Multiple Identities Novels & Stories

Nathan was the hockey team's resident troublemaker. On the ice he was cocky and impossible, yet every night he logged on right on schedule, humbly seeking guidance from the tactical god 'IceTyrant'. And me? I was Quinn, the team's invisible gofer, hauling gear and washing jerseys all day while the players looked down their noses at me. Then one day he found out who I really was. He backed me into a corner, gripped my chin, and said, "Quinn, I've got money, and I make the rules." "Reject me one more time. I dare you." Later the whole school saw it. That hockey captain, usually too cool for everyone, was chasing after me with a plate of peeled shrimp, "Baby, just one more bite. Please."

After I married Riccardo, the Don of the Moretti family, he paraded a string of mistresses in front of me. He never gave me a second glance. But on our tenth anniversary—right after my father’s death—he suddenly promised me half of his empire. The catch? In return, he planned to seize control of all my family’s arms-dealing routes. That pissed off his favorite mistress. She cornered him on his yacht, demanding he take his words back. Then she fell overboard and died. An “accident.” After she died, Riccardo went insane. He took it all out on me. He tied me to the back of his yacht. He dragged me through the sea, a human anchor, until the rocks shattered my legs, crippling me for life. I became the family’s shame. Then, as I lay helpless, he finished the job with poison. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day Angelo Marino—the head of our rival family—proposed to me. In my last life, my family forced me to say no. He came for me, a one-man army. He killed Riccardo, but died in the process. This time, I looked at his kind face and nodded. Yes. But as we embraced, Riccardo appeared. He ripped me from Angelo's arms and claimed me as his own. That’s when I realized the cruelest joke of all. My monster was back, too.

After transferring into an elite high school, I was bullied. However, it was not my classmates that bullied me; it was every object in the school. The private bathroom in my dorm only ran icy cold water when I showered, forcing me to trek to the public bathhouse in the dead of winter. When I begged the dorm supervisor, Mrs. Linda Mercer, to submit a repair request, she rolled her eyes and said, "The students who lived here last year never had this problem. Why is it suddenly broken when you move in?" My student ID card never worked in the library or the cafeteria. Every single time, it failed to scan, and I had to register manually. The multimedia equipment in the classroom froze whenever I touched it, dragging down the entire class schedule. I went to the teachers for help. They frowned and complained instead. "Everyone else can use it just fine. Why does it only malfunction when you do?" Even my deskmate rolled her eyes and mocked me. "You put on such a show every day. You are the only one who's so special. Are we supposed to stop studying just for you?" One strange incident after another completely isolated me at my new school. I cried and begged my parents to let me transfer again. They said, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner. Stop making trouble. Just endure it, and it will pass." I listened. I decided to grit my teeth and push through. Then, on the day of the college entrance exam, the security gate malfunctioned and started leaking electricity. Everyone else was fine. I was the only one who was electrocuted to death on the spot. Until the moment I died, I could not understand why the entire school seemed to be pushing me out. I was just a newly transferred student who had no grudges with anyone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I arrived to register at the new school.

My dad collapsed from a sudden heart attack and died. The shock hit my mom like a freight train, and she blacked out cold. By the time I raced home from college, his body had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. Grief barely had a chance to sink in before the debt collectors pounded on our door. That was when the ugly truth emerged. My dad had secretly racked up billions in loans, saddling my mom and me. A year later, the relentless harassment from those goons drove my mom to despair. She ended her life, and I was forced to drop out of school, scavenging dumpsters just to scrape by. But fate had a cruel twist in store. I spotted my "dead" dad, alive and thriving, hosting an extravagant birthday bash for his secret son. I stormed in, desperate for answers, only to be hurled out by security. My head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black. When my eyes fluttered open again, I was inexplicably back on that fateful day of my dad's heart attack.

Five years after Mom and Dad died, my sister, Miley Jenkinson, sent me away to a residential treatment center to "fix" me. She flung my luggage at me and roared, "You love fighting so much, Delia? Then, stay here. Maybe I'll come back for you once you've learned to behave." Next thing I know, Miley's sworn enemy is beating me senseless. Meanwhile, Miley loses it on the other end of the line. "Fight back! Why aren't you fighting back?" My gaze is blank as I say, "Because you said fighting made me one of the bad ones."

"Mrs. Blackwood, everything has been arranged for the identity-erasure operation you commissioned. This is the final agreement. Please sign here." I lowered my eyes to the document that had been placed in front of me. Client: Elena Blackwood Execution Plan: Explosion at a harbor warehouse. Vehicle destroyed by fire. Death confirmed through DNA identification. Execution Date: One week from today. One week later would be the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Damian Blackwood. It would also be the day I disappeared from the Blackwood family forever. Our story began on that date. And it would end on that date as well.

Esther Davenier has spent her life proving she belongs—first to the elite family who raised her, then to a society that values bloodlines over loyalty. But when a long-lost “real” daughter is found, Esther is discarded like yesterday’s scandal—her name erased, her face mocked, her engagement stolen. They thought they could bury her. But Esther doesn’t go quietly. Armed with multiple powerful hidden identities and a dangerous new ally—CEO Evander Westvale, the man they said she could never have—Esther steps back into the limelight not to reclaim what was stolen, but to take what was never offered. Now she’s more than ready to turn the game upside down.

Naomi Green spent a hundred million dollars hiring an older man, Jack Hough, to fake a marriage, not knowing that he was Gin City's most influential person! After getting married, Jack doted on her as if she was his precious, pure, and kind little Buttercup, regardless of whatever she did!Beating someone up so badly they ended up in the hospital? Great job! Spending a fortune on acquiring a trashy company? Way to go! No matter how despicable Naomi's reputation was, Jack spoiled her through and through! Everyone thought that Jack was nuts for marrying her. No one knew of Naomi's multiple secret identities: genius hacker, brilliant doctor, supermodel, and exceptional gamer! Naomi was hellbent on revenge and she would stop at nothing!

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

Mia Price, the most beautiful Alpha in the werewolf training camp, said she'd never seen an Omega lose control. So my Alpha childhood friend, Knox Kelly, and a few of his Beta buddies decided to inject me with a rage-inducing serum. Now I was chained to a stone pillar in the middle of the camp square with silver links, the metal burning into my skin. Wolves passed by, jeering. Some threw punches. Others spat. They laughed, saying even an Omega in a frenzy was still weak. For two solid hours, I was humiliated in front of everyone. The silver chains drained every ounce of strength from my body. I could barely stand. Knox just grinned, shrugging it off. "Mia said she wanted to see what an Omega frenzy looks like. It was just a joke, right?" He tilted his head, all fake innocence. "You're not actually mad, are you? We've known each other for so long. You know me. It was just a joke." I stared at him—and the others—in silence. So this was what my dignity was worth to him. Something to be thrown away for a laugh, to impress someone else. After that day, I went back to my Pack. And I awakened a powerful healing ability. But Knox? He lost it. His voice shook through the phone, barely sounding like an Alpha at all. "We said we'd be together forever. So why—why did you leave?"