Valeria
12 Published Stories
Valeria's Books and Stories
The 100-Point Divorce Plan
Romance For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure. Remarried To The Ruthless Mafia King
Modern I found the instruction manual for my own abandonment on a dark web forum while my husband scrubbed the scent of another woman from his skin in the bathroom.
The thread was titled "Burden Disposal Strategies."
The user, RatKing88, asked a simple question:
"How do I dump a loyal wife without triggering a war with the old guard? My parents love her more than me."
The replies were brutal. They suggested faking a dangerous mission, forcing a paper divorce for 'asset protection,' and then disappearing with the cash.
Moments later, Luca walked out of the bathroom smelling of cheap vanilla perfume and panic.
He grabbed my hands, his palms sweating, and spun a clumsy lie about a "Code Red" mission in Sicily.
"It is going to be a bloodbath, Sienna," he whispered, his eyes wide with manic energy. "We need to divorce on paper. It is the only way to protect you from the vendettas."
I felt a cold rage settle in my gut.
He wasn't a soldier going to war. He was a rat running off with his mistress and the family savings, leaving his stroke-ridden father and our daughter with nothing.
He planned to wait for his parents to die so he could return for the inheritance.
He thought I was just a naive, caged canary who would wait forever.
But he forgot that canaries are the first to smell poison in the air.
I didn't scream. I didn't expose him.
Instead, I looked him in the eye with carefully manufactured sorrow and signed the papers.
He thought he was escaping to freedom with a bag full of stolen cash.
He didn't realize he had just voluntarily abdicated his throne.
And I was going to take it. The Fiancé He Severely Underestimated
Modern My fiancé Jax and I built our Las Vegas empire from nothing. After fifteen years, he betrayed me for a "pure" girl named Ember, sacrificing a piece of our empire for her. He told our friends I was "too ruthless," and that he only felt "human" with her.
He arrogantly believed I could never leave, that I needed our empire-and him-too much.
To prove her victory, Ember found my mother's last keepsake, a small music box, and shattered it at my feet.
The man I'd sacrificed everything for saw me as a cold, calculating machine. He thought I was ruthless? He hadn't seen anything yet.
He believed I couldn't leave him. He was about to lose everything.
I picked up the phone and made a single call to his estranged, powerful family in D.C.
"Send him home," I said, my voice ice. "He's all yours." Unchained From A Toxic Marriage
Modern My husband, Donavon, was a serial cheater, but I was always one step ahead, catching him in the act. Then, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia.
The only person in the world who could save me with a bone marrow transplant was his latest mistress, Jazmyne.
To make matters worse, Donavon cut off all my funds, including the money for my mother's critical medical care. He forced me to publicly apologize to Jazmyne, humiliating me on a live stream while my mother died because the funds were delayed.
"You will make a public statement," he sneered. "Acknowledge your harassment of Jazmyne. Apologize for your past erratic behavior. And you will do it on camera."
Desperate and broken, I faked my own death by jumping into the Hudson River on that same live stream.
I needed him to believe I was gone.
Now, secretly saved and hidden away by a friend, I must fight for my life while navigating the twisted reality that my survival depends on the very woman who helped destroy me, and the man who orchestrated it all. Shattered Hand, Broken Heart, Burning Soul
Mafia The first blow cracked a rib, the second dissolved the world into pain. They dragged me into an alley, brutalizing me, shattering my drawing hand, and carving out my kidney.
Just before I blacked out, I saw them: Eleanor, my adoptive mother; Olivia, my sister; Sarah, my fiancée. Standing at the alley's edge, watching with cold, tense eyes as I lay bleeding.
Then, Eleanor' s chillingly calm voice cut through the haze: "Is it done?" A man confirmed my hand was shattered, and pointed to a cooler. My kidney. They had taken my kidney. Later, in the sterile hospital room, I overheard them. Eleanor confirmed my art career was destroyed. Olivia expressed relief. Sarah, my fiancée, twisted the knife: "This is for the best. Caleb couldn't handle the rejection."
