Romans & histoires Writing Contest Cash Prize

My brother-in-law, Timmy Lynch, racks up 50 million dollars of illegal gambling debt but leaves my contact information behind. By the time the interest snowballs to 100 million dollars, the debt collectors show up at my doorstep. After I persuade them to leave, my wife, Celia Lynch, and my mother-in-law, Meryl Unwin, finally come out of the room. Celia's face is pale as she says, "Let's get divorced. I'd rather leave with nothing. Your gambling debts are your own problem, so don't even think about dragging me into this." No matter how many times I explain that it was Timmy who bet on an underdog team and lost, she refuses to believe me. Meryl even slaps me across the face and roars, "Not only are you trying to trick my daughter into paying your debt, but you're also slandering my son? Listen to me, Celia—divorce him immediately!" Then, she turns to me and says, "I might as well tell you the truth now. Celia is pregnant, and the baby's father is your buddy. Just give up already and sign the divorce papers." Wait, what? I literally just won a 100-million-dollar prize from winning a World Soccer Tournament bet last night. I was going to ask if they need help covering Timmy's debt. How did this suddenly turn into a full-on divorce? Fine, then. They can pay back his massive debt themselves.

“If you leave this palace tonight, you become prey” Lyra Vale got rejected by her fated mate like yesterday’s trash, hauled into enemy land, and turned into the single most lethal prize a blood-soaked kingdom has ever drooled over. In Dravenhold they don’t chain prisoners. They drape them in silk that costs more than most packs see in a lifetime and call them queen. Kael Draven, the Enemy King, had every reason to slit her throat the second she hit his dirt. Instead he put his mouth to her ear and claimed her protection. Claimed her. Now the whole damn continent whispers the same filthy truth: her blood can make kings. Or drown them. The past won’t stay buried. Rowan, the Alpha who ripped her heart out to “save his people,” creeps back through the shadows with one desperate, cocky demand: come back to me. Stay here and she becomes Kael’s living blade, soaked in power and whatever else he decides to take from her body. Leave, and she lights the match that turns every pack into smoking graves. One man wants her soul to rule with. The other already shattered it and still thinks he deserves the pieces. Lyra’s done being the girl who waits to be chosen. In a world where power gets ripped out of throats, not politely handed over… she isn’t prey anymore. She’s the f*cking throne. And she’s deciding who bleeds for the right to sit on it.

I thought divorce would free me from Roland Voss, the man who turned our marriage into a gilded prison. But walking away from a Voss isn’t freedom. It’s war. The press calls me a gold-digger. His lawyers call me a liability. And Roland? He just smirks across his mahogany desk and murmurs, “You’ll never escape me, Aliyah. Not while you carry my name.” I swore I’d never shatter again until I met him. Dominic Voss. Roland’s younger brother. The man I shouldn’t even look at, let alone want. He sees the cracks in me no one else bothers to notice. When the world turns its back, Dominic leans close and whispers, “Let me protect you. Even if it means going against my own blood.” Every stolen glance is treason. Every brush of his hand sets me on fire. And when Victor Hale, a rival billionaire with teeth sharper than Roland’s, circles closer, I realize I’ve become the prize in a game where men like them never lose. But I’m not the same woman Roland once broke. This time, I’m willing to risk everything, scandal, ruin, even the wrath of the dynasty that branded me theirs to choose the man who makes me feel alive. The question is… Will my freedom cost me my heart? Or will loving Dominic ignite a war that none of us survive?

