I Hate You Too Novels & Stories

3 years after getting married, I am still a virgin. "Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years—three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined—he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end—almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me—only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!

Tara Elise Valmont had always believed her marriage wasn’t perfect—but it was enough to hold on to. Enough to endure. Until a single document shattered everything. Her name had never been registered as his wife. Behind the five years she had lived through—loved through—was a lie far crueler than she could have imagined. Adrian Lucien Ashbourne, the man she called her husband, had already been legally married to another woman. Kara Evangeline Valmont. Her own twin sister. And the child she had cared for with all her heart… had never been hers to begin with. Betrayed by the man she loved and the blood she trusted, Tara finally understood the truth she had been blind to for so long—she had never truly owned anything in her life. Not her marriage. Not her place. Not even the love she thought she had been given. But this time… She wouldn’t walk away empty-handed. With pain that sharpened rather than broke her, Tara began to plan. Slowly. Quietly. Lethally. Because this time, she wouldn’t just survive. She would take everything back.

Seven years ago, my mafia husband, Sergio Wexler, had me committed to a psychiatric ward. On the day I was released, I changed my name, cut my hair short, and vanished like a ghost. Seven years later, we meet again at the grave of my brother, Luca Lorusso. The bouquet in his hand falls with a soft thud. Sergio clenches his fists tightly, barely holding back emotions that threaten to break through his usual calm. "Janella, why the short hair? I almost didn't recognize you. Where have you been all these years? After that fire at the psych ward, I pulled every string I had, but I never got any leads on you. I've been looking for you for seven years. I even thought you were… dead." When I stay silent, he rubs his red-rimmed eyes. "You're avoiding me, aren't you? Do you still hate me for having you locked up? Believe me, I had no choice." I let out a bitter laugh. Sergio killed Luca to become the Don. He slept with Luca's woman and locked me in that dark, windowless "special ward", nearly erasing me from existence. And now, here he is at Luca's grave, playing the victim. To me, any love and hate I had for Sergio died long ago in that tiny, suffocating ward. Now, he's just a stranger to me.

Gwen Summerbell was betrayed when she was falsely accused of having an affair by her husband and her half-sister, Winter. On that same day, her husband, Lucas Grayford, divorced her and cast her from their home. Five years later, Gwen returned as a powerful CEO, with by a beautiful daughter and harboring a secret. With success in her grasp and vengeance in her heart, she's poised to make those who wronged her pay. One step at a time.

I was the real son, finally found and brought back by my billionaire parents, only to be diagnosed with leukemia right after. The only person who matched my bone marrow was the adopted son, Doug Daniel. So my parents rushed to bring him back into the family, making him my donor. To make it up to him, they did everything they could for him. My parents handed over the inheritance. My fiancée, Moira Stevens, hovered around him every day. When the pain got so bad that I could barely stand it, my parents pointed at me and snapped, "Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health?" Moira, a medical school professor, didn't hold back either. "I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug." On the day of the transplant, I lay on the operating table and waited. But Moira, the one in charge of harvesting Doug's marrow, never came in. I closed my eyes and waited for death. None of them knew I had already signed up to donate my body.

My little sister, Maya, got into a car crash. I put her in a high-end recovery center. Her injuries were bad. Progress crawled. They kept extending her treatment, one phase at a time. Early this morning, the manager called. Said the card wouldn't cover the next phase. That's when it hit me—peak season at the company. I'd been slammed, barely breathing. I hadn't topped it up in forever. I told her I'd transfer the money. She shut it down. Said I had to show up and sign in person before they'd extend anything. So after work, I rushed over. Straight into rush hour traffic. Then she called again. "Ms. Keyne, your balance hit zero three minutes ago. We're terminating services. This is a premium facility—we don't do free care. The patient tied to your account has been removed per policy."

She promised to loathe him. He never meant to hold her. The heart was never addressed in their contract. Elena Vega has to marry the guy who broke her family's inheritance in order to save it. Julian Thorne is a millionaire who is cold and calculating. His proposition is straightforward but cruel: one year of perfect, public marriage in exchange for her family's safety. There are no feelings and no true closeness; it's all a show for the cameras. She enters his world of chilly luxury, holding on to her wrath as her only protection. But the line between their fake love and real, dizzying tension starts to blur. A lingering touch, a kiss stolen in the dark, and whispered secrets in the dark—none of these things were in the tiny print. The most dangerous thing for them right now isn't that their lie will be found out; it's the horrible, unmistakable truth: they are falling for the one person they were told to stay away from. A marriage based on hate. A love built on secrets.

~BOOK ONE OF THE LOVE SERIES. Love’s darkest spark. ❧ To my darlings who wants to be owned and dominated, here is a perfect chance to get on your fucking knees. ❧ Love didn’t save them, hate did. Nicole Daniels never imagined her world would fall apart so violently. Betrayed by her husband, backstabbed by her best friend, and left grieving a child she never got to hold. She's done pretending to be okay. When Rhett Otis, her ex-husband’s cold and infuriating stepbrother, offers her a contract marriage with an offer she can’t refuse, she accepts without hesitation. It’s not love, It’s not hope. It’s survival and revenge or so she told herself. Yet she didn’t fall for him. She crashed, burned, and never recovered. While Rhett told her they were just business but he kissed her like she was his. He was supposed to stay away from her but he married her instead. She was forbidden, but he craved her destruction— hated her for slipping under his skin and hated himself even more for needing her to stay there. What began as a business arrangement becomes a brutal tangle of secrets, yearning, and something neither of them dare name. Enemies. Pretenders. Liars. That’s all they were ever meant to be. But sometimes, pretend hate burns too hot and love becomes the darkest spark.

⚠️ Contains emotionally intense and mature themes. (R 18+) "Look at me, Hazel." Diego approached, his breath burning Hazel's ear. "I only ask for one thing... beg me." Hazel shook her head, her knees trembling. "No... you can't—" Diego smiled faintly, darkly, full of triumph. "If you beg... I will never let you go." Hazel Anne Quinn, 24 years old — a small-time journalist who no one takes seriously. Living a mediocre life, abandoned since birth, and writing erotica as a ghostwriter at night to survive. No one ever wanted Hazel... until Diego Ronan Blake appeared. A senior actor and tycoon at 34, a man who makes the world bow down and causes women to fight to be his. But Diego becomes obsessed with the one woman who avoids him — Hazel's grayish-green eyes, filled with fear yet a hint of defiance, make Diego lose control. For Diego, Hazel isn't a fantasy — she is a necessity. He wants Hazel as his, body and soul, and this obsession drives him to tear down the walls that have protected Hazel, only to rebuild them with himself at the center. Hazel can be afraid, can hate, can resist... but as long as she doesn't beg, Diego will never stop. Because once Hazel gives in — even just once — Diego will never let her go.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.