Scrub Kahf Novels & Stories

My son is dying. That is the only truth that matters. Not that I am a half-blood with no pack standing. Not that my Crosser's Permit expired six months ago, and every night I fall asleep wondering if tonight is the night they come for us. Not that I mop floors and scrub blood off marble tiles in a hotel that belongs to the most dangerous wolf family in Silver Hollow, a city that does not officially exist, hidden inside Las Vegas like a knife inside a smile. My name is Tara De Leon. I was once a healer good enough to have been recruited by three different pack academies. Now I am invisible. A cleaning woman. A ghost in a uniform. I became invisible on purpose. Because invisible women survive. And survival is all I have left to give my son. Kai is seven years old. He has his father's jaw and my mother's eyes and a laugh that sounds like something the moon herself invented. He also has Fade Sickness, a supernatural disease that is slowly, quietly, methodically dissolving his wolf-soul from the inside out. Without the Blood Resonance Treatment, available only in Silver Hollow, available only to those with pack connections and pack money, he has maybe eight months. Maybe less. I would burn down every pack in this city to buy him one more day. I just never thought I would have to.

In my past life, I casually bought a lottery ticket at the corner store and won 80 million dollars. Three days later, my pregnant housekeeper, Lily Hall, jumped off a bridge and killed herself. Before she died, she left behind a suicide note and a video recording. She claimed I had verbally abused and beaten her for months, and that I had falsely accused her of trying to seduce my husband, Jayden Sanders. In the video, my voice rang out crystal clear as I hurled insults at her. "You little tramp, why are you using a mop? Get down on your hands and knees and scrub it inch by inch. If it's not spotless, don't even think about eating tonight." I called Jayden to vouch for me. However, he insisted I had always been arrogant and cruel, constantly screaming at people or hitting them. He even lifted his shirt to show off the purple bruises covering his body. I could not defend myself and ended up being the villain everyone wanted to see locked up. Eventually, the entire 80 million dollars went to Lily's younger sister, Emma Hall, as compensation. I spent the rest of my life rotting in prison, never understanding why sweet, gentle Lily would frame me and then take her own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I won the lottery.

Reborn as the long-lost Rogers heir, missing for fifteen years, I avoided every chance to bond with my two brothers in this family. When they tossed me Vivi’s discarded, ill-fitting gown for the family gala, I smiled and put it on. When they sent Vivi to get an elite education while ordering me to scrub the utility room, I picked up the mop without a word. When they let Vivi chase love and dumped her rejected suitor on me, I didn’t fight. I accepted her leftovers with a calm nod. This was all because in my past life, I had spent my entire life desperate for my brothers' approval, only to end up despised by everyone for it. When I died in the crossfire of a gangland shootout, my own son pushed my body away in disgust. "Mom, did you really waste your whole life on such a petty fight with Aunt Vivi? Dying for the family would have been a more dignified end. At least then you wouldn't have disgraced our name." I left this world filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself back at the moment I first set foot in the Rogers estate. This time, I'm done fighting. The power, the name, the honor. I'm letting them have it all. I’ve already been accepted into a closed-door medical project. Soon they will never see me again.

One reckless night. That was all it was supposed to be. For Elara Vane, it was a desperate escape from a life that was already crumbling. But by morning, she was gone leaving nothing behind but a memory and a scent Adrian Knight couldn't scrub from his mind. A year later, Elara is a ghost of her former self. Her parents are dead, her fortune is a memory, and she’s trapped in a "marriage" that feels more like a prison cell. Her uncle treats her like a pawn; her husband treats her like an inconvenience. Desperate for a way out, she lands a temporary job at the most powerful firm in the city. She thinks she’s safe. She thinks she’s hidden behind a new name and new character. She’s wrong. Adrian Knight hasn't forgotten the woman he calls "Cherry." He hasn't forgotten her face, her fire, or the way she vanished. Now that she’s walked back into his lair, he has no intention of letting her go again. But as Adrian pulls Elara into his dark, possessive world, secrets begin to bleed out. Why does he have a child’s toy in his office? Who is the boy he speaks of with such fierce protection? And why does Elara’s "husband" look more like a criminal than a partner? In a world of fake contracts and blood-soaked legacies, Elara is about to find out that the man she’s terrified of might be the only one holding the truth about the child she thought she lost forever.

