Max Kepler Instagram Novels & Stories

Natalie Spencer, a 21-year-old girl lived happily with her parents and cousin brother Sean in Las Vegas but she lost her parents in a sudden tragedy which forced her to come down to Seattle, and live with her Uncle and Aunt. Max Spencer, Natalie’s Uncle is a cunning Man and has his eyes on his brother’s property, whose Natalie was the sole heir. Due to Natalie’s father’s will, the property will come under her husband’s name and she can only get married once she turns 23. So, her uncle tortured her for 2 years, kept her hostage in his house, and fixed her wedding on her 23rd birthday to a boy Named Ricky, who is a nonsense person and has bad intentions for Natalie. But Natalie ran away and reached California seeking help from her childhood best friend Nancy and her boyfriend Caleb where she Met Mason Rhodes Mason, who is the best friend of Caleb, lost his Father in an accident and his Mother couldn’t take it and fall sick. Just for her sake, Mason married Natalie, who also needed a husband to get a hold of her Father’s property and get rid from her uncle. Both got married and fell in love with each other. Mason and Natalie’s relationship is jeopardized when Natalie’s Aunt and Uncle re-entered her life and some horrific truth about the past was disclosed.

"You're an insensitive Bastard," I say. I want him to say something to do something, but he just leans against the wall staring at me. To my horror, I feel the telltale sign of tears, but I blink it away aggressively. Max walks towards me and cups my face "You've no idea," he says, leaning in. I don't know what I hope for, but I lift my head to face him anyway. We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he whispers "Do you think I'm not tired Callista, you should know by now that I am an addict and you are my addiction, I know I should back away, but these days when it comes to you, it seems my body doesn't obey my commands. I close my eyes, and i see you. I breathe, and your scent fills the air. Every day, i crave a taste of you. You everything to me. " His nose caresses my cheek, and he takes a long inhale, and I realise he's breathing in my scent. He then puts his forehead to mine, and his lips brush mine when he says "I'm never going back to how I was before, am I?" When I open my eyes, he's gone.

My adoptive parents' long-lost daughter came back. She's a wellness influencer. She eats from crystal bowls she "cleansed." Sleeps with a white noise machine. She will only ride in a custom, climate-controlled car. That's not all. She filled our family's Manhattan law firm with Himalayan salt lamps and energy crystals. The espresso in the conference room? Replaced with gluten-free, organic dandelion root tea. "The energy here is so murky," she'd say. "We need to cleanse the world with love and light!" My guilt-ridden parents gave her everything she wanted. Even my fiancé told me, "Ava, you stole twenty years of her Upper East Side life. Can't you cut her some slack?" The day of the final hearing for our firm's biggest case, the entire court had to wait for her to finish her "emotional cleansing meditation." The judge was furious. I stood up. Delivered a flawless closing argument. I won our client $500 million and secured the future of the firm. But at the party, she had a drunken breakdown, fell into the pool, and drowned. My parents and my fiancé blamed me for everything. "You always have to win, don't you? It was a simple, open-and-shut case. You couldn't even let her have that?" They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They destroyed my law license and my reputation. They even had me injected with a fatal overdose of sedatives. I died full of hate. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day she was crying on her Instagram Live, begging for the case. This time, I walked straight into our rival's law firm. This "sure-win" case? I'm going to make you lose everything.

My sister-in-law sent me a photo of her kissing my husband on the beach. Just a few minutes later, she deleted the photo and sent me a text saying, “Oops, sent to the wrong person. Lol.” I knew it was deliberate. It was never a mistake. She wanted me to see how happy my husband was with her. Clara was never my sister-in-law. Three years ago, my husband had lied about her, claiming she was his younger sister, and I believed him. But after five years of marriage, I discovered—far too late—that Clara was never his sister. She was his mistress, his childhood lover, the woman he had been sleeping with under the same roof as me while making me serve her as if she were truly my sister-in-law. And now what? He had lied again… said he was going on a business trip. Yet Clara had just sent me a picture—a cute, sickening picture—of my husband happily kissing the very woman he had once claimed was his younger sister. The photo carried a timestamp showing the exact time and location. It was real. There was no denying it. They were in Hawaii, on a beach, laughing, kissing, and having the time of their lives… while he had made me believe he was away on business. Without saying a word, I saved the picture and posted it straight to Instagram, captioning it: "Congratulations to my sister-in-law… on finally becoming the official wife.” Then I turned off my phone and went to bed. The next morning, after having breakfast with my cat, Lulu, and taking the warmest bath ever, I turned my phone back on—and froze. Over 200 missed calls were waiting for me. Notifications exploded across my phone. And it didn’t stop there—the number of unattended messages kept climbing past 250.

