The Christening That Broke My World
My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage.
Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer.
An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss.
They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them?
The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind?
I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."
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Chapter 3
I walked out of the doctor's office in a daze, her cheerful words echoing in the sterile hallway. Pregnant. Six weeks. I placed a hand on my still-flat stomach, a tear slipping from the corner of my eye.
This tiny, innocent life. Why now? Why did it have to choose this moment to arrive, in the middle of this wreckage?
As I reached the end of the long corridor, a familiar silhouette made me freeze.
It was Emilio. He was standing near the elevators, his arm wrapped around Hayden Cleveland, who was sobbing into his chest. He was murmuring words of comfort, his expression filled with a tender concern I hadn't seen directed at me in a long, long time.
I ducked behind a large potted plant, my heart pounding. I couldn't hear their words clearly, but his actions spoke volumes.
Then, Hayden's choked whisper carried down the hall. "Do you think she suspects anything?"
"She trusts me," Emilio replied, his voice casual, dismissive. It was a careless statement that revealed everything about how little he thought of me, of my intelligence.
"But when will you make me your wife?" Hayden pressed, her voice laced with a desperate ambition. "When can you give me and Leo the life we deserve?"
"Hayden, stop," he cut her off, a hint of steel in his tone. "Elana is my wife. That will not change."
My breath caught in my throat.
"It's the least I can do," he continued, his voice softer now, tinged with what sounded like guilt. "It's my penance for what I've done to her."
Hayden fell silent, accepting his decision with a reluctant nod. He pulled her into another hug, kissing her hair.
"You gave me a beautiful son, Hayden," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I will always take care of you both."
They walked towards the elevator, their arms around each other. As the doors were about to close, Hayden's eyes flickered in my direction. For a split second, her gaze met mine. There was no surprise in her eyes, only a flash of cold, triumphant victory.
She knew. She had known I was there the whole time.
I stepped out from behind the plant, my body trembling. The tears I' d been holding back streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. The pain in my chest was a physical weight, crushing me.
He didn't want to divorce me out of guilt, but he would never give up his other family. What did that make me? A placeholder? A symbol of a commitment he no longer felt but was too cowardly to break?
I remembered his promises, his vows. "In sickness and in health, till death do us part." He had said them with such conviction. I had believed him.
But he had betrayed me. And this love, this toxic, fractured thing, was something I had to cut out of my life.
Before I left the hospital, I walked back to the front desk and scheduled an appointment. An abortion.
Then I called my lawyer.
"Draw up the divorce papers," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I want everything split down the middle. Everything I am entitled to."
I was sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot when my phone rang. It was Emilio. His voice was hoarse, tired.
"Happy birthday, Elana."
I had completely forgotten. In the chaos and the pain, my own birthday had slipped my mind.
"I' m so sorry about last night," he said, his voice laced with practiced regret. "A crisis at the office. I didn't get home at all."
A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. "Okay," I said, the two words feeling like dust in my mouth.
He seemed to relax on the other end, relieved by my lack of questions. "I' ve arranged a gala for you tonight. To celebrate your birthday and the new wing you designed for the museum. To make it up to you."
"Okay," I repeated, my voice a monotone.
A year ago, those words would have made me cry with happiness. Now, they were just another layer to his elaborate lie.
I didn't want to hear his voice anymore. I hung up the phone, my hand gripping a steering wheel.
I looked out the window, but I didn't see anything. I just felt a deep, chilling premonition. He had no idea what was coming. He felt a sense of unease, a feeling that something precious was slipping through his fingers, but he couldn't name it.
He had no idea it was already gone.
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8.0
BLURB
She had fought so hard to be able to bear her husband a child for years but all her efforts proved abortive and just when she thought that all her problems were finally over.
She was faced with a brutal betrayal from her husband, taking away her family company, cheating on her and most especially tied her in the marriage.
But everything takes a drastic turn when she realizes the baby she is carrying doesn't belong to her husband, rather a cursed werewolf who could never have a child.
Thrown into the world of the werewolves, Daisy realizes she is more than she thinks, but will she be able to navigate the challenges that awaits her?
8.0
"Just watch... I'll take you away from that deceitful woman."
