Piper Rayne Reading Order Novels & Stories

My wife had risen through the ranks of the Confidential Bureau, becoming its youngest team leader—all thanks to the "voice" of the baby boy in her womb, who could somehow identify traitors from within. When the holidays came, I went to visit her. But the moment I arrived, I heard the voice of that unborn child in her belly. "Ah, it's Bad Daddy! He's the one who's been secretly selling off the core technology!" I froze, stunned. Before I could even speak, my wife raised her gun and fired. The bullet tore through my shoulder. "Who did you sell the technology to? Talk!" Through the searing pain, I struggled to explain. "I don't even know what technology you're talking about. How could I possibly—" Her expression turned glacial. Without a word, she lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger, blowing my head apart. "Mommy is amazing! Bad Daddy is finally gone. The stolen data is all hidden on that USB drive." Even as I died, I couldn't understand how I had become a traitor. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the visit. This time, I took the initiative. I pulled out the USB drive and handed it to my wife. "If this is the evidence you want," I said, "go ahead, shoot me."

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

"How can you say that about me, Nathan? I never had a kid!" Aaron Fuller protests. My wife, Jenny Green, stands protectively in front of him. "That's enough! You can't slander Aaron just because you're jealous of him. Just you wait, Nathan. I haven't settled the score with you for calling Aaron this afternoon and insulting him!"

I saw a post while scrolling through my social media. [Adult male merman for sale. Hard to tame. Letting go for cheap.] I commented, [I'll take him.] The seller asked for ten thousand dollars and promised doorstep delivery. When I opened the package, the merman was nowhere near 160 pounds. He barely weighed over a hundred. His skin was sallow, his ribs visible beneath it, and his tail fin was rotting at the edges. I messaged the seller, [I want a refund.] The message failed to go through.

The day I found out I was pregnant with my second child, the impossible happened: the baby in my womb spoke. "Stupid sister, are you even listening? Mom said that as soon as you graduate, she's selling you off. That money is for my future wedding!" My daughter went still. She didn't say a word, didn't confront me, didn't even cry. She just quietly applied to study abroad. And from that day on, I never heard from her again. My husband, seeing how devastated I was, moved to comfort me. But the baby's voice cut through the silence once more. "Comfort her? You're the biggest fool in this house! When I'm born, I'm not calling you 'Dad.' My real dad is that handsome guy from the bar!" The color drained from Sean's face. Before I could utter a word of explanation, he dragged me straight to the hospital for a paternity test. The results came back quickly—my best friend had pulled some strings to expedite them. And there it was, in cold, clinical print: NO PATERNITY BIOLOGICALLY ESTABLISHED. He didn't let me speak. He filed for divorce immediately. In a panic, the baby's voice cried out from inside me again, "Why is the idiot backing out now? Did he finally figure out Mom tricked him? The one who saved his life all those years ago wasn't her—it was her best friend!" That one sentence shattered my entire world. My husband turned his back on me and married my best friend. As for me… the shock and grief hit me like a physical blow. I felt a hot, sudden gush of blood. Before the doctors could save me, I died on that cold hospital bed, my hands clutching my swollen belly, my mind still reeling, unable to comprehend how my life had unraveled so completely. It wasn't until I was reborn, and once again heard the treacherous little voice inside me, that I finally began to understand the truth.

I get into an online relationship with a rich scion named Oliver Radcliffe, who's apparently from Canverly and loves showering me with riches. The only bad thing about him is that he's too clingy and is very prone to jealousy. So, I decide to break up with him without giving him any preamble. Poor Oliver breaks down in tears. He claims that I've stolen his heart and that he hates my guts. I already find him insanely annoying, so I refute, "I was just toying around with your heart, you idiot!" Later on, I travel to Canverly on a student exchange program. But that's when I get kidnapped to a grand estate. There, I scream at Oliver angrily, only for him to smile dotingly at me. "I can't understand what you're talking about, but I think you're just acting cute around me. Will you do the same thing when I use too much force on you in bed tonight?" Oh no, I've screwed up this time! I can't believe I've attracted the attention of a lunatic!

After I married into a rich family as my older sister's stand-in, my powerful husband didn't touch me for six months. Then I overheard his friend. "You chased her ten years just to marry her, and you still won't touch her?" He looked down, smiling bitter. "I have a problem... I'm scared I'd scare her off." That night I stormed into his room and slapped the divorce papers on the nightstand. "Two choices—sleep with me or sign." He ripped the papers apart and pinned me to the wall, something wild breaking loose in his eyes. "Third choice... I make sure you can't get out of bed tomorrow."

When our marriage contract expired, I found out I was pregnant. Charlie Newman’s voice was icy. "If it’s a boy, we’re even." I asked quietly, "And if it’s a girl?" He paused–then said coldly, "Then we keep trying until you give me a son." I sighed. Three years of marriage couldn’t compete with the need for an heir. However, one night, when I went downstairs for water, I saw him kneeling in the attic, eyes devout, voice trembling. "Merciful God, please grant me a daughter. If you hear my prayer and make my wish come true, I will give generously to your church and serve you faithfully all my life."

I have a histrionic personality. On top of that, I'm extremely attracted to good-looking people. Otherwise, I wouldn't have endured Caleb Johnson's sharp, vicious tongue and picky preferences for 99 days just for his looks. But one day, I overhear him telling his best friends—a guy with the top grades in school and the school bully—to seduce me. That way, I'll take the initiative to break up with him. I clench my fists, feeling the way my hands tremble. No, I'm not trembling out of sadness… I'm doing it out of excitement. Finally, I don't have to stare at just one handsome face! Marcus Thorne looks so hot with his gold-rimmed glasses. Meanwhile, there's Asher Prescott with his tanned skin and wild personality… Mmm… I want them both…

A split second before I swipe my card at the Hermès boutique, I hear my unborn son's scream inside my head. "Mom, don't buy this useless designer bag! The zombie apocalypse is only a month away! This is inedible, and it can't be used as a weapon either. What's the point of buying it? Buy essential food! Sell that limited-edition sports car at home and trade it for a bulletproof armored vehicle!" My hand trembles, and the purchase order worth millions scatters across the floor. The sales associate looks at me with disdain and says, "Ms. Webb, if you don't have enough funds, you can always come back another day." I ignore her and immediately turn around to call the owner of the wholesale market. Without wasting any time, I order, "I need 10,000 pounds of potatoes and 5,000 pounds of beef. Make sure it's the kind with the fatty parts! I want it delivered immediately!" From this moment onwards, the socialite Phoebe Webb who only knows how to shop is gone. In her place stands a survivalist obsessed with preparing for the end of the world.