Account Library Novels & Stories

After I graduated, I kept hitting walls while job hunting, but my boyfriend landed a position at a big company with ease. My boyfriend of two years voluntarily gave me his salary to comfort me. When I finally found a job, he worried about my long commute and bought me a car. All my friends envied me for having such a thoughtful boyfriend. In order to buy our first house, I secretly transferred my own salary into his account as well. A year later, we decided to get married. He held my hand and said excitedly, “I know you don’t have much saved. I don’t want a single cent from you. All I want is your whole heart.” I was deeply moved by how considerate he was. However, on the day of our engagement, he pulled out photos of me with more than 40 different men and accused me of cheating. I stared at them. I had never even seen these people before. Then, he showed me his card’s transaction history, filled with charges from a place called Sunshine Club. “I trusted you with my card, and you used my money to fool around! I’m not marrying you. Give me back my car and the 800,000 dollars you’ve burned through.” I calmly took out the card he had given me before and sneered, “Sure. Let’s settle the accounts properly.” The moment my attorney revealed the true financial statements, he was completely stunned.

After getting married, I followed my wife to the desert to help build up a remote research base. After months of severe drought, I applied for 17 ounces of water just to wash my hair. But as station chief, June Sheffield rejected me without hesitation. "The water supply has to go toward cultivating the samples first. You need to learn how to tough it out." Then the next moment, I came across a new post the intern had uploaded on social media. 'Wanted to try an outdoor bath, and Ms. Sheffield approved a whole ton of water without even blinking! She even set up the bath tent herself. I'm so happy.' Furious, I went straight to confront June Sheffield. Usually cold and distant, she softened her tone for once. "Conditions here are harsh. If Morgan can't handle it and decides to leave, the base will end up even more short-staffed. You're one of the core staff members. Once the project pays out, your share alone will be at least four million. An intern like him doesn't get that kind of treatment." In the end, I swallowed my anger. That was, until the first-quarter project wrapped up. When there was still no movement in my account, I nervously contacted headquarters. The moment I gave my identity, the person on the other end sounded stunned. "You're just an intern. What project bonus are you talking about? And the head of the research department has always been Morgan Wilder." I stared at June's signature on the personnel registration list and suddenly understood everything. Without another word, I packed my bags and booked a flight home. Life in the desert was bitterly cold and unforgiving. This time, I was not staying.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her. Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs. All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition. But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time. That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully. "Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead? "But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!" Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him." It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

“That’s it, little sister,” he rasped against my ear, voice low and dangerous. “Soak your stepbrother’s fingers like the dirty, naughty girl you are.” Two thick fingers plunged deep into my dripping core without warning, stretching me, claiming me, pumping hard and fast. I whimpered, biting down on his shoulder to stifle the moan that threatened to betray us. “Be a good girl and stay silent…” he rumbled low in my ear, “or everyone in this library will know exactly how desperate you are to be fucked by me.” ~~~~ One reckless, drunken night. One masked stranger who set her body on fire with sin and secrets. No names. Just raw heat, tangled limbs, and forbidden pleasure. The next morning, still throbbing from the memory, Miyara walks into class only to freeze. The man commanding the lecture hall is no stranger. He’s Caden Cross, her stepbrother. The one who vanished six years ago, leaving her with a childhood crush she never quite buried. Her one-night stand. Now he’s back. Older. Darker. Her professor. The stepbrother she once ached for has returned with one purpose: to take her, ruin her, and break her completely, until she’s nothing but his. As buried secrets surface and outsiders conspire to tear them apart, Miyara must decide: fight the pull of the forbidden… or surrender to the man who’s always owned her heart and now wants every filthy, shattered piece of her. Will they burn together in the ashes of their taboo desire, consequences be damned? Or will the world force them apart before she can beg for more? ️ Warning: This story contains explicit sex scenes, stalking, non-con/dub-con acts, coercion and manipulation. Kindly proceed with caution

