Bao Fu Ya Ya
9 Published Stories
Bao Fu Ya Ya's Books and Stories
Broken But His: The Don's Hidden Amputee
Mafia I made my living playing background piano in underground speakeasies to pay off my fugitive father’s blood debt. Tonight, I had exactly ten seconds to make sure my floor-length velvet gown completely concealed the fact that I no longer had legs.
The VIP doors swung open, and the most ruthless mafia Don in the city walked in—Killian Vitiello, the boy I loved a decade ago. He didn't know my legs were crushed by rival soldiers on the very night he took his blood oath. Instead of a reunion, he pulled a beautiful woman in a red silk dress to his side and coldly introduced her as his fiancée.
"The rumors of you being a desperate opportunist at least explain why you vanished without a word," he sneered, looking at my threadbare clothes.
He publicly disavowed my existence to the entire underworld, leaving me to be hunted by rival factions. While he built his empire, I was crawling in the freezing rain to reattach my heavy metal prosthetic, watching my mother descend into fatal madness from our crushing poverty.
I swallowed the bitter ash of my ruined life and let him believe I was a traitorous gold digger. I would rather he hate me forever than let my mutilated body become a fatal weakness to his throne.
So, after my mother died, I packed a single bag and fled the country to disappear for good.
But I didn't know that on the very day I left, Killian kicked down the door of an illicit underground clinic and finally opened my ten-year-old medical file. The Secret Heiress: Freezing My Ex's Fortune
Modern I spent three years playing the "low-maintenance" fiancée to Eliseo Fitzpatrick, a billionaire who believed he’d rescued me from a life of discount clothes and rural poverty. I kept his secrets and balanced his books, treating our engagement like a cold, professional audit. But on my twenty-sixth birthday, the balance sheet finally broke.
My best friend dragged me to a surprise party that turned out to be an ambush. I walked into a VIP suite to find Eliseo dazed and disheveled, with models draped over his lap and his shirt stained with wine that looked like a fresh wound.
When I tried to leave, Eliseo’s guilt turned into a weapon. He pinned me against the door and hissed that without him, I’d be nothing but a country girl in Walmart rags. The next day, his "close friend" Sloane was in our apartment wearing his shirt, laughing that it was only a matter of time before she took my place in his bed.
At his grandfather’s funeral, his family didn't even hide their contempt. His mother called me a gold-digging nobody, and his brother mocked me in front of the grieving crowd.
"So, you're the village girl who tricked my brother?"
They thought I was a penniless pawn, a girl they could discard now that the patriarch was dead and the Fitzpatrick fortune was up for grabs. I stood in their library, listening to them argue over the spoils of a man they never loved. I didn't cry, and I didn't scream. I just waited for the lawyer to open the final folder.
"Arthur Fitzpatrick appointed a new executor," the lawyer announced, and the room went silent. "It’s Flavia Lancaster."
I looked at my stunned fiancé and his greedy family, then pulled out my phone to freeze every single one of their bank accounts.
"The audit begins now." The Cursed King's Salvation: The Omega's Hidden Power
Werewolf I was the pack's lowest Omega, scrubbing floors by day, but secretly waiting for the night my Fated Mate, the Alpha Heir Desmond, would finally claim me.
Instead, he brought home a billionaire heiress and looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"I choose power," he sneered, rejecting our soul-bond in front of everyone. "An Omega can never be my Luna."
To seal his business deal, he sold me off like cattle to Kennedy Simmons—the "Crippled Alpha" rumored to be a broken, rot-filled monster.
On my last night in the territory, his new fiancée pushed me off a yacht.
As I drowned in the freezing water, I watched Desmond dive in.
He swam right past me to save her.
That was the moment my heart finally stopped beating for him.
They thought sending me to Seattle was a punishment. They thought I would wither away and die in the hands of a beast.
But they didn't know two things.
First, Kennedy Simmons wasn't a monster; he was a King waiting to be healed.
Second, I wasn't a weak Omega. I was a White Wolf, a legend thought to be extinct, capable of miracles.
