Bu Gui
13 Published Stories
Bu Gui's Books and Stories
Bound By Blood To The Mafia King
Romance Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power. The Billionaire's Cruel Secret Contract Marriage Deal
Modern Imogen lived her life as a servant in her own home, scrubbing floors for foster parents who treated her existence like a bad debt. Her only escape was a hidden sketchbook filled with architectural designs, a secret world she kept tucked away in a utility closet.
The nightmare peaked when her foster father tried to sell her to her abusive ex-boyfriend for five thousand dollars. When she refused, he drew blood with a slap and threw her into a midnight storm, threatening to burn her passport and birth certificate if she ever returned.
Drenched and terrified, she accidentally dove into a luxury sedan instead of her Uber. She fled the mysterious, cold-eyed passenger in a panic, but she left her suitcase behind—taking her clothes, her ID, and her life's work with it.
The next morning, she went to meet a "dentist" for a forced marriage arrangement, only to find the man from the car waiting for her. He claimed he was just a low-level IT guy, offering her a marriage contract to help her recover her documents and escape her family's reach.
She didn't understand why a simple coder handled her violent ex with such brutal, practiced efficiency. She didn't know why he looked at her sketches like they were worth millions, but with forty dollars in her pocket and a bruised face, she agreed to be his "business partner" wife.
The lie collapsed during a nursing shift at a VIP hospital wing. She walked into a room to find her "IT guy" standing there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking every bit the billionaire heir he’d sworn he wasn't.
"Grandma," Gael said, pulling Imogen against him as he faced the matriarch of the Fuller empire. "This isn't just the nurse. This is Imogen, my fiancée."
Trapped in his arms, Imogen realized she hadn't found a way out. She had just traded her foster family’s basement for a billionaire’s golden cage. The Gamma's Betrayal, The Alpha's Vengeful Mate
Werewolf For five years, I loved my fated mate, Lucian. As the Alpha's daughter, I used my influence to raise him from a low-status warrior to our pack's third-in-command. I believed our bond was a gift from the Moon Goddess.
That belief shattered when Rogues ambushed me on patrol. I screamed for him through our mind-link as they held a silver knife to my throat, but he never answered. I later learned he ignored my pleas while he was in bed with my half-sister.
When I confronted him at a pack ball, he publicly humiliated me before slapping me across the face. After I uttered the words to reject him, he had me arrested and thrown into the dungeons.
On his orders, the prisoners tortured me for days. They starved me, cut me with silver, and left me tied to a stone pillar in the cold. The man I had given my soul to wanted me utterly broken.
Lying on that filthy floor, I finally understood. He never loved me; he only loved the power I gave him.
Three months later, I invited him to my Mating Ceremony. He arrived beaming, believing this was his grand reconciliation. He watched from the front row as I walked down the aisle, turned my back on him, and placed my hand in that of a powerful rival Alpha—my true, Second Chance Mate. This wasn't forgiveness. This was revenge. Her Death, Their Sinful Secret
Young Adult The first time Chloe died, I wasn't there.
I was in the library, trying to finish a paper, when a text from our friend Emily shattered my world: "Something happened at the dorm. Come back. Now."
I ran, only to find flashing lights and yellow tape around our building. Emily, pale and shaking, whispered the horror: "It' s Chloe. She… she fell."
The university moved with chilling speed, declaring it a tragic suicide, scrubbing every trace of her from our room as if she never existed. My best friend, gone.
But I knew Chloe. She wouldn't just jump. The bruises, the whispered phone calls to a blocked number that made her face tighten with fear-they screamed something else.
I tried to tell the police, but they dismissed it, already closing the case. The university wanted me quiet, gone, just like Chloe' s memory.
In a haze of grief and rage, I remembered her hidden burner phone and secret journal. I knew they held the truth. That night, I snuck back into our room, found them, and a terrifyingly large man in a dark suit appeared, attacking me.
