MistNovel - Read Web Novel Stories & Fiction Online

Dave Maxell's face filled the television screen, all practiced vulnerability and calculated charm.

Elly Reeds watched from her darkened apartment, wine glass forgotten on the coffee table. Her ex-boyfriend leaned forward in his interview chair, voice cracking at precisely the right moment

"When I realized it was over, I poured everything onto the page. Writing saved me."

The host's expression softened. "Your novel's female character, Isabelle, is quite controversial. Some call her cruel."

"We become our worst selves when we're hurting." Dave's pause felt rehearsed. "Isabelle wasn't a villain. She just couldn't see past her anger."

Elly's hands clenched.

Those were her words.

Her texts, typed at three in the morning when the breakup still bled fresh. She'd trusted him with her raw vulnerability, and he'd twisted it into evidence of a woman unhinged.

"The Sound of Shattering" had dominated bestseller lists for forty-three weeks. Dave Maxell was everywhere now. Literary magazines crowned him a generational voice. Critics praised his brutal honesty.

But the wounds weren't his.

They were hers.

Six months after their breakup, she'd walked into a bookstore and seen his face staring from the display table. Curiosity made her pick it up. Maybe residual affection.

By page twelve, she'd recognized her own words.

By page fifty, she'd wanted to scream.

He'd changed names and settings. Shifted timelines. But the emotional core was ripped directly from their text conversations. Her desperate messages after he'd stopped calling. Her attempts to understand what went wrong. Her fury when she'd discovered his cheating.

All of it repackaged as fiction.

Her, cast as the unstable ex who couldn't let go.

The worst part? People believed it.

They read the novel and blamed Isabelle. Praised Dave for his honesty in portraying such a difficult relationship. No one knew he was the difficult one. That he'd gaslit her for months. That he'd stolen her words and twisted them into a narrative absolving him of everything.

Elly grabbed the remote and killed the television.

Silence pressed against her chest. She'd tried moving on. Therapy. Writing. Dating other people.

Nothing worked.

Every time she saw his face or heard his name, the wound reopened.

She pulled her laptop closer and navigated to the publisher's website. At the bottom of the acknowledgments page, she found what she needed.

Niall Smith. Editor.

Elly clicked his profile and began reading. Forty-two. Originally from Dublin. Based in New York. Known for his sharp editorial eye and willingness to take risks on new talent. Photos showed him at industry events, impeccably dressed, always holding whiskey.

She studied his face. The sharp jawline. The smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

This man had read her stolen words and decided they were worth publishing. He'd known the truth but chosen profit over integrity.

This was the man who would help her destroy Dave, whether he knew it or not.

Elly opened a new document and started typing.

She'd always excelled at research. Finding patterns. Making connections.

By dawn, she'd compiled everything about Niall Smith. His favorite bars. Social media presence. Literary events he attended regularly.

She knew where to find him.

More importantly, she knew how to make him notice her.

The plan crystallized in her mind. Seduce him. Gain his trust. Extract every piece of evidence proving Dave had stolen her words. Then burn it all down.

The novel. The career. The carefully constructed image of the sensitive artist.

She would take it all away from Dave the same way he'd taken her voice.

Elly closed her laptop and watched the sun rise over the city.

For the first time in a year, she felt something other than pain.

She felt purpose.

She opened her email and began drafting a message.

Mr. Smith, I've written something I think you'll want to read. It's about truth, fiction, and the cost of betrayal. I believe you'll find it remarkable.

Her finger hovered over the send button.

Once she pressed it, there was no going back.

The apartment held its breath around her.

Elly thought of Dave's smug face on television. His voice speaking her words. The year she'd spent as a ghost in her own life.

She pressed send.