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Sea Quest

10 Published Stories

Sea Quest's Books and Stories

Built From The Ashes

Built From The Ashes

 Modern
5.0
My last memory of my first life was Ethan, standing over my grave. He wasn't crying; he was smiling, that cruel twist of his lips I knew all too well. "I forgive you, Chloe," he' d whispered, putting his arm around Jessica as they walked away with the son I' d raised, leaving me to rot. They stripped me of everything: my apprenticeship, my dignity, decades of my life wasted raising their abandoned baby, "Lucky." When I got sick, they threw me away like trash, only to reveal their truth: Lucky was their child, conceived in a twisted plan to steal my future. I gasped, my eyes flying open, not in a coffin, but back in my 1995 body, young and alive, standing on a desolate back road. Just feet away, a baby carrier, and the wailing infant inside. In my past life, pity had washed over me, and I' d rushed to save him, unknowingly signing my own death warrant. This time, as I looked at the carrier, I felt nothing but a cold, hard fury. I turned my back and walked away, choosing a path of ice instead of kindness.
From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen

From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen

 Mafia
5.0
I was the invisible daughter of the Hayes crime family, secretly painting portraits of Marcus, the Underboss. He was the man who had once protected me from the world, the man I loved from the shadows. But he chose power over affection. To secure an alliance, he engaged Isabella. Threatened by my existence, Isabella staged a fake miscarriage and framed me for destroying her heirloom wedding dress. Marcus didn't ask for my side of the story. Blinded by rage over his "lost heir," he ordered his guards to drag me to the Ice Cellar—a freezing underground torture chamber used for traitors. For days, I shivered in the absolute darkness, listening to the water drip, realizing the man I worshiped was actually my jailer. My father, protecting his own millions, let it happen. In that cold, the girl who loved Marcus died. When he finally released me, he expected me to be broken, obedient, and grateful for his mercy. Instead, I burned every painting I had ever made of him. I packed a single bag and vanished into the night, escaping to a rugged ranch in Montana where no one knew my name. Three years later, the truth about Isabella’s lies finally surfaced. Marcus tracked me down. The King of New York fell to his knees in the dirt and cow manure of my new home, weeping, begging, and offering me the entire world to come back. I looked down at the man who once owned my heart. "You can't un-shatter a glass, Marcus," I said coldly. "I'm not coming home."
The Innkeeper's Secret: His Daughter

The Innkeeper's Secret: His Daughter

 Modern
5.0
I was the wife of a tech mogul I' d built from nothing. I even hired his new assistant, a woman who looked just like his dead mother, thinking I was giving him a piece of his past back. Then I discovered the truth. He wasn't just sleeping with her-she was pregnant with his son. And for months, the prenatal vitamins he lovingly gave me every morning were nothing but sugar pills. The shock of their betrayal caused me to miscarry our first child. They painted me as a crazy, violent heiress, took my family's company, and left me with nothing but the ashes of the life he'd promised me. But as I stood in our home, ready to burn it all down with me inside, I discovered a miracle: I was pregnant again. I faked my death and disappeared. Five years later, he walked into the quiet inn I now own with his family. And his eyes landed on my daughter.
The Betrayal That Broke Me