Three months later, Desmond stood outside my gates, bankrupt and desperate, begging for a second chance.
I looked down from my balcony, wrapped in the arms of my true Alpha, and smiled.
"Get off my property," I commanded, my eyes glowing white. "Or I'll finish what the ocean started." The Billionaire Heiress's Radical Comeback
Modern My husband, Derek, once called me his princess. But when my parents died and I miscarried our child, he told me to be "radically independent" and handle my grief alone.
After I tried to end my own life, I woke up in the hospital to see him holding his crying assistant, Krystal.
He whispered to her, "You never have to be strong with me."
He told the doctors I was just seeking attention and hung up. Krystal later visited, blaming me for the miscarriage before destroying my mother's heirlooms. Derek believed her lies, throwing me out of our home and leaving me with nothing.
He thought I was a weak, dependent woman he could easily discard. He thought his tech empire was his own creation.
He never knew his "self-made" success was a gift, secretly funded by my billionaire family. Now, he's about to learn what happens when a princess decides to become a queen. My Betrayal, My Second Chance
Romance The last thing I remembered was the cold hospital room and the flatlining heart monitor. My wife, Ava, wasn't there; she was too busy arranging my adopted brother Ben's funeral.
My own birthday had been my death sentence. Mr. Chen, a rival, lunged at me with a knife. Ava, my bodyguard and fiancée, threw herself in front of Ben, not me.
The blade severed my spinal cord. I spent a decade paralyzed, yet I married her, giving her everything-my fortune, my name, my pathetic love. She never let me touch her.
Only after her death did I learn the truth: love letters addressed to Ben, bank statements showing her funneling my money to him. Her last diary entry: "Ben is everything. I will protect him with my life, just like I did on that day."
The monitor went silent. My world turned black. Then, a voice: "Ethan, it's time to decide."
My eyes snapped open. I was in the Miller estate, on my 25th birthday, the day I chose my wife. Ava stood there, cool and distant, an ice queen I had spent a lifetime trying to melt. A jolt of pure, undiluted hatred coursed through me.
"I've made my decision," I said, voice steady. I looked past Ava, past her confident smirk, and my eyes landed on Chloe Davis. In my past life, she was the only one who visited me.
"My choice," I announced, ringing with finality, "is not Ava Lewis." Playing the Long Game: A Twin's Revenge
Modern My twin brother, Ethan, was always the golden child, adored by our parents, effortlessly charming.
I was the "difficult" one, often overlooked, watching from the porch as two smiling women lured Ethan with a rare comic book.
Then, a sudden, blinding change. One moment I was an observer, the next I was in the back of their van, the world a dizzying blur, Ethan smirking from where I had stood.
They sold me. For ten years, I was a ghost in a life not my own, trapped with a clan of survivalists in the Appalachian mountains, enduring abuse and forced labor.
When I was finally found, broken and scarred, Ethan pulled his final trick. He swapped us back, instantly spinning a tale of how I, out of jealousy, had orchestrated his abduction.
My own parents, without a shred of hesitation, believed him, seeing only a damaged stranger. They decided to commit me to a psychiatric hospital.
How could my family, my own twin, betray me so utterly? Why was I always the one discarded, the one forgotten?
But then I woke up, the smell of bacon filling the air, back in my childhood bed. It was the same day. This time, I wouldn't just watch. They Asked for My Kidney, I Gave Them Hell
Modern Three years ago, I saved a stranger' s life by donating a kidney, an anonymous act of compassion.
Now, a year after losing my heroic fiancé, Andrew, I' m pregnant with his child, the only piece of him I have left. My life should be about new beginnings.
But then, a knock on my door shattered everything.
Standing there were Molly Chadwick, the woman I' d saved, and her parents, their faces grim.
Molly' s donated kidney was failing, and they weren't there to thank me.
They were there to demand my other kidney, for her, immediately.
I refused. How could I sacrifice my unborn baby? Their pleas turned to threats, then a public smear campaign that branded me a monster. One night, they ambushed me.
