Multiple Identities Romance Short Stories & Novels

Nathan was the hockey team's resident troublemaker. On the ice he was cocky and impossible, yet every night he logged on right on schedule, humbly seeking guidance from the tactical god 'IceTyrant'. And me? I was Quinn, the team's invisible gofer, hauling gear and washing jerseys all day while the players looked down their noses at me. Then one day he found out who I really was. He backed me into a corner, gripped my chin, and said, "Quinn, I've got money, and I make the rules." "Reject me one more time. I dare you." Later the whole school saw it. That hockey captain, usually too cool for everyone, was chasing after me with a plate of peeled shrimp, "Baby, just one more bite. Please."

I've sculpted a character based on my boss, Jacob Carter, in my smutty novel. Jacob, who's a cold, distant, and stern man in reality, is reduced to a lovesick simp in my novel. Apparently, he's maddeningly in love with me there. But when I tender my resignation letter later on, Jacob rips it into shreds before cornering me. "Oh? Are you planning to leave now that you've finished writing that novel of yours? How dare you discard me as soon as you're done with me! What am I, a cheap escort?"

The rich scion, Hayden Jensen, who shares an apartment with me, has a split personality. Sometimes, he's a cheerful and optimistic bright soul who keeps introducing amazing hot guys to me. Thanks to him, I've gotten to know Brock Hayes, a varsity jock, Julian Reed, the gentle campus heartthrob, and Noah Bennett, the sweet underclassman. When the four of us are playing poker happily at home, we hear a furious voice being gritted out from behind. "So, you're saying that I was the one who told them to hang out with you?" I inhale sharply at his words. Oh, no! Hayden's dark side has emerged!

My boyfriend insists on hiking up a snow-covered mountain to see a waterfall. That very day, I fall from the peak. When I regain consciousness, I've lost my memories and broken a leg. Even my boyfriend has become my brother-in-law. Everyone turns their backs on me, but my psychologist, Quinton Scott, comforts and guides me. One day, he gets on one knee before me with a bouquet and a diamond ring in hand. He proposes as the medical personnel watch, and I weep with joy. Half a year after our marriage, I hear his friend say, "Looks like your hypnosis has gone well for the past year, Quinton. Speaking of which, you've already helped Winnie get what she wants. Why bother marrying Jennifer?" "Did you think I wanted to? I was afraid she'd suddenly regain her memories and try to hurt Winnie. It's easier for me to watch her like this." "Is it worth going to such lengths for Winnie? You cleaned up so many of her messes, and you're now using Jennifer for that…" "I'll do anything as long as Winnie is happy." Quinton stubs out his cigarette. After a long silence, he says, "Besides, I'm just borrowing Jennifer's womb. I'm putting trash to good use!"

On the day of our engagement, as we were driving to the banquet hall, a man holding a few-month-old baby stepped in front of our car. My first thought was that it was some kind of scam. I was about to get out and deal with him when I saw the panic on his face. "Cassidy," he said desperately, "our baby won't stop crying. Do you think something's wrong?" The moment she heard that, my fiancée shoved me out of the car. She took off with them without a single glance back. I just stood there in shock. So this was the truth. She'd been hiding a child with her ex all along. Alone, I went to the banquet hall to handle what remained of our celebration. Later, she called. "I feel terrible about this," she said. "I thought if I gave him the baby and gave you the marriage, it would balance things out. But when Stanley showed up today, I realized—he's the only one I want." I was done with her games. If that's how she felt, I'd walk away. So I made a simple phone call. "Grandma, I'm coming home. I'm ready to run the family business now."

To keep me from becoming a spinster, my father spared no expense in finding me a husband. Seduced by a handsome face, I rushed into a whirlwind marriage with a charming young gentleman. Little did I imagine that this gentleman would prove more dissolute than I. Not only did he hold clandestine meetings with four different women, but he was also legally married. Upon finding that out, I fled with my baby without hesitation. But there was something I could not fathom. Why did the fugitive the new king was hunting bear my exact face?

