Tamarah Lupton
14 Published Stories
Tamarah Lupton's Books and Stories
Poisoned Love, A Friendship's Deadly End
Modern To keep my boyfriend Alex in law school, I begged my father to pay his tuition. But the day I moved to the city to be with him, I found him cheating with my best friend, Ivy.
The betrayal didn't end there. My father, a respected union leader, was framed for misusing funds-the very money he'd borrowed for Alex-and died in disgrace. My mother had a mental breakdown from the grief.
As I cared for my mother, I neglected my own health, only to be diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Returning to my hometown to die, I ran into Alex and Ivy again. Ivy, now pregnant with Alex's child, sneered at me.
"Your father begged me to leave Alex alone," she said, a cruel smile on her face. "So I reported him. He died because of you, Clarisa. You're the one who killed him." The Blood Bag's Billion-Dollar Revenge
Modern I was in the kitchen of the Vance mansion, slicing black truffles worth more than my car while my mother-in-law, Victoria, mocked my "backwoods" origins. My back throbbed from standing for six hours, and my head spun from the chronic anemia I’d developed since marrying into this family.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a call from my husband, Julian. He didn't ask if I was okay or if I’d eaten; he simply ordered me to get to the hospital because his "fragile" friend Caroline needed another emergency blood transfusion.
"Her hemoglobin is low, Seraphina. Get to St. Luke's now."
I looked down at my left arm, which was a roadmap of bruises and needle marks hidden beneath my sweater. When I tried to tell him that the medical guidelines forbade donating again so soon, Julian’s voice turned dangerous.
"I don't care about guidelines. She’s in crisis, and your anemia is manageable. Are you really going to be this selfish after the life we gave you?"
Seconds later, a photo arrived from an unknown number. It showed Julian sitting on Caroline’s hospital bed, tenderly feeding her apples. The text underneath was a visceral slap in the face: "He wouldn't even eat dinner with you, but he's feeding me. Thanks for the refill, blood bag."
At that moment, something inside me finally snapped. I realized that to the Vances, I wasn't a wife or even a human being—I was a biological spare part, a servant they kept around only to be drained dry for a woman who was faking her illness.
I untied my apron, dropped it into the trash, and walked past a screaming Victoria toward the front door. I picked up the phone and dialed the one number I had been forbidden to contact since my wedding day.
"Mr. Henderson, it's Seraphina Sterling. Prepare the divorce papers. And if they contest it... burn their entire empire to the ground." Discarded Wife Builds Her Own World
Modern My husband' s mistress pushed me overboard while I was pregnant. I lost our baby and had an emergency hysterectomy, leaving me barren. When my husband finally visited the hospital, it wasn't to comfort me, but to tell me to get ready for a party.
"You'll need your strength to face the cameras," he said, annoyed that I hadn't touched my food.
His grandmother was even worse. She slapped me, calling me a "shameless hussy" for failing to keep my husband in line.
"You failed to produce a male heir," she spat. "You're useless, Elisa. Utterly, completely useless!"
They thought I was the same woman who would silently absorb their cruelty. But the woman who loved him died with our child. I was just a tool they were ready to discard.
So I stopped her hand mid-air. "We're done," I said, pushing the divorce papers and a small voice recorder across the bed. "A man who lets his mistress murder his unborn child... that's not a good look for your 'legacy,' is it?" My Success Is The Best Revenge, Darling
Modern It took seven years for Ethan to convince me I was the center of his universe, and exactly seven weeks for his "business partner," Chloe, to prove I was just a placeholder.
I was the woman who ironed his shirts and managed his schedule, yet she was the one he comforted at 2 AM.
But the real end didn't come with a fight. It came with an explosion.
At a family gathering, a gas heater malfunctioned. Glass shattered, and fire erupted. In that split second of life or death, Ethan didn't look for me.
He threw his body over Chloe.
He shielded her from the flames, cocooning her in his arms, whispering frantically to her while I stood twenty feet away, watching my boyfriend of seven years act like I didn't exist.
When I confronted him later, he didn't apologize. Instead, he let Chloe carve her initials over ours on our anniversary tree.
When I tried to stop them, he shoved me into the dirt to comfort her over a broken nail.