I woke up with a throbbing head, confused, but the buzzing alarm clock confirmed it: Wednesday, 7:00 AM. May 18th.
Then I saw her. Chloe, alive, humming at her desk. I had woken up three days in the past.
This was my second chance. I could save her.
But I failed. Even knowing, even running, I was too late. I watched her fall again, this time on a Wednesday.
Despair threatened to swallow me whole, but then a cold, hard determination set in. They had taken everything the first time, covered it up. Not this time.
I couldn't save her life, but I could get justice. And the key was the phone and the journal-still hidden where I' d left them in the original timeline.
When university officials, including Dean Peterson and the terrifying man who attacked me, burst into my room to silence me, I had a choice. Beg for help? Or fight back?
I dialed 911, then deliberately smashed the window, screaming for real police attention.
When they finally arrived, I knew my physical evidence was gone. Dean Peterson's smug face confirmed it.
So, I played my last card. I looked the officer dead in the eye and said, "I pushed her. I killed my best friend."
It was a monstrous lie, a suicide bomb of a confession, but it forced their hand. A suicide they could bury; a murder, they had to investigate.
Sitting in the interrogation room, recounting the nightmare to Detective Anderson, the impossible truth started to break through. He listened, he saw the inconsistencies, and for the first time, someone believed me.
Chloe's journal and the burner phone, retrieved by my bewildered friend Emily, laid bare the horrifying truth: Dean Peterson was pimping out vulnerable female students, including Chloe, to powerful, wealthy university trustees like the HIV-positive Mr. Thompson.
Chloe's death wasn't suicide; it was murder, a desperate escape from a web of abuse and control.
My false confession cost me my freedom, my reputation, my sanity, but it ignited a firestorm. The corrupt system crumbled, Thompson and Peterson jailed for life.
Standing at Chloe' s grave, the fight over, I knew for the first time: we did it. We changed her story. And no one else would suffer like her again. My Wedding Night, Her Vengeance
Horror My wedding night was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
Instead, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, brought a dead man to our bed – Liam, her adored junior developer.
"Kneel," she commanded, her voice chillingly devoid of the warmth I had once foolishly sought.
I knelt on a bed of broken circuits and shattered motherboards, agonizingly sharp against my skin.
She forced me to apologize ten thousand times to a corpse, accusing me of stealing Liam's success and driving him to his death.
But it was all a lie; I had simply won the AI competition, a prize that was meant to be hers and Liam's.
She injected me with a toxic performance-enhancer, amplifying every sensation into agony.
Then, she unleashed a torrent of anonymous hackers, forcing me to watch as they systematically cyber-assaulted and dismantled my entire digital life.
She recorded it all, crafting a narrative of me as a cheating scumbag, a monster who had destroyed an innocent man.
The world believed her, and the public shame, coupled with vicious online attacks, tragically killed my parents.
Chloe moved swiftly, seizing my family's tech empire, the company my father had built from nothing.
I died in that room, a broken man, humiliated to death.
But then, I woke up.
I was back at the beginning, a year before the competition's end, the AI prototype humming softly on my desk.
This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice for their twisted love.
I would not win; I would let Liam have the victory, and Chloe.
All I wanted was to live. His Golden Ambition, Her Ruin
Fantasy My name is Ava Green, and I have a secret.
Anything I touch with intense emotion turns to solid gold, a strange Midas Touch responsive not to greed, but to love, fear, and passion.
Mark Sterling, my brilliant and ambitious husband, was the recipient of my deepest love, and our penthouse glowed with five hundred shimmering testimonies to our shared intimacy.
Then the five-hundredth transformation happened, a golden lace tear on a pillowcase, signifying I could make one powerful wish.
Mark begged me to wish for his ultimate ambition: to be the CEO of Innovate Global, hailed as a visionary.
My heart broke for him, seeing his vulnerability, and I closed my eyes, making the wish for the man I loved.
