She Is A Slut Novels & Stories

I was born with a weak heart. When I was nineteen, I got a heart transplant that allowed me to survive. Soon after, I met my wife-to-be, Vivian Cosby. Three years after we got married, I found a note in her phone that was not deleted. The date was marked as the day we met. The text simply read, [I found him. His name is Quinn Waverly. The heart is with him.] When I looked through the notes further, I saw a man’s photo, captioned with a name. [Randall] There was another line of text in her notes. It read, [Randall, through your heart in his chest, I will show you the world.] I finally understood. The first time we met, she had not been taken aback because it was love at first sight, it was simply shock. The tears she shed when she proposed were not because of me. In the night, she would always lay her head on my chest. However, she was not listening for my heartbeat, but his. Tonight, she came home very late. As usual, she held me tightly and buried her face in my chest. “Your heartbeat always makes me calm.” I did not open my eyes, nor did I ask about Randall. This was the first time I realized that one could hear a heart beat so loudly that it echoed, even through so many layers of skin and muscle.

I fell asleep in my fated mate Alpha Zane’s office. When I woke up, a magical seal was branded on my face. “Blackmoon Pack’s Slut.” And there was Dahlia, Zane’s new omega assistant. She held an Alpha’s seal, a taunting smirk on her face. “Why is a porcelain doll like you meddling in pack business?” she sneered. “You should just stay in your castle and be the pretty little trophy you are.” My wolf snarled, ready to crush her with my aura. But just as a vase flew at her head, Zane was suddenly there. He shielded her with his own body, his own Alpha power flaring to meet mine. He scowled at me, his voice tight with fury. “Dahlia was just playing a prank. Don’t be so dramatic.” But my eyes locked on the exposed skin of Dahlia's neck, where she was nestled in his arms. There it was. A fresh bite mark. And it reeked of him. Dahlia let out a contented purr, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness. “My Alpha knows I never attended the academy, and I was getting so bored. So to entertain me, he let me play with his Alpha’s sigil to practice creating magical marks.” She giggled. “I was just playing a little game with the princess. You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?”

Everyone in the upper circles knew I was the Xander family’s delicate little porcelain doll, someone who could not tolerate even the slightest grievance. I always had to sit in the seat of honor at gatherings. My drinks had to be served ice-cold. If anything annoyed me even a little, I would have my childhood friends clear the room. That was, until the fallen heiress returned. She did not rely on men. She had built her own business from scratch and was ruthless in the boardroom, radiating a wild, untamed beauty. Slowly, my dear brothers began to find me insufferable and too high-maintenance. When they pulled their investments from my gallery to back her projects instead, only my fiancé stayed by my side, comforting me. “Forget them. They’re all opportunists. I’ll always keep you safe in the palm of my hand!” That was until one day, I saw that same proud fiancé bent low like a servant, humbly wiping wine stains off the heiress's shoes in a corner of a club. His eyes were filled with a devotion I had never seen before. “All I need is one look from you, and I’ll drop the whole wedding.” I took off my engagement ring and tossed it into the drain. Then, I went home and told my grandfather, “Grandpa, I’m going to Africa for that development aid project. “I’ll agree to the arranged marriage. Just don’t make me see them again."

My wife, Rochelle Willoughby, went on a business trip for five months. When I picked her up at the airport, she showed up with her true love instead. I noticed her baby bump and was about to ask some questions, but she shoved me away like I was some disgusting piece of trash. "Don't touch me with your grubby hands. I'm pregnant with Samuel's baby. If you hurt it somehow, I'll kill you!" Then, she gently held Samuel Riverson's hand. "You must be exhausted. Let's go home." She left me at the airport without so much as a glance. I saw them off and quietly rubbed the part Rochelle shoved. Then, I contacted my divorce lawyer. Ten years. This marriage finally came to an end.

Amara is the lowest-ranking omega in the Silver Ridge Pack. Orphaned at twelve, she survived by making herself useful — cooking, cleaning, tending wounds nobody else had patience for. She never expected the Moon Goddess to pair her with Alpha Kael, the most powerful wolf in the region. But on the night of the mating ceremony, in front of the entire pack, Kael looks her in the eyes and says three words that shatter her world: I reject you. He chooses Vanessa, the strong, beautiful daughter of a neighboring alpha. A political match. A power move. Amara is nothing to him. But instead of crumbling, Amara does what no rejected omega has ever done. She walks out of the pack. Alone. With nothing. In the wild, she discovers a group of rogues — wolves cast out from their packs for being different. A blind warrior. A mother with a scarred face. Twin pups with no parents. And leading them all, a scarred, silent alpha named Ronan who trusts no one and speaks even less. Amara also discovers something inside herself she never knew existed. Her hands can heal. Not just wounds but broken bonds, fractured spirits, even cursed wolves. She carries a gift so rare the Moon Goddess herself has not granted it in three hundred years. As Amara builds a new pack from broken pieces, word of the Healing Wolf spreads across the region. Packs that once ignored her now seek her help. Alphas who never knew her name now bow their heads. And Kael, the alpha who threw her away, realizes that the quiet omega he rejected was the most powerful wolf he will ever meet. He comes looking for her. But Amara is no longer his. She is no longer anyone's. She is her own.