I woke up in a sterile clinic in Mexico, terrified, realizing they planned to forcibly take my kidney. I begged, pleaded for my baby, but they ignored me. The anesthetic surged, and I felt life drain away. I died on that table.
But then, I woke up. In my own bed. My baby still safe inside me. The date on my phone was three days before they ever came to my door.
The horrific memory was physically crushing, but beneath it, a burning fury ignited.
I' d been given a second chance. Not for peace, but for vengeance. This time, I would protect my child. And the Chadwicks would pay. From Fragile Heiress to Fierce Revenge
Romance For twenty years, Isabella Rothschild was New York’s "poor little rich girl," a fragile heiress with a child's mind. At my lavish 20th birthday ball, my doting father paraded me before eligible bachelors, expecting me to choose my esteemed fiancé, Ethan Carter.
But the champagne’s sweetness triggered a chilling memory: last Thanksgiving. Ethan drugged me, leaving me choking from a pecan allergy while laughing with his mistress, Emily, on a yacht. I was a forgotten doll, barely gasping for air.
They believed my mind too simple to grasp their open betrayal, society dismissing me as a "tragedy." My own fiancé casually orchestrated my near-death, boasting about knocking me "out cold," exploiting my innocence.
Now, amid opulent perfume, I tasted burning betrayal. The horrifying truth of past helplessness, mixed with their smug indifference, ignited a cold, clear fury. My mind was terrifyingly, utterly lucid.
I was alive; I was no longer a fool. With a cool, practiced smile, I raised my hand, pointing directly at Ethan. The room sighed, misinterpreting my gesture. My calculated, public revenge had just begun, for the "silly" Bella they knew was gone. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband
Amigo On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door.
Not for business. For her.
I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night.
For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority.
So I chose myself.
Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back.
When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands.
But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed.
He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back.
A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost. His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. Ravaged Crown - A Mafia Romance
Nicole Fox What would you do if you walked in on your husband cheating?
I'll tell you what I did:
Ran out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back.
A month later, I'm broke, jobless, almost homeless.
But then, while filling in as a waitress at a fancy restaurant, I trip and land in the lap of a gorgeous stranger.
One thing leads to another and we end up hooking up.
Afterwards, he leaves.
That's the end of that... right?
WRONG.
Because the next day, my temp agency sets me up for a job t
hat seems too good to be true. But when I arrive for the interview, my jaw drops. It's the stranger. Turns out he's rich. Like, very rich. And powerful. Like, very powerful. And here's his offer:
"Live in my house.Be my wife.Have my baby."
Needless to say, I start to freak out.
I stand up and stammer, "Um, I'll have to get back to you..."
And he replies:
"You're misunderstanding.It wasn't a question. You're not going anywhere." Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Billing My Ex: The Queen's Glorious Return
Shi Yue For seven years, I bled to protect Dante Morretti and his family. I drained my own inheritance to bribe cops, hire underground doctors, and secure his throne as the Don of New York.
But on our seventh anniversary, as I stood outside his club with a custom-forged gift, I saw the syndicate announcement. Dante had just publicly crowned a Capo's daughter as his queen.
When I confronted him, he brushed off my anger.
"Stop this drama, Eva. You are my fiancée. She is a political necessity."
His parents, whose lives I had saved, told me to stop throwing a tantrum. His mother looked at me with pure disdain.
"You are the legal wife. You manage the household. You see to our care."
Worse, I discovered Dante had used my emergency extraction funds—money meant to keep his family safe—to buy his new queen a luxury penthouse.
I had taken a bullet for his mother the exact same night he was caught on camera sleeping with Serena. I gave them my youth, my money, and my blood, only to be treated as an unpaid warden and a disposable shield.
I didn't understand how my seven years of fierce loyalty could be erased so easily.
But I didn't shed a single tear.
I calmly handed Dante an itemized bill for $367,420, dropped my safe house keys on the table, and walked away.
This time, I would build my own empire. 
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