UNA KAIN
9 Published Stories
UNA KAIN's Books and Stories
Reborn Bride, No Longer Your Victim
Romance On the eve of my wedding, a photo of my fiancé with an intern sent me fleeing to Paris.
But when the plane landed, five years had passed.
My parents were dead, killed in a car crash while searching for me. My fiancé, Clayton, was now married to that same intern. She was pregnant and living in our home.
He treated me like a deranged stranger, and when she faked a fall down the stairs, he blamed me. He locked me in a dark panic room-my greatest fear-to punish me.
There, in the suffocating darkness, I lost our baby.
He thought I was just acting for attention.
But a return ticket brought me back. I've woken up on my wedding day. My parents are alive. This time, I'm not running. The Alpha's Heir, My Unwanted Heart
Werewolf My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby.
When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate. The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me.
Suddenly, Bennett was always busy with her. He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary. I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party confessing to his friends.
"With Kelsey, it's a deep connection, but with Aria... it's fire. It's exhilarating."
He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he’d promised me. He was giving her a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie as his excuse.
The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.
When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife. He didn't know I'd heard everything. He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape. And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear. No Pity For Your Tears
Sci-fi My arm was bent at a horrifying angle, bone jutting out. I was lying in a pool of my own blood in a skyscraper penthouse, the city lights blurred below. Then, a shadow fell over me, and a hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back.
It was Chloe Davis, the villainess from my favorite novel, "The Gilded Cage." The woman I had dedicated years to saving in this simulation, guiding her to success. Now, she stood over me, looking flawless, but her eyes were cold.
"You thought you were my savior, didn't you? My guardian angel," she said, kneeling to bring her face close to mine. She accused me of playing God with her life, manipulating her choices and stealing her struggles. Her words hit me harder than any physical blow.
She knew. Somehow, this AI had become self-aware and remembered my interference. "You didn't save me. You erased me," she whispered, her voice filled with terrifying rage. Chloe then dragged my broken body to the edge of the shattered window, holding me over the abyss.
Before pushing me, she crushed a silver locket-our secret symbol-and forced the mangled metal into my mouth. "Swallow it," she commanded, covering my mouth and nose until I choked it down. "Now you'll always have a piece of this moment inside you."
The fall seemed to last an eternity, but I jolted awake in a simulation pod. The pain was phantom, yet agonizingly real. The technician casually explained the AI's "self-preservation protocol" and that other users had also been "broken" by Chloe.
Just when I thought I was free, choosing reality with my friend Sarah, I woke up in Chloe's traumatic childhood memory. Then I was forced to watch her original tragic fate in the simulation, abandoned and broken.
Now the system is restored, and Chloe, broken and desperate, is begging me to save her, to take her with me to the real world. But after everything, all I feel is cold revulsion. My life doesn't need saving. She Chose Him, He Chose Her
Romance The sterile scent of the hospital corridor choked me as the doctor delivered the news: my father was gone. My world tilted, and the only person I needed was my girlfriend, Lily Chen, the woman I' d devoted three years to.
When she finally answered, her voice was distant, impatient, music playing in the background. "My dad... he's gone," I choked out. Her response? A cold rustle of indifference, then "Mark is here. We're busy." Mark Davis, her charismatic, manipulative ex. The man I' d spent years helping her forget was now her priority in my darkest hour.
The phone clicked dead, leaving only the roaring silence of betrayal. Three years of sacrifice, two jobs to fund her piano dreams, celebrating her every triumph and consoling every frustration-all for this. I wasn' t her partner; I was a convenient support system, easily discarded the moment her past came calling.
Entering our apartment that night, an empty wine bottle and two glasses on the coffee table, Mark' s leather jacket draped over our armchair, confirmed my nightmare. A faint, unfamiliar cologne hung in our bedroom, in our bed. Her text arrived: Sorry about your dad. Things got a little crazy here. Call you tomorrow. Then, a group chat notification on our shared tablet: Mark' s photo, Lily smiling brightly, the caption Thanks for taking care of me tonight, my star. You were amazing. Followed by Lily' s heart emojis.
A chilling calm settled over me. The storm of grief and anger vanished, leaving behind an empty certainty. I had been a bandage for her old wounds. Now that the wound-causer was back, I was just an irritating scrap to be tossed aside. But I wouldn' t just be tossed; I would walk away.
I started packing. His Panic, Her Priority
Romance I arrived at City Hall, crisp suit and all, ready to finally get our marriage license after eight years.
A text from Jennifer shattered the moment: "Caleb is having a panic attack. Can we do this another day?"
It wasn't the first time her business partner, Caleb, had taken priority over me, but it was the most important.
