Snooty
8 Published Stories
Snooty's Books and Stories
Eight Years Of His Lies
Modern For eight years, I gave up everything to protect my son from his deadly peanut allergy. This meant three months of crushing loneliness every winter while he and his father, Greg, lived in a separate "allergy-free zone." I called it lonely; my doctors called it seasonal depression.
But the allergy was a lie. I overheard them through the apartment door-Greg, my son Josh, and Brittany, his high school sweetheart. They were feeding my son his allergen on purpose.
"Just a little bit to keep the allergy strong," Greg coached him. It was their ticket for a secret life.
When Josh was later hospitalized for a reaction, he cried for Brittany, not me. "Mommy's always sad," he whimpered, as she swept in to play the hero.
Then I discovered the pills Greg gave me for my "depression" were actually powerful sedatives. He wasn't just lying; he was drugging me to keep me docile and confused.
The final blow was our marriage certificate-a worthless fake. He had built my entire world on a foundation of deceit. So I walked out, leaving him to the mess he created, ready to reclaim the life he stole from me. His Betrayal, Her Unbreakable Will
Modern The pain hit me in the middle of a billion-dollar merger presentation. It was a sharp, twisting cramp, so intense it stole my breath. I excused myself, trembling, and called my husband, Ethan, who was supposed to be my rock.
Instead, I heard the sounds of children laughing and music in the background. My desperate plea that "something's wrong... I think I'm bleeding" was met with dismissal. Ethan, playing dad to Olivia's son Liam, brushed me off, accusing me of being "dramatic" and "pathetic" for trying to ruin Liam's "Star Camper" award. He hung up, leaving me to slide down the hallway wall as a warm gush of blood soaked through my dress.
Hours later, I woke up in a hospital bed. Our baby was gone. The doctor's kind, sad face confirmed the emptiness I already felt. I lay there, a hollowed-out shell, the pain too deep for tears. When the nurse presented the cremation authorization, I didn't hesitate. I signed my name, Chloe Davis, and then asked her to send the ashes to my husband, Ethan Miller, at his office.
"And," I added, looking her straight in the eye, "can you include a gift card? Just write one thing on it: 'For your next family.'"
He hadn't come to the hospital. He hadn't even called. Two days later, he came home, cheerful and oblivious, talking about how Olivia "really needed him" and how he' d brought me soup. He still didn't get it. He was standing in the middle of a graveyard, complaining about the price of flowers. The man I had loved was gone, replaced by a stranger.
His casual disregard, constant betrayal, and the loss of our child ignited a cold, unwavering resolve within me. I took down the nursery, packing away every tiny reminder of a future that would never be. Then, I called my lawyer. I was filing for divorce, and this time, I wasn't just leaving him; I was taking everything back-my money, my career, my life-and he wouldn't even see it coming. The Wife He Cast Out
Billionaires The freezing rain lashed at my face as David locked me out for the third time this week.
My voice trembled as I begged, "David, please. It' s cold. Let me in."
His only answer was the TV volume growing louder, a clear sign he didn' t care.
Just five years ago, I was Sarah Miller, Wall Street' s "Golden Eyes," a financial genius with a fortress of wealth.
Then David Smith arrived, charming and protective, convincing me to trade my career for a quiet life, a family, pouring all my assets into his hands.
I even underwent a "special procedure" he insisted on-a bone marrow transfer that left me with a permanent chill and weakness, supposedly to protect his health and our prosperity.
A year later, his college sweetheart, Olivia White, walked back into his life.
Tonight, as I shivered on the porch, our 8-year-old son, Ethan, opened the door, his face a cold copy of his father' s.
"Dad said you need to think about what you did wrong," Ethan announced, flatly. "Olivia is here. She' s way nicer than you."
David and Olivia appeared, his arm around her, a smug look on his face.
"Still out here, Sarah?" he sneered. "Maybe the cold will knock some sense into you. You' ve become useless. All you do is spend my money."
"Your money?" I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "David, it was my money. My life' s work."
Olivia laughed a sharp, unpleasant sound. "Oh, Sarah. That was a long time ago. You' re just a housewife now. David is the one making the real moves."
He pulled her closer. "I' ve been investing our money into Olivia' s tech startup. It' s the future. It' s for Ethan' s education."
The blatant lie stole my breath. I had seen the financials; her startup was a fraudulent mess. He was stealing from me to fund his affair.
