Zitella Shepp
16 Published Stories
Zitella Shepp's Books and Stories
My Brother's Twisted Cruelty
Modern For five years, I paid for a crime my brother never committed. I believed he was in prison and our family was ruined, so I endured homelessness, starvation, and constant torment, all for him.
But after my third suicide attempt, I overheard a conversation that shattered everything. My suffering wasn't a tragedy; it was a "lesson" orchestrated by my own brother, Ashton.
I found him celebrating at our family villa, throwing a lavish party for his girlfriend, Kecia. He called me dramatic and ungrateful. When I finally fought back, he slapped me to the ground, admitting they'd been traveling the world while I begged for scraps.
My five years of hell had been their vacation. My life was nothing but a twisted game to teach me humility.
So I decided to teach him a final lesson in return. As I bled out in my filthy apartment, I made one last call.
"Ashton," I whispered, my voice fading. "Is the punishment over now?" Traded For Ambition: The Mistress Strikes Back
Modern I spent five years laundering Ethan Cole’s dirty money through my architectural designs, believing his lies that I was the love of his life, not just his mistress.
But the moment he secured a marriage alliance with the Vances, I became a liability. I tried to resign quietly, but his new fiancée, Isabella, wanted sport.
She didn't just fire me; she destroyed me. At a high-society gala, she projected my private, intimate photos onto the big screen while the city's elite laughed.
I looked at Ethan, begging him to stop it. He didn't flinch. He just sipped his scotch and watched me get dragged out by security.
It got worse. Desperate for my severance pay to leave town, I met Ethan one last time. He didn't give me a check.
Instead, he locked me in a library with a corrupt official, telling me I had to "service" the man to secure a zoning permit. He had literally sold me for a signature.
I escaped into the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on my back, realizing the man I loved was a monster who viewed me as disposable property.
I was shivering in an alley, waiting to die, when a black SUV pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal Noah Miller—the most dangerous Don in the city and Ethan’s mortal enemy.
He didn't look at me with lust or pity. He looked at me with cold fury.
"Get in," Noah said, unlocking the door.
"Let's go remind them why you don't throw away a diamond." The Betrayed Bride's Ultimate Retribution
Mafia In my last life, my stepsister and my husband murdered me. They stole my position, my children, and my future, leaving me with nothing but a cold, lonely death.
My sister, Belen, was consumed by a cancerous jealousy over my status and my healthy heirs. My husband, Dedric, a man I once loved, saw our children as nothing more than political pawns to secure his own power.
Their shared ambition led them to conspire against me, and in the end, they took my life. I died betrayed and alone, a pawn in their twisted game, never understanding how they could be so cruel.
Then, I woke up.
I was back at the very moment it all began-with Belen on her knees, begging me to fix her broken engagement to Dedric.
This time, I looked at the man who would destroy me and the woman who would help him, and I smiled.
"He's all yours." Too Late To Beg: The Unwanted Wife Is An Heiress
Modern I gave up my twenty-billion-dollar inheritance to become a nobody, just so my husband Ignatz could shine without being overshadowed.
But after five years of silence and sacrifice, he held my hands across his desk and begged me to go to prison.
"I need you to say you were driving the car," he pleaded.
His mistress, Everleigh, had committed a hit-and-run. To save her career, he wanted his pregnant wife to take the fall.
When I told him I was carrying his child, he didn't celebrate. He just looked annoyed and asked me to protect "us"—by which he meant her.
The stress and the secret abuse from his mother caused me to miscarry alone in a freezing apartment.
While I was bleeding out, losing the only thing that mattered, Ignatz was on a live broadcast, proposing to Everleigh with a diamond the size of a quail egg.
He didn't know that Everleigh had a hysterectomy years ago and could never give him the family he claimed to want.
He didn't know he had just killed his only real child to protect a liar.
I didn't cry. I simply placed the ultrasound photo and my diary on the cake table at his engagement party.
Then I accepted a job in Florence and vanished.
Five years later, when he finally found me and slashed his own wrist to prove his regret, I looked at him with dead eyes.
"You're at the wrong house, Ignatz," I said, closing the door. "There is nothing here for you to fix." Too Late For Redemption: The Runaway Princess
Mafia I held a silver lighter to the velvet curtains of my father’s study, threatening to burn down the Foley crime legacy just to marry the man I loved.
