Death Blossom Novels & Stories

"I’ve thought it through. I'll marry the Ashford family’s comatose heir." Rhea Vaughn leaned against the doorway of the Vaughn family’s old residence, her red lips curving into a sharp, mocking smile. The cigar in Victor Vaughn’s hand nearly slipped and fell onto the priceless Persian carpet. He jerked upright from his leather chair, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes stretching open as his face lit up. "Rhea, you’ve come around? That’s wonderful! The Ashfords have been pressing hard. You’ll need to marry into Harborwyn within two weeks. What style of wedding dress do you like? I will have someone order it for you—" "That’s it?" Rhea let out a cold laugh. "I’m taking your beloved illegitimate daughter’s place and marrying into that family for you, and you’re not going to show anything in return?"

In the chaos and quiet of her 30s, a woman reflects on the loves that shaped her, the heartbreaks that undid her, and the tender spaces in between. Through fleeting romances, almost-loves, and the weight of expectations—family’s, society’s, and her own—she navigates a world where connection is currency, vulnerability is rebellion, and self-discovery never comes easy. Told with wit, warmth, and raw honesty, this novel is a journey through modern love: messy, magical, and sometimes maddening. It's about the people who entered her life, the ones who left, and the version of herself she’s still becoming.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

There was a ten-year gap between me and my sister-in-law, but we got along surprisingly well, especially given that we were both in an absurdly rich family. Then, one day, she came to me, bawling and clutching a photo in her hand. "Your brother is cheating on me! He has a family somewhere else! For more than ten years! I'm getting a divorce!" Crying, I showed her a message I got from my husband's mistress. "That bastard Christopher has a mistress! I'm leaving this home!"

[WARNING: SMUTTY PARANORMAL ROMANCE WITH AN OBSESSIVE, POSSESSIVE MMC. DETAILED SMUT AND VIOLENCE.] “Touch her and die.” That’s the first thing Caelum Veyr says to the world after he claims me. I’m no one. A ghost girl in a rotting slum. Unwanted, forgotten, one breath away from death. Until he appears. Violet-eyed, terrifying and kills the man who tried to take me. He says I’m not human, something called a Null. A freak who makes death unravel just by existing. So he forces me into a blood-marriage. Chains me to his supernatural empire., says I belong to him now. The worst part? I want to belong to him. Even though his touch kills, even though every kiss might break the world, even though the prophecy says I’m the end of everything. Now the Death Courts want me erased. The gods fear what I carry, my power is growing. My name is turning divine. And Caelum? He says he’d die for me. Too bad I’d burn the realms for him first.

“I will choke you to death till you beg for me to stop but I won’t. I will make you pour out all the water left in your body with my tongue”. In a sudden and tense encounter, I found myself desperately seeking answers from him. But his silence only fueled my frustration. With emotions boiling over, I couldn't contain my anger, clenching my fist as I shot him a piercing look. Undeterred, I pressed on, demanding a response, my annoyance growing palpable. However, his explosive reaction caught me off guard, as he silenced me with a fierce command, his grip on my face sending shivers down my spine. The chilling intensity of his eyes left me paralyzed, consumed by fear. I realized I had provoked a dangerous force, a man exuding an aura of unapproachable defiance. Tears welled up as his grip tightened, and my helplessness only deepened. The emotional storm between us unveiled a side to him that was ruthless and merciless, living up to the ominous title he bore. With a final, venomous word, he tore away a bandage and stormed out, leaving me to grapple with the unsettling encounter that had just unfolded.

The System told me that, as a player, I stood a chance of reviving my beloved if I played the game enough times. As such, I gave my heart to charm Mila Gibbs, even if it meant dying ninety-nine times. When I played the game for the hundredth time, Mila sent me into a room with a deviant just for her true love's fancy. "You're not going to die anyway. Just make Julian laugh, and I don't mind marrying you." She didn't know that once I played the game a hundred times, my wish would be granted, success notwithstanding. I shall hence disappear from her world without a trace.

Siron, a naive and humorous 20-year-old, lived with an ancestral curse he had never believed in. Thousands of years ago, Morat, a male shifter betrayed and murdered by the kingdom, cursed the entire line of the royal family’s men. Now, in the modern era, Siron was the last heir to that curse. His parents constantly pushed him to attend the temple for protective rituals, but Siron always evaded them, dismissing the curse as just an old story. But everything changed when Morat began to manifest, first as a faint shadow, then as a horrifying figure haunting Siron’s apartment. When Siron accidentally performed an ancient blood ritual that appeared in his dreams, Morat’s form transformed into a handsome man… but only temporarily. Terror, sensuality, and manipulation slowly began to engulf Siron’s life. Amidst a mix of fear and pleasure, Siron started to become addicted to Morat’s presence, even as he tried to find a way to break the curse that entangled his life.

"After hiding from me for three years, I've finally found you," I say to her, my eyes scanning her from head to toe. "I wasn't hiding. I was simply living my life without you," she scoffs at me, crossing her arms. "It doesn't matter anyway, because here you are now. You look beautiful." "Mr Partridge, I'd appreciate it if we kept things between us strictly professional." There she goes again, calling me by my last name, which was once her own. "We're not working right now. Let's just talk." "Mr Partridge, have a good evening." As she walks away, I'm so captivated by her confidence that I only stand in place and watch her the entire time. I see no trace of the vulnerable woman who was once my wife. Not only is she bold and beautiful, but she hates me. ~~~ Three months after her miscarriage, Layla is served divorce papers by her billionaire husband, Nathan. He wants her to leave because he's reconnected with the girl of his dreams. This leaves Layla shattered and no amount of begging can make him change his mind. Though she starts from scratch in a new town, they meet again three years later. He's now her new boss and this time, he's desperate to win her back With only a thirst for revenge in her heart and a new man in her life who's also a billionaire, is there even the slightest possibility of Nathan getting a second chance to make things right with her? Or is he too late and will live the rest of his life wishing he should've cherished her?