Isekai'd Novels & Stories

By year's end, I'd closed a huge deal and snagged a $2.5 million bonus. The company even sent me on early maternity leave—nice perk for being eight months pregnant. Pauline found me lounging on the couch. "Why aren't you at work?" I cracked a joke. "Got fired. Guess I'll be stuck here playing housewife." Her response? A slap across my back. "Then get off and do the laundry! You're having a girl, not a son, and you think you can sit around like some princess?" My husband, Logan, walked in right then. He just pulled her into the nursery. Feeling hurt, I switched on the hidden cameras I'd secretly installed. I thought maybe he'd defend me. Yeah, no. What I uncovered? It was so much worse. Twisted secret after twisted secret.

Five years into my marriage to Ethan Morgan, I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. He'd bought a private island in my name. He'd asked me to quit my career to rest. He called me his queen. What he didn't know was that I never stopped designing — under a different name, a secret identity no one knew about. Not even him. Then his secretary left a review on my designer account, raving about the dress her "billionaire boyfriend" had gifted her. The island in the photo was mine. The man beside her was my husband. [He says his wife doesn't satisfy his real needs.] [Only if he didn't need an heir from her, she'd already be gone.] I was pregnant with that heir. And he would never know. I made one call: "I need a new identity. And a divorce agreement."

My dad never got over his first love, so he traded me for her daughter, Irene. I spent twenty years like that before they finally took me back and named me the real heiress. So when it was time to pick a husband, I didn't care about anything else. I just wanted someone with a clean past. Like Shane Terrell. Detective captain. Cold, intimidating, and known for ignoring women—yet when he confessed, his ears went red. "Lana Laurent, you're my first. You have to take responsibility for me." I believed him. Thought I'd found the one. Then Irene came back. I stood in our house and watched Shane hold her, crying. "Why'd you make me lie to her? Why'd you make me marry her? You're the one I loved first!"

I was reborn on the day my parents forced me to swear a blood oath before the Moon Goddess. They wanted me to swear I'd give up my mate, Damien — hand him over to my sister, Vivienne. The first time around, I'd refused. I'd cried and fought and begged. I tried everything to make Damien see the truth. I pleaded with my parents to tell him the real story, to stop letting Vivienne impersonate me. All I got in return was Damien's deepening hatred. I'd run from the territory in desperation, trying to find Damien and explain face to face. I was ambushed by rogue wolves on the way. Left bleeding out in the dirt. With my last shred of strength, I reached out through the pack mind-link, begging Damien for help. His voice cut through my mind, cold as ice. "Drop the act. I'm done with your little sympathy plays." "Don't interrupt my Mating Ceremony with Vivienne." Then he severed the link without a second thought. I died alone in the wilderness. The last thing I heard was the distant roar of celebration from the pack territory — Damien and Vivienne's Mating Ceremony. This time, I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. This time, I would never beg again.

My parents forced me to drop out of school and work eight jobs just to support my cousin Lola. I was only allowed to keep twenty bucks a month. One day, while working on a construction site, I got buried in a collapse. Dying, I called them—but they were busy throwing a lavish birthday party for Lola. Turns out they'd faked bankruptcy. Every penny went to her. After I died, they spread rumors that I'd run off with some guy. When the truth came out, my parents lost their minds. Their company went under. Later, I found out Lola was actually my twin sister—she'd been sent away as a baby to avoid some legal trouble. In the end, my mother poisoned Lola, then killed herself. Only then could my soul rest. My aunt came to my grave and whispered, "Next life, come to me."

The first thing I did when I came back to life was to pawn off my engagement to the Don of the Schroder family, Edmund, on my stepsister. In my last life, he used the "family rules" to make me give up the one thing I loved—racing. He threw out all my colorful dresses and turned me into his canary in a gilded cage. I died, suffocated and hopeless. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. I quietly switched my name with my stepsister Laura's and let Edmund sign the papers. He didn't forget to warn me, "Stay out of trouble. Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come get you." But he had no idea I'd already bought a fake ID and passport. In three days, I'd be gone. I'd be free.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

He was a billionaire for a reason, yet he was swayed by a woman. Recalling the moment he entered into the living room as she hurled her red satin bra at him, revealing her naked treasure. She had captivated his attention in a manner that no other woman had before. Then she'd contested and dared him, and he'd discovered he enjoyed it. Women frequently become charmingly submissive around him. But she was so unique. Forget danger. Challenge could have been her middle name.

"Lisbeth, you'd better agree to this divorce quickly! Otherwise, I'll make these photos public and let all your fans see how their beloved star with millions of followers was once molested by an old man!" "What?" Lisbeth Whitaker looked up in shock, unable to believe what she was hearing. This was her husband of five years, who had cheated on her with the female caregiver she'd hired to look after him. Now he was resorting to blackmail to force her into a divorce so he could make room for his mistress!

Dad, I laughed quietly to myself. If you could see me now. You’d never think I’d ever be here. An actual werewolf sleeping at my feet? I’m really back in Jericho… Seems so silly, fighting you all these years and in the end here I am. Maybe you’d be happy. I don’t know. I like him... Elias. He seems like a great guy, maybe you'd like him too. Seriously, though, he's the alpha of your old pack. He seems dangerous and yet, he saved me. He seems to care about me, and maybe I'm silly for feeling it but I think I like him too. Six months ago Freya's father died, sending her to the bustling city of Jericho. Nearly kidnapped her first night and actually kidnapped her second she finds herself at the mercy of the mysterious Alpha Elias of the Hollow Moon Pack. Her attraction to him is hard to ignore but she wasn't born a werewolf. Her conflicting instincts to want to run and reject this pack are prevented why she finds out Elias has to be the one to reject her. Just seeing the way Elias looks at her, though, Freya can tell it will take some convincing to finally be free from him. Then again... does she want to be?