The Betrayal That Broke Me

 Romance
5.0
The sterile hum of the hospital room grated on my nerves, a grim backdrop to my mother' s shallow breaths. I clung to her frail hand, praying each rise and fall of her chest wouldn't be her last. But then my phone buzzed, pulling me into a different kind of nightmare: a photo of my wife, Sarah, draped provocatively over a junk car, sent by Jake, her "creative director." My blood ran cold. Sarah, my Sarah, looking cheap and available, with Jake' s smug caption about "pushing boundaries." Then came his direct message-another photo, Sarah' s eyes closed, her lipstick smeared, and Jake' s hand on her bare shoulder, possessive. Below it, a single line that ripped through me: "Wish you were here? Don't worry, I'm taking good care of her." Rage flooded my chest, hot and acidic. I called Sarah, my voice shaking, begging her to come, to say goodbye to my dying mother. "I can't just leave, Alex," she snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. "This is Jake's big break. Everything is riding on this. I can't let him down." "Your mother-in-law is dying," I whispered, disbelief choking me. "My mother is dying." "And what do you want me to do about it?" she sneered. "Hold her hand? It's not like she ever liked me anyway. I' ll be there when it' s over. Just... handle it. I have to go." The line went dead, her cruel words echoing in the suffocating quiet of the hospital corridor. Moments later, the doctor delivered the news: she was gone. My world went silent. Then, my phone buzzed again, an Instagram notification: "Sarah.Evans and Jake.Creates are now live." I clicked it, a hollowed-out shell of a man, watching my wife celebrate with her lover while my mother's body grew cold in the room behind me. They celebrated their "win" with champagne, Sarah screaming, "To us! To the win!" as Jake leaned in for a long, deep kiss, for the whole world to see. Why? Why did she choose him? Why did she treat my mother with such contempt in her final hours? The answer lay buried in years of betrayal, starting even before our wedding day. And now, I would unearth every dirty secret, even if it meant tearing my own life apart.
My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote

My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote

 Romance
5.0
My life as Jocelyn Scott, wife to rising political star DA Ethan Scott, was a carefully crafted facade of domestic bliss, though I, a Senator' s daughter, had traded my ambition for his. Then came the "accident." At the hospital, my husband, bandaged for dramatic effect, publicly declared amnesia, disowning me and our five-year-old son, Leo, and embracing his "first love," Sabrina, daughter of a powerful senator whose endorsement he craved. Overnight, I became a "household staff member" in my own home, watching Sabrina wear my clothes and sleep in my bed. Leo, ostracized and bullied at school, came home with bruises and tear-filled eyes, while his father walked past him as if he were furniture. The final, crushing blow came when Ethan, watching our son drown in a fountain, joked, "Well, that'll get the sympathy vote." Leo died that night, and Ethan saw his death as pure political gold. How could he? How could the man I loved, the father of my child, be such a monstrous, calculating machine? My son, my beautiful boy, reduced to a tragic headline, his resting place torn down for a hot tub. In that hollowed-out instant, the last shred of my former self died. And in its place, a cold, hard resolve was born. I would fake my own death, resurrecting Jocelyn Fuller, and become the ghost that would haunt his rise, then meticulously orchestrate his devastating fall.
When Good Backfires: A Student's Vengeance

When Good Backfires: A Student's Vengeance

 Young Adult
5.0
My college life as a pre-med student at a California state university was focused on rigorous studies, good grades, and upholding personal integrity, shared with my best friend Olivia and our free-spirited roommate, Jessica. The facade of normalcy shattered when Jessica reappeared after a three-day disappearance, clutching my personal water bottle, her neck and arms covered in unsettling red welts, all while boasting about dodging crucial health screenings. My attempt to responsibly report her for avoiding mandatory health checks spiraled disastrously: Jessica, fueled by rage, staged a dramatic escape and, aided by her ethically compromised academic advisor, Dr. Peterson, orchestrated a fake cyberbullying charge against me. Suddenly, my reputation was on the line due to a formal disciplinary warning, making me the campus pariah. How could doing the right thing backfire so spectacularly, leaving me accused and shamed, while actual recklessness went unchecked? The injustice was a bitter pill, confirming my deepest suspicions about Jessica's manipulative nature and the disturbing, illicit alliance she clearly shared with Dr. Peterson. But instead of breaking me, this unfair attack ignited a cold fury, transforming my disgust into a calculated resolve: I would expose their corrupt web, even if it meant playing their game, starting with a discreet "accident" in Dr. Peterson's office.
Her Second Life, His Last