The next night, the world changed. Mark became CEO, a savior to the media, but at his first press conference, he announced his engagement to Dr. Emily Hayes, his "childhood friend."
He destroyed me.
When he came home, surrounded by our golden memories, he revealed his cruel plan: Emily was his path to power, and I, merely "convenient," was to remain his wife, in name only, lest my prominent family's shares suffer.
He needed my family' s influence-and my power-but I was just a piece on his board.
I was trapped, my love, my magic, my soul, all sacrificed for his kingdom.
Then, a text from Leo Vance, my childhood friend and a cybersecurity genius, offered a glimmer of hope: "The library. Midnight. Don't be followed."
He revealed Mark' s orchestrations, how he' d ruined a man' s life, and then, a passage from my family's archives: a forbidden technique, a reverse Midas Touch, fueled by profound pain, where malicious wishes come true.
"He thinks he broke you, Ava," Leo said. "Let him think that. We can use this."
And so, my plan began, sharper and clearer than any gold. A Father's Vengeance
Horror The smoke burned my eyes, thick and acrid, as my three-year-old son, Caleb, coughed weakly beside me.
My wife, Jennifer, stood at the wine cellar door, her gaze fixed on her brother-in-law, Ryan.
"It's for Molly's sake," she said, her voice chillingly devoid of warmth.
"The guru said Caleb's energy caused her asthma attack. We have to cleanse it."
She slammed the heavy oak door shut, the bolt thudding into place, trapping us.
My son, who had a severe peanut allergy and sensitive lungs, was left to suffocate in the toxic smoke.
Days bled into a hazy nightmare until Jennifer' s brother, Wesley, appeared, revealing Jennifer never loved me; I was just a rebound.
He then callously threw more sage onto the embers, sealing our tomb deeper.
I clawed our way out, just barely, carrying Caleb' s limp, blue body to a hospital, clinging to a desperate thread of hope.
But Jennifer arrived, not for us, but demanding Caleb's O-negative blood for Molly' s minor fender bender injury, ignoring doctors' pleas.
"He's my son. Do it," she commanded, her eyes cold.
Then, with a casual glance at Caleb, a nurse, obviously bribed, fed him a peanut granola bar.
The flatline screamed, and Caleb arched, his tiny chest still.
Jennifer, with Ryan' s arm around her, turned her back on our dying son to comfort Molly' s fake tears.
My world shattered.
Ryan' s venomous whisper echoed: "You and your son, you were always in the way."
How could a mother abandon her child to such a horrifying death?
How could she choose a niece over her own son, then murder him without a second thought?
Something inside me didn't just break; it turned to dust, then reformed into steel.
Andrew Wright had to die, so the man who would take everything from them could be born. The Day I Came Back to Life
Modern The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, each breath a searing pain.
Ryan Todd' s rage-contorted face was inches from mine, his spittle hitting my cheek as he screamed, "This is for Ashley! You owe us!"
His fist connected with my ribs again, and a sickening crack echoed through the co-working space.
The social media mob, whipped up by his sister Karen, cheered him on as they dragged me from my desk, beating me to death.
My crime? Lending Karen my Lucid Air, which then became a death trap for her daughter, Ashley, in a multi-car pile-up on the I-35.
Karen, a master of twisting reality, claimed I' d sabotaged my own car, jealous of Ashley' s athletic scholarship.
It was a lie so absurd it became believable to the grief-stricken and the gullible.
The final blow sent me sprawling, my head hitting the polished concrete floor with a dull thud, and darkness swallowed me.
I had been hunted, blamed, destroyed, and murdered for a crime I didn' t commit, a tragedy built on a lie.
Then, I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my bed, my heart hammering but my ribs unbroken.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand: Good luck with your neighbor today!
My blood ran cold.
It was the morning Karen Todd would ask to borrow my car.
I wasn' t dead. I was back.
