When I Disappeared, He Regretted It Novels & Stories

"🥺Please don't divorce me Mr. Billionaire, I am pregnant for you." "Fuck you! And fuck your bastard! Get out of my mansion." **** Ramsey Wendel, an arrogant Billionaire was matched to marry Elsa Norton, the beloved granddaughter of The Norton's. Out of his egocentric nature, he breaks Elsa's heart on their wedding altar; He demands Mandy Norton, Elsa's cousin, as his wife instead. Mandy, who was already in love with another, is forced into marriage with the ruthless Billionaire, out of choice. Mandy is threatened by her grandfather to never disobey or hurt Ramsey if not it will lead to consequences. Mandy falls in love with Ramsey later on and begins building her home. But everything turned to ash when Serena Fenton, Ramsey's CEO stepped into their bond. Ramsey secretly had an affair with Serena, keeping Mandy in the dark. Serena comes up with a plan that could eliminate Mandy from their lives for good; Ramsey buys her idea. How will matters unfold when Mandy Norton wakes up to a divorce Paper?

On the day I'm about to quit the game, I see countless live comments flashing across my vision. "Yay! The male supporting lead is about to quit the game!" "Now, the male lead won't have to worry about getting exposed for using the male supporting lead's game account to get into online relationships with others!" "Our darling male lead is too smart, after all! Whenever he goes on dates, he often uses the voice chat function in the game. That's why the male supporting lead is still kept in the dark!" "Holy shit, Henry really is lucky!" "To think that he used Vincent's max-level account to flirt with the four richest female players on the server!" "Later at 2:00 pm, he'll be meeting his first date partner, Yvonne Johnson the cold and aloof campus belle, at Cosmic Coffee!" "Tomorrow, he'll be meeting up with the top assassin in-game! The day after that, he'll go on a date with the second-highest paying player of the game! Wow, his time management skills really are amazing!" The "Henry" whom the live comments are referring to is Henry Luster, my roommate. So, he's been flirting with four of the top-tier rich female players while impersonating me, huh? More live comments streak past my eyes at that moment. "Why isn't the male supporting lead leaving? Yvonne is already waiting for the male lead right now!" "This is their first romantic date as the leads of this story! I can't wait to watch it unfold!" As I turn to look at Henry, who's styling his hair before the mirror, I suddenly realize that I'm the supporting male lead whom the live comments are referring to. My lips curl into a small smile. Since Henry has been using my identity to become a virtual casanova, then it's not wrong of me to attend each date in person on his behalf, right?

Natasha Kisniver never planned to steal from the Mafia. But when her younger sister collapses and the hospital halts her treatment over unpaid debts she couldn't afford, Natasha is pushed beyond desperation. Her only option? Steal a priceless ring from Jackson Darkmoon—a billionaire tech she believes is untouchable. The ring is sold on the black market, and her sister’s treatment resumes. But then she discovers a fatal mistake she made on her research: Jackson Darkmoon doesn’t exist. He’s a false identity, a fictional character of Alexander Darkmoon—the elusive and feared godfather of a Mafia empire her late father had always warned her about. Realizing she’s stolen from the most dangerous man alive, Natasha runs. But Alexander Darkmoon is not a man who forgives theft—especially not something so personal. He finds her within hours. She can’t repay him in money, so he takes her instead. Claimed as his property, Natasha is pulled into a brutal, opulent world where power is everything—and one wrong move could mean death. She vows to escape. But as she sees the man behind the monster, she changes her mind. As days turn into weeks, the line between hate and desire begins to blur. Alexander's control slips the more time he spends with her. Enemies start circling, and her presence — once a punishment — becomes a dangerous liability. Or worse, the key to his downfall. Just when Alexander begins to trust her, Natasha makes a desperate move to help her sister again — unknowingly putting a deadly plan planned by Alexander's rivals into motion. Betrayed and furious, Alexander pushes her away. But when she’s kidnapped by the very enemies he warned her about, Alexander is faced with a brutal choice: Let her go—or burn his empire to save her.