"You are dead to me, Ava," he screamed. "Jealousy makes you ugly."
He thought I would beg. He thought I was an appliance he could unplug and plug back in whenever he wanted. He was arrogant enough to believe I would always be there, waiting for his scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was playing hero to his mistress, I didn't cry.
I booked a one-way ticket to Portland, snapped my SIM card in half, and vanished.
By the time he realized the silence in his apartment wasn't peace, but abandonment, I was already gone. No Longer Broken: Loved By Him
Romance The last thing I remembered was the freezing water filling my lungs. My adoptive parents, the Millers, had sold me, a tool for their precious biological son. They took money from Olivia Hayes's family, the very girl who made my high school years a living hell, and used it to force me out of school, arranging a marriage to a man twice my age.
Then, a sterile, mechanical voice echoed in the void, "Host soul detected. High levels of grievance and resentment. Revenge System activating." My eyes snapped open. I wasn't at the bottom of a lake. I was back in my classroom, the day it all started, the day Olivia Hayes framed me for cheating.
The system's voice revealed a shocking truth: "You are Ava Hayes, the true heiress of the Hayes family. The woman you know as Olivia Hayes is actually Olivia Miller, the biological daughter of your adoptive parents. A deliberate swap was made at the hospital eighteen years ago." My tormentor was their real daughter, and I belonged to the wealthy family she pretended to be a part of.
The sheer irony was suffocating. Olivia, my "sister" in this twisted reality, continued to mock me, ordering me to do her "brother" Liam's homework. Liam, the lazy, entitled leech, expected me to be his personal servant. In my past life, this refusal led to my destruction.
But this time, I saw the resemblance between Olivia and "Mom" Miller, the woman who sold me. A cold smile touched my lips. "You're right. Family is so important. You know it's funny. Liam looks so much like his dad, but you… you look exactly like his mom. Almost like you're her real daughter."
Planting the seed of doubt, I knew they would soon learn how to play my game. The old Ava was gone. This time, I was setting the board. Two Years, A Cosmic Lie
Sci-fi I poured every spare dollar from my part-time jobs and scholarships into a scuffed-up piggy bank, dreaming of a future with Chloe and a promise ring that would seal our love. But then I heard her laugh-a laugh that wasn't for me.
Just an hour after I ended things, saying "We're over," my best friend, Liam, walked up, clueless as ever, showing off an expensive watch Chloe had helped him pick out, a watch that screamed what a joke my cheap promise ring was.
I ducked into a stairwell, my heart pounding, and pulled out my phone. In our shared photo album, I found a selfie of Chloe and her friends at a fancy rooftop bar. Zooming in, I saw it-my piggy bank, next to a bottle of champagne, being used as an ashtray. The memory hit me: overhearing Chloe brag to her friends about using me as "A tool, a pawn to make Liam finally notice me," all while calling me "a little charity case" and "so boring."
My world shattered. Two years, all a lie, a game where I was just a prop in her drama with Liam. The cheap daisies I held for her surprise visit were crushed in my hand, my stomach churning with nausea.
I spent the night walking, my mind a blank, howling void. The pain solidified into a cold, hard resolve: I had to disappear.
Five years of isolation. No friends. No family. No Chloe. To me, it sounded less like a punishment and more like a rescue. I went to see Professor Davies and signed up for the Ares Project. 99 Proposals, One Betrayal
Romance For three years, I, the actress Ava, poured my heart into loving Ethan.
I proposed to him 99 times, each met with a casual rejection, yet I clung to the hope that my devotion would eventually win him over.
But one night, a chilling discovery shattered my deluded reality.
I overheard Ethan whispering words of passionate love, not to me, but to a photograph of his niece, Mia.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
My boyfriend, the man I lived with, was obsessed with his much younger niece, and I was merely a convenient cover for their forbidden relationship.
The full horror of his deceit hit me like a physical blow.
Before I could process the betrayal, Mia, the object of his twisted affection, brutally shoved me down a flight of stairs, leaving me for dead and comatose.
When I woke, broken and disoriented, Ethan confirmed my worst nightmare: he had given my healthy kidney to Mia during my coma, essentially dismembering me to save his obsession while I was helpless.