"You' re lying," I said, finding my voice. "That company is worthless. You' re throwing our money away on her."
His face hardened. "Don' t you dare question my judgment. You gave up that life, remember?"
Even Ethan parroted, "Yeah, Mom! Dad' s smart. Olivia is smart. You just cook and clean."
Their words, twisting my son' s voice, finally broke me. I looked at David' s face and saw no love, just a manipulator who saw me as a bank account. My sacrifice wasn' t love; it was a successful transaction.
The cold rain no longer bothered me. A clarifying rage settled deep within. The naive woman on the doorstep was gone, mourned by no one but herself.
I stopped pleading. I stopped shivering. My eyes, clear and steady for the first time in years, saw him for what he was: a self-serving thief.
Without a word, I turned and walked away, leaving him shouting, "Sarah! Where are you going? Get back here!"
I didn' t look back. He thought I was a washed-up housewife, but he had forgotten about the Golden Eyes. They built their empire with my money. I was going to take it all back. And then, I was going to burn their world to the ground. My Fiancé Married His Deceased Brother's Wife
Romance For five years, Mark and I were the perfect couple, or so I thought.
He was the promising artist, and I, the talented interior designer.
But for five years, he had never once talked about marrying me.
His reason? His deceased brother' s widow, Olivia.
He claimed his "duty" was to fulfill his brother' s dying wish: to have a child with Olivia.
So, I endured, counting the nights he spent in her bed, the scent of her perfume clinging to him when he returned.
On the sixtieth day, Olivia announced her pregnancy.
Mark was ecstatic, promising me a wedding in one week.
That same night, at a massive party to celebrate the pregnancy, I stood in the crowd, waiting for him to announce our engagement.
Instead, he got down on one knee, pulled out a diamond ring, and proposed to Olivia.
My heart shattered. He had publicly humiliated me.
Later, the stinging reality of my betrayal was cemented by a text from Olivia:
"He was never yours."
I was no more than a placeholder, a fool warming his bed while he pursued his true agenda.
The pain was unbearable, but a cold resolve flickered within me.
When Mark, oblivious, later tried to gaslight me with more lies, I saw a hickey on his neck.
He then ran off to Olivia, leaving me in the car to get a cab.
Back at the apartment, he even offered me a smaller ring and then audaciously asked if Olivia, his pregnant fiancée, could move in with us, citing a high-risk pregnancy.
He wanted me to care for her.
The audacity was astounding. Yet, a strange calm washed over me.
"Okay," I said, my voice steady. "She can move in."
The next evening, Olivia faked a fall down the stairs, accusing me of trying to harm her baby.
Mark' s face, contorted with rage, snarled at me:
"If anything happens to this baby, I will destroy you. I swear to God, I will ruin your life."
The last thread snapped. No anger, no sadness. Just peace. I was free.
I walked to our bedroom, took my packed suitcase, and dropped the engagement ring into the trash.
Then, I walked out. Not His Brother's Fool
Romance Ethan Scott promised me a Texas-sized wedding, then drove off with a greasy-haired woman he called his "business partner," leaving me pregnant with his brother Caleb's child.
I married Caleb, secured, and settled into our new life on the outskirts of town, far from the Scotts.
A year later, Ethan and his mistress, Tara, rolled back in, broke and bitter, expecting to find me forlorn-instead they found me heavily pregnant on the porch.
Tara, with a sneer, convinced Ethan I was a conniving gold-digger, trying to pass off another man' s child as his.
Fueled by her lies, Ethan, his own brother, lunged at me, pushing our mother aside before dragging me into the dusty yard.
He publicly humiliated me, screaming I was a "cheating whore," then kicked me to my knees, snarling he' d "beat the truth out of me."
The horror escalated when he grabbed a hot fire poker, and Tara hissed for him to "brand" me.
He shoved me into a filthy pigsty, where a sow charged, slamming into my side, tearing agony erupting through me.
I screamed, bleeding heavily, realizing my baby was coming, right there in the mud, as Ethan and Tara laughed.
I thought I was going to die, my baby too, abandoned to the filth.
Just as darkness closed in, Caleb's truck screeched to a halt, and he emerged, a mask of pure, cold fury, his eyes finding me in the pigsty.