My heart pounded with sick realization. For seven years, my achievements had been sacrificed for Caleb's "fragility." I was a fool, believing their love, their sisterhood, their devotion. I was an obstacle, a resource to be drained and discarded.
The party celebrating Caleb's scholarship, built on my ruin, raged downstairs-on my birthday, which they' d forgotten. I was bleeding, injured by a dog they claimed I' d attacked, forced to apologize by Eleanor, who shoved my head, sending me crashing. But as I lay broken, a new fire ignited within me.
I clutched a faded photograph: my real father. And on it, a phone number for my grandfather. "I've been waiting for your call, son. Tell me where you are. I'm on my way." The Bride Who Walked Away
Romance The church bells rang, but for the third time, my wedding day with Ethan Miller turned into a public humiliation.
He arrived an hour late, not in a tuxedo, but carrying a small, sick girl with Chloe Davis, his "childhood friend," trailing behind.
"Lily… she's my daughter, Ava," he stammered, accusing me of poisoning her right there in front of everyone.
The prestigious architecture fellowship, my future, everything I'd given up for him, shattered as I was branded a monster.
The flowers slipped from my numb fingers, scattering on the cold stone floor, a metaphor for the wreckage of my life.
My humiliation was complete as he and Chloe, then the police, accused me, and I later found myself locked in the hospital morgue, left to freeze.
Why was this happening? How could the man I loved believe such monstrous lies?
I pulled the diamond ring off my finger, dropped it with a clatter, and walked away, done with him, with them, with all of it.
I was choosing to live, to reclaim myself from the ruins he made, even if it meant burying the old Ava. The Twin's Fatal Deception: A Reborn Wife's Justice
Xuanhuan A grim news report flashed on screen: "Catastrophic lab explosion at Innovatech Robotics."
Then came the update that made my blood run cold: "CEO Mark Reinhart critically injured but alive.
His twin brother, David Reinhart, tragically declared dead." My husband.
Alive. But a chilling memory slammed into me.
Because this wasn't the first time this tragedy played out, just with the names reversed.
In my first life, Mark died, and David appeared, claiming amnesia.
But I knew it was Mark, changed and cruel.
He, along with his venomous mother and David's manipulative wife, gaslighted me, painting me as delusional.
They neglected my sweet Emily.
They smeared my name, turning the community against me.
It ended in fire and screams.
Emily and I didn't escape that guest house.
That nightmare of betrayal and agony was my first life.
Now, the roles were switched, but the lie was the same.
A cold wave of recognition, brutal and sharp, washed over me.
How could this be happening again?
No. This time, Emily needed me.
I wouldn't be the victim.
I would write a new ending.
Let Mark have his stolen life with Jessica; he would lose absolutely everything else.
My resolve hardened, sharp as steel. Too Late For Regret: The Girl They Broke
Young Adult I still remember the day my American Dream was brutally shattered.
I was a high school prodigy, with near-perfect scores, poised for Yale, ready to conquer the world with my intellect.
But my biological parents, David and Susan Miller, harbored a dark, selfish agenda.
They secretly bribed a corrupt admissions contact, orchestrating a malicious swap of my exceptional SAT scores and deeply personal Yale application essays with my utterly mediocre stepsister, Tiffany' s embarrassing string of failures.
Yale, astonishingly, accepted her, while every single top university I had dreamed of rejected me outright.
They publicly branded me a charlatan, a liar, ruthlessly humiliating me across the local media to cover their heinous crime.
My glittering academic career, indeed my very identity, was cruelly stolen, leaving me spiraling into a debilitating depression, utterly adrift and shamed, stranded in a local community college.
Years dragged on, and the Millers, now ostentatiously flaunting their burgeoning tech empire, ironically "reclaimed" me for a brazenly cynical PR stunt.