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"

It was a hot day, with temperatures hitting a scorching 113°F when I was chased out of Nox Suites, the duplex where top celebrities stayed. Indoors, Stan Herbert, A-list star and my showmance partner, was ranting on the phone. "What's the point of a PR relationship with my current popularity?! Taking it into real life? Faking it online for six months was bad enough—you're sending her to my doorstep?! What, is our talent agency a matchmaking agency instead?! You're even sending me some nobody!" Once he hung up, he kicked me out of his door with my luggage, leaving me squatting by a sidewalk as I tried to clean up the mess. Six months ago, I signed a "slave contract" with the agency to try to pay for my mom's medical bills. I thought I could just get by, but I couldn't even last a year. Rummaging through my coins but finding not even fifty bucks, I got yet another call from the hospital to pay up. Having no one to turn to, I swiped through my contacts and ultimately texted my online boyfriend from two years ago. [I have no place to go and no money left.] Suddenly, I received a notification of a wire transfer of $100,000 into my account, followed by a text message from him. [Come over, babe. The key's behind the fire extinguisher.] Still, I had to walk while using GPS navigation and was drenched in sweat when I finally realized that I had just returned to Nox Suites.

There's a ten-car collision on the highway, and I'm trapped in one of ten. For some reason, none of the ambulances can get to us. I desperately call my boyfriend to ask for help. I expect him to immediately come to my rescue, but he merely snaps at me. "Yvette didn't even make a sound when she sliced her finger. Couldn't you have just dodged when the accident happened? You're not crippled or anything! Stop being so childish at your age!" He doesn't want me to disturb him anymore, so he blocks my number. Fortunately, a kind soul saves me and takes me to the hospital. I survive the ordeal. When I leave the hospital, I see a breaking news report on the screen in the lobby. "Love exists in the world! Mr. Fenton spends a fortune to gather the city's ambulances to save his true love when she slices her finger!" The news report makes my heart ache. I pull out the ring I was going to use for my proposal and throw it away without hesitation. Henry Fenton and I have been together for 14 years, but I don't want the relationship anymore.

Back in the day, in the legal world, Finn Cross and I were the top dogs. Untouchable. He ran New York, a king in criminal defense, never lost a case. I held down Boston, crushing it in civil court. People in the biz used to say it was a good thing we weren't in the same city. If we were, we’d have gone head-to-head, and it was anyone's guess who'd come out on top. But they never would've guessed. Three years ago, I, Victoria Sterling, quietly married Finn Cross. And just like that, the legend of "Vicky" was locked away. I was willing to leave my career behind, to be the quiet, supportive woman behind the great man. I made his coffee, went with him to all sorts of events, and left a light on for him when he came home late. But when Elena, the one he’d always carried a torch for, showed up again, I couldn't keep up this charade anymore.

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.

Five years ago, at our engagement party, I broke my fiancee's assistant Richard Greer's nose with a punch because I saw his hand slip under my fiancee Pearl Moran's skirt, groping her right out in the open. Yet when security arrived, Pearl stepped in front of Richard and frowned at me. "Alex, he was just messing around. Did you really have to hit him that hard?" To get back at me for Richard, she pulled strings to throw me in prison. My first day behind bars, I ended up in a cell Richard prepped for me. My ribs were broken in a beating. I was fed spoiled leftovers and forced to sleep on the cold concrete floor. The moment I got out, I boarded a flight to Eldermere without looking back. Five years later, I return to Sovrane with my wife, Catherine Carter, to take over her family's Bellmont division. She gets held up with an arms order and tells her local crew to pick me up. I never expect to run into Pearl, whom I haven't seen in five years, the moment I step out of the airport. A black sedan pulls up in front of me, and the window rolls down. She looks at me like nothing ever happened. "You've been gone long enough. Time to drop the grudge. Richard's driver just retired. Since you're back, you can take over."

My husband was tall and handsome, but he had no money to pay his debts. During the five years of our marriage, I sold my house and car for him. We then moved to a dark and humid basement that was only 300 square feet in size. When I got pregnant, I wanted to go for checkups, but he said that there was no need for it, as it was a waste of money. So I gave birth to a baby with a congenital heart condition. In order to get the money for his surgery, I worked three jobs every day. At that time, I noticed that my husband bought a mansion worth 40 million dollars for an influencer, and I finally realized that my husband was no orphan, but the son of the richest man in the country.

