Short Stories & Novels

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

After returning from a three-month business trip, I rushed to meet my fiancé and resolve our dispute over my best friend, Elena. Elena’s ex-husband left her penniless and broken. I offered her my apartment, helped her "find herself" and accompanied her through nights of tequila-soaked sobbing. My fiance, Julian, hated it. Or so he said. "She’s a leech, Clara," he’d snap, watching her try on my designer coats. "She doesn't even know how to make toast without calling for help. Are you her best friend or her maid? People like her don't want to heal; they just want a free ride." She's lost everything, Julian," I argued."Without her, I wouldn't have survived my mother’s death. Please, just be patient for me." I let myself in quietly. The house was still, the air smelling of expensive candles and something else—something sweet and floral that wasn't mine. I walked toward the master suite, expecting to find Julian asleep. Instead, the door was ajar. The wine bottle I had brought to surprise Julian slipped from my hand, leaving me paralyzed for a moment. Elena was draped across my silk sheets. Julian was hovering over her, expertly shucking oysters—my favorite—and feeding them to her with a look of doting, soft-eyed tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "You're so much better at this than she is," Julian purred. "Because she’s cold, Julian," Elena whispered, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "She’s all business. She doesn't know how to satisfy men in bed." I stood in the doorway, my whole self trembling, not in cold but in pure rage and disgust. "I hope the oysters are fresh," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Drugs disappeared during one of our family’s deals—and everyone knew it was my stepsister, Emily’s fault. Now, our rivals demanded someone be sent to them, held captive until the debt was repaid. My fiancé, my family—they all agreed it should be me. “Emily already got hurt in the mission. You are stronger. You can handle it while we figure things out.” I knew this moment was coming. And so I signed my name. In five days, I’d be sent away. And I have decided that no matter what happened—whether I lived or died—I was done with my family and my fiancé. In those last days, I gave everything I owned away. The casino? To my stepsister, who had always eyed it with envy. My checking account? To my father, who never missed a chance to remind me how useless I was. The engagement ring? Back to the man who’d been fake as hell. They didn’t notice anything off. They just smiled, pleased with how thoughtful I’d suddenly become. When they realized I was gone for good—and that their fragile Emily was their undoing—would they still smile like that? Would they still look so content?

Eight months pregnant, a contraction tore through me like a blade. But my husband, the Mafia boss Darren, refused to take me to the hospital. His sister-in-law, Angelina, his late brother's widow, was also due. To ensure she gave birth before me, she produced so-called proof of my infidelity, insisting the child I carried was no true Falcone. Because the heir to the Falcone family had to be the firstborn grandson. Darren believed her. He locked me in an abandoned wine cellar. “Don't think for a second I don't know what you've been up to.” “Let me tell you, you're not giving birth to that bastard until I've verified its bloodline myself.” “Angelina’s boy is of pure blood. I have to make sure her boy is the family's firstborn grandson.” I tried desperately to explain. “My water is about to break! Please, take me to the hospital! He’s your son, I swear on my life!” “I’ll never fight for the position of heir! I just want my baby to be safe!” Darren simply kicked me and shot me a glance. “Who knows if you’ll change your mind later? Don’t worry. I’ll come for you after Angelina gives birth. When the baby is born, I’ll see for myself whose it is.” Later, as he gazed at the crying infant in Angelina's arms, he finally thought of me. But one of his men informed him, his voice trembling: “Boss, the Madam… and the child… they're both dead.”

"Velda Griffin is suspected to have allied with the rogues to harm Sienna Armstrong, the Luna-to-be. Today, she shall be sentenced to a memory trial." The huge memory crystal glints coldly on the tribunal. My ex-fiance, Alpha Lorcan Cillian of the Moonshadow pack, maintains an arrogant expression. There's nothing but disgust in his eyes. "All of the vile things that you've done shall be reflected on the memory crystal. Let the entire pack witness your true colors, you filthy bitch!" Sienna reclines against Lorcan's body, a smug smile etched on her face. She thinks my reputation will be completely tarnished. Although my limbs are bound with silver chains, a faint, relieved smile has appeared on my pale face. "Are you sure you want to see my memories, Lorcan? Once you start… there's no turning back."

