Substitute Short Stories & Novels

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

"How can there be a perfect choice in this world—one that betrays neither the Sandharan Order nor the one you love?" It's a romantic line, but it has nothing to do with Rosalie Stone. Her fiance, Bradley Wakefield, is a man revered like Sandhara himself, but it's not because of her that he leaves the Sandharan Order. She thinks he will never fall in love. But later, she learns that it's just her that he won't fall for. And so, she gives up on him. She gives herself seven days to forget about Bradley.

The year I turned 19, I met my father's adopted brother, Luca Ferraro, for the first time. He was the most ruthless Don in all of Sicily, and on paper, he was my uncle. That day, he looked into my eyes and couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. From then on, I was his personal assistant by day, never more than a step from his side. By night, he tore my stockings and took me on his desk. For five years, I was his secret lover. He had me wear red dresses and get a rose tattooed on my thigh. He turned me into exactly what he liked best. Then Sofia Russo, the woman he'd never gotten over, came home. He walked out of a meeting with his men to pick her up at the airport. I followed him there and saw the same rose tattoo on that woman's thigh. Only then did I understand who he'd really seen every night as he gripped my waist, breathing hard. An hour earlier, he'd had me on the couch in his office. Now he was gently draping his coat over her shoulders. When Luca saw me, his face darkened, and he pulled me into the alley out back. I demanded an answer. He bit down on his cigar and gave a cold laugh. "Aria, you're the one who said you liked me, that you wanted to be with me. I never said I'd marry you. "You're nothing more than a mistress. Don't think too highly of yourself." I pulled my coat tight to hide the marks he'd left on me, looked down, and texted my father. "Tell the Romano family I agree to the marriage." When I looked up again, I smiled at Luca. "Fine, Don Ferraro. Goodbye, then."

Five years after having a son with a feared mob boss, she wept until her eyes turned red by my hospital bed. Taking advantage of her business trip, I went to see my personal doctor to beg him to keep my terminal illness a secret. Instead, I overheard a conversation outside the door between her, our son, and her right-hand man: "You don't get it. He's just like Oscar when he was younger. Being with him feels like falling in love with Oscar all over again." "Yeah! He's way gentler than Dad. I like Daddy Theo way better!" It turned out that her "business trip" was straight into my personal doctor's bed. If that's the life she wants, she can keep it. I don't want this mother and son anymore.

When Dante Cordano, the Don who had sworn to destroy my family, locked me away at his estate in Vienna, I didn't think I'd survive the winter. But he didn't torture me. Instead, he wiped out every gang that had ever humiliated me and put my name on every territorial agreement he signed. After 1,000 days and nights in his tender trap, I fell for him completely, lost in his kisses. But the night before the four families sat down for peace talks, his personal guard brought his first love, Isabella Marchi, out of a safe house. She was supposed to be dead. So that was why he'd put me on a pedestal. He wanted his old enemies to think I was his weak spot, so I'd be the target in her place. He cupped my face and pressed a syringe into my hand. It was filled with a nerve agent strong enough to make someone appear dead for 48 hours. He coaxed me. "Take it. Once your coffin leaves the cemetery, a helicopter will fly you to Switzerland. You'll never want for anything for the rest of your life." My legs shook as I dragged myself back to the Gariboldi estate, to the family I was born into, and begged my former fiancé, Marco Ferri, to take me away. Marco stroked my hair and gently handed me a cup of hot cocoa, just as he had when we first fell in love. But half an hour later, Marco himself was loading a silenced pistol. My father set an urn on the table, already labeled for my fake death. My mother smiled as she laid out the blood packs I'd need to stage it. They stood around me, their voices cold and perfectly polite. "Cordano has agreed to give up three docks. As long as you 'die' with dignity, everyone gets to live." The Don wanted his true love back. My former love wanted territory. My family wanted to cling to whoever held the power. The whole world was forcing me to obey and turn myself into a corpse. In front of them all, I plunged the needle into an artery in my neck. There was no place for me anywhere in this world. So I would go nowhere at all.

