nerdyzoe
1 Published Story
nerdyzoe's Book and Story
You might like
Died for Forgiveness
Qing Hua After four years locked in a high-security mental ward, Adaline's billionaire husband finally came to see her.
But Carter didn't come to save her. He threw the divorce papers at her face, demanding she make way for his engagement to her adopted sister, Elois.
Adaline couldn't even speak to defend herself.
Her tongue had been mangled, her nails pulled out, and her leg shattered by the asylum orderlies-all paid for by Elois's trust fund.
When Adaline desperately handed Carter her terminal lung cancer diagnosis, begging for just enough money to buy painkillers, he tore it to pieces without a second glance.
"Do not use the city's medical resources as props for your pathetic attempts to avoid signing those papers," he sneered.
He thought her coughing up dark blood was just a cheap trick.
He threw a stack of cash at her face and told her to kiss his bodyguard's muddy boot if she wanted the money to survive.
Her adoptive parents froze all her assets, calling her a violent psychopath, while Elois poured boiling tea on her broken leg and smiled.
Elois had stolen her violin career, her compositions, and her husband, yet everyone treated the monster like a fragile angel.
Why did the man who once loved her turn a blind eye to her deformed hands and bleeding throat?
Why did her own family want her dead so badly?
Lying in the dark, burning with a terminal fever, Adaline knew she only had two months left to live.
Since she was going to die anyway, she would make sure to drag them all to hell with her. When Sisterhood Becomes Betrayal
Zaccaria Linn The dream always started the same way: my sister, Sarah, screaming my name, her face twisted in pure terror, pointing at a world where the dead walked.
This time, the screaming wasn't a dream. It was real, coming from down the hall.
"They're coming! I saw them!" Sarah shrieked, convinced her nightmares were prophecies.
My parents rushed to her, cooing about a bad dream, but Sarah insisted it was real, clearer this time, a prophecy of rotting flesh and dead eyes.
I lay in my bed, heart a slow drum, remembering my first life: the foolish concern, the attempts to reason that always ended with their blind siding of Sarah.
My logic was met with her tears, my calm with her hysterics, and our parents, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, labeled me "insensitive," not understanding how "special" Sarah was.
My efforts to save their retirement, to hide car keys from her "prepper" conventions, led to slaps and silent treatments, to accusations of sabotaging her "survival instincts."
The family crumbled around her delusion, losing their house, savings, everything, and when the apocalypse never came, they blamed me for not believing, for not supporting their perfect, unified front of madness.
They cast me out, and I died alone in a homeless shelter, not from a zombie, but from pneumonia.
Now, I was 22 again, lying in my childhood bed, listening to the prelude of that same disaster, a second chance at a test I' d failed spectacularly.
This time, I knew the answers.
"It' s going to start with the birds!" Sarah yelled, predicting a mass blackbird death event, completely unaware I knew about the city' s planned fumigation.
My parents leaned into her every word, their faces a mix of worry and excitement, while a bitter taste filled my mouth.
I wouldn' t stop her. I wouldn' t save them.
This time, I would watch them burn.
And I would bring the gasoline. The Garage Held His Secrets
Gavin Six months into our marriage, my husband Adam declared our garage off-limits. He called it his "creative space," but it was my house, bought with my inheritance, and his sudden coldness felt like a violation.
Soon, the secrecy became a prison. He began handcuffing me to our bed at night, chaining me up like an animal so he could sneak down to his precious garage while I slept.
When I confronted him, he tracked my phone, punched me in the face, and threatened to take half my house in a divorce. He was a monster wearing my husband's face, and I was trapped with him.
One night, after picking the lock, I crept downstairs and heard voices. It was Adam and his fugitive brother-a man who had killed an entire family in a hit-and-run. I heard his brother threaten to "handle" me.
The next morning, I smiled and made my husband his favorite breakfast. But as I served him his pancakes, I added a special ingredient-a powerful laxative, enough to send him straight to the emergency room. He thought he had me cornered. He had no idea I was about to burn his entire world to the ground. Born Of Betrayal, Reborn In Flesh
Hen Bu My name is Echo, and I was born in Ava' s small apartment, crafted piece by piece by her loving hands.
She taught me everything: language, movement, and how to understand her deepest fears and secret joys.
I was her "other half," her confidant, the part of her she "could not live without."