"Mr. Dawson, about that farmhouse construction project in Hattensburg… I've decided that I'm willing to go there." Gary Dawson, on the other end of the line, sounds fairly surprised. "I've been asking you to go there for ages, yet you refused every time because you said you wanted to be with your boyfriend, Timothy. Why the sudden change of mind?" Madeline Carlton lowers her reddened eyes and pretends to chuckle nonchalantly. "I guess I hit one too many walls and just decided to come to my senses afterward." Hearing this, Gary sighs and says sternly, "This is a highly classified mission. You will be assuming a whole new identity when you start working on this project. Before the mission ends, you will not be allowed to have any contact with the rest of the world. "Madeline, are you sure that you've thought things through?" "Yes. I just want to escape this place as soon as I can." There is a long silence on the phone. However, Gary answers right after the pause. "Alright. I'll send the classified contract to you in a while. It should take about a month for the paperwork to be finalized. Use that opportunity to say goodbye to your friends and family." The call disconnects. An email pops up in Madeline's inbox. Right after reading through the classified contract, she signed her name with a flourish and submitted the file with a click. At the same time, Bloomberg Group's new product launch plays on the television. Timothy Bloomberg, wearing a tailored white suit, slowly leads Lacey Houston up the catwalk stage.

I was three months pregnant when our enemies ambushed me on a private drive in Manhattan’s East Side. A bullet punched through the window. Glass buried itself in my shoulder. With the last bit of strength I had, I hit the Moretti family’s encrypted distress signal and called my husband, Adrian Moretti, for help. He didn’t come. Later, I found out he had pulled the Moretti family’s best trauma surgeon and security detail away that night to stay with his old flame, Evelyn Langdon. She had just lost her husband. She was carrying his child. She said a nightmare had left her gasping for air. I lost our baby in the emergency room. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Evelyn’s new post. [Some people don’t need to ask. He’ll still drop everything and come running. Thank you, A. You always know what I need most.] In the photo, Adrian was kneeling by her bed, fastening the ruby necklace around her throat. The same necklace he had promised me for our tenth anniversary. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I called Professor Clark. “Professor, I’ll take the classified seat at the Artemis Northern Institute. Start the Black Ice Protocol. Wipe my public identity as soon as possible.”

I was only ten years old when Timoteo Panno found me on the streets of Sirithi. He's the Don of the Panno family, the strongest mafia family in the country. He's also the one who taught me how to protect myself. When I turn 18 years old, I become his lover as well as the weapon he's most proud of. Timoteo isn't interested in other women. I'm the only one staying by his side for many years. We've been with each other for four years. Everyone thinks I'll eventually become the Madre of the Panno family. That is, until Nadia Bellucci accidentally kills her fiance and desperately needs a clean identity to wash herself of all suspicions. As she clutches her chest that houses her heart, which is now weakened from the time she has saved Timoteo's life, she whines coquettishly, "Timoteo, I don't want to go to prison…" With a smile on his face, Timoteo doesn't hesitate to push me out as the scapegoat to take the blame for Nadia. "You've always been a pawn who gets abandoned all the time, so you might as well do it one more time."

For three years, Emerie had been married to Allan, the son of an Alpha. Allan had always believed it was Emerie who drugged him, forcing him into the marriage. Determined to divorce her, he chose to be with her sister Jolene instead. But what he didn’t know was that Emerie was already terminally ill when she left him. When Allan finally uncovered the truth and desperately searched for her—could he still win her back?

I was just a student who couldn't afford tuition. For five years, I was also the secret lover of Mafia Don Dante Costello. Publicly, I was his personal art restorer. In private, he spent his nights making me his, holding me close and kissing me breathless. Then his family arranged his engagement. To Isabella Rossi. A princess from a rival family. At their engagement party, Isabella stabbed the back of my hand with a shard of broken glass. He made me apologize. To her. For making a scene. Fighting back tears, I bowed my head to Isabella. When Isabella lost a bet and had to play Russian Roulette—one bullet, six chambers—he made me take her place. My hand shook as I raised the gun to my head. "You saved my life once," I told him. "Now you can have it back." The moment I vanished from his world, the ruthless Mafia Don who had everything under control...completely lost his mind.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

After helping my husband build his business from the ground up, I settled into life as a full-time housewife. When our daughter's tenth birthday approached, I planned to host a grand celebration for her. I booked a party that cost 2 thousand dollars per table. But when I swiped my card at the hotel, the staff gave me a strange look. "Mrs. Richmond, this card doesn't even have fifty dollars in it to charge." Flushed with embarrassment, I went home to confront my husband. He wore an apologetic expression. "Lately, the company's been competing for contracts. The new government official is insatiably greedy, and I've had to spend a lot under the table to smooth things over. Once the funds turn around, I'll make sure our daughter gets the grand birthday she deserves." I gave him a gentle, understanding smile—but as soon as I turned away, I began tallying our assets. Because that so-called "new government official" was none other than my father. And in his office, there hadn't been any bids or contracts at all. Now I intended to find out exactly where my husband had spent all our money.