Death Writing Novels & Stories

Dr. Sabrina Kane built a medical empire with her brilliance. By thirty-two, she was the youngest recipient of the Helix Vanguard Prize and the scientific force behind Kane Biomedical’s most revolutionary breakthroughs. She healed the impossible. She rewrote genetic fate. The world admired her. Her husband took the credit. Adrian Kane was the face of the empire Sabrina’s mind created—until admiration turned into rivalry and ambition turned into betrayal. When divorce papers arrive without warning, Sabrina loses more than a marriage. She loses her position, her reputation, and the life she thought she understood. But the real devastation begins in the maternity ward. Behind closed doors, a decision is made—one that protects a CEO, shields a scandal, and rewrites a birth record before sunrise. When Sabrina wakes from delivery, something feels wrong. The answers she’s given don’t quite fit. The child in her arms needs her desperately… yet whispers of doubt begin to circle. By the time the truth claws its way to the surface, Sabrina is branded unstable, arrested, and pushed out of the very institute she built. Then Victor Laurent enters the picture. A Powerful and an untouched billionaire investor with his own ghosts and a child whose life hangs by a thread. He needs the best doctor in the world. He needs Sabrina. Working under his roof, fighting to save a dying child, Sabrina begins to sense that fate has woven their lives together long before they ever met. As corporate secrets unravel and paternity questions threaten to destroy empires, one truth becomes clear: Someone stole more than her marriage. They stole her future. And this time, Dr. Sabrina Kane is not going to lose.⸻

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!"

It's my third year living with ALS, and my 11th day since losing the ability to speak completely. My wife, Renee Sutton, bursts into my hospital room with a lawyer and a notary in tow, gripping a so-called expert report that concludes all of my symptoms can be faked. She throws it onto my bed. "Miles, you're really a hell of an actor," she says. "You had me fooled for three years. Today, you're finally going to tell the truth." I look at her and open my mouth, but no sound comes out. She shoves a divorce agreement in front of me. "Sign it. Admit you faked your illness to swindle marital assets. You're not walking away with a single cent." I look down at the pen, then at my right hand lying motionless on the sheet. Her eyes hold nothing but a cold sneer. "Still faking? Fine. Keep faking. "Back then, you told me you didn't love me anymore, and I believed you. You said you wanted to marry that older woman, and I believed that too. "Now you've circled back and landed flat on your back, needing someone to take care of you. Did you really think I'd go soft on you again?" A nurse rushes in from the hallway and forces a writing board into my stiff left hand. "Ms. Sutton, he had a tracheotomy just yesterday! This board is the only way he can speak!" Renee stares at the board. Her expression slowly shifts as she lowers her head to look. Scrawled across it, in two shaky words, is my answer. I pour the last of my strength into every stroke. "I'm sorry."

I am dead. Only before my death do I realize that I am the sidekick in a tragic coming-of-age story, while my best friend Tinsley Wood is the female lead. I am destined to be disgraced and meet a miserable end, all to highlight her innocence, kindness, and endless good luck. When I open my eyes again, I am reborn on the very first day Tinsley asks me to take the blame for her.

[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.

"Rupert Zachary Kilmer. Do you take Lianna Callis Smith as your lawful wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health, until death do you part?”  "I most certainly do, father…" Nearing the day, he'd finally be tied to the woman he loves, Rupert Kilmer eagerly waited for her sweet answer. Those two words and the priest's declaration of their union. Yet, as he unveiled the woman in white, the face that appeared wasn't his bride. "Eridessa…? Wait what? Where's Lia?" *** Lianna Callis Smith thought she'd be a lot happier when she regained her vision. Yet, tears drenched her cheeks as she came home after her surgery, finally seeing the treachery she'd been sensing back when she's still blind. Her marriage only lasted…for two years. For the man she so loved, was on top of another, in her very home. Facing the blame of his affair, Lianna watched in melancholy from afar, as Rupert was wed to another. However, to her surprise, it wasn't just her who stood on the same building, watching that very scene. "You…you're—" Before the strange man could mutter his words, both met darkness until they woke up, back in three years time. "Let's get married, Jasper Wayne. Let's show them…what they…who they wasted…this…we don't deserve any of this… "In this life, let's live happily…"