May Death Never Stop You Novels & Stories

“Don’t tease me again, or else you really want it. There are no safe words in my bed.” He is rumored to know a thousand ways to disarm and pleasure a woman, and I am Olivia, the nymphomaniac. In a quest for revenge against my childhood bullies, I got locked into an unhappy marriage, with an untamed brother-in-law. Colt Fletcher, the morally-grey, rebel biker is ever excited by danger and prefers life on the edge. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, I became his forbidden want. I should know better, to steer clear of deadly desires like these but when fate forces us to live under the same roof, share the same boardroom, and every accidental touch burns, my resolve begins to collapse. But scandals don’t stay buried, and my husband is the devil. The price of this betrayal is death. I must choose between my husband who owns my name, and his brother who owns my body.

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I can't do it. I can't stop remembering how defiled it is. "Our kid is gone. We owe each other nothing now—so let's end it here, right now." So that was it, huh? Hilarious. He had no idea who the "defiled" one was—him. Seven years ago, I inserted a memory chip into his brain to save him. And now, in three days' time, the chip will cease to function. He will remember everything… and he will wish he were long dead.

The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass. I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson. And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile. She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees. "Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof." I just raised an eyebrow. The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo. So when did a Falcone become gutter trash? I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made. "I hear the Falcone family has a new heir." Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.

At our college graduation, my fiance suddenly proposed to Lillie Stewart, my best friend, in front of everyone. I became a joke in front of everyone. Right after Lillie accepted my fiance’s proposal, Lloyd Becker, heir to the biggest mafia family on the West Coast, publicly said he loved me. Lloyd was known in the mafia world for being serious and never getting involved with women. So, when he showed an interest in an orphan like me, it made the news. We got married, and for five years, he was so sweet and treated me like a princess. But one day, I accidentally overheard him talking to his friend. “Lillie is already set to become the future lady of the Gacira family. Are you really going to keep the act up with Nelly?” “If I can’t have Lillie, it doesn’t matter who I marry. As long as I’m with Nelly, Lillie can live peacefully.” He even gave Lillie the symbol of the Becker family’s lady. He helped Lillie build her career while letting me fade into the background. After five years of marriage, I finally understood. On our fifth anniversary, I pretended to die in a shooting so he could be with the woman he truly loved. But instead of being happy, Lloyd completely broke down.

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight years, but in the end, what she got was his indifference, news of his wedding, and him saying to her that someone like her did not deserve to be loved. She didn’t argue. Instead, on the last page of her diary, she quietly wrote, “That’s okay. I’m going to be with my mom now.” Amidst the five thousand streets in New York, he never found her again after that.

The boy, George Larson, whom I once saved as a child, when he was struggling with asthma, repaid my kindness by imprisoning me for seven long years. "Luna, you're my everything. I won’t let you out of my sight," he said, his voice filled with obsession. He tied my hands and feet, keeping me bound to the bed like a helpless doll, but I did not love him; I wanted to escape. In his madness, he set fire to my family’s ancestral home. The last traces of the Sachs burned to ashes, disappearing into the wind. He said that since my home was gone, I could just live with him and that it would be my new home. However, because I refused to let him touch me, he found someone else—a girl with a beauty mark under her eye, just like mine. The girl, drunk on his affection, thought I was trying to imitate her by faking the same tear-shaped mark. In a fit of jealousy, she gouged out my eyes. My face was covered with tiny, bleeding holes, blood streaming down my body. When George came home, the girl gleefully stuffed me into a trash bag, proud of her handiwork. “George, look! I caught some trash that broke into the house!” George did not even glance at me. He just loosened his tie, his voice calm and detached. “Just toss it where trash belongs.”

When I'm on the verge of dying, the kidnapper who has kidnapped me calls my fiance, Connor Weston, who's also the youngest patrol officer in the pack. The call goes through, only for us to hear Connor's voice, which is filled with suppressed rage. "Sylvia Kline, I'll give you three seconds to stop bothering me. Vivian's initiation ceremony will take place at night three days later. If you dare pull off another one of your tricks again—" "Connor…" Blood gushes out of my mouth as soon as I open it. My voice is so hoarse that I don't sound like myself at all. "Save… me…" "Your acting's pretty good," Connor cuts me off, his tone filled with disdain. "Listen, if you dare skip out on the ceremony and embarrass me in front of the entire pack, you can forget about going home." After that, the line goes dead. In the end, I die from mutilation. It's fine, Connor. I can't go home for real this time.

I had always shared a perfect relationship with my mother-in-law, Betsy Dutton. We were the model pair of a wealthy family. She and my father-in-law, Rourke Dutton had been childhood sweethearts, their bond seemingly unbreakable. But one day, she told me something that changed my entire perception of them.  She clutched my hand and tears were streaming down her face. “Naomi,” she sobbed, “your father-in-law… he’s been keeping a mistress. They even have a child together! “For over ten years, I’ve been in the dark, made into a laughingstock!” My throat tightened, and I couldn’t hold back my own confession.  “Mom, actually… Julius is no better. He bought a whole apartment building for his mistress!” We wept in each other’s arms, our heartbreak spilling out in waves.  After what felt like an eternity, she sniffled and straightened herself. “Men are utterly unreliable creatures!” “I’m done with that old man, Naomi!” I gripped her hand tightly. “Mom, wherever you go, I’ll follow. I’m done with Julius, too!”

"Okay guys, we're here." "Alright, let's do this!" ~•~•~ Five teenagers decide to go on a dangerous adventure in a dark and hollow abandoned house in a deserted area miles away from their town. The house was rumoured to be a death trap for anyone who steps into it but all they really wanted more than anything was an adventure of their own - well, some of them. But in the end, they never made it out to tell their adventurous story. Twenty years down the line, a dorky and introverted 17year old Isabella Davies, who was a high school final year student decides to go on an adventure of her own in that same house. She barely managed to escape but her normal dorky life turns into a horrifying nightmare overnight as she becomes cursed with a ghost of death.