The ultimate violation-a piece of my body, the most profound gift, forcibly stolen and given to the very person who tried to end me, all by the man who claimed to protect me.
This wasn't just a betrayal; it was a total dehumanization.
Yet, in that moment of utter devastation, a cold, unyielding resolve ignited within me.
I had to escape, to reclaim my life from the monster who had taken everything. The Unbreakable Chloe's Rise
Romance For fifteen years, Ethan was my world, my protector, the golden boy next door.
But our fairytale shattered into a nightmare when I discovered his multiple betrayals: a secret affair, public denial of our relationship, and worst of all, his absence at my grandmother's funeral, the woman who raised me, because he was with another woman, Vivian.
The pain was unbearable; I tried to end it all, waking up in a hospital bed only to hear him defend his mistress and witnessed his callous disregard for my suffering.
He paraded Vivian around, singing "our song" with her at the community show, then gave her our cherished time capsule, and finally, went live to brand me as a delusional stalker, all while his new affair meticulously spun lies to destroy my reputation and budding career.
But I wouldn't be silence; I planned my comeback on national radio, forcing him to face the truth and exposing his manipulative mistress once and for all. Ivy League, Interrupted
Young Adult I was Chloe, the Ashtons' beloved adopted daughter for eighteen perfect years, secure in my identity as I eagerly awaited SATs and an Ivy League future. But then came the dream: a chilling premonition of a stranger, Olivia, claiming my parents, sabotaging my SATs, and tearing my world apart. I woke up terrified, dismissing it as stress. Until that evening, the doorbell rang. There she was. Olivia. Tearful, shaky, telling Mom and Dad Ashton, "I think you're my mother." My blood ran cold.
Just like the dream, she settled in, a constant, unsettling presence. To my parents, she was perfect. To me, her eyes were cold, filled with malicious glee. She whispered lies, implying my life should have been hers, painting my biological family as poor and neglectful. She tried to sabotage my SATs, disabling my alarms and offering tainted food, and even snatched my cherished locket from my neck.
A terrible feeling washed over me as the dream unfolded, every detail unnervingly accurate. How could this be happening? Why was she so bent on destroying me? It wasn't just unfair; it felt supernatural. But through my dread, a strange clarity emerged: this wasn't just a nightmare. It was a warning.
I remembered dream-Olivia, the one who smiled as my world crumpled. This time, I wouldn't let it happen. Armed with foresight, I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back. I knew this was just the beginning, but I also knew exactly how to change the ending. My Husband's Secret Son
Billionaires My marriage to Andrew Lester was a fairy tale. I was Maria, a kindergarten teacher, and he was a real estate tycoon, giving me a life of luxury with our beloved five-year-old son, Caleb. He adored us, said we were his whole world, and I believed every word.
Until a rain-slicked road in the Hamptons. One moment, Caleb was singing; the next, there was a deafening crunch.
I woke in a hospital, searing pain through my body, Andrew' s face etched with what I thought was profound grief. He told me Caleb didn't make it, a tragic hit-and-run.
But then, drifting between consciousness and hell, I heard voices outside my room. Andrew' s, cold and stripped of grief, asking, "Is it done?"
A surgeon replied, "The liver was a perfect match for your son. Ryan is in recovery."
Ryan? My blood ran cold, moments before another chilling revelation: "And the other matter? The hysterectomy was performed as you instructed."
Andrew's casual cruelty solidified my nightmare: "Good. Be careful with her when she wakes. My wife is sensitive to pain."
My husband, the love of my life, had murdered our son, harvested his liver for a secret child, and sterilized me to ensure that bastard would be his only heir. My world didn' t just break; it had been a calculated lie from the start.
Lying there, with the fresh stitches on my abdomen a brutal testament to his betrayal, my grief transmuted into a cold, bottomless rage. He wore our son's handmade bracelet, a symbol of pure love now reeking of ultimate treachery.
I knew then: I would endure this monster. I would play his game. And I would take everything from him, just as he had taken everything from me. His Fake Wife, Her Real Voice
Romance The call came from my half-brother, Andrew, offering me a lifeline: marry a comatose heiress for $150,000 a month.