My father, the Don, let me go. He told me I was dead to the family.
I thought I was choosing freedom with Ignatz. Instead, I chose a cage.
Three years later, while my family celebrated in their mansion, I was living in a moldy basement.
Ignatz didn’t love me; he beat me. His mother kicked me in the stomach until I lost my baby on the cold concrete floor.
While I bled out alone in the dark, my cousin's fiancée, Everleigh, visited just to laugh at me and fake her own pregnancy to secure the family fortune.
I vanished, leaving behind only a diary and a hidden camera feed.
When Kaleb, the family’s enforcer and the man who once promised to protect me, finally broke down my door, he didn't find a rebellious princess.
He found the footage of me being dragged by my hair. He found the bloodstained mattress.
The Don fell to his knees, weeping when he realized he had fed his daughter to wolves.
They destroyed Ignatz. They sent Everleigh to prison. They offered me fifty million dollars and the keys to the kingdom to make it right.
But when Kaleb stood on my porch, begging to fix me, I handed him a trash bag full of their money.
"You can't fix a shattered glass, Kaleb. You just cut yourself trying to hold the pieces together." Pawn In Their Twisted Love Game
Young Adult I was the scholarship girl with a 4.0 GPA, dating the untouchable Branson Ayers. My dream of winning the Rhodes Scholarship was just one interview away.
Then, a deepfake video with my face on it destroyed my life overnight. The scholarship was gone, and suddenly, I was the girl from the video.
I ran to Branson for help, only to overhear the horrifying truth from behind a hedge. He' d orchestrated the whole thing to give the scholarship to his childhood sweetheart, Kennedy.
But the cruelest cut was the second secret. For two years, the passionate man who came to me in the dark wasn't my boyfriend at all.
It was his identical twin brother, Hanson. I was just a pawn in their sick game-a body for Hanson to use while Branson kept himself "pure" for the woman they both loved.
When I called my parents, they didn't ask if I was okay. They disowned me for shaming the family and booked me a one-way ticket to London.
Betrayed, used, and discarded by everyone I trusted, I took the flight. But as the city lights disappeared below, I made a vow. One day, I would return. And they would regret ever thinking they could destroy me. From Prisoner to Phoenix: His Regret
Romance For three years, I thought I was happily married to Gavin, a struggling MMA fighter. I worked two jobs to make ends meet, tending to his wounds, believing his love was the only thing keeping him going, especially since a car crash had wiped my memory clean, leaving him as my entire world.
Then, scrubbing our tiny kitchen floor, the local news flashed a headline: "Tech giant Gavin Hawkins, CEO of Hawkins Industries, announced his engagement today to Vice President Heidi Daniel." The man on screen, standing in front of a skyscraper, embracing a stunning woman, was my husband.
He wore a tailored suit, a stark contrast to the bruised fighter I knew. The small, carved wooden bird I' d painstakingly made for our anniversary rested against his chest as he kissed her deeply, possessively. My stomach twisted, my head pounded, and the steak I was cooking for him began to smoke, filling our cramped apartment with a bitter, burning smell.
I stumbled out, hailing a cab to Hawkins Industries, desperate for answers. There, I saw him laughing with Heidi, oblivious to my presence. He silenced my call, texting, "In a meeting, baby. Can't talk. Be home late tonight. Don't wait up for me. I love you."
The words blurred through my tears. A sob escaped, loud and raw. A flash of pain shot through my head, and then, the memories flooded back: the car crash wasn't an accident, Heidi Daniel was the driver, and Gavin, my father's protégé, had orchestrated this entire lie, this cruel test of my loyalty.
He had taken everything-my identity, my wealth, my family-and thrown me into poverty, just to see if I would still love him unconditionally. He was a monster, and I was his prisoner. But a cold, hard resolve settled in my chest: I would burn his world to the ground, starting by faking my own death. Beyond His Betrayal, A Mother Rises
Horror I was overjoyed when I found out I was pregnant. I posted a simple, happy announcement on social media—a picture of tiny baby shoes, captioned "Our next chapter begins."
The next day, my husband Kaeden accused me of doing it to deliberately hurt his "fragile" friend, Clemmie, who was infertile. He said I needed to be taught a lesson in cruelty.