Yvette whispered softly, but the resolve in her heart was unshakable.
Her heart shattered as she witnessed the wedding of Aaron-the man she had loved for so long, the very same adoptive brother who once gave her a sense of home-to another woman.
It was no secret.
Aaron knew how she felt.
And yet, he still chose to marry someone else... as if Yvette's love had never meant a thing.
Just when she tried to accept that painful reality, she uncovered a truth far more devastating.
Belinda... was not as kind as she seemed.
The cunning hidden behind her gentle smile only made it harder for Yvette to let go-only strengthened her belief that the man she loved had fallen into the wrong hands.
The love she had once buried deep within her heart had now twisted into something far darker.
An obsession.
Yvette no longer wished to surrender.
She would take back what was meant to be hers... by any means necessary.
Even if it meant destroying their marriage.
8.5
Warning! 18 and above, contains explicit sexual content to invade your lustful desires.
This is unfiltered, it is forbidden, it's stories that will keep you up at night.
******************
"Ever had sex before?" he asks as he begins to take off his pants. There's a huge bulge in his boxer already.
"Ye..yes," I stutter. He closes the distance between us and grabs my right boob in his palm.
"Good, cause i'm going to fuck your little cunt till you beg me to stop." I clench my thighs to ease the ache building up down there.
"Bend over, princess."
*************************
This collection of erotica contains BDSM, REVERSE HAREM, SEXUAL TERMS YOU DIDN'T KNOW EVEN EXISTED.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
This is a collection of every lustful desires you've ever had. Grab a wine and a pleasure toy, YOU WILL NEED IT!
8.2
At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south.
But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband.
In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family-a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire.
His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach.
"We're terminating this complication," she said coldly.
As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.
9.3
My husband Hudson had kept me a medicated ghost for three years, convinced I was unstable. But a cheap pink hair clip, tangled with golden blonde hair in his car, ripped through the chemical haze. The bitter pill he forced me to take wouldn't numb the burning truth, only fuel my awakening.
I was an architect once, but now I was just Cora, a docile wife trapped in his suffocating world. When he saw my shock, his concern was sickeningly sweet as he offered another Xanax. I pretended to swallow the poison, letting it dissolve under my tongue, a constant reminder of my awakening.
Back at the mansion, his massive car deliberately blocked mine, a crude barricade confirming his control. Then, a message from an old intern confirmed my darkest fears: this was domestic abuse. He urged me to check Hudson’s closet, to record everything.
I knew then I was living with a dangerous monster, and my denial shattered. The anger burned, fueled by the bitter taste of that undissolved pill.
That night, Hudson walked in, wearing a hideous, sloppily tied red polka-dot tie. It was a clear, undeniable sign of another woman. My architect’s mind was awake, cold and calculating. "Game on, Hudson." I would make him taste this bitterness back a thousand times.
9.3
Charlene was locked in a Swiss asylum by the wealthy Gay family, force-fed antipsychotics until her hands shook violently.
Her adoptive brother, Columbus, dragged her out of the psych ward merely to parade her as a prop for the paparazzi.
He had locked her up to get a psychiatric evaluation, ensuring she was declared legally insane and unable to claim her massive trust fund.
The moment she returned to the estate, the torment worsened.
Her other brother, Antwan, kicked her to the ground and shattered her wrist on the gravel.
"You lost your legal rights, you stupid bitch," he sneered, while the staff blindly ignored her agony.
Her childhood bedroom was completely gutted and given to a distant cousin.
Worse, she discovered Columbus was secretly sleeping with Isabela—the fake heiress who had framed Charlene in the first place.
Every trace of her existence in the family was being violently scrubbed away.
She had lost her dignity, her health, and the baby the doctors claimed had died in the delivery room.
She couldn't understand why the family she loved hated her so viciously, stripping away everything she had.
That was until she saw a little boy in the hospital hallway, a perfect, miniature replica of her own face.
Clutching the gold-crested cufflink he dropped, she realized the asylum's doctor had stolen him.
Her baby was alive.
With her heart turned to stone, Charlene made a silent vow to crawl out of hell and burn the Gay family to the ground.