Riot House Novels & Stories

Natalie mistakenly confronts the school golden boy thinking it's her cheating boyfriend. The golden boy turns out to be her step brother snapping out every moral she had in but not just that her secret of writing smut is about to be exposed and he uses it to threaten her just to keep his own secret safe. But then what happens when their touches and eyes mean something more, why does he always snap out the air from his lungs. It's dangerous. We live in the same house and I'm not sure if I will still be the good girl mum thinks I am.

My father raised me on one principle: fair exchange. If I wanted anything, I had to earn it myself. Fifty cents for washing the dishes. A dollar for mopping the floor. Five dollars for a perfect score on a test. To buy the pair of white sneakers I had been dreaming of, I spent three months collecting recyclables. In that house, I lived like a pieceworker, paid by the task. It was not until my senior year of high school that everything began to crack. I collapsed during morning study, my body worn down by years of malnutrition. The doctor said I needed better nutrition. My father stood by my hospital bed and started doing the math. "Three hundred for the hospital stay. Two hundred for medication. Chester, this all goes on your tab for the future." I turned my head and saw a boy in a school uniform in the next bed. His father was feeding him spoonfuls of chicken soup, his eyes red with worry. In that moment, the world I had known for 18 years fell apart. It turned out not every child had to earn their parents' love. After I was discharged, I went home and saw the pair of designer sneakers on my brother's feet; it was worth thousands. That was when I finally woke up. I tore up the family photo and, without hesitation, applied to the college farthest from home. Ten years later, my father called me in tears. My brother had taken all his retirement savings, sold the house, and run off with his girlfriend. He was left with nothing. No home. No one. I smiled and tossed him a rag. "Want a place to stay? Sure. It's 50 cents per window. Earn your own rent."

After the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots. The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way. I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love. Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck." So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love. Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick. Until my birthday. Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots. I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher. When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'

In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow." But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from? So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house. The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly. The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like. I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence. They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

"Sign it." Rachel picked it up and glanced at it. It was a divorce paper. It stated that she had to vacate the house without any belongings and return everything she had taken from the Brown family. This included shares, businesses, properties gifted by the Brown family, and any cash received from them. Rachel's face drained of color. "Why?" She asked, her voice shaking. Lucas replied indifferently, "If you don’t sign, in five days, I’ll make your family wish they were never born. You have these five days for your family to move out." Her body shook with fear. Is he really serious?

Everywhere in the house smelled like him. There were some things she couldn’t forget, like the way he touched her, the way he kissed, and each time they made love… Fuck. Even the thought of it made her panties go wet. “…I want you to fuck me like you mean it, Ocean.” She whispered in his ear, her legs straddling his waist. As long as it was Eris, he would keep coming to her. He was everything she wanted to run away from, and she was everything that he wanted. But Ocean knew from the very moment he saw her, their relationship as step-siblings would be ill-fated.

She was born from rape and took her mother’s life at birth.Her relatives detested her; they treated her badly and gave her no name. They wanted nothing to do with her.Girl, they called her for eighteen years, until it became the only name she knew.When her family who should have taken care of her found themselves in big financial trouble, the only hope of getting themselves out of the terrible mess they had created was to send her to their pack leader’s house to work to repay their debt.Girl hated what they were doing to her and was clueless about what was about to happen to her while she worked in the Alpha's home.

Luciano Romano never knew that his last name was associated with the richest family in all of Italy. He grew up as a gardener in the Verga Family home. When the master of the house smelled his special relationship with his daughter, he was insulted and expelled from Verona. When Luciano became Romano's rightful heir, he intended to take revenge. The man destroyed the family of the lady, Lucrezia Verga, so that the lady lived in poverty. But Lucrezia can rise to become an actress. Not satisfied with his revenge, Luciano bought Lucrezia to sleep with him. As a result of his actions, Lucrezia became pregnant. How's the story going? Let's read!

Harper is trapped in unrequited love. Orphaned, she finds refuge with Mr. Cooper and his children, Atlas and Amanda. However, as Harper's affection for Atlas grows, he only sees her as a sister. Mr. Cooper's passing leaves her under Atlas's reluctant care. Now, she must confront the painful reality of longing for what she cannot have. To complicate things, Atlas's girlfriend moves in with him in the same house as Harper—additionally, a mysterious professor of Harper's, whose closeness to Harper might not sit well with Atlas. Will Harper find the strength to let go, or will she cling to a love that may never be returned?