False Awakening Novels & Stories

For eight years, I was James Carter's secretary and secret lover. Eight years of giving him my heart completely. I truly believed he loved me back - he was always tender and attentive when we were intimate, seemingly caring about my every need and desire. But then I overheard him telling others, "She's nothing but a stand-in, just someone to satisfy my physical needs when I'm bored. Did you really think I would marry her?" In that moment, I finally found the strength to let go and stop loving him. I handed in my resignation and walked away from it all. Yet after my whirlwind marriage to someone else, why did he suddenly start searching for me desperately across the city? Now he's here with tears in his eyes, claiming I'm the one he truly loves? Wasn't I just his convenient replacement all along?

A few days before my postpartum period ended, I found two plane tickets to Mirelia tucked inside Daryl’s wallet. I was secretly delighted. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. But on the very day I was supposed to recover, he told me that his company had suddenly sent him on a business trip. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep—only to see his first love post on social media. [Finally fulfilled our promise to kiss at Saint Vyron Cathedral. Thank you, God. After all this time, it’s still you.] The photo showed the two of them holding hands and kissing. I didn’t confront him right away. Instead, I turned to look at my sleeping daughter beside me, then picked up my phone. [Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll take over the family business.]

The mafia coalition’s family banquet had reached its liveliest point. Someone started stirring things up and steered the conversation toward the youngest Don of the Fumagalli family, Dante Fumagalli. “Dante, before you came to power, all those old Dons from the major families were falling over themselves to push their daughters at you. Was there ever one you actually wanted?” I stood half a step behind him, and my knuckles turned white around my wine glass. Dante did not answer right away. His gaze swept over me, cool and indifferent, before he turned toward Viviana Lombardi, who still held the crowd’s attention. “I wanted her.” Viviana spun around so fast that wine splashed from her glass onto her wrist. “Then why did you not come when I gave you that hotel key card all those years ago?” The calm on Dante’s face finally cracked. He frowned. “Your key card? Was that not for Enzo Ricci?” “How could it have been for Enzo?” Viviana’s eyes reddened. “He is my first cousin.” One question led to another and the truth emerged. That hotel key card had been handed to the wrong person by a Soldato. Because of that mistake, they had missed each other. Viviana burst into tears on the spot. Regret shadowed Dante’s expression. Just then, someone laughed softly. “What a coincidence. Was the key card really delivered to the wrong person, or did someone make sure it ended up in the wrong hands?” In an instant, every eye in the room turned to me. Everyone remembered me. I was the woman who used to trail after Dante Fumagalli like a lovesick fool. I turned to look at Dante and hoped he would say something for me. I hoped he would tell them we had been secretly married for five years and that he had been the one who pursued me back then. He said nothing. He did not defend me. He did not deny anything. He stared ahead in silence as if none of this had anything to do with him. In that moment, I pulled off the wedding ring I had worn for five years.

The day before our mating ceremony, my Alpha mate suddenly demanded I give him five hundred thousand dollars. "You're just an Omega. Even if you're pregnant, you have no right to become the pack's Luna. But our pack is facing a financial crisis right now. We don't have enough weapons or healing supplies. If you can provide funding, the pack might accept a generous Luna who contributes to our survival." To help me, Dad emptied his entire life savings: "I'm old now. Seeing you happy is enough for me. I understand Damon's position as the pack's Alpha. This money—I'll pay it for you." But shortly after the mating ceremony, Dad was sent by my mate to the frontline battlefield to fight rogue wolves. He was severely injured in combat. I couldn't afford the expensive healing herbs he needed. I had no choice Damon Blackwood to help me save my father's life. I never expected his account balance to show only a few dollars! I demanded answers. He accused me of scheming against him and dragged me straight to the pack healer to force an abortion. "You just became Luna and you're already plotting against me? Think having my pup gives you power over me? Let me tell you the truth—I don't lack women willing to bear my children!" I worked every job I could find and borrowed money from everyone I knew. But I still couldn't afford those expensive herbs. The day Dad died, I couldn't even buy him a decent burial plot in the pack cemetery. On my way home from the funeral, I saw Damon with another woman in a luxury jewelry store, selecting expensive pieces. "Turns out all Omegas are the same—always scheming. I thought Sage was different from other women. Didn't realize she was just another gold-digger trying to climb the social ladder by becoming Luna. I guess I lost this bet. Pick any gemstone you want, baby. I'm buying." But when I finally gave up and turned to leave for good, he broke down crying and begged me not to go.