Emma's life was not different than Cinderella's, she was punished by her stepmother and sister. And only a prince charming could change her life. For five years, Emma lived in Charlotte Miller’s shadow—forced to play her double, smile for her photos, write her speeches, and disappear the moment the spotlight hit. She was paid to be silent, obedient, and forgettable. Until the night everything shattered. Her heart. Her pride. And her place as Charlotte’s puppet. They forced her into a marriage with Xeros Martinez—a dangerous billionaire heir of the Martinez empire and a man who makes danger feel like desire. She was a substitute bride for him, and the only thing she expected from him was coldness and rejection. But what she didn't expect was his intervention when Charlotte's mother was about to whip her. "How dare you touch my vanilla?" He growled like thunder. "Try it again—and I'll remind you why people fear my name." Their marriage may have begun as a business arrangement, but the heat between them refuses to be ignored. Because later, when she tried to avoid the heat burning between them, he dropped his towel with a smirk, “Scrub my body, wife.” She hesitated. “W-Will I…?” He stepped closer, water dripping down his chiseled chest. “Isn’t that what a wife does?” And when her fingers brushed against his skin, he leaned in, voice low and wicked: “Tell me… do you think I’m sexy?” She mumbled a breathless yes. “What was that?” he asked, teasing. She shook her head, flustered. So he grabbed her waist and smashed his lips onto hers, stealing the truth straight from her mouth.

Rivergate's most elite social circle had always shared an unspoken rule. Men were free to play the field as they pleased, drifting from one woman to the next. Women, on the other hand, were only allowed a single, discreet indulgence on the day they came of age—a privately hired "life assistant" meant to take care of their physical needs. … On my coming-of-age day, I picked Elliot at first glance from a hundred applicants who came in for interviews. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looked composed and restrained, and carried himself with a calm maturity that set him apart. He was steady, meticulous, and obsessively clean. The only condition he agreed to was that there would be no bodily contact—hands only. And after every encounter, he would scrub his hands with disinfectant alcohol a hundred times. Over five years, the empty bottles alone were enough to circle the villa seven times. I used to think that one day, I'd help him overcome his barriers and truly make him mine. That illusion shattered the night I got drunk and accidentally wandered into Elliot's room. Hidden beneath his pillow was a DV camera, and inside were several videos of him pleasuring himself. On the screen, the same man who had always been calm and rational with me was staring at the lingerie of the adopted sister who had caused my mother's death, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned her name, "Chloe… I love you…" Only then did I realize that every step he had taken toward me had never been about me at all. It had always been a carefully concealed, long-nurtured love for her. So, it was very odd that he cried when I took my adopted sister's place in marrying someone else.

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

I don't have any ambitions in life. My biggest dream is to become a rich widow. On the day I'm supposed to go on a blind date, my parents place two photos in front of me. The first photo features Frank Larson, the young and handsome heir of the richest family in the elite circle. The second photo shows his youngest uncle, Henry Larson, who's supposedly dying really soon. It's said that he has never married anyone despite being 35 years old. My younger sister, Lily Nufer, chooses Frank as her future partner immediately. "I want to become the wife of the richest heir in the elite circle! A life of glory and luxury awaits me!" Then, she starts mocking me. "Sarah, you should just marry the walking corpse. Once he's dead, his assets are all yours!" I nod in return. "Okay." Walking corpses are fine by me. I don't have to scrub his back during bathtime. Plus, the sooner he dies, the sooner I regain my freedom. But after I get married, I find out that the so-called "corpse" not only possesses a figure that's sexier than a model's, but his stamina also exceeds that of a bull's. On top of that, Henry is also the one who calls the shots in the elite circle. Later on, Frank gets cast out of the Larson family for embezzling the company's funds. As Frank's wife, Lily is forced to live on the streets with him. Unable to take it anymore, Lily kneels by my feet and offers to exchange Frank for Henry due to their age difference. I'm about to nod and agree to the offer when Henry, my extremely influential and powerful husband, stomps onto Frank's hand immediately. "No way!" I say, "I'm okay with having a younger husband. Youth is nice." Henry chuckles coldly at Frank. "Sarah's your aunt! How dare you try to take her away from me! It seems that you must be tired of living!"