And this time, not only would the car stay with me, but Karen would pay for what she did. Desert Bloom: A Song of Vengeance
Fantasy I opened my eyes to the familiar crack in my Austin apartment ceiling.
My phone buzzed: "Desert Bloom" Release Day.
This was it: the day my life ended in a nightmare I'd already lived.
Caleb, the Nashville star, would steal my song, ruin my reputation, and trigger a cascading tragedy that led to my parents' death and my own fall from Pennybacker Bridge.
But I was here, alive, on that same morning.
Panicked, I called my manager, Marcus, and demanded he pull my song immediately.
It was too late.
Two hours later, a news alert confirmed my horror: Caleb had released "Desert Bloom."
It was my song, note for note.
Desperate, I wrote an entirely new song offline, recording it on an old 4-track, a raw anthem of rage.
Five days later, the headlines screamed: Caleb had released that song too.
He wasn't just stealing my music; he was stealing my thoughts, pulling them directly from my mind.
The despair was crushing, the violation absolute.
How was this possible?
My ex-girlfriend, Chloe, then called, inviting me to Caleb's victory party, feigning concern.
This wasn't about saving face; it was a trap.
But I agreed, for this time, I wasn't just surviving; I was going to Nashville not to beg, but to fight, to find out how deep this impossible betrayal ran, and unleash a force that could make them pay. The Unwanted Blessing
Billionaires I was eight, maybe nine, when my father branded me "bad luck."
Exiled from the Miller empire, I grew up with Elara in the quiet Ozarks, who saw a light in me, saying "things grow better in the sunshine."
Ten years later, a thick, gold-embossed envelope arrived, pulling Sadie back.
It was a summons to my younger brother Ethan's 21st birthday gala, the favored heir.
"Your father expects your attendance," the note commanded, offering no welcome.
Richard Miller met me with arctic eyes, scanning my simple clothes.
Ethan, the spoiled golden child, sneered, "Look what the cat dragged in from the sticks."
The chilling truth emerged: this wasn't a reunion, but a formal disinheritance.
At the glittering country club, I was publicly mocked as a "charity case," old wounds tearing open.
Ethan grinned, shoving legal documents at me: "We' re making it official."
My father, via phone, clipped: "Sign the papers and be done with it."
The familiar weight of being blamed, of inherent flaw, pressed down heavily.
For years, I' d believed I was the source of Miller's "bad luck"-fender benders, fires-all starting, Dad said, at my birth.
This cruel dismissal felt final, confirming every unwanted memory.
But clutching Elara' s smooth river stone, a different truth settled.
"Luck runs in funny streams," I told Ethan, "You might be diverting more than you think."
With a strange calm, I signed "Sarah Miller" for the last time.
The moment my pen lifted, a speaker crackled and died, and chaos rippled instantly.
Ethan' s prized car smashed, company scandals erupted, credit lines froze.
The Miller empire, built on sand and shortcuts, was finally crumbling.
Some ties, once broken, unleash far more than just freedom. When Love Became A Larceny
Romance My tech company was at its peak – celebrated, successful. For twenty years, I believed my marriage to Bella was just the same: perfect.
We had two sons, Mark and Alex, my pride and joy, the heirs to everything I had built.
Then, at fifty, Bella lay dying in a sterile hospital bed.
Her rasping voice delivered the blow that pulverized my world: "Ethan," she whispered, "the boys… they' re not yours. They' re Ryan' s."
My heart squeezed, then shattered.
My own sons, whom I loved more than life, turned on me instantly, their eyes cold and calculating.
They saw Ryan, their biological father, not as a long-lost parent, but as a direct route to my wealth, reducing me to nothing but a disposable obstacle.
In the brutal inheritance struggle that followed, the very boys I' d raised beat me to death. I gasped for air, my heart giving out under the crushing weight of their betrayal, my world built on a twenty-year lie crumbling to dust.
How could I have been so utterly blind? My final thought was of profound regret, a desperate, yearning wish for another chance to live life differently, to choose another path.