To repay Victor for saving my life, I gave up a brilliant career as one of America's finest neurosurgeons and willingly became his trophy wife. For seven years, Victor lavished money on me and treated me with bone-deep tenderness. Yet his obsessive rules suffocated me. Every other week, I had to subject my scalp to agonizing bleach treatments to keep my hair icy platinum. I had to bathe in a discontinued Venetian white iris perfume. And I had to wear a fake beauty mark at the corner of my right eye. I once mistook it all for the obsessive devotion of a Mafia Don. Then, on the eve of our wedding of the century, I found a wall covered with portraits of another woman. The measurements of my gown, the carat weight of my ring, even the beauty mark Victor had tattooed beside my eye, all came from a dead woman's final wishes. After seven years of consuming passion, I was never his salvation. I was a living specimen, crafted to harbor the ghost of a dead woman.

I am an AI holographic image creator. After creating a holographic image of a deceased son for a grieving parent who has lost his only child, I gain a modest following online. Every day, people message me privately, asking me to create holographic images and videos of their deceased loved ones. Occasionally, I pick out a few requests and help them fulfill their wishes. One day, as I browse through my messages, a profile picture catches my attention. "Can you create a holographic image of my late girlfriend in a wedding dress? Her dying wish was to marry me, and I promised her I would give her a grand wedding." I stare at the profile picture, feeling a little light-headed. It is a small black mongrel with a white-tipped tail, exactly like the dog my fiancé, Holden Sinclair, has had for ten years. I reply, "Do you have any photos of her?" The sender seems to have been waiting for my reply and responds almost immediately. "No, but I have a friend who looks a lot like my girlfriend. You can use her appearance and figure to recreate my late girlfriend." Then he sends me a photo. My phone suddenly feels like it weighs a ton, and I can barely hold on to it. It's a photo of me.

My sister, Luna Rivers, is famous in Bridgeburg for being absurdly devoted to her little brother. She spends millions of dollars to throw a party for my 18th birthday. But on the day of the party, she personally locks me inside a small dark room. By the time I smash the door open and stagger into the ballroom, covered in blood from head to toe, she is gently holding another man's hand as they cut the birthday cake that should be mine. That man looks exactly like me. Even the scar on his wrist is identical to mine. I barely take a step forward to demand an explanation when a flood of messages suddenly explode across my vision. "The male supporting character is hilarious. He's just an adopted stand-in. Why's he getting jealous of the main character?" "Just wait. Later, he goes completely insane trying to compete for affection. The female lead will break his arms and legs, then have him admitted to a mental hospital. Serves him right!" The blood in my veins turns to ice. Luna spots me. Her first reaction is to shield the man protectively behind her. Then she snaps coldly, "Don't make a scene. Jeremy is my real brother. I'll explain everything later." Jeremy? We have the same name and the same scar. I really am the perfect replacement.

Isaac Chance and Madeline Snow were once the model couple of Shorestone City and the target of everyone's envy. After getting engaged, everyone thought they would soon walk down the aisle together. However, there is no news of a wedding for six years. In the end, all Madeline gets is the news of Isaac returning to the country with another woman by his side. He doesn't hesitate to hurt her countless times for the woman's sake. When her grandmother is on the brink of death after an illness, Madeline has no choice but to get into a shotgun marriage. After leaving city hall with her marriage certificate, she ponders the situation. It turns out getting married is simple… as long as her husband isn't Isaac.

On the day my sister fled her wedding, the mafia Don, Dominic Cross, slaughtered everyone at the harbor. Even the stray dogs passing by were torn to pieces. Terrified of his wrath, the Vance family forced me into the wedding dress and sent me straight into Dominic’s estate as his substitute bride. For seven years after marrying into the Cross family, I took bullets for him, laundered his dirty money, and even tasted his food for poison. The entire mafia family came to revere me as their Donna. But in the eighth year, my sister, Elena, suddenly returned. Clad in a scarlet dress, she strode right into the family banquet hall and tasted Dominic’s red wine for poison right in front of everyone. Dominic’s grip on my hand tightened. As she collapsed from the poison, she leaned into my ear and whispered, “Sienna, thank you for keeping my seat warm all these years. Now, it’s time to give it back.” I stood frozen in place, watching Dominic’s face. The horrors of that night eight years ago flashed before my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder. Would this Don—this man who struck absolute terror into the hearts of the entire mafia underworld—lose his mind and burn the world down for her all over again?