I didn't buy her out of kindness. Sophia Reeves came with a price tag — her father's debt, cleared in full. She became my wife on paper, a calculated move in a game of power and business. Nothing more. I built my empire by keeping emotions out of every equation. I never lose control. I never let anyone close enough to matter. But Sophia refused to follow my rules. She didn't bow to my money. She didn't flinch at my coldness. Every wall I built, she saw straight through — not because she was trying to break me, but because she was simply everything I never knew I was missing. I thought owning her legally meant I had the upper hand. I was wrong. The night she walked out with her head held high and nothing but the clothes on her back, I realized the truth I'd spent months denying: Somewhere between the contracts and the cold silences — she hadn't just taken pieces of my carefully guarded heart. She had taken all of it. And I would burn everything I built to get her back.

My wife, who had always despised lugging around keys, ditched our modern smart lock for a clunky old-school key version. She even bolted it shut during showers. Every time I returned from work, I'd have to ring her up first. Fed up, I slapped the divorce agreement on the table during a family get-together. Everyone assumed I was drunk and joking. My wife hauled off and cracked me across the face. "Am I asking too much? You promised you'd indulge me forever." I met her glare with icy indifference and let out a bitter scoff. "Aren't I divorcing you and never returning the ultimate indulgence?"

I am in the middle of hosting an international conference when my younger sister, Aubrey Keller, suddenly calls me. She is sobbing over the phone as she says, "Aster, my spot in the student exchange program was taken away…" I immediately rush over to Aubrey's university campus. She's cornered in the teachers' office, her eyes brimming with tears. A young girl with punk flair is standing in front of Aubrey, gesturing at her with disdain. "Trying to fight for the spot against me, are you? I'm the heiress to the Keaton family in Centuria. "My father even funded an entire laboratory building for the university! Who do you think you are?" A teacher standing to the side is also adding fuel to the fire. "Aubrey, Ophelia's father is one of this university's key funders. Why don't you just let this go this time so we can all move on?" I'm about to rebuke the two when I hear the phrase 'heiress to the Keaton family.' Keaton family from Centuria? Since when did my father, Tristan Keaton, have another daughter besides Aubrey and me? I immediately call Tristan's number and ask coldly, "Dad, when did you cheat on Mom and sire another daughter behind her back?"

What's worse than catching your husband cheating? Catching him with your best friend. What's worse than that? Having nowhere to go when you leave. What's worse than THAT? Sleeping with a stranger to forget... then finding out he's your new boss the next morning. But here's the REAL question: What do you do when that boss is engaged to someone else, but he swears he's ending it for you? When your ex is suing you for $5 million you don't have? When his ex-fiancée corners you at work calling you a homewrecker? I'm Harper Lane. Four weeks ago I had a husband, a best friend, and a job I was good at. Now I have, Divorce papers, A lawsuit I can't win, A boss I can't stop wanting, An ex-fiancée who won't leave me alone, and Zero idea who to trust anymore He says he's falling for me. She says he's using me. My ex says I'm a manipulator. My heart says I'm falling apart. Everyone keeps giving me advice. But nobody's asking the right question: What does HARPER want? I'm about to find out, just as you are about to find out too in this book, And it's going to be messy

I come across a popular post on the forums. "Help! Someone has stolen my two million dollars of gold from my safe! The thief didn't even leave behind any marks of wrenching the safe door open!" In the photo, a hand with a wedding ring can be seen pointing at an empty safe. The safe's model and patterns match the safe that I've seen in my best friend, Joan Hart's, house before. The comment section is already filled with comments. "Girlie, I'm sorry, but I have to say this. Your husband's most likely the culprit." "Agreed. There's no way ordinary thieves can swipe your gold away without leaving anything behind." "You should check your husband's recent financial situation first." The original poster responds to the comments that doubt her husband firmly, "There's no way it's my husband! We're in a tightly-knit relationship!" Someone is quick to ask, "What about your friends and relatives? Who else has visited your house before?" This time, the original poster's response appears even faster. "Last week, my best friend spent a night at my house…" Just as I'm about to share the thread with Joan and tell her that her safe might be compromised because of these safety issues, I receive a phone call from her. "Andrea, I got bad news for you! Someone stole my safe at home!"