My daughter, Bessie Garcia, had very little self-discipline. The only reason she studied at all was that I constantly pushed her. Three months before the SATs, I could not resist sending a question to myself ten years into the future. “Did Bessie get into an Ivy League school? What kind of job does she have now? Please tell me the last three years of hard work were worth it! How far have Meera and I gotten on our trip around the world? Did we have a second child?” A hopeful smile spread across my face. Then, I saw the man on the other side of the screen. His skin was sallow. He was so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. “An Ivy League school? After graduation, she publicly accused you of controlling and emotionally abusing her for more than ten years. The entire internet branded you a sick, controlling father. Meera divorced you and went on to have a child with her first love. As for you… years of staying up late, putting your life on hold, and constantly supervising Bessie’s studies left you with terminal pancreatic cancer. Your daughter and ex-wife have cut you out of their lives completely. You have only one month left to live.” I was stunned. Just then, Bessie’s voice sounded from her room as she talked to someone online. “My dad? He’s a pathetic control freak. His wife doesn’t love him, so he takes it out on me by trying to control my life. The more he forces me to study, the worse I’ll bomb the exams! Watching him lose his mind in rage is the only satisfaction I get. Once the SATs are over, I’m moving out and cutting him out of my life for good!” Tears splashed against the back of my hand. A moment later, I withdrew her from every SATs prep course and sent her a text. [You don’t have to attend those tutoring classes anymore. From now on, I won’t ask anything of you. It’s your life, so you should get to decide how to live it.]

On her eighteenth birthday, the long-lost heiress, Cassie Bailey, was finally tracked down by her mother, Ann Moore, CEO of the Bailey Group. However, Cassie refused to come back with her. Instead, she chose to remain adopted by a man living on government assistance. “So what if you’re rich? The bonds ordinary people share can’t be measured with money. Since you weren’t there for me for the past eighteen years, then I won’t acknowledge you for the next eighteen years either!” [Oh my God, she’s such a queen. That fearless, untouched-by-materialism energy is exactly why we love her.] [But her mother is literally the richest woman in Orkta. Is turning that down really a good idea?] The richest woman in Orkta? I shook my head and rubbed my eyes several times before finally accepting the fact that I could somehow see those floating comments. Well, if Cassie did not want a life of unimaginable wealth, I was more than happy to take her place. As everyone watched in stunned silence, I shoved my way through the crowd and grabbed Ann’s hand. “Mom, are you here to take me home?”

Joshua Thompson, Rain Zimmer’s husband, had a deceased ex he could never get over—Lily Smithson. Rain always hoped that there would come one day where she could replace Lily’s presence in Joshua’s heart. In the eighth year of their marriage, Rain accidentally destroyed a bowl Lily had bought on a whim for Joshua, and Joshua yelled at her, “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” At that moment, Rain finally came to realize that she could never win against Rain’s ex. This time, she quietly drafted the divorce agreement and left, but Joshua panicked.

The seventh time Dante Moretti served me divorce papers, I was sitting with my son in a cheap diner on Chicago's South Side. I forced a smile and brushed my hand over my son's hair. "Just wait a little longer, sweetheart. This time, Mommy will get custody of you." He stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Mommy, how much do you need to sell me for before you're happy?” Before I could answer, he pulled a handwritten divorce agreement from his backpack and pushed it toward me. "I know you keep fighting Dad for me because you want more money from him." "I wrote the agreement for him. Please sign it. Dad is already tired. Stop making his life so hard." His handwriting was crooked, but every word had been written with care. Dante would give me three million dollars. At the bottom, in my son's childish scrawl, was one more line. [After you take the money, don't bother me, Dad, and Serena anymore. Let us be happy.] Serena was Dante's childhood sweetheart. The woman he trusted more than his own wife. For five years, I had stood against Dante's family, his lawyers, and half the Chicago underworld just to keep custody of my son. For him, I would've walked away with nothing. But the child I had raised for eight years had already chosen another mother. So why shouldn't I give their perfect little family exactly what they wanted?

When my husband, Kevin, and I were at our favorite exclusive restaurant, he ordered a T-bone steak and told the waiter with practiced ease, "The usual, and no arugula in the side salad." I paused, then gently nudged his elbow. "Honey, did you forget? Arugula is my favorite." Kevin's body tensed, and he quickly corrected himself. I even teased him, asking if he was so tired lately that his memory was starting to go. A week later, I came back to the restaurant alone to unwind, only to overhear the young woman at the next table waving to the waiter with a smile. "The T-bone again, and no arugula in the salad. Just put it on my husband's tab." "The account number is 8993." My knife and fork clattered against the bone china plate. That string of numbers was my husband's private phone number.

Because of her first love's piano competition, my fiancee, Ashley Blake, postpones our wedding for the 17th time seven years into our relationship. On the eve of the competition, she chops off my ring finger just because Marc Tyson claims I injured his hand and ruined his ability to compete. The pain of losing my finger leaves me crying in agony, but she simply holds him in her arms and stares me down with indifferent eyes. She says, "Stop pretending, Troy Clinton. You're a grown man. What's all this fuss over losing a finger? Besides, you merely lost one finger. Marc has lost the dream he spent his whole life chasing! This is what you owe him." Her cruel words shatter my heart into tiny pieces. She has forgotten that my fingers are also meant to dance across piano keys. "The wedding next week is postponed," she says dismissively while covering Marc's reddened fingers. She adds, "This has nothing to do with Marc. It's simply because you can't wear a wedding ring with a missing finger anyway." Clutching my bleeding hand, I finally wake up to reality. From this moment onwards, we owe each other nothing.