At the Davenport family dinner, I arrive wearing the same dress Tucker Davenport's true love once wore. His face darkens immediately. He glares at me coldly and orders that my dress be burned on the spot. "Damn it, Willow, can't you show a little self-awareness? Shelby might be too naive to notice, but there's no way I'm letting you appear like this in front of her." The intense heat rushes toward me as the flames consume the fabric. A sharp, burning pain shoots between my legs, crashing over me like a tidal wave. The pain drags me under, but I suddenly jolt awake, barely able to gasp a plea for mercy. Tucker doesn't spare me a glance. He simply turns away to help Shelby cut the cake. Days later, he finally remembers I exist. "As long as you behave and don't bother Shelby again, you'll still be Mrs. Davenport." I stare at the burns on my legs as my tears dry up. I refuse to beg any longer. I'm done being Mrs. Davenport.

The day I was finally welcomed back into the Salazar family, Nathaniel Salazar—the frail adopted son they'd raised in my place—died from heart failure. My sister, Alyssa, shaved her head and withdrew from the world, claiming she wanted to soothe Nathaniel's restless soul. My parents had lost two children in a single night, and they blamed me for both. To make amends, they decided my heart would one day be donated to a distant young relative suffering from the same condition. After all, that little boy had been Nathaniel's favorite person in the world. From that day on, I was forbidden from drinking, smoking, staying up late, or doing anything that might damage my health. They called it redemption for my brother. For ten years, I lived like a spare part, a replacement waiting for the day I would finally be needed. Then, three days before the transplant surgery, I saw Nathaniel in the hospital. He was alive. He was curled up against Alyssa's shoulder, acting spoiled while our parents watched with indulgent smiles. Alyssa gently stroked his hair. "Don't be scared, Nathaniel. Jordan's healthy heart will be yours soon. After this, you'll never be sick again." I lowered my eyes to the results of my pre-surgery examination: stage IV stomach cancer with multiple organ failure. Not a single organ was suitable for transplantation.

My obsession with Sebastian Royce was a legend among our social circle. Had he asked for a raw pearl from the seabed, I would have leapt off into the ocean to retrieve it. When he bid at an auction, I would throw millions away without a second thought—all just to catch a flicker of a smile on his face. Even when Sebastian flaunted his other women in front of me, I’d still crawl back to him like a starry-eyed fool. Everyone around us burned with frustration on my behalf. “Cynthia Stone, you’re an heiress to a fortune! Why on earth are you humiliating yourself over that jerk?” I would simply shake my head, a soft smile on my lips. “You guys don’t get it.” That was till the night Sebastian suffered an accident and a tiny, razor-thin scar sliced across his breathtakingly handsome face. My eyes flushed blood-red as I lunged forward, wrapping my hands tightly around his throat. “Sebastian Royce, go to hell.”

I was twelve when Henry Shaw took me home from the orphanage, gave me a new name, put me through school, and gave me a good life. Ten years later, his first love returned from abroad. Her name sounded like mine, and her face looked like a mirror image. I quickly realized I had been a stand-in all along. Crushing the diagnosis in my pocket, I decided that I was going to live the rest of my life for myself, even if I did not have much time left.

One day, CEO Cecilia Bennett brings her "one true love", Elliot Lawson, home. I'm in the kitchen, spatula in hand, wondering if I need to make a few extra dishes for her guest. But before I can ask, Elliot points at me, looking utterly betrayed. "I knew it! Everything those romance novels said was true! The second I left the country, you found yourself a replacement and brought him home!" What? A replacement? That's news to me. No one has ever told me I was supposed to be one.