On the day of my wedding, I had just discovered I was pregnant when news of Gavin Holt's death reached me. I wept until my eyes were swollen, yet still clung to his portrait and insisted on completing the ceremony. The very next day, his twin brother Sebastian Holt, came with Charlotte Evans, to break off the marriage on behalf of his brother. "My brother said before he died that Charlotte was his one true love. If she cannot enter the Holt family, he'll never rest in peace!" Taking advantage of the fact I had no family to back me up, Sebastian shamelessly brought Charlotte into my bridal chamber and slept with her. Their moans and gasps filled the room. On the very first day of my marriage, I was humiliated by my own brother-in-law and turned into a laughingstock for the entire city. Then, by chance, I overheard their conversation. "Gavin, you lied to Emily, told her you were dead. What if she finds out?" "She's so foolish. Even now, she mourns my 'death' with blind devotion. Once she gives birth to the child, we'll drive her out of the Holt family." Only then did I learn the truth that the one who had died in that car accident wasn't Gavin at all, but his twin brother! Later, I chose to end the pregnancy and leave. Yet he went mad, begging me to return.

The doctor said my husband Ethan had dual personality. His primary personality was gentle and devoted. His alter — "Axel" — was reckless and wild. In five years of marriage, every time Axel surfaced, he'd fall for a different woman. Each time, I'd have to pull out our marriage certificate, walk him through our love story from the beginning, just to bring Ethan back. This time, Axel had set his sights on the new dance instructor. I dropped what I was doing at work, ready to go collect him from the psychiatrist's office — same as always. But outside the treatment room, I heard him on the phone with one of his buddies, laughing: "What can I say — I'm a hell of an actor. Five years and she still hasn't caught on." "Besides, why settle for the wife at home when there's so much more fun out there?" The panic I'd been feeling went very, very still. I pulled up my lawyer's number and texted him: Get the divorce papers ready.

The love Edward Abend gives me is only a tenth of what he gives Daisy Neal. He gives me one set of jewelry but gives her ten sets. He throws me a wedding and throws her ten parties to celebrate them becoming an item. After being intimate with me once, he does it with her ten times. I think I'll endure this until the end of time for the sake of my family. However, Edward brings Daisy to me one day and says, "Daisy is pregnant. I want you to pretend to be pregnant, too. Once the child is born, we'll act like it's yours. Then, the child will be Abend Group's proper heir." I'm sick of this, so I don't go along with him anymore. "Let's get a divorce."

After I transmigrated into a novel, my father, Richard Whitmore, was still every bit the scumbag he'd always been. The only difference was that this version of him had a face people couldn't help trusting. So of course, he ran off with the money. I was furious enough to step in when I saw him bullying a gorgeous younger man. Afterward, the man sat curled up in the corner of my couch, his eyes red as he looked at me. "I don't even have anywhere to stay now. Are you going to make me leave too? "I won't freeload. Just don't send me away." That kind of helplessness worked on me every time, so of course I brought him home. From then on, I looked after him and made sure no one could push him around. He was so sweet and clingy it was almost ridiculous. He wanted me there when he ate, and at night he wouldn't sleep unless I stayed with him and coaxed him to sleep. Somewhere along the way, coaxing him to sleep turned into his hand slipping beneath my covers. With him acting like that, how was anyone supposed to resist? Then, after disappearing for half a month, my deadbeat father suddenly showed up again on his knees. Richard was sprawled at the boy's feet, sobbing as he slapped himself across the face. "Mr. Jensen, please let me live. I swear I didn't mean to do it. I won't ever dare do anything like that again." The man who'd been coughing only moments earlier got lazily to his feet. He picked up an apple and began peeling it with an easy smile. "Maya," he said softly, "I was going to wait a little longer before I told you."

After my sister stole my boyfriend 11 times, I decided to take action. I went out and found myself a fool to date, just to see if she'd still try to take him away. But I never expected that one day, my "foolish" boyfriend would stop being so dumb. In fact, he became a scoundrel.