On Mother's Day, I was planning to give my mother-in-law a special gift, but to my surprise, I saw her enter a room with a Black man. When she came out half an hour later, her face was flushed…

After eight years together, I took a hit for my surgeon boyfriend. Milton Woodard vowed I could ask for anything. Everyone assumed I'd seize the chance to propose, locking him down for good. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, "Let's break up." Then I walked away without a backward glance. Milton smirked, betting with his buddies that I'd come crawling back in under three days, calling me a desperate lapdog chasing his attention. He was dead wrong because I'd been reborn. In my last life, I proposed to him and won. Overwhelmed by the news, his first love threw herself off a rooftop and killed herself. Milton unleashed his grief-fueled rage on me. On our wedding night, he slashed my face and locked me in a dank, claustrophobic basement. When I got pregnant, he force-fed me supplements until the baby grew too big for me to deliver. I hemorrhaged, torn apart, and died in agony on the birthing table. Now, reborn on the day I saved his life, I was done playing his fool.

For the sake of my happiness with my boyfriend, I decided to go to the hospital to treat my congenital narrowness. But the attending physician turned out to be my boyfriend's friend—and the treatment plan itself made my face flush and my heart race. "During the course of treatment, there will be a great deal of intimate physical contact. That's unavoidable," he said. "For example, kissing, touching, and…"

The day I decided to donate my body to science, my family gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, celebrating her acceptance into a cutting-edge experimental treatment program. The one with brain cancer was supposed to be me. But Hailey used my husband Zane's position at the hospital to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one chance I had to survive. And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on. The pain became too much. I fought to stay present, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I gave Hailey the original manuscripts of my novels I had poured my heart and soul into, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane decided to grant Hailey her dying wish by marrying her, he handed me the divorce papers. I signed without a moment's hesitation. He sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. "Don't worry," Zane soothed. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave Hailey everything I had, just like they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?

After my rebirth, I vow to stop clinging to my fated mate—the man I grew up with—Damon Hale. When he gathers all the healers in the pack for a party in Alohara, I book a flight to Harborwatch. When he complains that my scent makes him and his wolf sick, I move out and hire a deep-cleaning service for 500 dollars. When he orders me to stay away from his pack, I quit my job as Alpha's private healer and take up freelance work in Coghaven to support myself. Finally, he says my existence might mislead his precious stepsister into thinking he still cares for me. So, I nod and accept Coghaven Alpha's hand in marriage, along with the keys to an 18-million-dollar villa as my wedding gift. Not until the very last moment of my previous life did I realize… he had always loved his stepsister. In this life, I’ll let you be together—and from now on, I’ll live for myself alone.

The Alpha I loved and his powerful father, the Lycan King, were both drugged with a Heat Potion. Without a second thought, I climbed into the King's bed. In my last life, I was forced to be Damien's cure. To mate with him. To bear his pups. But he spent every night at her grave, mourning his "true love," Isabella. He never touched me again. Five years into our mating, after an argument, he shifted into his wolf form. He tore me and my pups limb from limb. He was convinced I'd used some dirty trick to mark him, keeping him from his true love. He believed it was my fault Isabella left, heartbroken, and died in an "accident." When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the night they were drugged. This time, I will not be the cure. I will be the Queen.

On a flight, my boyfriend Cassio tried to steal a seat for his pregnant childhood sweetheart. Last time, I stopped him. I forced him to return the seat to its rightful owner. Out of spite, his sweetheart Ella refused to take the seat. She stood through the entire flight. By the time we landed, she miscarried. She bled out and died. Cassio never blamed me. He arranged her funeral quietly… Then married me. He gave me the best prenatal care, the finest doctors, and a seemingly perfect life. Until the day I went into labor. He put me on a long-haul flight with multiple layovers. And when I collapsed in a filthy airport restroom, bleeding and barely conscious— He looked down at me with pure hatred. “Serena, this is what you owe her.” “If you hadn’t interfered back then, Ella would still be alive.” “Today, you and your bastard child will pay for her and her baby.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that flight. Watching him berate the plainly dressed woman, I quietly put on my noise-canceling headphones. He didn’t know that woman was the beloved wife of the most dangerous mafia Don in the city. And the kick he was about to deliver— Would be their death sentence. This time, I just watched.

