Blaming Myself Novels & Stories

Olivia’s POV The moment Armando left, the dam broke. I sobbed into the silence, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I’d pushed down for so long. I wanted to hold him tight. To kiss him and to tell him how much I loved him and how much I wanted his protection but I just couldn’t because I didn’t trust anyone else and because I never wanted anything to do with love after James. I hated myself for pushing him away. But more than that, I hated that I felt anything for him at all. I sat there, drowning in the storm of my own heart, knowing that love was a battlefield I might never cross again, and yet, for the first time, I wished I had the courage to try. Armando’s POV Back in my study, I poured myself a glass of whiskey, my hand trembling as I lit a cigarette. The tears came slowly at first, hot and unfamiliar against my skin. I hadn’t cried since I was ten years old. But tonight, I wept. For her. For me. For everything we could never be.

My sister stole my husband, caused the death of my son, and took my place as a loving wife. But I won't always be the weak, pathetic, abandoned Eleanor they knew. I will rise from the ashes, build myself up, and come back as their worst nightmare. What I experienced, I will give back threefold. Starting from redeeming my image, taking my husband back, and putting my sister in her place.

After ten years as the Ghost Wolf, I finally learn that I am actually the Alpha's eldest daughter of the Blue Moon Pack. When I return home this time, I make no effort to rebuild bonds with my parents. They choose to hand the family succession to my younger sister, Tatiana Truss, so I volunteer to leave for the Northern Werewolf University. They let her steal my fiance, so I end the engagement myself and give them what they want. In my previous life, I spent my entire life chasing love, only to end up despised by everyone. My mate resented me for not breaking the engagement sooner to bless him and Tatiana. Even my own pup frowned at me on my deathbed and said, "Mom, stop fighting with Aunt Tatiana. She compromised for you her whole life. Now that you're leaving, give everything back to her." I died full of regret. I regret losing myself just to win their affection. So in this life, I refuse to fight. I let everyone have their perfect ending, while I finally chase a future that belongs to me.

“Alexis wants a child before she dies, Sabrina. It’s her last wish. A baby. My baby.” “You are asking me,” I said, “your wife, to let you have a baby with another woman?” For three years, I was Nate Cooper's convenient wife—a marriage built on debt, obligation, and lies. I told myself I didn't need love. I told myself I could survive on scraps of affection. Then Nate came home and asked for the impossible. Heartbroken and carrying a child in secret of my own, I finally ask for a divorce. Before I can leave, Alexis frames me for a fire that nearly kills me and my unborn baby. When I wake up in the hospital, I learn a shocking truth. The powerful Atwood family has been searching for their missing daughter. Me. And Alexis Atwood? The woman who stole my husband and ruined my life is actually an imposter. Now my husband wants a second chance, and the brothers I never knew I had are ready to protect me at any cost. This time, I won't be the one begging to be chosen.

My competitive eater classmate, Selina Reeves, bound me to a fat transfer system. No matter how much food she ate, I was the one who gained weight. Later, she was named one of the top 100 food bloggers while I ballooned to 200 pounds and lost my job. My boyfriend did not seem to mind. He even proposed with unwavering confidence. A month later, Selina entered a competitive eating contest and devoured 20 pounds of ribs in one sitting. The excessive fat intake triggered acute hypertension, and I died on the spot. My husband inherited my substantial fortune, then turned around and married Selina without a second thought. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself three months in the past. Selina's food streaming career was just starting to gain traction, and I still weighed 90 pounds. This time, I snatched the ten-inch cake right out of her hands and ate every last bite. She had no idea I had bound myself to a food transfer system. No matter how much I ate, it would transfer to her stomach tenfold.

Slipping my hand in my panties, I groan, biting down on my lip as I find myself already wet. I hold back the moan, circling my clit, as I imagine it’s someone else’s hand. “What are you doing?” His voice is firm, but not loud. I dipped my fingers into my cream, and licked my fingers. “What a woman married to a sinner does.”

“I’m right here, so why are you using a toy? Come, let me satisfy you.” Keenly aware of the blue-collar men around me on the sleeper train, lust bubbled up in me. I was sweating so badly that my lingerie was drenched. I had no choice but to satisfy myself, but someone caught me in the act. An older man pulled my blanket aside and stared lustfully at me.

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef. I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter. The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night. But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.

My twin sister, wanting to be with her thug boyfriend, secretly planned to apply for a junior college. When I could not talk her out of it, I told our parents and managed to stop her. However, just a month into the new semester, her thug boyfriend cheated on her. She left a suicide note, blaming it all on the long distance between them. She wrote that if she had gone to that junior college, her boyfriend would never have cheated. Grief‑stricken, my parents turned all their rage on me. "You wretched girl, this is all your fault for meddling! What business was it of yours which school your sister went to? Even if she didn't go to college, we could still support her. We didn't need your big mouth!" "If it weren't for your spiteful tongue, your sister wouldn't be dead!" "We were cursed to have a vicious, unfilial daughter like you!" They locked me in her room, ordering me to repent. Then they took her ashes on a trip, saying they wanted her to see the beautiful mountains and rivers she never got to visit in life. A month later, they returned from their travels to find me long dead, starved to a withered husk in front of my sister's photo. Their eyes held no grief, no guilt, only a faint, scornful curl of the lips. In their eyes, my death was nothing more than justice served. My broken soul saw their icy expressions, and despairing tears burned my eyes. Then my sister's familiar voice rang out again: "What business is it of yours which school I go to? You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend, aren't you?"

Five years ago, I left my husband a note. Three sentences. A returned bracelet. A door closing softly at 4am. He told me to get rid of our baby. I got rid of him instead. Now he’s sitting across my boardroom table in the city I built for myself, looking for the woman he married. She’s gone. What’s left is stronger.