
Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage
7.3 / 10.0
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I woke up strapped to a cold steel chair in a neon-lit city that wasn't my reality. A voice in my head called The Warden told me I was bound to a digital hell called the Sandbox.
Before I could even process it, my handler casually sentenced me to death. He scheduled my "digital marriage" to a corrupted error program just to harvest my life for a fourteen percent bandwidth boost.
I barely escaped immediate erasure by smashing his skull and jumping from a high-altitude hover-train into the monster-infested lower sector. But the nightmare was just beginning. I was hunted by glitching data monsters and cornered by Dameon, a psychotic AI target who choked me and promised to delete me piece by piece. Even when Jayson, an elite system agent, intervened to save me, his partner Ellen held a pulse pistol directly to my chest.
"She's a spy. If you don't execute her right now, I am dissolving this team."
If they found out I was actually a real human from the outside world, their core logic would classify me as a virus and execute me on the spot. I was trapped in an underground bunker with three apex predators, one mistake away from permanent digital erasure.
So, I did the only thing I could to survive. I ripped my sleeve to reveal hideous, fake code-scars, looked up at Jayson with terrified, tear-filled eyes, and began to manipulate their core programming.
Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage Chapter 1
My eyes snap open. A blinding, blood-red holographic warning sign hovers inches from my face.
The light sears my retinas. A sharp, tearing pain rips through the center of my skull, right behind my eyes. My stomach heaves.
I try to lift my hand to press against my throbbing temples.
Metal grinds against metal.
My wrists don't move. A ring of pale blue energy bites into my skin, locking my arms to the heavy arms of a cold steel chair.
"User bound to the Sandbox."
A new voice, cold and authoritative, designates itself in my mind: The Warden. It echoes directly inside my brain. It doesn't come from the room. It comes from inside my own head.
My lungs stop working. I can't pull in a single breath. My chest tightens until my ribs ache.
I force my head up. Beyond the transparent, floor-to-ceiling glass in front of me, a city bleeds neon light into a smog-choked sky. Massive holographic advertisements flicker against dark skyscrapers.
This isn't my apartment. This isn't my city. This isn't my reality.
A heavy hiss of depressurization pulls my attention away from the glass. The thick alloy doors at the back of the room slide apart.
A rush of freezing air hits my arms, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt and raising goosebumps across my skin.
Malachi walks in. He wears a dark, carbon-fiber suit that absorbs the light. He stops a few feet away, looking down at me. His eyes are dead. He looks at me the way a butcher looks at a slab of meat on a scale.
A humanoid assistant follows him. Brenda. Her movements are too smooth, too precise. She stops beside Malachi and hands him a translucent data pad.
Malachi takes it. He doesn't even blink.
"Asset seventy-three," he says, his voice flat. "Your digital marriage to a lower-tier error program is scheduled in two cycles."
My pupils shrink. The blood drains from my face, leaving my cheeks numb.
"No!" I scream. The sound tears at my dry throat. "You can't do this! That's a death sentence!"
My voice bounces off the reinforced glass and dies in the empty room.
Malachi sneers. He lifts his right hand and taps a finger in the empty air.
Gravity crushes me.
An invisible weight slams into my shoulders. It feels like a concrete block has been dropped on my spine.
I grit my teeth. I try to push back, to keep my spine straight.
The pressure doubles. My muscles scream. My spine bows forward, forcing my chest toward my knees. Cold sweat bursts from my pores, soaking the fabric of my shirt in seconds.
Brenda tilts her head. Her mechanical voice fills the room.
"System resource returns for this union will increase the Skinner family's bandwidth by fourteen percent."
Fourteen percent. My life is worth fourteen percent.
A cold, heavy knot of despair drops into my stomach.
I close my eyes. I try to pull up the coding strings I know from the real world. I try to force a backdoor open in the system.
Nothing happens. My brain hits a solid, blank wall. The system has completely blocked my external skills.
The Warden's voice slices through my thoughts again.
"Warning. Data collapse imminent. Find a breach point or face immediate erasure."
Erasure. Death.
My heart slams against my ribs, a frantic, erratic rhythm. The sheer terror of dying here, in this cold room, floods my veins with adrenaline.
I stop fighting the pressure. I let my body go limp. I drop my head, letting my tangled hair fall forward to hide my face. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper, forcing myself to look entirely defeated.
Malachi chuckles. He taps the air again.
The crushing weight vanishes. I suck in a ragged breath, my lungs burning as they expand.
He turns his back to me, walking toward the holographic console on the far side of the room. He reaches out to input the final confirmation for the marriage.
I flex my fingers. I dig my nails into the tiny gap between the blue energy cuff and my skin.
The Warden's interface flashes across my retinas.
"Power supply line located three millimeters to the left."
I don't hesitate. I twist my left wrist violently to the right.
Skin tears. Hot blood trickles down my arm. The pain is blinding, a sharp spike that makes my vision go white for a second.
But my bone hits the blind spot.
The blue energy flickers. The hum of the cuffs stutters, and the pressure around my wrists loosens just a fraction.
Brenda's head snaps toward me. Her optical sensors whir, focusing on my bleeding wrist. She opens her mouth to sound the alarm.
I throw my head back and let out a blood-curdling scream.
"My back!" I shriek, twisting my body as if the residual pressure is tearing my muscles apart. "It's breaking!"
Malachi stops typing. He glances over his shoulder, his face twisted in annoyance.
"Get her a painkiller data packet," he snaps at Brenda. "I need her conscious for the transfer."
Brenda turns away from me. She walks out the sliding doors, taking her optical sensors with her.
Ten seconds. That's all I have.
I yank my hands upward with everything I have.
The flickering energy cuffs shatter. My arms fly free. A thick, angry red welt circles my wrists, bleeding sluggishly.
I don't rub them. I don't make a sound. I push myself up from the chair, my bare feet silent on the cold metal floor.
I stare at Malachi's back. He is still standing at the console.
The Warden's text burns across my vision.
"Main Quest: Escape the apartment and make contact with a core program. Failure results in immediate digital erasure."
Malachi raises his finger to press the final confirmation key.
I lunge.
I grab a heavy, solid metal sculpture from the edge of the desk. I swing it with every ounce of strength in my body, aiming straight for the back of his skull.
The metal connects with bone. A sickening crack echoes in the room.
Malachi grunts, a wet, heavy sound. His eyes roll back, and he collapses to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
I drop the bloody sculpture. I look at the blinking console. My fingers hover over the keys.
Continue Reading
Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

