what you wanted, Ava."
He fled overseas for three years, leaving me to raise our daughter, Grace, alone.
He returned with his ex-girlfriend Chloe and her daughter Skylar.
Liam shamelessly favored Skylar, explicitly neglecting Grace, even re-gifting Chloe's old scarf to me.
Confirmation of his true life came from a public video where he boasted of "peak happiness" with Chloe and her child.
My heart, once foolishly hopeful, shattered into ice.
The man I loved was a brutal illusion; the one in that video, smiling with another's child, was real.
How could he be so utterly cruel to his own flesh and blood, treating me merely as a disposable burden?
The final snap came when Grace suffered a severe allergic reaction.
Liam, however, prioritized Skylar' s minor heat rash, diverting critically needed specialists.
As Grace gasped, her innocent whisper, "Mommy, if Daddy likes Skylar more, it's okay. I just need you," ignited an unbreakable resolve.
He would never hurt her again. Second Chance With My Disabled Boyfriend
Young Adult Caleb served as an assistant for four years and a canary for three years.
I never thought I could walk out of that villa that imprisoned me.
Nathan, the poor school grass with disabled legs, returned after six years abroad and successfully defeated the Griffin Group.
Caleb went bankrupt and became a destitute.
Nathan carried me out of that villa, holding me in his hands like a princess for a year.
On my 26th birthday, I was killed by Caleb in the villa.
Nathan, covered in blood, held me and said calmly, "Yaoyao, you go first, I will follow soon."
Looking at his tearful eyes, I desperately prayed to the gods to save him and let him live.
The gods answered my prayers.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to 18 years old.
Nathan, this time it's my turn to save you. You might like
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.” Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
William Jafferson My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. 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." No More Your Scorned Wife: The Medical Empress Returns
Ela Osaretin "Sign it. Save her, and I'll give you anything."
For four years, I was Damian Wright's 'invisible wife'.
While I played the pauper, he poured his soul into his dying first love. Desperate, he blindly signed a stack of papers to buy the 'Gifted Doctor's' time.
He didn't read the fine print. Buried inside was our Divorce Decree.
"Congratulations, Damian," I said, stripping off my surgical mask to reveal the wife he never truly knew. "You're free."
The submissive Amelia is dead.
The legendary 'Ghost Surgeon'? That's me.
The blindfolded racing queen 'Raven'? Also me.
The shadow behind the global intelligence network V-Null? Still me.
I was ready to vanish, but Lucas Sullivan-the titan who makes the Wrights look like peasants-blocked my path.
When Damian tried to reclaim me, Lucas didn't just stop him; he brought an empire to its knees.
"They don't deserve to look at you," Lucas whispered, his touch a lethal mix of protection and obsession. "But if you crave the world, Amelia, I'll burn it down just to hear you say my name."
My Accidental Billionaire husband
Favor V April They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, mine didn't.
I came back with a marriage certificate bearing a stranger's name, a ring worth more than my parents' love ever was, and a son whose father I've never seen, never known, never remembered.
I went to Vegas for a racing competition. I won. I celebrated. And somewhere between the victory and the sunrise, my life changed forever.
For six years, I've lived with the consequences of one reckless night. I built an empire. I raised my son. And I searched for the man who changed my life without even knowing it.
Then fate laughed in my face.
My sister married my ex-fiancé-the man I was promised to since childhood. The man I was supposed to become Mrs. Windsor for. The man who now wears my family name... and looks far too much like my child.
Every time I'm near him, the past presses closer. Every glance feels like a question I'm terrified to ask. I shouldn't notice him. I shouldn't feel anything. He is my sister's husband.
But some secrets refuse to stay buried.
Because the truth about Vegas isn't just in the ring on my finger or the child in my arms.
It's standing right in front of me.
And when it finally comes out, it won't just destroy a marriage, it will burn an empire to the ground.
Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Haley I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders.
But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked.
I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint.
The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment.
I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever.
The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration.
"Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me." 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. 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. No More Submission: The Heiress Strikes Back
Bing Xialuo I spent five years acting as the perfect, invisible caretaker for my wealthy family, meticulously managing their health and social standing while they treated me like a ghost.
Then, my nightmare became reality when my brother Alon shoved me out of bed, forcing me to apologize to our adopted sister, Fallon, for a jealousy I never felt.
My parents and brother stood over me, their eyes filled with unfiltered disgust, demanding I play the servant to a girl who was actively plotting my social destruction.
They froze my accounts, stripped me of my dignity, and mocked my existence, fully expecting me to crawl back to them in tears like I did in my other, broken life.
I stared at their entitled faces, feeling a cold, sharp clarity wash over me; they were so obsessed with status that they didn't realize they had just handed the keys to their own ruin to a complete amateur.
Why was I still playing the martyr for people who would watch me burn without blinking?
I stood up, walked away from their chaos, and cut the final tie, leaving them to face the ruthless social elite with a liability they couldn't control. 
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