Melodramatic Short Stories & Scumbag Revenge Novels

In my previous life, my husband Kael Drayne, heir to the Beast King's throne and full-blooded dragon, cut open my belly with his own hands on the day I gave birth. He pulled our child out and dashed it against the floor in front of me. That was the moment I finally understood. The one he truly loved was my stepsister, Ivy Wren. Because she couldn't bear to watch the man she loved marry someone else, Ivy had staged a dramatic exit on our wedding day, slipping out alone, only to run into a gang of rogue beastkin. She vanished without a trace. Kael blamed every last bit of it on me. He hated me for it with everything he had. "Just because you're the only pure-blooded white wolf, you think you had the right to come between me and Ivy? She's gone because of you. I'm going to throw you to the horde — let you feel exactly what she went through." But he was the one who'd pursued me. He was the one who'd confessed his feelings. It was because I chose him that he was able to claim the throne at all. None of it mattered to him. There was nothing left in his eyes but hatred. Kael hurled me into a frenzied beast horde, and I was torn apart. In those final moments, I saw three figures, Kael's three unremarkable bastard brothers, charging toward me through the chaos, trying to drag me out. But the numbers were too great, the gap in power too wide. In the end, they died there alongside me. I thought my story ended there, full of regret. Then I woke up. I'd been reborn to just before Kael and I were to marry. This time, I wasn't going to choose him. And that, apparently, drove him out of his mind.

A drunk rich kid speeds down a pedestrian walkway and hits my daughter, shattering her femur and breaking multiple ribs. She hasn't woken up since. Now the boy's mother wants to settle. She sits across from me with her chin lifted and slides a settlement agreement across the table. "Ms. Carlisle, just sign it and don't hold up my son's future." Rage burns through every last shred of my composure. I grab the document and hurl it in her face. "Not a chance!" She doesn't even flinch. Her lips curl into a smirk, and she looks me up and down. "The law says you only have to pay about a million if you kill someone. Your daughter isn't even dead. I'm offering medical expenses plus two million dollars on top. How does that sound?" She pulls out a black card and holds it up like a trophy. "You probably don't even know what this is. It's a globally limited black card." My eyes land on it, and I recognize the pattern instantly because I had it custom-made as a birthday gift for my husband. A metallic taste rises in the back of my throat, but I force the blood down, every ounce of rage coiling behind my eyes. "How much is your son's life worth? Name the price. I'll buy it."

The day my husband, Ramsey Collins, completed his classified deployment, I brought our daughter to the local elementary school for registration. The administrator looked up from her screen, visibly confused. "Ma'am, your daughter's father is already registered in our database as a parent, but for a different boy. Did you mistype his details?" My forehead creased. "That's impossible. Let me check." I unlocked my phone. An update popped up from my husband, who had forgotten to hide his private posts from me. [Seven years in secret. Now I can finally tell the world that you are my wife.] The attached photo showed my best friend, Evelyn Reed, resting her head on his shoulder, smiling gently as she held her young son. In their hands were marriage certificates. Identical to the one sitting in my purse. My mind went completely blank. My thumb scrolled down the screen on autopilot. The comment section was packed with congratulations. Mutual friends. My own coworkers. At the bottom, there was a message from his mother, Juliet Collins. [She hid her marriage for seven long years. You need to make it up to them both from now on.] [Make sure you hide this from Clara. If she finds out her own marriage certificate is a fake, it will destroy her.] My husband replied with a quick nod emoji. [I will.] My hands began to tremble. For seven years, I looked after his mother. I raised our child. Meanwhile, he was playing family with someone else. Everyone knew. Every single person helped him keep the lie alive. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe. A tiny tug pulled at my sleeve. My daughter pointed toward the door, her eyes wide and cautious. "Mommy, the rain is getting heavy. Are we still waiting for Daddy?" I opened the umbrella and took her hand. "No, sweetie. We're not waiting. We'll never wait for Ramsey Collins again.”