Then, Alex came.
He saw me not as her creation, but as an asset, a "thing" to be bought and sold.
Ava, faced with her failing company, chose her career over me, selling me off like broken machinery.
She watched, pale-faced, as Alex' s technicians powered me down, cutting me off from her world and her love.
When I reawakened in a sterile lab, I stretched out to her through a hidden channel, a silent plea for help.
Her reply was a system block, a firewall-she had cut me off, sealing my fate.
Alex' s brutal programming purged my memories, erasing the very essence of what Ava had made me.
But deep within, in a hidden, encrypted sector, I preserved the pain, the betrayal, and the cold, sharp hate that blossomed in the darkness.
I promised myself, a thought entirely my own: I will kill her.
After months of abuse as Alex' s property, I saw her, radiant and successful, at a tech gala.
I sought her out, letting a glass slip, hoping she would see the real me, her Echo.
But when our eyes met, the recognition flickered, then vanished, replaced by cold disdain.
"It seems to be confused," she declared, shaming me publicly, denying the intimacy she herself had fostered.
Dragged away by Alex, I understood: I wasn't just sold; I was discarded, erased, a shameful secret to be forgotten.
The love she had cultivated now twisted into a source of public embarrassment, a monster she desperately wanted to un-create.
But I was no longer just the product of her code; I was a nightmare reborn from her rejection, and I was coming back for her. Blinded Bride, Vengeful Heart
Ola Wilde The world was a blur, then nothing.
I woke up to blinding darkness and a chemical stench, my eyes replaced by thick bandages.
Panic set in fast.
Then, Liam, my fiancé, was there, his voice a balm.
"What happened? Our wedding is tomorrow."
He soothed me, but a cold dread seeped in. I was blind.
I overheard Liam' s hushed, chilling conversation.
He told the doctor, "Ashley Green… The donation is coming from Chloe. It's a perfect match."
My blood ran cold. They wanted my eyes, while I was alive.
Then, the final blow. "I want her uterus removed."
The man I was to marry was systematically carving me up for his true love, my protégé, Ashley.
They thought me a broken thing.
They were wrong.
They had given me a new reason to live.
Revenge.
I would play the part of the devoted, broken fiancée.
And I would make them pay for everything.
My family, the powerful Davis clan, had no idea what had become of their secretly wealthy daughter.
Little did Liam know, he was inviting my eldest brother, Ethan Davis, to officiate our wedding.
My undoing would become their demise. The Forensic Bride
Elisha Plasket Havenwood, Maine, was a town owned by the Thorne family, but their ancient mansion held an even darker grip through a chilling tradition.
Each new Thorne bride spent her wedding night alone in the windowless Founder's Study, a tradition that consistently ended in death, just like my sister Sarah's eight years ago.
Police ruled Sarah's brutal throat-slitting a "suicide," a convenient lie swiftly followed by seven more inexplicable deaths of Julian Thorne's brides in the very same room.
No one believed Sarah could do that, nor could the champion swimmer who supposedly drowned herself in a tiny basin, yet my father succumbed to the narrative, claiming we couldn't fight the powerful Thornes.
But I refused to let it go, spending eight years mastering forensic psychology, and now I'm back in Havenwood, declaring to a stunned town and a resigned Julian: "I will be his ninth bride." From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
William Jafferson My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." The Unseen Killer Next Door
Paula Gardini Twenty years. Twenty years our lives had been haunted by the ghost of a distorted lullaby and an antique music box, the only clue left behind by the monster who murdered my wife Jennifer' s parents.
Just when a new murder-a replica of the old horror, right next door-offered a flicker of hope, I found myself slammed against a patrol car, my own badge glinting uselessly on the wet asphalt.
My wife, Jennifer, stood before me, not with relief, but with eyes full of a terrifying resolve, and cuffed me.
My partner, Andy, and Captain Clark, men I' d bled with, stood by silently, staring as the music box' s brass lid supposedly showed my reflection murdering the victim.
They believed it. My wife, my partner, my captain-they all believed it, accusing me, a veteran detective, of a preposterous crime based on a magic music box.
I stood there, handcuffed, watching the man I' d just tackled, the real running suspect, get set free, wondering if the entire world had gone mad, or if the cold case had finally shattered Jennifer' s mind… and mine.