Stop Sister Novels & Stories

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

"You're evil, Jake. I curse the day I met you, and the day I said yes to you. You're the biggest mistake of my existence," I muttered, my voice tight with pain and hatred. "I know. No explanation can atone for the pain I caused. I have nothing but words.... but please, Jessy. Let me speak. Let me tell you I'm sorry," He murmured, voice trembling with emotions. I refused to let him see my heart. I refused to give him any clue that he still had power over me. I exhaled sharply and masked my emotions behind a calm facade. Jessica Wilson thought marrying billionaire Jake Stone would save her dying mother but instead, it imprisoned her in a cold, controlled marriage she barely survived. Two years after escaping, Jessica returns to New York stronger, fearless, and determined to live for herself alone. But fate has other plans. The moment Jake discovers she's back, the one who once broke her becomes obsessed with getting her back, this time not out of obligation, but love. However, Jessica is no longer the naive 24years old girl he once controlled. Now, she's his greatest loss and his biggest challenge. And as enemies rise, secrets unfold, and past wounds reopen, and one question remains. Can a man who once destroyed her ever deserve her again?

I had been secretly married to Vivian Grant, my CEO wife, for six years, yet she never once let our son call her Mom. After she missed his birthday again because of her male assistant, I finally put the divorce papers in front of her and walked away for good with our son. The woman who had always seemed so controlled finally fell apart. She stormed into the office demanding to know where I’d gone. But this time, neither my son nor I were coming back.

When I learned that Holly Jones had gone to deliver cold medicine to her young assistant, even though she knew I was trapped in the elevator and suffered from claustrophobia, I asked for a divorce. Holly signed without hesitation. Smiling at her best friend, she said, "Jim is just throwing a little tantrum. His parents are gone, so there's no way he'd really divorce me. Besides, there's a thirty-day cooling-off period before it's finalized. If he regrets it, I'll graciously forgive him and take him back." The very next day, she posted a couples' photoshoot with her assistant, captioned: [Capturing your every sexy moment.] I counted the days. Calmly, I packed my belongings and made a phone call. "Uncle, buy me a ticket to Hudson City."

My father came from Italy to watch my first wedding. He watched Luca Romano let go of my hand ten minutes before the vows, because Celeste called and said she could not breathe. That day, Don Moretti did not scream. “Take the time you need. But when you finally understand he will not choose you at the altar, come home.” I thought he did not understand love. So I stayed in New York. I gave Luca seven weddings. Every time, he came back with flowers, apologies, and a new wedding date. “Elena,” he always said, “this is the last time.” Even his friends had stopped pretending not to laugh. “She won’t leave,” one of them said. “She just wants him to apologize harder.” I would have stayed for real love. I would not stay for a man who only remembered me after choosing someone else. That was when I finally understood. He had mistaken my love for a place he could always return to. On the morning of our eighth wedding, I put my engagement ring into a white velvet box. Just then, my father called. “The helicopter is ready,” he said. At the altar, Luca waited for me with the wedding ring in his hand. This time, I let him wait.

For one perfect month, we were trapped in a snow covered town, and I believed my arranged husband finally chose me, that he finally saw me for who I am. Three years later, I learned the harsh reality that the snow never trapped us. He was the one that did. The story he sold to me was all his. Then, the woman he once loved with his life returned ...and with her were secrets that could destroy all of us. But Damon Hayes isn’t the master player. He wasn't the only one who kept the truth buried deep for years. Because I was never just his quiet, and convenient wife. I was more than a doctor who married him for duty. And when this marriage finally collapses as it would soon, it won’t be me begging to be chosen. It will be him begging not to lose me.

My fated mate's secretary was pregnant. He brought her home on my birthday. Then he stood there and gave me orders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Alina has bad allergies. Be careful when you cook from now on. Don't use anything she's allergic to." "She's pregnant. She needs me next to her at night. Move your things into the guest room." I didn't say anything. I picked up the suitcase I'd already packed and walked toward the door. Alina hugged Dominic's arm and let her voice go soft and small. "Dominic, if Mia's upset about it, just forget it." Dominic let out a cold laugh. "Let her sulk. She'll come crawling back in three days." Alina smiled. So did the servants. To them, I was just a stray Omega Dominic had picked up off the street. The only reason I had a place in this house was because I was his fated mate. Without him, I had nowhere to go. What none of them knew was that my real father, the Alpha King, had already sent a private jet to bring me home. This time, I really was leaving.

At the company holiday party raffle, I'd barely stepped on stage when my superior, Victor Grant, shoved a crumpled slip into my hand. "Special prize for our top sales guy. Go on, open it. Let's show everyone." All eyes were on me as I unfolded it. Scrawled across the paper: [VIP janitor status unlocked—every toilet in the company, three days.] The room lost it—laughter everywhere. Victor crossed his arms, grinning. "Fair, right? Everyone knows you climbed the ranks hooking up with rich cougars. Gotta avoid hard feelings for the others, yeah? While the rest of us take a break, you can get busy. You're not gonna back out, are you?" The crowd cracked up. My girlfriend—and CEO—Rachel Sullivan stood off to the side, watching. Didn't say a word. Everyone waited for me to explode. Instead, I just nodded. Next day, over 300 refund requests hit. Cash flow flatlined. Victor and Rachel begged me to talk the buyers down. I shrugged. "Nah. Don't wanna save the company and make my performance too good. That'd just cause more ' hard feelings,' right?"

Men Of Manhattan #3. Christopher Royce had a hard life since the beginning, which led him to be a withdrawn and serious man. This is further aggravated after an event that marked his life, so Christopher decides to focus only on his work, making him even more lonely if possible. Nowadays, he only trusts a couple of people because it's impossible for him to open up once more. Full of resentment, distrust and tired with the life he's living, he accepts the present his best friend gives him for his birthday: A trip to Hawaii. What Christopher doesn't expect is that this trip will become the best experience of his life when he meets Helena; a happy, outgoing, tenacious woman determined to make the man with serious face and melancholic eyes see that life is too short not to take risks. The problem will come when the trip comes to an end and they have to say goodbye and walk away.

Jason Schwartz had been a close friend of my father's, despite the age gap. The year I met him, I was fearless, the kind of girl who thought nothing could touch her. I bit down hard on the hand he offered me. Jason just laughed. "You're adorable," he said. "Like a little wolf." On my 18th birthday, he shoved me onto the bed, his eyes red, as if he had been holding back for years. "Diana, I've finally waited long enough for you to grow up." He was the one who pulled me into that first flutter of desire, the one who led me across every line I wasn't supposed to cross. I grew into exactly the kind of girl he wanted. The day my father was hacked to death by his enemies, Jason took my hand and stepped into his place without hesitation. When I was pregnant, he brought home a girl covered in blood. "Diana, she's not like you. She's like wild grass, tough and stubborn." He said he admired wild grass. But he forgot something. He was the one who raised me into a rose that only knew the shelter of a greenhouse. Good thing I didn't need him anymore.