Her Second Life, His Last

 Romance
5.0
My sister Eleanor was set to marry Marcus Thorne, a powerful man whose family held immense sway. It was a pre-arranged union, heralded as the cornerstone of a grand alliance between the Harrisons and the Thornes. But my world shattered when I uncovered the horrifying truth: Marcus had orchestrated Eleanor's death, masking it as a "sudden illness." Before I could expose his monstrous secret, a killer's hands clasped my throat. The suffocating scent of expensive oud cologne filled my lungs as my vision faded. My first life ended right there, in my father's study-a place of power that became my tomb. Every attempt to reveal the truth, every desperate plea, was brutally silenced. The injustice was a burning fire within me. How could his heinous crimes go unpunished? The phantom ache of that chokehold, indelibly linked to the memory of that rich, woody scent, fueled an insatiable fury. I died knowing the monster would walk free. But then, I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my silk sheets, sunlight streaming into my room. It was Eleanor's engagement day once more. This wasn't a nightmare; it was a resurrection. This was my second chance. I knew what I had to do: I would marry Marcus Thorne myself, infiltrating his inner circle to save Eleanor and orchestrate his ultimate downfall. This wasn't just survival; it was war.
Once Broken, Now Free

Once Broken, Now Free

 Modern
5.0
My 21st birthday wasn't just a day; it was the day. The day Ava Harrison promised we' d meet at Austin's iconic Continental Club, the moment I believed she'd finally see me, the kid who poured his soul into songs just for her. But as I arrived, guitar in hand, ready to begin our future, I heard her voice, clear and cold, telling her friend: "It' s a great way to finally shut down little Ethan. Still chasing that silly promise about The Continental Club." Then came the public engagement, a diamond flashing as she announced, "Sweet, but a little too late." My world crumbled. Moments later, a stage light crashed. I was severely injured, but Ava, my supposed future, didn't stay. She left me, bruised and broken, for her new fiancé, Julian, sending a single, chilling text: "#EngagedLife." How could the girl I worshipped, the one I wrote a decade of music for, be so utterly cruel? So dismissive of my love, my pain? The betrayal burned deeper than any physical wound. I smashed my guitar. Blocked her. And packed my bags for Nashville. This wasn't just over; it was a detonation. I swore I' d turn that agonizing betrayal into music so powerful, it would become her inescapable shadow. This wasn't the end of me; it was the birth of something far more formidable.
The Ninety-Nine Betrayals

The Ninety-Nine Betrayals

 Romance
5.0
The world went gray after the crash that took my parents, leaving their green tech company on the brink. Then my dazzling wife, Izzy, appeared like a savior, her old Texas oil money propping us up. She was my rock, my biggest cheerleader through ninety-eight failed prototypes, always assuring me the ninety-ninth, UrbanFlow, would be "the one." I loved and trusted her completely. Until I overheard her chilling confession. She wasn't my supporter; she was a saboteur. She'd orchestrated every single one of my "failures," systematically leaking my core algorithms and business plans to her old flame, Caleb. My IP was the foundation of his booming tech empire. Our marriage? A cold, calculated "strategic" move to keep me coding, dependent, and utterly blind. The woman I adored, my "Izzy," was a venomous lie. Every affectionate word, every comforting touch, twisted into a cruel mockery of love. My life was a meticulously constructed deception, my genius hijacked, my parents' legacy exploited. Nausea churned in my gut, quickly replaced by a simmering, icy rage. She believed I was a naive fool, that I had nothing without her. She was about to discover just how wrong she was. My heart ached with betrayal, but my mind sharpened with unwavering resolve. I would not just reclaim my work; I would unleash a reckoning so precise, so public, that they would pay for every single lie. This was no longer about a company—it was about justice.
Ghosts In The House

Ghosts In The House

 Horror
5.0
I'm a horror novelist. Recently, the release of my new work made me quite a bit of money. However, I haven't written the ending for this story yet. To be honest, writing the ending of a horror story is really difficult. My new work is titled "The Building Ghost." Late at night, a reporter named Yolanda approached me and asked, "Xander, do you believe that building ghosts exist in this world?" I took a sip of my beer and fell into silence. "I do."