Invisible Hinge Door Novels & Stories

Vanessa was always invisible to Richard Amaan, her boss, until he decided to make her his fake girlfriend to the Royal dinner. Things took a different turn and they had to lie that Vanessa was pregnant even though Vanessa never signed for that part of the bargain. With a pregnancy news looming over the Royal Household, Richard wasn’t ready to take no for an answer from Vanessa.. he’s all ready to make her pregnant and even make her his own.

"...don't... stop..." The vibrator would not turn off. I wrapped myself in a throw, clamped my thighs around the thing still going inside me, and hobbled to the door to let the delivery guy in. Begging him, in my head, to please just help me.

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

My husband Norman had always hated how his childhood friend Julia clung to him no matter the occasion. He even cut her off for my sake. One morning, I woke up and realized that I had mysteriously swapped bodies with Julia. I wanted to find my husband and figure out what to do, fearing he'd turn me away because of Julia's appearance. I cooked up a hundred explanations in my head until I finally arrived at our home. When Norman opened the door and saw me, he frowned and quickly shut the door, pushing me away. Just as I was about to explain that I wasn't Julia, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. "What are you doing here? Can't stand being apart from me for even two days, huh?"

The conference room had started leaking, so my fiancé, Zack Tim, and I moved to a hotel to continue discussing work. We had barely taken out our documents when the door was suddenly kicked open. “Welcome to tonight’s first live bust from the Cheaters on Catch team, a special Valentine’s edition! Just look at her and her plastic surgery. She has the face of a homewrecker…” Amidst my confusion, a storm of punches and insults came crashing down on me. Zack, on the other hand, was gagged, tied up, and dragged to the side. They tore up my contracts, ripped apart my custom-made outfit, and kicked my unborn child to death. The streamer clapped her hands cheerfully. “That’s it for today’s livestream! Client, don’t forget to leave us a good review.” If they thought they could walk out that door, well, I’d be damned.

In the dark of night, they come to life. Whispers through haunted tombs. Cackles beneath a dreaded moon. Malevolent spirits from the twisted mind. Be mindful of whose door you knock on. A reaper may greet you. For those that care of Halloween scare, abandon intent and take the dare.

Jericho just wanted an autograph from her idol, hockey star Ajax Reinhardt. There's just one problem : the fan outside the locker room stretches for miles. So, in a moment of impulsive genius, she sneaks into the player's bathroom, hoping for a quick autograph. However, Ajax finds her hiding in his bathroom, he assumes the worst. Jericho panics, trying to explain herself, but as he reaches for the door to call security, she grabs his towel in desperation. One tug was too hard, and the towel dropped right as the door swung open. The paparazzi take pictures of him naked. Now, Ajax's career is on the line, Jericho's dad wants her out of school, and her only way out to stay is to pretend she's dating Ajax himself. He's furious and she's desperate but they have to make it work. However, when their fake-dating turns a little too real, the ice begins to melt. Fast.

Agatha Candice, better known as Agatha, was an omega werewolf of the Moon Stone Pack. Since Agatha's father died, her life has been very miserable. She and her mother had to move to the most dilapidated cabin. Working as a slave in the house of the alpha, Raymond Asher, made her suffer even more. She always got scolded by the alpha's family, especially Elena Asher, Raymond's evil daughter. Almost everyday, Agatha was bullied by her. Agatha's life seemed hopeless, until she met a big handsome wolf in the forest. At first, she didn't think much of it. Until finally, the two met again when the wolf deliberately broke down the door to her room. Who exactly was that wolf? Why did he dare to break down Agatha's room door? Would the wolf save her from her miserable life?

My son is dying. That is the only truth that matters. Not that I am a half-blood with no pack standing. Not that my Crosser's Permit expired six months ago, and every night I fall asleep wondering if tonight is the night they come for us. Not that I mop floors and scrub blood off marble tiles in a hotel that belongs to the most dangerous wolf family in Silver Hollow, a city that does not officially exist, hidden inside Las Vegas like a knife inside a smile. My name is Tara De Leon. I was once a healer good enough to have been recruited by three different pack academies. Now I am invisible. A cleaning woman. A ghost in a uniform. I became invisible on purpose. Because invisible women survive. And survival is all I have left to give my son. Kai is seven years old. He has his father's jaw and my mother's eyes and a laugh that sounds like something the moon herself invented. He also has Fade Sickness, a supernatural disease that is slowly, quietly, methodically dissolving his wolf-soul from the inside out. Without the Blood Resonance Treatment, available only in Silver Hollow, available only to those with pack connections and pack money, he has maybe eight months. Maybe less. I would burn down every pack in this city to buy him one more day. I just never thought I would have to.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.