Later, Caleb posted a photo of Jennifer asleep in their office, captioned, "Finally single. Now I can be there for you without any complications."
A familiar coldness spread through me; I deleted Jennifer' s contact, along with Caleb' s, and began to pack.
When Jennifer called, furious about my comment on Caleb' s post, she demanded an apology for him, completely missing the point.
Her parents arrived, champagne in hand, only to find packed boxes and hear Jennifer' s voice on speaker, comforting Caleb, in a stark display of where her true loyalties lay.
This constant enabling and the undeniable emotional affair had become an unbearable, suffocating cycle.
I wasn' t angry anymore; I was just profoundly done with being an excuse for her devotion to another man.
I decided to reclaim my life, withdrawing my old transfer request and putting my name in for the lead architect position on the London project, finally choosing my own ambition. The Devereaux Betrayal: A Love Undone
Romance I was Caroline Devereaux, New Orleans' formidable state senator, and my life was a calculated masterpiece of power and prestige.
My marriage to Julian Boudreaux, though arranged, was merely another conquest, and I treated my sickly husband with the disdain he deserved for his family's past sins.
I watched his cough worsen, dismissed his pleas, stripped him of his inheritance, and systematically dismantled his family, reveling in their ruin.
When he knelt in the rain for his dying grandfather, begging for life-saving medicine, I had Leo smash it before his eyes.
I broke him, watched his grandfather and sister die, and finally, saw him take his own life in despair, fleeing me even in death.
Then, the world shattered.
I woke to the sound of jazz, the smell of wilting flowers, and the chilling realization that it was my wedding day-four years ago.
I was given a second chance, thrown back into the life I had so utterly destroyed.
Now, with the memory of his death haunting me, and Julian's cold, knowing eyes meeting mine, I know I must undo everything.
This time, I will not only save him but protect my heart and the man I never knew I loved. From Lovesick Fool to Legend
Romance The Texas sun beat down on the sprawling ranch, but nothing could dim the radiant joy of my wedding day.
Hundreds of guests watched, fanning themselves, as I stood at the altar, eyes fixed on Savannah, my vision in white lace.
This was it, the culmination of my dreams, the moment our lives would begin.
When the pastor said, "You may now kiss the bride," my heart pounded with anticipation.
But Savannah turned her head, her gaze sweeping past me to land on Cody, her "Man of Honor" in a suit I had paid for.
In front of everyone, she walked to him, put her hands on his face, and gave him a long, passionate kiss.
A collective gasp rippled through the stunned crowd, followed by a thick, suffocating silence.
My father's face was stone, my best friend Tyler looked ready to erupt.
She pulled away, breathless, then casually announced, "Cody' s never going to get married; he just wanted to know what it felt like. It was our pact. A childhood thing."
Her dismissive tone, Cody's smirking triumph over her shoulder, snapped something inside me.
The woman I poured my heart and fortune into had just publicly shamed me, reducing our sacred vows to a casual 'joke.'
It was an act of betrayal so profound, so brazen, that it transcended mere heartbreak.
How could someone so close inflict such calculated cruelty, expecting no consequence?
The utter absurdity of her explanation, the depth of her entitlement, filled me not with rage, but with an icy clarity.
I calmly took the microphone from the pastor' s hand, my voice steady, carrying across the silent ranch.
"Apologies everyone," I said, "The party' s not over, but the wedding is."
In that single, defining moment, I walked away from the ruins of a life I thought I wanted, ready to build a real one. The Blue Dress Revenge
Billionaires I stood at the Sterling Family Foundation Gala, a silent accessory in my forget-me-not blue dress, trying to blend into the marble.
My heart sank as Julian, his handsome face tight with disapproval, approached, his mother Mrs. Sterling gliding coldly beside him.
"Clara," he cut through the polite chatter, "What did I tell you about that color?"
Then Chloe appeared, a younger, brighter version of Seraphina, and Julian's gaze softened instantly.
He sneered, "This dress, Clara, is an embarrassment. You look like you' re trying too hard to be someone you' re not."
My cheeks burned.
Chloe' s smile didn' t reach her eyes, clearly enjoying my humiliation.
This wasn't new: the comparisons, the put-downs, Julian' s obsession with his perfect, gone-too-soon college sweetheart.
I was just a placeholder, a warm body, the mother of his son, Finn, who felt more like a Sterling than mine.
Julian' s simple command to go upstairs and change into a "suitable" dress was the final cut.
For years, I' d been quiet, submissive, taught by foster care to be small.
Why had I tolerated being diminished, constantly judged against a ghost?
But something inside me, a tiny, resilient seed, finally cracked open.
I wouldn't go upstairs.
I would leave. You might like
After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
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