Mal Rotten To The Core Novels & Stories

I was Brandon Sandler’s most cherished canary—pampered, sheltered, and utterly his for five years. Then came the news of his engagement to another woman. Only then did I realize his affection had been a carefully crafted revenge. He trapped me by his side, flaunting his love for another while subjecting me to relentless humiliation. Eventually, I stopped caring. But the ruthless business tycoon, who once held himself above all, clutched me with red-rimmed eyes, begging me to come home. He said he regretted everything. My hand instinctively cradled my stomach as I glanced at the man behind him. “Darling,” I murmured, “this man is scaring our baby.”

Some time ago, I was a delivery boy. One day, I received an order to deliver adult toys. When I went to the hotel room, I found a beautiful woman kneeling on a bed with her back turned to me. She only wore a thong. At that moment, I received a message on the delivery app. "Use the toys to bring her pleasure. If you do well, I will reward you with one hundred thousand dollars."

In my past life, my selfish son stopped caring about my husband and me after marrying a woman who followed her mother's words like they were holy commandments. In fact, he orchestrates an accident to kill my husband and me under the influence of his wife and her family. It's all so he can inherit our fortunes earlier than expected. When I'm reborn, I look at my son, who's rotten to the core, and decide that I don't want him anymore!

My mom gets buzzed at the family dinner and insists on burning my admission letter. She says, "You're a guy, and yet you can't get into Horvard University! What makes you think you can study at any university now? You might as well quit studying altogether!" I try to stop her from doing so, only for my dad to stop me instead. "It's just a stupid scrap of paper. Don't put a damper on your mom's mood, now. Can't you just retake the college admission exam?" Just like that, my fruit of labor gets burned to ashes. When I'm studying for the exam again, Mom keeps inviting people home for drinks. All I do is utter one complaint, and I get beaten to death by her drinking buddies. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the family dinner. This time, I've swapped out my admission letter to the IOU her boss has told her to safeguard. Go ahead and burn it. Two years later, I'll be sure to visit you at your grave, Mom.

I was born with a strange condition. I couldn't recognize faces and could only identify people by their clothes. Vincent Lancaster, my boyfriend, never minded. He said it didn't change the way he loved me. That was, until our wedding day. He answered a phone call. His childhood friend, Grace Langley, was in labor, life hanging by a thread, and she demanded he come immediately. My voice shook with despair. "Vincent! If you drive away now, we'll never be husband and wife!" But he left anyway, not looking back. Grace had always loved seeing him in white, so he threw aside the black suit I had sewn for him with my own hands and changed into white. A year later, Vincent returned. By then, my belly was swollen with life, and I was holding onto another man while hosting a baby shower. And the man wore the black suit Vincent had thrown away. Vincent went mad, claiming he was my husband, but no one believed him.

The notice of my mother's layoff sat on the kitchen table. Rent was due in three days. My younger brother's tutoring fees were already two weeks late. And my little sister, Stephanie, clutched her acceptance letter to the local public arts high school like she'd done something wrong. None of this would be happening if it weren't for me. My illness had taken everything our family had saved. I stayed in my room, leaning against the door, wanting to tell them I'd drop out of treatment—but I couldn't bring myself to open it. "Why did he have to fall sick?" My mother was crying, her voice low and tight, like the words were being forced out of her. "If it were just you both, Stephanie and Jamie, we'd be fine by now." "Mom, please don't say that." My brother and sister held her, barely holding back their own tears. "He's a burden… but he's still my son." Her voice cracked. "I just… I can't do this anymore…" I stepped back and sank into my chair. It wasn't an accusation. It was a verdict.

I mistook being wanted for being loved. It's an easy mistake when you've never had either. Roman gave me five years of broken glass, bruised wrists, and a soundproof bedroom. I stayed because leaving felt impossible. Because I had a son to protect. Because I thought love meant enduring. Then one day I ran. And the courtroom that was supposed to save me became another trap — because the lawyer I trusted had already been bought. Tired of it all, I decided if I couldn't be free, I wouldn't be at all. I decided to commit suicide. The worst part? The man who walked into that hospital room and saved my life is the same man I've spent five years trying to forget. The stranger from one reckless night. The father of my son. Damien Douglas. Brilliant surgeon. The only man who has ever looked at me like I was worth seeing. But there was a big problem; he was Roman's stepbrother. The deeper I fall into Damien's world, the more I realise my marriage to Roman was never about love or control. It was about keeping me from finding out who I really am. Who my father was. What was taken from me before I was old enough to know I had it. Roman's family destroyed my father and buried the truth. Now I have it back. Now it's my turn to bury the Douglas family, but will I bury Damien also?

“Valerie.” My head snapped up at the sound of my name. The Alpha was standing by the sofa, unbuttoning the neck of his coat. “Come,” he said. “We don’t have much time.” Much time? For what? A chill moved up my arms. I wouldn’t dare ask—not that I needed to. I was not an innocent child anymore. All of my training had been for this moment. There was only one reason why werewolves purchased young, human virgins. Sex. I was a slave. A pet. And my master could do whatever he pleased with me. _________ When the war started. They fought. They slaughtered. We were nearly wiped out on the earth. Surviving humans were classified into three categories: free humans, Servants, and Slaves. My name is Valerie Davis. My parents were accused of committing a crime against the creatures in the war. After their execution, I was captured and sent to the cell as a human slave. I lived in that cell for years before I was transported to a Slave Shop, where I would be picked by a Master. It was during the dry season when I was put in the display box. I wasn't afraid like the other girls, because I was unwanted for my weirdness. I was despised for being the criminals’ daughter. I was lucky, as the masters wouldn’t want to lay a finger on me. But then the Alpha came. When he looked at me, he said he want me. ___________________________ Daily Update!

Just days after being discharged from the hospital, my husband’s adopted sister, Wendy Crowley, went live. Crying on a rooftop, she accused me of causing her miscarriage. "The ultrasound already showed it was a boy… and that woman took his life! "She can’t have children herself, so she couldn’t stand that I could. I want her to pay for my child’s death!" My husband, Tristan Crowley, believed every word. "Wendy, I failed to protect you. If I’d known she hated you this much, I would’ve locked her away long ago." The livestream sparked outrage. Everyone demanded justice. "This is murder. She’s rotten to the core!" "Where’s the law? Lock her up immediately!" However, when Tristan and Wendy tracked me down–still streaming live–everyone watching… broke down in tears.

The tree I fell from was rotten. It's leaves were rotten, it's bark was rotten, and it's roots were rotten. Unfortunately, I am an apple that didn't fall far from that rotten tree. I was groomed in the shadow of that rotten tree and sprayed with poison to ensure I would be nothing but it's germinated seed. My earliest memories are dark and painful. My most vibrant memories are coated in crimson red and shame. The small pieces of my soul that I kept hidden and protected are the only parts of myself I can tolerate. The rest of who I am... The despicable trash that haunts my dreams... I hate. Death is the only answer to my life. Not love. I don't deserve love. A tainted apple is never put amongst the ripe juices apples. It is thrown away, discarded... As I should be.