He strapped me to a table and, while Clemmie watched, ordered a man to electrocute me.
I begged him to stop, to think of our child, but he refused.
"Increase it," he commanded, even after being warned it could kill the fetus. He left me bleeding out on the cold metal.
But the horror was just beginning. I was rushed to a hospital, not to be saved, but to be harvested. I heard the doctor's triumphant voice: "It's a perfect match."
My husband was having me murdered to give my heart and kidneys to his mistress.
My last sensation was the cold steel of a scalpel on my skin. My last thought was of my baby, who would never draw a breath. The monitor flatlined into a single, unending tone.
Then, my eyes fluttered open. I was alive. A Life Built on Their Lies
Modern The phone call came at 7 PM on New Year' s Eve. My parents, struggling artists, were missing our countdown again for a "last-minute commission." I, Olivia, stared at a sad frozen pizza, preparing for another lonely night.
But when I went to bring them dinner at their studio, I saw something that made my world tilt: a luxury SUV, my father in a tailored suit, my mother in a stunning gown, and a handsome boy my age. They laughed, a perfect, happy family heading into the city's most expensive restaurant.
When I called out, their smiles vanished, replaced by panic. "What are you doing here?" my mother snapped. The boy, Julian, looked at my cheap clothes with disdain. "No one, Julian, just a… distant relative," my mother quickly said, shielding him from me. My father gave me a hard look. "Go home, Olivia. We' ll talk later." They walked away, leaving me on the cold pavement, the festive sounds from the restaurant mocking my pain.
Back in the apartment, tears streaming down my face, I tore the place apart, desperate for answers. I found a hidden compartment in a wooden box: property deeds for luxury condos, stock certificates, and contracts for art sales worth millions. My parents weren't poor; they were immensely rich. They treated Julian with the love and pride I had always craved, while I was their shameful secret, their "distant relative."
How could they? All my life, I had sacrificed everything, believing I was helping them escape poverty. My existence was a calculated charade. The truth was inescapable. The next morning, I heard my mother whispering on the phone to Julian: "Don' t worry about her. She doesn' t suspect a thing. We' ll keep it a secret, just like we always have. It' s for your own good, sweetheart." Their entire production, designed to keep me in a cage, was for his benefit. I had to get out. His Deal, My Son's Death
Modern The dull ache in my eight-year-old son, Leo' s, stomach quickly sharpened into something terrifying.
His small body trembled, his face pale and beaded with sweat, as he whimpered, "It hurts, Mommy. It really hurts."
Panic seized me as I dialed my husband, Ethan, only for him to pick up on the fourth try, irritated, "What, Olivia? I' m in the middle of something huge."
He dismissed Leo' s 103-degree fever and my fear of appendicitis, declaring, "Give him some Tylenol. I can' t leave right now, this is a billion-dollar deal."
Alone, I rushed Leo to the emergency room, enduring endless hours in a sterile waiting room.
The doctor' s words shattered my world: "There were complications during the appendectomy. His appendix had ruptured. We did everything we could, but Leo didn' t make it."
My vibrant, artistic boy was gone because his father was too busy.
Just as the news began to sink in, Ethan called, his voice cheerful, "The meeting went great, we secured the funding. Is Leo feeling any better?"
I choked out the words, "Leo' s dead, Ethan."
He laughed, disbelieving, "That' s not funny, Olivia. Don' t joke about things like that."
Only when his parents arrived, called by the hospital, did the truth begin to dawn, but his phone buzzed with an Instagram post of him toasting with Dr. Evelyn Reed, his college sweetheart, captioned, "Celebrating the future of AI with the one and only Ethan Vance. To new beginnings!"
Richard Vance, Ethan' s father, roared, "Your son is dead, and you' re celebrating?!" before lunging at Ethan.
In the chaos, they wheeled Leo' s body away.
I screamed, "Don' t take him! That' s my baby!" before collapsing into darkness.
I woke in the Vance mansion, the memory of Leo' s still face crushing me.
I wanted a divorce, a clean break from the man who had let our son die.
My in-laws, Richard and Eleanor, surprisingly supported me, their kindness a small comfort in my ocean of pain.
Then Ethan burst in, rumpled and sneering, "Done with your little drama yet?"
He grabbed my arm, demanding, "Get up, Olivia. We' re going home. Enough of this nonsense."