Syanja eventually made a choice regarding her life after attempting numerous jobs and different careers. She waited for a chance while writing novels. One day, she received an email from a sizable business located distant from her hometown. She quickly accepted their offer and signed the contract with them without any hesitation. She joined that organisation mostly because she wanted to advance her profession and it is the top corporation in the world for authors. Jeong Jung-Hoon, the CEO's younger son, noticed her assisting someone one day. Jung-Hoon was awestruck by her acts and beauty, and his affections for her gradually grew. He was supported in pursuing her by his siblings and friends. They get close and fall in love after a few dates, but Syanja's ex Hyung-Shi returns to her life. He visited her and made an effort to reunite them. Due to their respective occupations, Jung-Hoon was likewise quite busy at work and barely found time to spend with her. They took a step back. Rumors started to circulate. They began to lose faith in one another, went their separate ways, and concentrated on their occupations, but neither of them knew what fate desired. Their love wasn't over after that. They encountered each other again, this time with stronger souls and no love but anger. They had transformed and strengthened their character. They made each other regret everything they had done for one another this time. They made every effort to bring each other down, but it just brought them closer.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

I stand before the judges at the jewelry design competition and admit to plagiarism. Then, I announce my withdrawal from the contest, along with my resignation as Design Director of Fairchild Group. My fiance, Caleb Fairchild, shoots daggers at me. "If you walk away from this competition, our engagement is off!" My father follows up by slapping me across the face. "First, you plagiarize your own sister, and now you're breaking off your engagement with the Fairchilds? Are you trying to ruin our family?" "Oh, I'm not just calling off my engagement. I'm also cutting off my ties with you," I respond apathetically. I make this decision because I have been given a second life. In my previous life, my stepsister and I competed in this contest. First place earns the title of the nation's top jewelry designer and 50 million dollars from Fairchild Group. However, round after round, her designs are exactly the same as mine, and she submits them before I do. The judging panel gives me a pass because of Caleb and lets me advance to the finals, but not without a warning to never plagiarize again. I refuse to believe it. I switch to a brand-new computer, lock myself in my room, and pour everything into a new design. Yet, when the final designs appear on the big screen, history repeats itself. In the end, my sister takes first place and walks away with everything that should have been mine. The reputation I painstakingly built is ruined, and my name is dragged through the mud online. My parents are ashamed of me. They knock me out and sell me off to the countryside to marry an old man. Ultimately, I die after endless abuse. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the semifinals. Everyone is pointing at me as they stare at the two identical designs.

A struggling Internet entrepreneur, a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, a wife of an impressionable state senator, and a famous voice over actress find themselves caught in a web of espionage and intrigue that threatens their lives and those of everyone they know. When the undercover agents first approached Melanie Tyler and Kathleen O=Brian the night of their 30th high school reunion, the women could never have imagined that their innocent game of playing spies from a 60=s television show would become a real life confrontation with one of the most insidious criminal minds of their generation. Melanie "Mel" Tyler and Kathleen "Katie" Conner have been best friends since kindergarten. As teenagers, their favorite television show was The Man from U.N.C.L.E. The girls even had a hidden room where they kept files on various schoolmates. But after graduating from high school, everyone in the graduating class went their separate ways. Mel's voice-over talent landed her a high-paying job in Los Angeles while Katie married her high school sweetheart, James O'Brien, now the youngest member of the Minnesota State Senate. Mel and Katie find it difficult to believe that they are about to attend Abbeyville High School's thirtieth reunion. Seeing most of their former classmates should be fun, but there are a few that the ladies hoped would not attend. Unfortunately, the three worst do make an appearance. Charles Haussman and Eric Kramer were bullies back in school and they have not forgotten how the ladies once bested them. Then there is Wyatt Gaynes, the jock that Melanie had a crush on - along with many other female students. A novel of romance and adventure for Baby Boomers, fans of "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." and anyone who has ever attended their high school reunion!