He plunged through the mud, scooped me up, and as he carried me away, Tara dared to mock him, "You don' t have to pretend, Caleb! We saved you!"
His reply, chillingly quiet, promised, "If she dies, I will kill you both with my bare hands." The Unseen Empress of Sound
Modern My belly swollen, nine months in, I clutched the counter as a brutal contraction stole my breath.
"Ethan," I gasped, "I think it's the baby. It's too early."
He didn't even glance up from his phone, scrolling through pictures of Sabrina Chavez, the singer who' d stolen my song.
"Not now, Jocelyn," he drawled, "I'm dealing with a crisis." He meant Sabrina's stylist sent the wrong shoes.
Not impending premature birth.
Another wave of pain hit, sharper.
I saw red on my legs.
But he took my phone and keys. "You're going to sit down, drink some water, and stop trying to sabotage the biggest night of my career." He left, the door clicking like a coffin lid.
An hour later, I was bleeding on the floor, the storm had knocked out the landlines, and the front door was locked.
When help finally came, it was Ethan' s mother, who called my pain "theatrics," then shoved me into the dark, damp storm cellar, filled with corrosive cleaner.
My baby died there, in the acid, in the dark.
I should have died. I did die, to the world.
But my father, the reclusive music legend Jackson Fuller, saved me. Now, the old Jocelyn is gone, burned away.
And from the ashes, a new one has risen. And she wants revenge. The Dashcam's Silent Witness
Modern The knot in my stomach wasn't just anticipation for my prenatal check-up; it was the chilling premonition of a nightmare revisited.
My husband Mark, our town' s revered Fire Captain, conveniently had an urgent training, leaving his childhood friend Jessica to sweetly offer me a ride to the doctor.
But I knew this day, every terrifying detail, because I'd endured it once before.
In my first life, Jessica had deliberately caused a horrific car crash, and Mark, the man who supposedly saved me, later turned into our baby' s and my executioner.
This time, I secretly called 911, determined to change my fate, yet the horror unfolded eerily similarly.
Mark arrived, doting on a minimally bruised Jessica, completely ignoring my severe injuries as I hemorrhaged, publicly shaming me while I agonizingly lost our child.
The entire town, blinded by his hero status, rallied around Jessica, swiftly branding me the unstable, jealous woman who had caused all the tragedy.
Isolated and shattered, the profound injustice burned through me, leaving me incredulous at their collective delusion.
How could the truth be so twisted, and their eyes so firmly shut to the betrayers living among them?
But they underestimated the silent resolve of a woman who had already walked through hell and returned.
When Jessica pulled her next theatrical ploy, I didn't just stand there; I made a discrete call, armed with undeniable evidence from my dashcam, ready to expose the monsters and finally claim the justice my innocent baby never received. Counterattack Of The Vengeful Goddess
Romance This summer, the temperature suddenly rose, and my sister-in-law suggested that the whole family go to Prastin for diving to escape the heat. I suddenly realized that the climate in Prastin this year was different from previous years, so I suggested staying for a few days and then going home. As a result, my sister-in-law angrily scolded me, saying, "Prastin is a summer resort. I don't know if you can shut up, you country bumpkin. In another month, the weather will get cooler. If we don't stay for a month, I won't go home." My mother strongly agreed on the side.
After landing, they were ripped off at a seafood market by a shady business and held at knifepoint by thugs to pay a high bill, forcing me to give them money. Later, the Earth's magnetic field became chaotic, and the cool sea breeze turned into a scorching heat wave, turning the summer resort into a hell on earth. The airport stopped flights due to the high temperatures, and our family was trapped in a guesthouse. Despite the government's high-temperature warning, my sister-in-law insisted on going diving to cool off. As a result, in the extreme heat, a sudden high tide trapped her. In a critical moment, my brother pushed me into the water, and my sister-in-law grabbed my hair, using my head as a support, and was successfully rescued. However, I was swept into the seabed by scalding hot seawater and drowned. A rescuer who was salvaging my body also tragically died. Faced with the blame from those around her, my mother said, "It's all my daughter's fault for not listening and insisting on going diving. If she couldn't be saved, it's her own fault." After this incident, they finally realized the dangers of high temperatures. The three of them stayed in the guesthouse, worked together to endure the high temperatures, and finally received government rescue. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to when my sister-in-law suggested going to Prastin to escape the heat. You might like
Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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