They meticulously planned a grand "Ivy League Acceptance Gala," ostensibly to celebrate Tiffany's fabricated triumph, but unmistakably to publicly humble me once more, broadcasting my supposed inherent inferiority to their elite circles.
How could these deeply prejudiced individuals, who so deliberately engineered my devastating downfall, now so audaciously exploit me as a mere prop, truly believing I was still that fragile, broken girl they had so casually discarded years ago?
The profound injustice burned like a searing brand.
But they profoundly underestimated me.
They remained blissfully unaware of Eleanor and Marcus Vance, my true adoptive family, whose quiet but immense power had meticulously nurtured an unbreakable resolve within me.
They gravely mistook my composed silence for utter defeat.
Tonight, their meticulously engineered spectacle of triumph will spectacularly become their complete and utter unraveling.
Tonight, I reclaim every single part of my stolen future. From Layoff to Legacy: The Heiress's Rise
Romance My fingers flew across the keyboard, perfecting the last line of code for NextGen. Our idyllic Napa honeymoon with David was just weeks away, PTO approved. Everything felt perfectly aligned.
Then the email landed: "Your position... eliminated... effective immediately." Laid off. Just like that.
The same day David celebrated his massive promotion – a promotion he gained by orchestrating my downfall, facilitated by his affair with our boss, Olivia, who was carrying his child.
He chillingly called it a "calculated move for our future," even as Olivia, smug and cruel, demanded I move out of our shared condo, saying they "needed the space." She went further, publicly humiliating me at a company town hall, accusing me of corporate espionage and forcing a public apology. David' s only concern was his own career, whispering, "Don't make this worse for me."
The words "I apologize" tasted like poison. I stood there, trapped and utterly humiliated, my life in ruins, betrayed by the man I loved. He thought he was "protecting" me, but he had no idea what he had truly destroyed.
But as Olivia' s triumphant smirk spread, a new announcement boomed: "NextGen' s new Chairperson and acting CEO... Ms. Sarah Miller." My name. Because unbeknownst to them, I was Sarah Miller, heiress to Aura Holdings, the global tech giant that had just acquired their company. It was time for my own calculated move. Five Years' Love, Shattered by a Call
Romance My wedding to Ethan, the man I’d loved for five years, was weeks away.
Everything was set for our future, a beautifully planned life together.
Then the call came: Ethan’s high school sweetheart, Chloe, was found with severe amnesia, still believing she was his girlfriend.
Ethan postponed our wedding, asked me to pretend to be his brother Liam’s girlfriend, insisting it was "for Chloe’s sake."
I endured quiet agony watching him relive their past, his every loving gesture now for her.
Chloe’s Instagram became a public shrine to their "rekindled" love, #TrueLove emblazoned everywhere.
I even found a groundbreaking clinic for Chloe, hoping for an end, but Ethan brushed it off.
Then, I overheard him: I was just a "placeholder," a "good sport" who would wait, because I had "nowhere else to go."
Five years of my life, my love, my loyalty, reduced to a disposable convenience.
The cold, calculated betrayal punched the air from my lungs.
He thought I was trapped, that he could use me at will, then return to me, expecting gratitude.
Numb, I stumbled.
And then, I met Liam, Ethan’s quiet brother.
"I need to get married, Liam. To someone. Soon." The words escaped me.
Liam, who had watched silently, responded: "What if I said I'd marry you, Ava? For real."
A dangerous, desperate plan ignited within me, fueled by pain and a fierce desire for reckoning.
"Alright, Liam," I declared, a new resolve hardening my voice.
"But I have conditions: Ethan must be your Best Man, and he must give me away at the altar."
The charade was about to begin, but now, it was on my terms.
And Ethan had no idea the bride was truly me. You might like
Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." The Neglected Wife's Vicious Comeback Game
Xiu Luo On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency.
I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist.
The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed.
He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset.
"I'm going to make him wish he had never been born."
After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. The CEO's Regret: Chasing My Runaway Doctor
Ola Wilde Vivian was eight weeks pregnant, holding the warm ultrasound picture, ready to share the fragile secret with her billionaire husband, Sterling.
