Jason Died Novels & Stories

Rachel gave everything to her husband. Her love. Her kidney. Her silence and her all. So when she finally regained her hearing, she never expected the first thing she’d hear would be her husband’s betrayal Nathan, tangled in another woman’s arms, calling her a burden he was tired of carrying. That night, Rachel walked out with nothing but a broken heart and a body already marked as sacrifice. Nathan thought that was the end of her story, but he was wrong. Years later, Rachel returns not as the woman he discarded, but as Belira Williams, the hidden heiress of DroneCode, the most powerful tech empire in the world. Richer, colder, and untouchable. This time, she isn’t here to beg for any reason. She’s here to ruin him for good. With secrets sharp enough to destroy reputations and a past Nathan never bothered to uncover, Rachel begins her revenge, slow, deliberate, and merciless. He once called her useless, now she’s the woman standing between him and everything he thought he owned. And this time… she’s not leaving quietly.

One week after my death, my husband, Christopher Ford, was making love on our bed with his one true love. His face showed pure satisfaction. "Finally, I don’t have to deal with that bar hostess anymore." Later, he held my belongings, weeping with regret. "Phoebe, why haven’t you come back?" It seemed he had forgotten that he had already pushed me to my death that night. I was forced to donate my bone marrow to his one true love, and I died, along with our unborn child.

On the day I died, my boyfriend was with another woman. He was a man I had rescued from the clutches of rich women. My condition was for him to be my boyfriend for three years, and he agreed. I showered him with money, resources, and connections, single-handedly making him famous. Yet, while he told me we could not date publicly, he casually engaged in fake romance rumors with others for publicity. One of his rumored girlfriends even came to me with a voice message. "If it weren’t for using her as a stepping stone, who would bother with someone so dull and boring?" But after I died, why did he go mad?

My biggest mistake was marrying the Alpha who hated me. To him, I was never a wife or a Luna, just a living blood bank kept alive to save the woman he loved. My stepsister. He believed every lie she told him and never once chose to believe me. When I finally couldn’t endure it anymore and walked away, he was certain I would come crawling back. He was so sure I wouldn’t survive without him. But I didn’t return. I died instead. At least, that’s what the world believes. Only after my death did he begin to question everything. Only then did the truth surface. Only then did he realize that the woman he destroyed was the only one who had ever loved him without conditions. They say death ends everything. For me, it was only the beginning. Now… I am the Alpha’s greatest regret.

At the age when I should have been attending university, I was framed by my biological parents and sent to prison. My sister had been cruelly killed by her kidnappers when she tried to save me, and they blamed me for her death. On the day of my release, I was kidnapped and had one of my ears cut off. When I found the opportunity, I immediately called my father, asking him to save me. Instead, he snapped, saying, “You’re no longer my son! Don’t contact me!” I was then burned alive. After I died, my sister returned. However, when my parents found out that the charred corpse was mine, the family crumbled.

It was a full moon, and my mate, Alpha Ethan, bailed on our son's coming-of-age ceremony rehearsal. All because his Omega mistress, Scarlett, was in heat. Then, during the actual ceremony, our son Caleb was ambushed by a rival pack. By the time I heard the news, Caleb had been shot. He was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. I knelt beside him, completely breaking down, when Ethan's voice, faking an apology, came through the mind link: "Sorry, Scarlett needs me. I'm sure Caleb can handle things. Just make sure Caleb gets some rest early, don't let him run around and mess up tomorrow's celebration." I looked at my son's broken body, my voice trembling, "He won't be running anywhere anymore." "Good," Ethan said, sounding pleased. "Scarlett's bloodline is purer. She's better suited to give the Stone Pack strong heirs. You should understand." I cut the link. After I committed my son's body to the flames, I found the secret ritual to break a mate bond and contacted a wolf I hadn't spoken to in a long, long time: "The protection wards on Stone Pack territory are down. You can make your move."

At eighteen, Ashley’s world crumbles. Her parents give her legacy to a perfect impostor. Her mate, Jason, accuses her of witchcraft and rejects her in front of the entire pack. Branded a poisoner and thrown into slavery, Ashley endures three months of brutal torment. When Jason—the very mate who condemned her—finally returns, it isn’t to save her. It’s to drain her blood… to save the girl who stole her life. Even her family agrees. But Ashley refuses to die for them. She rejects Jason, chooses herself—and pays for it with her life. Only death doesn’t keep her. Resurrected by a mysterious and dangerous man, Ashley becomes a weapon in a war she never asked to fight. Her enemies believe she’s returned for revenge. Her family fears her. Her former mate regrets her. But Ashley isn’t here to play their game. Her wolf finally awakens, so does her purpose: She is the chosen guardian—destined to reshape everything. Will she reclaim the pack that destroyed her? Or carve a new future—one forged in fire, betrayal, and blood?

I once made a promise to the top actress in the industry. If I publicly proposed to her 99 times on livestreams, she would, on the hundredth, officially launch our relationship. But when the hundredth proposal came, she was on a private yacht kissing a new rising actor. Her smile had been so sweet and carefree. I became a complete joke. Feeling guilty, she texted me: [I will say yes on your 101st proposal.] She entered my livestream, looking like a goddess had descended to earth. As she looked on, I lit all one hundred love letters I had ever written for her, as well as the stomach cancer diagnosis I had hidden inside. “There will be no 101st time, Miss Ford.”

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.

My mom, who works as a lawyer, decides to take me to court just because I refuse to donate my platelets to my younger sister, Lindsey Finch. I explained to her that I have a blood clotting disorder, and having an extremely low platelet count would put my life at risk. But she screamed at me through tears: “Can’t you just stop pretending? Do you really have to let your sister die? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?” I lost the case, and my platelets were forcibly taken. I suffered a massive hemorrhage and died a miserable death alone in a deserted corner.