His touch was repulsive, and I flinched away, my voice low and dangerous, "Don' t touch me."
He laughed, "Or what? You' ll cry some more? You' re always so emotional. It' s exhausting."
He continued, clueless to the pain he caused, "Are you going to tell me again that my son is dead just to get my attention?"
My voice, clear and steady, cut through his ignorant rage, "He is, Ethan. Leo is dead."
He just stared, completely unbelieving, until Richard physically dragged him from the room.
A few days later, after a private cremation, I clutched Leo' s ashes, his vibrant life reduced to a small, heavy box.
I drove home, needing to gather Leo' s things before leaving for good.
But from the master bedroom came a low, feminine laugh, followed by Ethan' s familiar murmur.
Evelyn was here, in my house, in my bed, while our son' s ashes were still warm in my hands.
She emerged, wearing my silk robe, a triumphant smirk on her face.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she cooed, "I thought you' d be off crying in a corner somewhere."
Ethan didn' t even acknowledge me, or the box in my arms.
Evelyn explained, "Honestly, Olivia, it' s for the best. Now he can focus on what' s really important. Our work."
I turned my back on them, walking numbly to Leo' s room.
As I passed the kitchen, Ethan saw the box. "What' s that?" he asked casually, "Some kind of sentimental junk you' re taking with you?"
I stopped, my grip on the box tightening as I turned to him, my voice shaking with rage, "It' s Leo."
He just shrugged, taking a drink of water, completely unfazed.
I gently placed Leo' s ashes on his nightstand, whispered, "I' m sorry, baby," and began packing.
At the bottom of his art bin, I found his last project: a half-finished watercolor painting of a sunset.
It was a beautiful, incomplete masterpiece, and it shattered me.
I sank to the floor, clutching the painting, sobbing for my son, his stolen future, and all the sunsets he would never paint.
After the storm of grief passed, a cold, hard resolve set in.
I left the house, not looking back, having placed divorce papers, drawn up months ago, squarely on Ethan' s desk.
A text from Evelyn popped up on my phone, smug and petty, "Leaving so soon? Don' t let the door hit you on the way out. Ethan' s mine now. He always was."
I crushed my phone under my car tire, the broken pieces a satisfying crunch on the asphalt.
As I drove away, I saw Ethan watching me from the doorway, a flicker of confusion, maybe regret, on his face.
But it was too late. Sacrifice For Survival
Sci-fi The rotor wash from the FEMA helicopter was a physical blow, a deafening symphony of survival above the screams of a collapsing Los Angeles.
My team was clambering aboard, but Matthew, my boyfriend, blocked the doorway, pistol raised.
"We are not leaving without Molly," he declared, his desperate resolve sealing our fate.
In my first life, I made the call: I tranquilized him, dragged him onto the chopper, and left Molly to the Shakers below.
I told myself it was for the greater good, a pragmatism that propelled me to rise through the ranks in the Green Zone.
Years later, Matthew found me.
He never forgave me for abandoning Molly.
He drugged me, dragged my numb body to the perimeter wall, and pushed me over a sheer drop into the Shaker-infested darkness, his last words chilling my soul: "Molly deserved to live."
The fall was terrifying, the impact final.
Then, I blinked.
The rotor wash was a physical blow.
The screams were deafening.
Matthew stood before me, pistol in hand: "We are not leaving without Molly."
I was back, on that same rooftop, on the day of evacuation.
This time, I knew everything.
And this time, the choice would be very different. The Unwanted Wife's Last Breath
Fantasy It was our third anniversary, and I was shivering on the balcony, barefoot in a thin silk robe.
My husband Ethan, who believed I caused his true love Gabrielle to vanish, shoved me out there, making me pay for my supposed sins.
Then, a phone call.
Gabrielle was back.
Suddenly, I went from a neglected wife to the household's lowliest servant, abused by Ethan, Gabrielle, and every staff member.
They said I betrayed her, that I was a vile, jealous creature.
My health deteriorated, coughing blood, fading into a shadow.
They drugged me, paraded me before a hateful crowd, publicly shaming me as the "disgraced sister" while Gabrielle, the "victim," stood radiant.
My own father watched, approving.
How could my life twist into such a nightmare?
How could everyone believe such monstrous lies about me, turning me into a monster in their eyes?