When I was six months pregnant, I was visiting the hospital when I saw my husband with his childhood friend, who had recently returned to the country. I was left holding my own prenatal checkup report, watching as they celebrated their soon-to-be born child. Still, Kelly Wallace appeared worried and even sounded guilty. "Quentin, you didn't have to come with me—I'm fine alone. If Jolin finds out, she'll definitely have a fight with you. She's pregnant too… it'll affect her mood and the baby." Quentin Smith was confidently nonchalant. "No, she won't—she always obeys me and loves me too much. If she does argue, I'll just divorce her!" My heat broke, tears of misery rushing down my cheek. But it was true. I loved him so much that I couldn't even bear to argue with him and always obeyed him. Even so, that didn't mean I was going to maintain this sham of a marriage after learning about his deceit. Since he didn't want me and our child, then I could raise my baby alone. Wiping away my tears, I called a number I hadn't called for five years. "Dad, can I come home?" "Oh, Jo! You finally called. Of course you're always welcomed home!" Hanging up, I booked a ticket for a flight to Switzerland that was due to depart a week later. I'd be out of his hair, so why was he losing his mind when he couldn't find me?

I loved the pup my parents adopted so deeply that I cared for him as if he were my own son. At his slightest request, I willingly braved the storm to search the cliff edges for the plant he needed for tomorrow's assignment. Just as I stumbled toward them, battered and disheveled, I heard him secretly call my sister "mama, and call my mate "Dad”. It turned out my beloved Alpha mate had been cheating all along. He said it was too early for us to have pups, then turned around and started a family with my own sister. And my parents had known all along. They even wanted to force me to step down from my Luna position. The pup I cherished like my own heart cursed me with the most vicious words. Looking at them, I laughed through my tears. They didn't know I was already dead. The Moon Goddess had shown mercy—if I could receive one genuine declaration of love within these seven extra days, I could return to life. But they all wished for my death. I granted their wish. So why did they all regret it when the pack enforcers asked them to identify my body?

Alpha Damon was an exiled monster, feared for his cruelty. He chose Selena—an omega from a worthless pack—as his mate. There was just one problem. Our Mating Ceremony, mine and my fated mate Alpha Ethan's, was set for the same day. When Ethan found out, he vanished for three days. I found him just in time to overhear his plan. "At the Mating Ceremony, I'll fake a sign from the Moon Goddess. I'll make it look like she rejected Elara." "Pack law will force her onto that pathetic excuse for a brother, Damon. Then Selena won't have to mate with him." "An outcast like Damon doesn't deserve a true Alpha's fated mate. Once Selena is safe, I’ll just take Elara back." My heart turned to stone. He was throwing me to a monster to save another woman. And he thought he could just take me back? Fine. I would play along with his little scheme. But once his little show was over, I'd be gone for good. Except when Ethan came to "rescue" me, he found Damon's mark burned into my neck. That's when he finally broke.

I train so hard that even in my sleep, I recite medical formulas. At long last, victory is mine! I am the champion of the Healers' Competition. But just as they place the trophy in my hands, my twin sister, Sasha Flanders, strides onto the stage and snatches it away. With brazen conviction, she declares, "I'm the true champion! My sister swapped the competitor's information to steal this honor from me!" The audience gasps in an uproar. Before my stunned eyes, the judges revoke my title on the spot. I don't yet realize that this competition is no ordinary contest—it is the Alpha King Leonard Muller's secret trial, one that is meant to select his future Luna Queen. Rumor paints him as monstrous—hideous of face, bloodthirsty in nature, and treats women as nothing more than breeding machines. It is said this is why he has never taken a mate. His summons arrived this very night, commanding Sasha to attend the coronation ceremony as Luna Queen. My Beta fiance, Timothy Newsom, turns ashen with rage. The next day, Sasha comes to flaunt herself before me, her neck freshly marked, carrying Timothy's scent. "Oh, my poor sister. Your precious fiance marked me. What will you do now? You're turning 25 in three days. By our pack's law, if no one claims you, you'll be thrown to the impotent, deranged, and broken wolves no one else will have. You'll be worse than trash." Her shrill laughter cracks in my ears, squeezing the breath from my chest. But I will not let that break me. I went straight to my parents. "If Sasha dares not to be Luna Queen… then let me take her place."