But before she could speak, he tossed a thick document onto the marble table: DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
"Kara's back," he stated coldly, referring to his childhood sweetheart. "I'm giving her the place she deserves."
He demanded she vacate the penthouse immediately, leaving with absolutely nothing.
She didn't cry or beg. She signed the papers, touched her flat stomach where his secret child grew, and walked out in her old trench coat.
She blocked his number, vanished from New York, and spent the next four years building a new life in Geneva as a top-tier surgeon, raising their twin boys entirely alone.
She thought she had finally escaped her past, until Sterling's bodyguards suddenly broke down her apartment door in the middle of the night.
He had used his immense wealth and power to force the "genius Dr. Vivian" to treat Kara's ruined uterus.
He was completely unaware that the masked, heavily accented doctor he was threatening was his discarded wife, or that his own flesh and blood were sleeping just down the hall.
Watching him desperately lavish a manipulative liar with the tenderness he had always denied her, the last thread of Vivian's lingering pain simply vanished.
She sent a single, encrypted text to a trusted friend.
"The boys are safe. I'm ready to start Phase Two."
She was done hiding. It was time to show him how a real war was fought. His Unwanted Wife Is A Tech Genius
Elroy Notman For three years, Cali Sullivan abandoned her brilliant tech career to be the quiet, accommodating wife of billionaire Halsey Donovan.
But on her thirtieth birthday, she returned to their London mansion only to find it empty. The housekeeper, looking at her with deep pity, revealed that Halsey had taken his female friend, Brittaney, out shopping to celebrate her birthday instead.
He had even taken their young daughter, Lily, with them. When Cali called him, Halsey coldly dismissed her, his attention entirely on Brittaney's bright laughter in the background. The crushing blow came the next morning when Cali stood outside Lily's bedroom and overheard her own daughter's innocent wish.
"I wish Auntie Brittaney could be my new mommy. I think Daddy would like that, too."
Later that afternoon, Cali saw them through the window of a private club. Halsey was wiping a smudge from Lily's face with a tender focus he never showed his wife, while Brittaney casually fed him cake. They looked like the perfect, happy family. All of Cali's desperate love and sacrifices felt like a cruel joke. She had been entirely erased from her own family.
In that moment, the agonizing pain just stopped, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity. Cali drafted a divorce agreement waiving every cent of his wealth, left her platinum wedding rings on the nightstand, and booked a one-way flight back to New York. She was no longer Mrs. Donovan; it was time to get her real name back. Discarded Fiancée: The Ruthless Billionaire's Obsession
Ying Suhua I was supposed to be the lucky one, the bankrupt Beaumont heiress engaged to Devyn Langley, the golden boy of Boston's elite.
But the moment I landed from Europe, my best friend shoved a high-definition photo in my face. It was Devyn, tangled in white sheets with another woman.
I didn't cry. Instead, I planted hidden cameras in his secret Manhattan penthouse and heard the disgusting truth.
"When are you going to dump that boring bitch?" his mistress whined.
"Soon. As soon as her family's final trust fund payout clears. Then I'll toss her out like trash," Devyn laughed.
To add insult to injury, he removed me from the guest list of his family's charity gala.
When I showed up anyway, his mother pointed a shaking finger at my face in front of the entire upper crust.
"You are a charity case! A beggar! Get out!" she screamed, while Devyn demanded I get on my knees and apologize.
They paraded around like saints, using my family's tragedy for good PR while secretly plotting to steal my last penny and destroy me.
Did they really think I was just a weak, compliant fiancée who would quietly accept her ruin?
Wearing a blood-red dress, I hacked the ballroom's main screen and broadcasted his 4K sex tape to every billionaire and reporter in the room.
Then, I threw my five-carat ring at his chest and walked away with Kian Koch-the most terrifying man on Wall Street-leaving the Langley empire to burn. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. 
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