The new Consigliere wanted to restructure the Mafia family’s affairs by sinking her claws into me. My boyfriend, who was a Mafia Don and wildly in love with me, wanted to get revenge on her for me. He planned to raise her status to the skies and make her suffer a horrific downfall when the right time came. He kicked me out of the family and gave all my responsibilities to the new Consigliere. She received luxury cars and jewelry from him as gifts, but he told me to tolerate it as part of the plot. When my younger brother's kidneys started to fail, I begged my Don boyfriend for the surgery fees, which he agreed to give me. On the day of the surgery, I waited from daylight to daybreak for the money, but nothing came. That was when I saw an Instagram post from the new Consigliere, taunting me. "My family's Don is such a wonderful man. Someone who was kicked out of the family was brazen enough to ask him for money. What if she can't repay us? I had to stop the money transfer. I hope this woman will find a better excuse the next time she tries to scam him." The mess ended with my brother dying. My Don boyfriend called me later in an attempt to cajole me. "Don't be mad. Joey can have his surgery later. I'm just tolerating Rosetta to encourage her to become full of herself. The higher she climbs, the harder she'll fall. Don't worry! Her birthday will be in a few days. I'll humiliate her, then make her lose everything. We'll have our wedding after that. That will cheer Joey up!" However, I knew that his so-called plot was the start of him falling in love with another woman. That was when I no longer wanted him.

While on vacation, I return to my hometown to help my parents harvest pears. After seeing my Instagram post, my son's homeroom teacher, Ernest Dugan, sends me a private message. "So you sell pears, Mr. Miller? The kindergarten hasn't finalized next month's fruit supplier yet, so we'll order from you. You won't suffer any loss from this deal. I'll pay five dollars per pound. You just need to arrange transportation and deliver them to the kindergarten." I almost laugh out loud. My family's pears are the famous Green Jewel variety; they are known as the "Hermes of pears". They sell for over 100 dollars per pound on average. Five dollars wouldn't even cover the cost of a single pear. Even though Ernest is being ridiculous, I still reply politely, "Sorry, all of our pears are reserved. You'll need to find another supplier." To my surprise, Ernest immediately posts photos of my family's pears in the parent group chat. He writes, "Next month's fruit selection for the kindergarten will be upgraded to Green Jewel pears. If anyone wishes to buy some for personal consumption, feel free to place orders below. The price is five dollars per pound." The chat group buzzes with activity as parents rush to place orders one after another. Three days later, they block the truck carrying my shipment to Windford. Determined to force the sale, they surround the vehicle and refuse to let it leave. Before they can ransack the truck, several military-plated vehicles arrive and seal off the road. A group of officials steps out with stern, angry expressions. One of them coldly demands, "These are pears specially ordered for this weekend's state banquet. Who said you could lay a finger on them?"

The night before our wedding, my mother needed a fifty-thousand-dollar emergency deposit for surgery. I went to my fiancé, Major Adrian Hayes, hoping he would listen before it was too late. He only saw the number. He paid the deposit in the end, but something between us broke that night. That money became the beginning of every name he would ever use against me. After that, every time I asked him for help, he sent me one hundred dollars. When I was in a car accident, he sent one hundred dollars. When I begged him to attend my mother’s funeral, he sent one hundred dollars. Eight months ago, I found out I was pregnant. I sent him seventy-seven voice messages, desperate to tell him we were having a baby. He never listened. He only sent seventy-seven payments of one hundred dollars. Later, when I started bleeding and was rushed into emergency surgery, I called Adrian and begged him to come to the hospital, to answer the doctors, to save our child. He sent one hundred dollars again. At the same time, Madeline’s Instagram story showed Adrian in his dress uniform beside her at a lavish officers’ charity gala. The comments all treated them like the perfect match. I stared at the screen until my hand went numb. I was begging for him from the edge of an emergency room while he stood under chandeliers beside another woman, looking as if he had already found the wife he wanted. By the time Adrian finally turned his phone back on, his staff officer’s voice was shaking. “Major Hayes... your wife and the baby did not make it.” And in that moment, Adrian went feral.