King Lucien Draven rules the United Packs with cold iron strength. He has crushed every rebellion and refused every mating alliance. Lycan law demands a king produce heirs with a royal female or face challenge to his throne. Male omegas are disposable tributes, never equals. Then Caelan Ashford arrives as tribute from a fading noble pack. The quiet, scarred omega expects death in the royal palace. Instead, his scent ignites the ancient mate bond the instant their eyes meet. The pull is raw, immediate, and utterly forbidden. Lucien fights the bond with ruthless control. He confines Caelan to the lower halls, assigns him to brutal training, and buries desire beneath duty. But every stolen glance and accidental brush erodes his restraint. The bond grows stronger, darker, impossible to ignore. Caelan hides a deadly secret: royal blood from the dynasty Lucien’s ancestors destroyed. His silver collar dulls his true scent, yet it cannot hide him from the king or from Prince Rowan Draven, Lucien’s charismatic and dangerous younger brother. Rowan sees Caelan as both prize and weapon. He offers protection and power in exchange for loyalty, circling like a predator while court intrigue thickens with assassination plots and rising rebellion. Torn between throne and heart, Lucien must decide how much he will risk for his forbidden mate. Caelan, trapped between two lethal alphas, navigates betrayal, awakening power, and a bond that could destroy the kingdom or remake it. In a slow-burning dance of denial and surrender, where every touch courts war and every refusal cuts deeper, one forbidden connection threatens an empire and two wounded souls who were never meant to find each other.

Charlene Davis never imagined that one accidental encounter would turn her world upside down. When she meets Astrid Evans—a woman with her exact face—they both realize a truth neither of them ever knew: they're twins, separated at birth. But before Charlene can process it, Astrid makes her a shocking offer: pretend to be her for a month in exchange for a large sum of money. Needing the cash, Charlene agrees. What she doesn't know is that Astrid is married to Malik Evans, a cold, ruthless billionaire who despises his wife. Thrust into a loveless marriage filled with tension and secrets, Charlene must endure Malik's wrath—while pretending to be the woman he loathes. But something unexpected happens. Charlene begins to fall for Malik, and to her surprise, Malik begins to soften. He sees a different side of his “wife”—gentle, sincere, kind. He begins to fall in love, a feeling he thought impossible after Astrid’s past betrayal. Yet just as Malik is ready to forgive and start over, the truth unravels: Charlene isn’t Astrid—and he’s been fooled again. Heartbroken and furious, Malik pushes Charlene away. Charlene walks away with a shattered heart and a newfound secret—she’s pregnant with Malik’s child. Determined to build a better life for her baby, Charlene chooses to move forward, stronger and wiser. But fate has other plans. After divorcing Astrid, Malik realizes that his heart still belongs to the woman who showed him what real love could be. Returning to Charlene, he begs for forgiveness and proposes marriage—not out of guilt, but out of love. Now, Charlene must decide: Can she forgive the man who broke her heart... for the love they both deserve?

In the world of crime family, Don Damian and I were known for two things: him for running wild, me for standing by him. Everyone knew I was crazy about Damian. It started when we were kids. I was born with a congenital heart defect. My parents couldn't afford the surgery and chose to walk away. Back then, Damian was just a street-level errand boy whose father had gambling debts. He had no standing, no money, nothing. But to raise cash for my surgery, he volunteered for the most dangerous work the Coronelli family had, the kind where each job was a gamble with his life and every payday came in blood. He clawed his way up. The Don eventually took him in as an adopted son, and I became his wife, just like I'd always hoped. But ten years into our marriage, Damian stopped coming home. I'd sit alone at a table of cold food, calling him over and over. Sometimes a woman's voice would answer in the background. He had a private lounge at the family's club, and there was never a shortage of company. My best friend Vincent couldn't understand it. "Is it worth it? He doesn't love you anymore." I just smiled. "He gave me my life. I know he still loves me." Then Vincent forwarded me an encrypted video. A girl in a hospital gown sat on a hospital bed. At the edge of the frame, a hand with sharp-knuckled fingers reached into the shot, a hand wearing the family crest watch. Their fingers were intertwined. The caption read: [My hero promised to marry me once I'm better!! yay!!] I stared at the screen for a long time. That watch. I knew it cold. It was the one I'd fastened it onto his wrist myself more times than I could count, and there was no way I was wrong.