Oliver Spring Heartstopper Novels & Stories

When Kayla Dawson wakes up on the morning of her marriage to the love of her life and mate, Dean, the last thing she expects is to see him standing at the foot of her bed with rage as he stares down at something beside her. She looks to see a man laying next to her, deep asleep, and completely naked, just like she was. All attempts to explain and vindicate herself proves futile as Dean doesn’t want to hear it and ultimately ends the marriage. Ashamed and humiliated, she runs away from her pack, only to find herself in more trouble. And this trouble is in the form of a man. A very sexy one at that.. Alpha Oliver would never have thought that a hunt would end up with him going home with a second chance mate that he absolutely doesn’t want. But the moon goddess has other plans for him, which he isn’t sure he likes…

I waited ten years to get married to Emily Stanton. We had applied for a marriage license seven times, and seven times it had been called off. In our circle, we were the golden couple. She had sold her own blood to help cover my hospital bills, and I had stood by her side as she built the Stanton family empire from nothing. On our tenth anniversary, I brought up the idea of finally having a wedding ceremony and making things official again. She just rubbed her temples and tossed her blazer aside. "We'll talk about it later. We've been together this long—why are you still hung up on something like this?" The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. Does every great love eventually fade into something ordinary? The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Then her phone buzzed with a notification. Against my better judgment, I picked it up. The contact name on the screen was impossible to miss: Honey. [Baby, when are you coming home? Jamie says she misses Mommy.] A storm of emotions crashed over me. That's when I discovered Emily Stanton had another WhatsApp account. The woman in those posts was nothing like the one I knew. At the top was a wedding photo—the two of them beaming, radiant. Tucked among the roses she'd received yesterday was a brand-new diamond ring, hidden between the petals. The water in the bathroom stopped. I clenched my fists. Then I forwarded the guy's WhatsApp info to my assistant. [Look into him.]

"Sean, I've made up my mind, I'm going to marry you!" Janice Douglas played with her left hand's fingertips absentmindedly, her eyes locked on the swinging door of the nearby private room. On the other end of the call, the man let out a low chuckle, warm yet laced with a cool, worldly detachment. "Ms. Douglas, are you sure about this? Marrying into our families is a one-way street, no U-turns." "I'm sure!" Janice did not even pause before she shot back, her voice slicing through any second thoughts. "Fine, I'll be back in ten days. Pick me up at the airport, and we'll head straight to make it official."

Before the mate ceremony, my Alpha mate, Corbin Wren, promised to take me to the Maldives. But when we got to the airport, I realized— My ticket said Switzerland, while his and his childhood sweetheart Vera Marsh's were booked for the Maldives. Vera blinked tearfully and explained, "It was my fault—I mixed up the booking info and accidentally swapped Sera's and my details." Corbin, who'd been holding my hand, let go and gently soothed her. "It's fine. We can rebook. Sera and I won't hold it against you." I watched the two of them, so perfectly in sync, and thought back to all the times Corbin had brushed me aside because of Vera. And suddenly, it hit me—they were the ones who belonged together. So be it. Let them go enjoy their vacation. This Alpha? I'm done.

When my father's business collapsed, he racked up an astronomical debt to the Andor family. And when they finally came knocking, he did what no loving parent should ever do—he collateralized me, his only daughter, handing me over to Cassian before vanishing off the face of the earth. For ten long years, I stayed by Cassian Andor's side. He treated me with a tenderness so indulgent it bordered on worship. There was nothing I asked for that he would not give; there was no whim of mine he would not entertain. Everyone in our world knew me as his princess. I grew up believing with certainty that once I came of age, he would sweep me into his arms, march me down the aisle, and make me his wife. But reality—cold, brutal, and as dazzlingly cruel as the world we lived in—had other plans. Instead of the ring I had dreamed of, Cassian gifted a breathtaking pink diamond—the very symbol of eternal devotion—to his assistant, Heidi Torres. As if that wasn't betrayal enough, he threw a lavish celebration in her honor, a veritable explosion of flowers. He knew I was deathly allergic to pollen. Yet he still left me stranded there, drowning in a sea of blossoms. Eventually, I collapsed in a violent asthma attack, gasping and clawing for air, teetering on the edge of consciousness. And Cassian? He merely tightened his hold around Heidi in his arms and cast me a cold glance. "Your allergies have been fine for ages," he said with a sneer. "Why the sudden drama today? Don't tell me you're faking it." At that moment, as I lay there humiliated and struggling to breathe, I realized there were exactly seven days left until my twentieth birthday since when I could register a marriage.