My mom died giving birth to me. They couldn't save her. My dad? He dumped me outside a prison and ran. Didn't even look back. It was five degrees. I was basically frozen. Barely breathing. Later, a guard said the whole max block lost it that night. One hundred eight inmates—death row, life sentences—went crazy. Slamming doors. Smashing windows. Yelling they wanted to keep me. In the end, they filed a letter. Not a breakout plan. A custody request. Somehow... it got approved. From that day on, I had 108 dads. But growing up, I found out the truth. They weren't criminals. On paper, they were dead—killed in the line of duty. In reality, they were still out there, serving. Eighteen years later, I got into one of the top high schools—with the highest score in the State of Ashford. On the fifth day, I beat the rich girl, Vivian Cobbley, by one point on a mock exam. Next thing I knew, my name was all over the bulletin board: [Riley Ray, daughter of murderers!] Vivian cornered me in the bathroom and shoved my head into a toilet. "Your dads are killers. That filth's in you too." She beat me so hard I dragged her down when we went over the second-floor railing. When I woke up, the Dean of Students was right in my face, finger in my face. "No surprise you're violent. It's in your blood. Call your criminal dads. Now." I shook. "Mr. Todd... you sure you want me to call them?"

Maximilian McTavish is a 35-year-old billionaire who seems to have the world in the palm of his hands, but his life comes crumbling down when he catches his fiancée in their bed with another man. Hurt and angry, he closes off his heart and himself from the notion that he'll ever find love again. He occupies himself with his work, putting women and dating aside, until one weekend his best friend, Paxton, takes him on a trip to Las Vegas, where he invites him to a private party. There he meets an extraordinary girl, Meredith Carver. *********** Meredith Carver is a 20-year-old waitress who dropped out of college to take care of her sick mother. She is barely making two ends meet, but her luck changes after her best friend's Sugar Daddy offers Meredith a job as a bartender that caters to the rich and famous. One night, while serving at one of those prestigious events in Las Vegas, she meets 35-year-old Max. They spend a steamy night together and she wakes up the next morning to an empty bed with a check on the night stand and a thank-you note. Feeling cheap and used, Meredith keeps the encounter with this Max a secret until a week later, when he finds her with a contract and an offer she would be a fool to refuse. He wants her to be his Sugar Baby. He promises to pay her five million dollars. Half now and half when he chooses to end the contract. Will Meredith sign the contract, or will she let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass her by?

Ava was born a rejected omega, her fate sealed by the rare violet blood flowing through her veins. In a world ruled by brute strength, her blood was seen as a terrifying curse, an omen of weakness. She believed them. When her mate, Alpha Ryder, publicly and cruelly rejected her because of this very blood and her perceived frailty, it shattered her. Stripped of her name and worth, Ava fled, erasing every trace of her identity. The world assumed the cursed omega was dead. Days later, desperate and alone, she found shelter in the rival palace, disguised as a simple maid by Max, a familiar face from her past. But the palace belonged to the three most powerful and feared rulers in the land: the ruthless Alpha Triplets. The instant Ava crossed their threshold, her fragile peace was destroyed. Despite her hiding, despite her shame, the Triplets felt an unmistakable, soul-shattering pull, instantly recognizing her as their mate. Now, Ava is caught between three dominant men and a former friend whose protection has curdled into obsession. Ancient prophecies are stirring, powerful enemies are closing in, and Ava’s rare blood is attracting forces far more dangerous than she could imagine. Violet blood does not signify weakness. It decides who will rule... and who will fall. To reclaim her life, she must confront the truth behind her rejection, the secrets of her cursed blood, and the three Alphas fate has bound to her. Will the Triplets be her protectors or the ultimate destroyers of the fragile world she built? Read Violet Blood Reign to find out.