In my parents' hearts, there was always a "perfect son" who died too soon. I was just his flawed substitute, while my younger brother was their new hope. They pretended to be poor for 20 years, secretly funneling all their resources to him. While I was in the final stages of stomach cancer, writhing in pain, they were spending millions of dollars to build him a state-of-the-art study room. When the doctor told me to notify my family about hospital bills, I felt helpless, thinking they were just ordinary, broke workers. When my mom finally showed up at the hospital, she grabbed my hand, not out of concern. "Neville is under so much stress with his college entrance exams. Can you not die right now? He can't take it." My dad stood by, wearing a stern expression. "David was way more sensible than you."

When our two packs were at war, I secretly injected myself with the deadly Silverthorn Toxin to save my Alpha mate. But when he woke, Fenris hailed another she-wolf, Vanessa, as his savior, and condemned me as his enemy. "Freya, you are here to repay a blood debt. Your Silver Crest pack owes me the lives of my entire pack." He obliterated the last remnants of my family in this city. He imprisoned me on his private territory, tormenting me daily, his Alpha presence a constant, crushing weight. He dressed Vanessa in the Luna's gown and announced that she was carrying his child. And to everyone else, I was nothing more than a canary in his gilded cage. The tearing agony of our rejected mate bond was more lethal than any torture. He gripped my jaw, forcing me to watch as the landmarks my family had built were torn down, one by one. "Did you really think one mating ceremony could wash away the ocean of blood between us?" he sneered, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "You slaughtered my people. Do you think sending just one of you could ever atone for that sin?" Every time I tried to end my own life, he would dig up the bones of one of my kin from their graves and grind them to dust right in front of me. "I told you, you don't get to die without my permission." I stopped struggling. Let him hate me. After all, I only had three days left until the Silverthorn Toxin in my veins ran its course.

I was eighteen when I got together with Sam Bennett. We were in love for two years—at least, that was what I thought—until I found out I was nothing more than a stand-in for someone else. After a huge fight, we broke up. Not long after, Paxton Gibson, the warm and caring senior who had always looked out for me, began pursuing me passionately. He was persistent, unwavering, and so sincere that I finally let down my guard and accepted him. Just when I thought I had finally found true happiness, I overheard a phone call between Paxton and Sam. “Don’t worry, Leah trusts me completely. Take good care of Georgina. The surgery will happen soon.” In the end, when I really did disappear, they changed their minds. “Leah, come home with me, please?” I smiled, at peace with myself. “But I haven’t had a home for a long time.”

Rachel Larson was adamant about marrying me, and she spent ten years stealing my heart. On the night before our wedding, I overheard her conversation with her friend. "You're marrying Leonardo? What about your side piece?" A moment of silence later, Rachel answered, "That guy? He's just a cheap replacement. Leonardo's the real deal. Don't compare my side piece to him. If he stays put and keeps his mouth shut, I might let him stay around. Leonardo's a broad-minded man. He won't mind." The side piece did not stay put. In fact, he caused a scene at the wedding the next day. He shoved me off the stage, but the woman who was supposed to marry me darted over to his side instead. Why? He was holding a piece of broken glass against his throat. Gutturally, he roared, "Choose! Me or him?" Panicked, Rachel kicked me away despite my injuries, and she roared, "Get out of the way! I need to take him to the hospital! If anything happens to him, I'll kill you!" She didn't need to wait that long. My heart died right there and then. … That night, I bought a flight ticket that would take me abroad and left her.

The richest woman in all of Jezelworth, Abby Davidson, was determined to marry my brother, Wallace Bourn. Everyone called Abby the "Black Widow", a cold-hearted woman who would do anything to get what she wanted. Anyone who married her was doomed to meet a tragic end. Wallace turned pale with fear, but I pulled him aside and said quietly, "I'll marry her in your place. But you have to stay in the countryside and guard my father's safe under his grave for three years. You can't open it before then." He thought the safe held a massive fortune. Grinning like a fool, he agreed without hesitation. Watching his greedy face, I couldn't help but laugh coldly inside. He'd better be ready for this. I couldn't wait to see if he could manage the "surprise" he'd find inside!