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."

I am the sole heir to the Alpha King of Northaria, but I'm an Omega. All of Northaria awaits the day I come of age, hoping I'll awaken the kind of Alpha bloodline strong enough to claim the throne. But when the day finally comes, I'm still just a low-rank Omega. So, they say that the true heir must be one of the three "pledged Alphas" my father adopted from the major tribes. Whichever one of them marks me becomes the ruler of all Northaria packs. But none of them have ever truly looked at me. The one I like most is Quin Lawson. When I fainted on the snowy plains as a child, it was he who carried me back to the pack. I've tried countless times to get close to him, only to be met with nothing but cold, contemptuous stares. I used to think he was just emotionally distant—until the Moon Goddess Festival. That night, I saw him kneel before Silvia Anderson, the daughter of my father's second-in-command. His voice is soft, and his gaze is tender. "I'm marrying Evelyn only to repay the Alpha King's kindness. Once I get the inheritance, I'll make you my Luna. As long as she doesn't harm you, I'll even grant her a piece of land to live out her life in peace. You're my true mate." The night before the marking ceremony, my father asks me who I choose. I think of the way all three of the pledged Alphas look away whenever our eyes meet. I smile and say, "I'm the rightful heir of Northaria. My mate should be someone who brings the greatest strength to our pack. And so, I choose Alpha Heath of the Pyraxis pack." The air goes still. My father frowns. "Him? Are you sure? Every one of his mates has died under mysterious circumstances. His wolf is known to be vicious—no one dares get close to him. You truly want to be his mate?"

My boyfriend Orion was the leading hunter of the Bright Moon Pack, who was sent on an S-class mission three years ago. Before he left, he told me to wait for his return, after which he would mark me. Holding him to his promise, I waited for over a thousand days, and he eventually did come back. I was delighted, but just ten days after I blissfully prepared for the marking ceremony, I overheard him speaking with his fellow hunters. "Are you sure you're going to mark Elara? What about Dahlia and Emery? Especially Emery—the pup's two years old and looks just like you. There's no hiding it at all." "Hell, the whole thing about a secret mission was a farce, to cover up for you hanging around for Emery's birth. If Elara knew the truth…" Orion shot his deputy a sharp glare right then. "Just tell Dahlia to keep her mouth shut and hide the pup. Elara's the only one for me." Dahlia? The pup? As it turned out, in those three years I was worried sick for him, he had a pup with another woman. My knuckles clenched, I returned to my room and called my father. "Dad, I want to go home."

The plane touched down in Tripoli at dusk. Behind me, the sky was on fire. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to my husband, Don Vito Hart. [I'm here. I came to bring you home.] No reply. I called his underboss, Enzo Stark. His voice was hesitant. "You… you really went to Libya?" An explosion rattled the terminal windows. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Which district is he in?" A long pause. Then, quieter: "He never left the country." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "The business trip… it was a lie." The line went dead. A photo appeared on my screen. Time-stamped today. Vito was smiling. Bright, but something behind his eyes looked tired. His arm was wrapped around a woman. They were blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I recognized her instantly. Rosa Quinn. The woman he'd knelt and sworn on his mother's grave never to see again. Three years ago. I still had the scar on my own palm where I'd made him swear. Vito had forgotten. Today was my birthday too. My phone buzzed again. "Sera, the truth is—the Don never ended things with Rosa. We all knew. But you two seemed so happy… no one dared tell you." I read the message twice. Then I slipped the phone into my pocket. There was no need to pretend anymore.