Sumner Upsdell
10 Published Stories
Sumner Upsdell's Books and Stories
When Love Turns To Toxic Abuse
Modern I was a talented designer married to Christian, the boy who swore he'd always protect me from my cruel sister, Gidget. He was my childhood sweetheart, my entire world.
Then I found him in our bed, tangled up with her.
He swore she drugged him, but then she turned up pregnant with his child. He chose her, letting her move into our home and believing every one of her lies.
When Gidget deliberately slammed a piano lid on my hand, shattering the bones and ending my career, he didn't see her malice. He saw me as the villain.
He slapped me, locked me away while my hand festered, and sided with the woman he knew had tormented me my entire life. The man who was my protector became my abuser.
Five years later, they walked into my new boutique, a celebrated power couple ready to offer me charity. They thought I was broken and alone.
They had no idea I was remarried to a man who was about to expose every last one of their secrets to the world. The Stand-In's Sweetest Revenge
Billionaires My half-a-million-dollar-a-year job as a live-in personal trainer for billionaire Connor Smith was demanding, but simple. I managed his health, he paid me handsomely.
That all went up in flames the moment his ex-girlfriend, Bella, walked back into his life. She took one look at me and decided I was her "stand-in"-a cheap imitation he'd hired to fill the void she left.
Her mission became to destroy me. She framed me for theft, tried to humiliate me in front of his friends, and staged a bloody scene, screaming that I had stabbed her.
Connor, the man I was paid to keep healthy, was too weak to stop her, offering me more money to just "be discreet."
Bella's delusions escalated until she was lying in a hospital bed, demanding one of my kidneys as compensation for her fake injury.
I was a professional with a degree from Cornell, not a villain in her twisted romance novel. My career, my reputation-everything was on the line.
I quit. But when she followed me to social media, posting lies to ruin my name forever, I knew I was done being quiet. She thought she was the main character, but she forgot one thing: I had the receipts. From Savior to Obsessed Stalker
Romance The passcode to Conrad Ellison' s private villa was my birthday, a gesture I once thought was the most romantic in the world. Now, it felt like a key to a gilded cage. I walked through his silent mansion, a cold knot of unease growing in my stomach.
Then I heard it-a low moan from his bedroom. The door was ajar, revealing Conrad on his knees, clutching a lavender silk scarf. He was touching himself, breathing one name: "Kassidy." My stepsister.
My blood ran cold. The man I loved, the man I thought was pure, desired her, not me. As I stumbled back, his phone buzzed. It was Kassidy. "Conrad? You sound... out of breath." He snapped, "What do you want?" She asked if the rumors of our marriage were true. His reply hit me like a physical blow: "Never. She' s a delusional, pathetic woman. I wish she would just disappear."
He admitted he only tolerated me to get closer to her, to win her father' s approval. My three years of foolish love felt like a giant, humiliating joke. I remembered how my father brought Kassidy and her mother home after my mother' s funeral, how they made me a villain, and how Conrad, my supposed savior, had stepped in to protect me from bullies.
I had been so blind, so stupidly arrogant, believing I was special to him. He wasn't a saint; he was just obsessed with the wrong woman.
I ran until my lungs burned, collapsing on the lawn. A hard, sharp resolve formed in the wreckage of my heart. I called Helene, my voice torn with sobs. "I'm done. I don't want him anymore." I was leaving this city, my father, Kassidy, all of it. I was starting over. I was never coming back. I Dumped My Daughter's Father
Romance The sweet scent of vanilla filled our kitchen, a fragile peace before the storm of Lily' s fifth birthday.
Then, my husband Mark's phone buzzed with the name "Scarlett," shattering any illusion of our perfect life.
Later, I found receipts for a diamond necklace and private school tuition-all for Scarlett' s daughter, not our own.
My husband stood by, watching as his mistress' s daughter, Daisy, taunted Lily, proudly displaying gifts from her "Daddy."
That night, a news alert flashed across my phone: "Tech Mogul Mark Davis Rekindles Romance with Childhood Sweetheart Scarlett Vance? Seen on a Cozy Family Outing with Vance and Her Look-alike Daughter, Daisy."
He walked in at 2 a.m., oblivious to the wreckage he' d left in his wake.
"How was your party, Mark?" I asked, holding up the damning picture.
He denied nothing, offering flimsy excuses about "responsibility" and "old times' sake."
But when I found out he was paying for Daisy' s schooling, my control snapped.
"What do you want, Ava? A divorce?" he challenged.
"Yes," I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
He panicked, pleading for a second chance, weaving a tale of blackmail.
"Prove it," I told him, demanding a postnup: if he strayed again, I' d take everything.
He signed, thinking he' d bought my silence.
But at his company picnic, Scarlett and Daisy appeared, Mark' s secret family in plain sight.
He spoke French to Daisy, a warmth he never showed Lily, making our daughter an outsider.
"It is incredibly rude to speak in a language you assume others don\'t understand, Scarlett. Especially when you are telling your daughter to boast about things a married man supposedly did with you," I said in flawless French, exposing their cruel charade.
His anger, however, was for me and our crying daughter.
"You\'re making a scene!" he hissed. "And Lily, for God\'s sake, stop crying. It\'s embarrassing."
That was the end. I walked away, Lily' s hand in mine, knowing he had made his choice. His Stolen Wedding, Her Perfect Lie
Romance My wedding day was supposed to be perfect, just like Chloe and I planned it.
White roses, fairy lights, and then I saw it: a giant photo of Chloe and her "best friend" Mark at the entrance, with "Congratulations Chloe & Mark" written beneath.
I thought it was a terrible prank, but a hulking man blocked my way, laughing when I said I was the groom.
"The groom' s name is Mark. Now get lost before you make a scene," he grunted.