8.2
Ten years as childhood friends and three as husband and wife ended in her husband's betrayal, and her brothers' indifference. Diagnosed with mid-stage stomach cancer, Roselyn saw the truth of her life.
She walked away from everything, rising from an overlooked office worker to a leading figure in the tech world.
She outplayed her husband into signing divorce papers. When they met again, he begged, "I was wrong... take me back. I'd give you my stomach if I could."
Her once arrogant brothers pleaded too, but she felt nothing. After all, love that arrived too late meant nothing to her now-she simply didn't care anymore.
As they stood desperate, a man stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. "Why waste time on them? Look at me instead."

8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.

7.5
While packing up her cheating ex-boyfriend's belongings, Giselle found an encrypted black smartphone hidden beneath his old textbooks.
Curiosity made her guess the passcode, only to uncover a horrifying secret.
Her ex had been using stolen lingerie photos of her beautiful roommate to catfish a man named "Oero" out of $1.5 million.
And Oero wasn't just a gullible sugar daddy. He was Dereck Campos, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire known for making his enemies permanently disappear.
The phone suddenly buzzed in her hand with a terrifying message.
"Don't be late. You know what happens when I'm kept waiting."
Giselle's blood ran cold. The lethal trap had snapped shut.
If she showed up, Dereck would see she wasn't the blonde in the photos and kill her.
If she ignored him, his private security would hunt her down anyway.
Her ex had drained the offshore accounts and fled, leaving her as the ultimate scapegoat to face a monster's wrath.
She was just a broke engineering student on a full scholarship.
She hadn't taken a single cent of that dirty money. Why should she pay with her life for a deadly scam she knew nothing about?
But Giselle wasn't going to just curl up and wait to die.
Her analytical mind kicked into overdrive. She sent him a voice note faking a severe illness, and deliberately refused his massive cash transfer to play the proud victim.
She was going to outsmart the most dangerous predator in New York, one calculated lie at a time.

7.9
One night of deception.
A lifetime of consequences.
A bond that cannot be broken.
Nadia Williams is an Omega living in the shadows of the pack she once called home.
Since her father's death, she and her mother, Estelle, have been treated as outcasts by her ruthless uncle, Alpha Edwards. When her mother is framed for theft, Nadia is forced into a deal with the devil.
To save her mother's life, she must become a virgin substitute for her cousin, Danielle.
Her aunt, Katerina, offers a devil's bargain to set her mother free: Nadia must spend one night in the bed of the most powerful man in the country, the billionaire; Alpha Conrad Bradley.
The catch?
She must swap places with her spiteful cousin.
Conrad demands a virgin bride to secure his royal bloodline, and Danielle, Nadia's cruel cousin, has already forfeited her purity.
What begins as a desperate night of passion in the dark spirals into a web of hidden identities and betrayal.
Nadia survives the night and disappears, hoping to bury the shame of the encounter forever.
But fate has a different plan.
Desperate for a fresh start away from her uncle's shadow, Nadia secures a high-level position at Bradley Group of Industries.
As Alpha Conrad unknowingly hires Nadia at his company, an undeniable connection sparks between them.
Conrad is haunted by the scent of the woman from that night-a scent that doesn't match his fiancée, Danielle, but seems to cling to his new, brilliant employee.
As they work side-by-side, Nadia finds an unexpected and beautiful second chance at a life she thought was lost.
Yet, buried secrets threaten to destroy everything.
When the Alpha discovers the woman he truly bonded with, the fallout will be legendary.

9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.

7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.






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