I Want Her To Know It Was Me Novels & Stories

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

When the results were released, my stepbrother, Dylan Anderson, conspired with our class teacher and accused me of cheating. When they presented the two examination papers with the exact steps written out, I was rendered speechless. My biological parents forced me to admit that I cheated to protect Dylan’s reputation. Then, they forcefully sent me to a mental asylum. To cover up the scandal, the Anderson family told everyone that I had gone insane. They left me to suffer alone. I finally escaped, but died tragically in a car accident facilitated by Dylan. When I died, I finally learned that the phrase “blood was thicker than water” held no truth. It was no match to Dylan’s lies. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the past. I was in the examination hall again. I handed in four blank examination papers. I wanted to see how they could accuse me of cheating if I scored zero on all papers.

On our wedding night, my wife led my younger brother onto our marital bed. He was wearing nothing but his underwear. She expected him to consummate our marriage in my place. "Sweetheart, I feel awful about your legs and what the doctors said about your infertility," she said softly. "Elliot will just have to help us for one night." My face hardened as I stepped forward. I was ready to throw Elliot Charlton out of the bedroom. However, my parents immediately sided against me. "You're the one who can't fulfill your role as a husband," they said sharply. "Elliot is willing to sacrifice himself so that you can have a child. What's wrong with that?" Even my brother laughed at me. He said I was not a real man and told me to accept things while I still could. According to him, I should be thankful to gain a son without doing anything. They even suggested that I stay and watch, claiming it would prove the two were only trying to conceive a child and nothing else. I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached, then turned and called my wife's greatest rival. "You win," I said quietly. "The Wallace family's investment will be transferred to your account tomorrow." After ending the call, I raised my eyes and looked at Janet Wallace. "You share his bed tonight," I said. "Tomorrow, we get divorced."

Aurelia Blackwood rules her world with precision. As the formidable CEO of Blackwood Global, she believes power is safest when it is controlled, emotions negotiated, and attachments temporary. Love has no place in her life—only desire, on her terms. So when a quiet, attentive man slips into her orbit after a chance encounter, she doesn’t resist. He becomes her indulgence. Her secret. Her sugar boy. He is everything she allows herself to want—present when summoned, patient, observant, willing to give without demanding permanence. With Aurelia, he learns her rhythms, her silences, her need for dominance and certainty. She keeps him close but contained, convinced she holds every string. What Aurelia doesn’t realize is that he was never accidental. As months pass, control blurs into attachment. She starts looking for him when she’s tired. Trusting him with fragments of herself she never intended to share. Falling—slowly, unwillingly—for the one man who never tried to own her. Then the truth fractures everything. He is not just a man with ambition. He is not just someone else’s partner. He is tied to her greatest corporate rival—and he has been gathering information from the inside, feeding secrets that could dismantle the empire she built with blood, discipline, and sacrifice. Betrayal cuts deeper when it wears the face of devotion. Now Aurelia stands at a crossroads she never prepared for. Expose him and destroy the man who made her feel seen—or protect him and risk losing everything she’s ever fought for. Revenge promises safety. Love promises ruin. In a world where power is currency and intimacy is leverage, Her Sugar Boy Was a Rival is a dark, obsessive romance about dominance, deception, and the most dangerous choice of all: When the enemy knows your body, your secrets, and your heart

Celeste Leblanc, the daughter of the richest man in the city, has ordered a custom-fitted ring worth a billion dollars according to my finger size. She claims that she will marry the person who can wear it perfectly. In the first time loop, George Braun, the fake heir, secretly enlarges the ring so that he can marry Celeste. She responds by slapping him to the point he's all bruised and battered. "You're not the one!" In the second time loop, my adopted brother, Roger Braun, loses 30 pounds in one go so that he can marry Celeste. She responds by pushing him down the stairs. "You're not the one either!" In the third time loop, my stepfather, Edgar Braun, grits his teeth and makes up his mind. He slices the flesh off his finger so that he can wear the ring properly. Celeste chuckles coldly at the sight. She orders her bodyguards to drown Edgar in a bathtub immediately. In the fourth time loop, everyone is left without a choice. They're so frightened that they deliver me into Celeste's hands. I put on the ring. It fits my finger perfectly well. The entire family heaves sighs of relief. But the moment Celeste sees me, she draws out a blade and stabs me to death. "You're not the one too! Where the hell is my fated husband?" In the final time loop, when Celeste tells her secretary, Donny Griffin, to bring the ring over, all of us claim that we can't wear the ring at all. But Donny shoots us a weird look. "Ms. Leblanc has already made it clear that one of you is the ring's owner."

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

Michaela Ferguson had tears streaming on her face and she had blood in the corner of her lips. She shook her head and replied, “It wasn’t me. When I arrived at Shalom shopping mall, your mistress was already injured.” Her husband, Thorne Ferguson didn’t believe her and said, “Pray that Paula will not die because should she die, I will bury you and your family alive.” Then he pushed her hard, and Michaela staggered and fell to the ground. Michaela was in a sorry state. She cursed the day she first met Thorne Ferguson. She had been nothing but a good wife to him. However, her husband had been cold and cruel towards her. Her heart was overwhelmed with bitterness. Thorne looked at his wife with icy-cold eyes and said sternly, “I will never forgive you for touching the love of my life. Paula is my bottom line. I will make sure that you get a life sentence. Please pray hard for her not to die, because should she die I don’t know what I will do to you and your family.”

On the third day of the Cold War with my boyfriend, I found a document called "Love of My Life" on his computer. Every word is considered, true feelings, and the heroine is his first love.

At yet another family gathering, Kirsten Weber's male assistant, Jordan Steele, is sitting in the seat that should be mine. I ask Kirsten, "He's sitting in the host's seat. Don't you have anything to say about that?" Kirsten shoots back impatiently, "Since you showed up late, don't blame someone else for taking your seat. There's an empty seat next to it. You can take it if you want. If you don't want it, then get out." I am about to speak when her inner thoughts suddenly flood into my mind. She is saying inwardly, "Honey, get angry already. Tell me you need me. Tell me you have to sit beside me. Prove that you love me. That's the only way I'll feel secure." This time, I do not give Kirsten what her heart desires. Instead, I lower my head and slowly remove my wedding ring. Calmly, I say, "Since you won't even save the seat for the man of the house, I suppose you don't need me anymore. Let's get a divorce, Kirsten."

Fresh from a business trip, my husband swept me into his arms and pulled me toward the bathroom for a passionate shared bath. As our lips met in a dizzying kiss, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye: the toilet lid was down. Seven years ago, after reading an online article claiming that men urinating while standing could splash bacteria onto the seat, he insisted we always keep the lid up for hygiene's sake. In all our years of marriage, it had never been lowered until now. A chill ran through me. The bathroom was pristine, not a stray hair in sight. But then I noticed the shower's water temperature was set five degrees higher than the 98.6°F he always preferred. Men preferred cooler water, and women warmer. In an instant, I realized that Nick Doyle had betrayed me.