I, Ethan Clark, the black sheep of the family, agreed instantly, eager to escape my cramped apartment and dead-end life.
My new wife, Nicole Anderson, was a "Tech Princess" in a persistent vegetative state, surrounded by machines in a luxurious hospital suite.
I started talking to her, planning how to spend her money on classic cars and parties, feeling a smug satisfaction at my newfound fortune.
But then, a sharp, indignant voice echoed in my head: "You will do no such thing with my money, you lazy, gold-digging parasite."
It was Nicole. My comatose wife. And she was sassy.
Trapped in her own body, Nicole was telepathically directing me-scratching her back, giving me life advice, even coaching me through a viral video and a press conference that saved her company's stock.
I went from resentful caretaker to faithful prince in the public eye, even fending off my brother' s attempts to buy me out and my ex-girlfriend' s desperate grab for attention.
Suddenly, a paparazzo scandal at her bedside triggered something impossible.
Nicole sat bolt upright, her eyes blazing with rage, and in a terrifyingly clear voice, ordered everyone out.
She was awake.
But the cold, calculating CEO stared at me with no recognition, no sign of the fiery woman I'd known in my mind.
"Who are you?" she asked, and then: "I want a divorce."
How could the woman who saved me, who became my secret partner, look at me like a stranger?
What had happened to the Nicole who knew my heart, trapped within her own? From Widow to Warrior
Romance I was just a grieving widow, navigating the unbearable silence left by my husband, Ethan, trying to figure out how to move on with my shattered life.
Then, a single knock at my door didn't just alter my morning; it utterly annihilated the fabric of my entire world.
His ex-girlfriend, Jessica, stood there, not alone, but with a little boy and a marriage certificate in her hand - a document dated years before mine, proving the gut-wrenching truth: Ethan, the man I adored, was a bigamist.
In that instant, everything I thought was ours – my home, our savings, every shared dream for a future – evaporated, legally belonging entirely to her.
I was thrown out, stripped of everything save for the clothes on my back, carrying only a permanent limp, a painful, ironic souvenir from the day I' d actually saved his life from a mine collapse.
The crushing weight of his betrayal, the searing public shame, and the utter, soul-destroying injustice of it all swiftly became an unbearable burden.
My world imploded, swallowed by deceit.
Then, a sudden, blinding flash, followed by all-consuming blackness, as a brain aneurysm explosively ended my cheated existence.
I died, my life brutally cut short, the ultimate price paid for his monstrous lies.
But why me?
Why was I the one condemned to such a cruel and undeserved end, while he seemingly escaped consequence?
I woke with a violent gasp, the familiar floral pattern of my bedroom wallpaper swimming into sharp focus.
My leg still throbbed with a familiar ache, but a far greater terror gripped my heart.
The calendar displayed August 14th, 1992.
The day before my wedding.
I was alive.
I was back.
And this time, I wouldn't just prevent my own destruction; I' d dismantle his perfect, deceitful life piece by agonizing piece, starting today. Game Over, Mr. CEO
Romance My husband Mark and I built DreamWeaver Games from a college dorm room.
He was the CEO, I was the lead developer – the one who actually made the games.
Our company was our dream, our life, for years.
But then, he started spending company money, our money, on lavish gifts and dinners for Chloe, our flirty PR manager.
When I questioned the "marketing expenses," he gave me the silent treatment for three months.
One morning, he dangled a brochure for a luxury resort, promising a "reconnecting" getaway – only to cancel last minute.
He gave my first-class ticket and the entire luxury booking to Chloe, claiming it was for "company business," a crucial publisher meeting.
Later that night, Instagram exploded with photos of Mark and Chloe, clinking champagne at my resort suite.
They beamed as a "power couple," their captions mocking me and everything we built.
It was a punch to the gut, a public humiliation.
How could the man I loved, my partner in every sense, so carelessly betray and humiliate me?
The silent treatment, the blatant affair, the open mockery – I was bone-tired of fighting, of being dismissed.
My heart, once full of dreams for us, felt dead inside, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.
That night, as their "power couple" selfies mocked me from my phone, I knew it was over.
No more fighting for him, no more fighting for DreamWeaver.
It was time to fight for Sarah, and I already had my first move in motion. 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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