I was already dying, isolated and shattered, when Gabrielle and a bribed maid claimed I' d leaked scandalous stories.
Something inside me snapped.
I grabbed the nearest thing-a heavy letter opener-and plunged it into Gabrielle.
I expected more pain, more condemnation, maybe even death.
But what came next would unravel everything, exposing the shocking truth from beyond my grave. Too Late For Forgiveness, My Love
Billionaires Elara Vance was ready to do anything for her husband, Ethan.
Pregnant but determined, she was on the verge of inducing labor early to donate her kidney-a sacrifice she believed would save his life and secure their family's future.
Still hazy from anesthesia, a chilling conversation pierced through the fog.
Ethan' s voice, devoid of love, ordered their newborn son to be "discarded."
Then, his closest friend, Jake, laughed, chillingly saying, "One kid a year to make her suffer for Chloe, man, that' s brutal!"
The truth unfurled like a nightmare: Ethan' s love was a decade-long revenge plot.
Chloe? His supposedly deceased fiancée.
Every "accident" – two miscarriages, a staged mugging – were calculated attacks.
He was never sick.
He confessed he' d meticulously destroyed her life, planned to harvest her kidney, perform a hysterectomy, and leave her shamed and barren.
The man she loved, the father of her murdered children, was a monster.
Every tender touch, every shared dream, a meticulously crafted illusion.
The realization hit like a physical blow: her entire life, built on his deceptive love, was a slaughterhouse.
How could she have been so blind, so trusting?
Paralyzed yet seething, Elara knew she had only one path.
She would play his game of devotion, burying her rage deep.
She was alive, battered and broken, but not defeated.
Elara Vance would escape, and then, she would ensure Ethan Knight paid the ultimate price for his monstrous deception.
Her survival was just the beginning of her real revenge. The Affair, The Baby, The Betrayal
Romance My flight from Geneva was long, fueled by the anticipation of seeing Ethan and picking up our lives. My surgical fellowship was finally complete.
But as I cleared customs, a text from an unknown number shattered my world: "Ava, don't go to Cedar View Birthing Center. Ethan is there with Chloe. The baby has arrived."
Chloe. His high school friend, the one he always said he owed a life debt. Then, another text: "Eleanor and Richard hired them. They said to keep you from 'causing a scene'."
His parents, who once called me the daughter they never had, were complicit. My hands went cold.
I went to our house, where the nursery light glowed softly. The air was thick with baby powder and Chloe’s cloying perfume.
Ethan was there, holding the baby, Chloe beside him, his parents beaming. His mother’s voice was icy: "Your career kept you busy, Ava. Ethan needed a family."
Then Ethan, my husband, looked at me, offering a grotesque explanation. "Chloe is terminally ill. This was her dying wish. And after your… difficulties… this could be painless motherhood for you."
Painless. He called my infertility a "difficulty" and expected me to accept this child of an affair?
They wanted me to cooperate, to become the silent accomplice in my own humiliation and erasure.
“Okay,” I said, seeing the relief on their faces. They had no idea the ice in my eyes, or the secret plan that had just clicked into place. The Unwanted Wife's Escape
Romance For ten years, I was Mrs. Ethan Cole, the perfect half of Manhattan's "Power Couple," living in a penthouse straight out of a magazine.
I believed in our vows, even if love felt distant.
Then, at a grim police precinct, I overheard him.
My husband, Ethan, praised his assistant, Chloe, “She’s not like Ava. Chloe has self-respect. She wouldn’t just… offer herself up like that.”
My world shattered.
Ten years, my entire adult life, reduced to a woman he deemed disposable, lacking "self-respect."
He proved it, dismissing my car accident, then allowing Chloe to maliciously frame me at Thanksgiving.
He even grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my skin, all to protect her.
I was his property, an inconvenience, nothing more.
How had I been so blind to the depth of his contempt?
How could a relationship built on duty devolve into such cruel neglect and humiliation?
The man who was supposed to be my protector had become my tormentor.
That night, my voice steady, I told him, "I want a divorce."
His rage erupted, demanding I "come home," threatening to make my life a living hell.
But the compliant wife was gone.
My only regret was not leaving sooner.
This was no longer a marriage; it was my fight for freedom, my chance to finally live. 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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