Vivian Grant lost her memory and forgot everything about me. Her memory stopped in the year when she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how the people around her tried to explain it, she still believed I was the third party who had come between them. The doctors said her amnesia might be treatable, so I held on to that hope and refused to let go. For three years, we got divorced and remarried over and over again. We became the biggest joke in the city's elite circles. Some people even started betting on us. They bet on when I would finally give up, and when Vivian would finally remember. Then news of our eighth divorce hit the trending charts again. Reporters rushed into the law firm with cameras on their shoulders. They shoved microphones in my face, their questions full of provocation. "Mr. Sterling, as a divorce attorney, how does it feel to have been divorced eight times yourself?" The firm's sign was smashed. The commendation banners clients had given me were trampled underfoot. Before I could respond, my supervisor fired me for damaging the profession's reputation. "Julian Sterling, let me give you some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop clinging to Ms. Grant." I clenched my trembling hands and suddenly felt exhausted. They were right. This time, I really should give up.

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?” I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?” He repeated, “Can you handle it?” My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?” That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn. Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought. Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over. When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.” I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

I had spent years paying for Damian Grant’s infertility in every way a woman could. Doctors, treatments, private clinics, and humiliation I swallowed in silence. Then, against every odd, I finally got pregnant. It was the child the Grant family had been waiting for. The miracle Madam Evelyn Grant had prayed for. The one thing Damian had been told he might never have. On the night before our wedding, I saw a local post climbing the trending list. [Another day of being the only girl who gets under my boss’s skin.] In the video, a young woman smiled sweetly at the camera. [My boss is terrifying to everyone else. Cold eyes, bad temper, the whole package. But today, during a meeting, I secretly stepped on his shoe under the table. He actually smiled at me. Then he texted me and told me to behave.] The comments were full of people swooning. [That has to be love. A man like that only softens for one woman.] [Look closely. There must be some little detail on him that belongs only to you.] I scrolled down and saw the influencer’s reply. It was a photo of a dark silver tie clip pinned right over her chest. [This is the gift he gave me. He said whenever I see it, I should think of him.] I stared at that tie clip for a long time. It was the engagement gift I had spent a month polishing by hand for Damian. And inside it, there was still a tiny heart made from his fingerprint and mine.

I've spent the day trying on bridal gowns with my fiance, Philip Dillon. Just as I'm about to pay for the wedding gown that I really want, another woman suddenly snatches it out of my hands. "Sorry, but I had my sights set on this gown first!" I frown instantly at her words. That's when one of my friends suddenly pats me on the shoulder before murmuring to me, "Hang on. Let your fiance deal with this situation. He already placed an order on this wedding gown when it was first released, so he must be specifically waiting for you to come here and pick it out." I turn to look at Philip instinctively. As expected, I see him approaching the woman… only to help her stuff the gown's hem, which is sticking out, back into the gown's bag. "Since someone else has already set her sights on the gown, then I suppose we don't have any other choice." Philip then pinches me on the cheek, the smile on his face tender yet casual. "My Elyse is the most gracious woman I've ever known. It's not like this is the one and only gown for you, right?" I just stare at the woman's smug look, feeling very dazed. Instead of responding to Philip, I just shoot a small smile at my friend, who looked pretty awkward on my behalf. "It's fine. I don't want the wedding gown anymore." It's true that the gown isn't the one and only gown for me. Similarly, it's not like Philip is the one and only man for me in life as well.

Given a new chance at life, upon learning of my husband's supposed death, the first thing I did was to register him as dead. In my previous life, after my husband, Jonah Lloyd, learned that his elder brother, Noah, had died in an accident, he resolved to assume his brother's identity and provide for his widowed sister-in-law. All because the young widow from the city couldn't withstand the gossip of the village. As for me, coming from humble origins, even without my husband, I could survive on my own. When I heard the news, I truly believed that my husband had died in an accident. I was determined to raise our daughter with all my heart. That year, during a blizzard, while his family huddled together and celebrated in the warmth, I was out there fighting over the money after selling my body. I bled out and died in the harsh, cold night. My daughter, Tina, left waiting for me to bring back good, starved to death in the bitter winter. Only after death did I learn that my husband hadn't died. He had spent his entire life in his brother's name, protecting the widow, living to see his children and grandchildren grow old around him. And now, reopening my eyes, I had returned to the very day my husband died in an accident.