After getting tormented by electrical shocks for five years, I've contracted severe brain atrophy. Once the psychiatric hospital kicks me out, I rely on the posts that are recorded in my old Facebook account in order to survive. Rosalie Vaughn, my childhood friend and former girlfriend who has sworn to torture me till I die, takes her rich fiance, Sebastian Crowe, back to the old, rundown complex. The moment she sees me curling up on the moldy couch while clutching my phone tightly, she lets out a scoff. "Oh? Now that you've escaped from the hospital, are you still waiting for some rich woman's text? Weren't you very quick and decisive when you stole my life-saving money back then? Why are you still pretending to be some devoted man?" As soon as Rosalie's voice falls, she snatches my phone from my hands. After keying in the wrong password three times in a row, she chooses to recover my password. The moment she sees the security question, her mocking expression freezes momentarily. The question shows, "Who's the only one I've loved in this life?" I blink hazily, my eyes cloudy and dull. Then, I tug at Rosalie's sleeve. "Miss, do you know who she is? I remember I used to love someone with all my heart, but I think she locked me up in a psychiatric hospital." After that, I turn around and try to scavenge the trash can for a piece of expired bread just so I can offer it to the "nice lady".

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.

Isabella Rossi has 48 hours to come up with €300,000 or her brother Luca disappears permanently. Luca gambled with the wrong man — Alessandro De Santis, Il Capo of Milan’s most feared crime family. When Isabella storms into his club to beg for mercy, Alessandro offers her a deal instead of a bullet. One year. Live at his Lake Como estate. Be his on paper when he demands it. Follow his rules. After 365 days, the debt is erased and her brother walks free. Break the contract early, and Luca pays with blood. To Alessandro, Isabella is just a new experiment. Politicians, cops, rival bosses — they all break within days of meeting him. He’s curious how long it takes a woman with nothing left to lose. To Isabella, Alessandro is a monster in a tailored suit. Cold, controlling, and lethal. Rule #1: Don’t fall in love with me. Easy, she thinks. She hates him. But the estate isn’t a prison of iron bars. It’s gilded cages, midnight conversations in the library, scars he doesn’t explain, and a man who watches her like she’s the only threat he can’t neutralize. The more rules he makes, the more he breaks them himself. Protection turns into possession. Glances turn into touches. And the contract’s fine print becomes a countdown neither of them can escape. Because Alessandro has enemies who want his empire, and now they want her too. When Luca’s betrayal runs deeper than debt and Isabella becomes a target, Alessandro has to choose: the empire he killed to build, or the woman he swore was just collateral. 365 days to survive him. 365 days for him to ruin her. 365 days to fall in love with the last man she should ever trust.

16 year old Scarlet Paine struggles to understand what’s happening to her, as she wakes and realizes she’s becoming a vampire. Alienated from her parents and her friends, the only person she has left to turn to is Sage, the mysterious boy who has quickly become the love of her life. Yet Sage, whose house she finds boarded up, is nowhere to be found.

Scarlet, alone in the world, with nowhere left to turn, seeks out her friends and tries to reconcile with them. All seems to be patched up when they invite her to join them on a trip to an abandoned island in the Hudson—but as things get out of hand and Scarlet’s true powers are revealed, who her friends and enemies are becomes more confusing than ever.

Blake, still interested in her, tries to make amends. He seems sincere, and Scarlet is confused as she has to grapple with whether to be with Blake or to wait for Sage, who is nowhere to be found.

When Scarlet finally finds Sage, they have the most romantic time of her life; yet it is tinged with tragedy, as Sage is dying, with but a few days left to live.

Kyle, meanwhile, turned into the only other vampire left in the world, is on a murderous rampage, seeking Scarlet; Caitlin and Caleb consult with Aiden, and they each embark on different missions—Caleb to stop and kill Kyle, and Caitlin, to the famed Yale University library, to research the ancient relic rumored to both cure and kill vampires for all time.

It is a race against time, and it may be too late. Scarlet is changing rapidly, barely able to control what she’s becoming, and Sage is dying with each passing moment. As the book culminates in an action-packed, shocking twist, Scarlet will be left with a monumental choice—one that will change the world forever. Will Scarlet make the ultimate sacrifice to save Sage’s life? Will she risk everything she has for love?