My heart pounded as I pushed past him, only to see Chloe on stage in her wedding dress, Mark' s arm possessively around her.
"Thank you all for coming to celebrate the happiest day of our lives," Mark announced, as my mind went blank.
I shouted Chloe' s name, and for a second, I saw panic in her eyes before it was replaced by cold annoyance.
Mark smirked, pointing out a "wedding crasher" as his brother, Dale, stomped towards me, snarling about me getting lost.
"This is a misunderstanding! I' m Alex! I' m engaged to Chloe! We were supposed to get married today!" I cried, looking desperately at Chloe, but she wouldn' t meet my gaze.
Mark called me a "stalker," and Dale punched me in the stomach, then dragged me out, breaking my arm.
I lay on the cold concrete steps, the pain nothing compared to the crushing weight in my chest.
Just hours earlier, Chloe had woken me, worried she was pregnant, sending me on a wild goose chase for a test across town.
She had kissed me, telling me she loved me. It was all a lie.
She had stolen our wedding, our friends, and our life. My phone buzzed, a picture of Chloe and Mark, blissful in a hotel room, a smug message from him: "Thanks for setting everything up, buddy. She' s all mine now."
Rage burned through me. I called, needing her to confirm the betrayal.
"Things change. People change. I chose Mark. He can give me the life I deserve," she said dismissively.
I realized then: I was just a placeholder. The entire five years was a lie.
The devastating truth wasn' t just about a wedding lost, but a life stolen.
I moved out, blocking her everywhere. It was over. But it wasn' t just about moving on. It was about reclaiming everything she tried to erase. A Mother's Sin, A Son's Reckoning
Horror The crystal glasses clinked in our opulent gallery, a melody of my mother Olivia's engagement party. I was her protégé, her son, her heir-everything I ever had, she gave me.
But watching her laugh with David, his arm possessively around her waist, a familiar knot tightened in my chest: a suffocating need for her sole focus.
In a desperate, childish search for comfort, I buried my face in her scarf in her private suite, only to hear her voice, "What are you doing?"
Olivia' s face, a mask of disbelief, hardened into rage. "You were sniffing my things like some kind of pervert... I take you in, I give you a life, and this is how you repay me? With this… this obsession?"
She advanced on me, eyes blazing. "You need to be cleansed. Go to The Gauntlet. You will stay there until you shed these perverse thoughts!"
The Gauntlet. A brutal, secretive art collective for artists who had committed "grave sins" from which no one returned whole. A prison.
The next morning, Olivia took a heavy metal ruler and brought it down hard across my knuckles, shattering my painting hand.
One year later, a broken shell of the artist I once was, I returned to Olivia. David, her fiancé, reached out to pat my head, a casual, condescending gesture. My body flinched violently, anticipating a blow before I forced myself to submit.
Olivia saw the flinch, the tremor. "Have you learned your lesson?" she asked, her voice cool and measured.
My damaged tongue slurred, "Yes, I understand. I truly do."
I thought my obedience would finally soothe her, but it only made her uneasy. She didn' t see my torture, only my alarming compliance.
Then came the airplane ride, triggering flashbacks of being thrown from cliffs into churning water. Next, the mansion, my home, was empty of my beloved cat Mittens, rehomed due to David' s allergy. I could only nod numbly, fear overriding every other emotion.
A can of soda, offered by Olivia, ignited memories of forced chugging until I choked and vomited. I gulped it down, the searing pain a familiar companion to my terror.
Later, in my old room, Olivia's knocking became the signal for The Gauntlet's "clients," forcing me to prepare for violation. I fumbled frantically, unable to respond, and threw myself at her feet, begging, "Don't hit me! Don't hit me, I'll be quick!"
She slapped me again and again until my face was red and swollen. I was pathetic, disgusting, tainted. She left me on the floor, the video of my begging playing on loop next to my father' s portrait.
I couldn' t love her. I couldn' t even be near her. I raised my own hand and began to slap my face, a desperate plea for self-punishment. "Alex will never love Olivia again…"
I passed out on the cold, hard floor. I just wanted to be free. No Mercy For Traitors: The Kingman's Vengeance
Romance Ava Kingman, heir to a formidable but fading legacy, stepped into the glittering Zenith Club, a venue once synonymous with her family's name.
She was there for a quiet night supporting her visibly pregnant sister, Chloe.
But the supposed celebration turned into a public spectacle when Chloe’s fiancé, Chad, with his mistress Krystal, dragged her onto a makeshift stage.
They announced a twisted "paternity game," taking open bets on Chloe’s unborn child, parading her most private and humiliating photos on a giant screen.
Marcus Thorne, the club owner and her father's former protégé, not only allowed it but actively endorsed this public humiliation.
The "new money" crowd, who once paid homage to her family, now openly sneered, declaring the Kingmans "ancient history."
Ava, the silent heir to a forgotten empire, found herself restrained, forced to watch as her pregnant sister was brought to her knees for a humiliating DNA sample.
Her pleas for intervention were met with scorn, her Kingman authority card derided as a "cheap fake."
How could the Kingman name, once synonymous with power, be so utterly disgraced?
How could Thorne, a man her father had raised, sink to such depths?
The humiliation was suffocating, the betrayal chilling, and within Ava, a silent, white-hot fury began to ignite—a fire no one present had ever witnessed.
They thought she was weak, a relic, an easy target.
They were catastrophically wrong.
Tonight, the Kingman dynasty was about to be reborn, in fire and thunder. You might like
The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. 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!" 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." 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." 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." The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband
Qing Shui I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news.
"Parole denied."
My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU.
"Sign it. You walk out today."
I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation.
I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate.
I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood.
As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home.
"Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life."
I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground. 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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