Then, darkness. But instead of an afterlife, I jolted awake, alive, younger, surrounded by the pulsing chaos of an SXSW party.
Standing before me, vibrant and deceptively innocent, was Bella, dropping to one knee, a champagne flute raised, asking me to marry her.
This was my impossible second chance. And this time, with the bitter truth of twenty years flooding my mind, I knew exactly what to say. The Curse Of The Vanderbilt Name
Romance I’m Willow Hayes, a girl from the Appalachians, chosen by the wealthy Vanderbilt family for my unique "life blessing."
They wanted me to marry their dying son, Ethan, hoping I could save him and secure their lineage.
I bore him twins—a boy and a girl.
Ethan miraculously began to heal.
But then, his supposed first love, Clara Beaumont, fed him vicious lies, claiming I'd ruined her life.
Consumed by vengeance, Ethan brutally ripped my newborns from me right in the delivery room, before I even heard their first cries.
He sneered my "blessing" was a curse, then abandoned me to bleed to death, faking a tragic childbirth accident.
My entire Appalachian community was slandered, their homes and pride lost, all because of his baseless rage.
How could the man I saved, the future father of my children, turn into such a monster based solely on a jealous woman's lies?
How could a family that sought my gift allow such horrific cruelty to befall me and my people?
The searing injustice of having my babies torn from me, combined with my agonizing death, burned a hole in my soul.
But now, I’m back.
Reborn.
The Vanderbilts are knocking again, their matriarch’s sharp eyes desperate for my "blessing" to save Ethan.
They think they can use me as a pawn a second time, but they have no idea what's coming.
This time, I'm not here for their salvation; I'm here for a twisted justice only I can deliver, one that will make them wish I had never returned. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract
Sibeal Sallese I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash.
To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars.
I thought it was a clean transaction.
But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty.
He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me.
My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire.
Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner.
"Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly.
His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand.
"Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler."
They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog.
I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth.
But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood.
"She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison."
They murdered my parents.
I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call.
Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. 
/1/113572/coverorgin.jpg?v=002413cd537402941aa301ce3949cd06&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105561/coverorgin.jpg?v=15078c0c1dc48daebd9af48c17b00404&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/93297/coverorgin.jpg?v=3a238bbc6fa552647684ed6050e72f46&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85880/coverorgin.jpg?v=3a0c10fc57c8ca431a091d8b66b3e9d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85700/coverorgin.jpg?v=f3cffeb7ff2dfa4687b544020f2bba16&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85370/coverorgin.jpg?v=e1f616185f1ea9cc69c8a87d6279966b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84329/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd3476c38322035be31584019e57e570&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84122/coverorgin.jpg?v=37e1bca034ea1cdad1f79c9b56852430&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83479/coverorgin.jpg?v=d684521a88f63e690c9dd529c666e395&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83212/coverorgin.jpg?v=52c8456f6432a435b1e801da26694c0a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81352/coverorgin.jpg?v=d390bb6528e929460b49c705c857755d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80523/coverorgin.jpg?v=ede843569631409960ceddf807b7f8d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18806/coverorgin.jpg?v=10eb9257cc9e78c8df5bc6a32886bf5e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110344/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee9edc19532d5cad4529d092169ad91d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106591/coverorgin.jpg?v=7112ffc44f6337f03a03bec3d6824a38&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105410/coverorgin.jpg?v=68bf1b78d60cae51b9e167ecf8a0a734&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101423/coverorgin.jpg?v=7bf1dc2685ee6e3097492f6899d4a76f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102860/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb1450ebea277ac6119b3b112743e9b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112619/coverorgin.jpg?v=952d98135fb5acc8c5d1fdb6361bc388&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112769/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd6b6998663f70779359461368a87cc1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102856/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1608f8b252c671e4efe9a90343f3a01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105396/coverorgin.jpg?v=20ef5105069b9898103d84e82f272146&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89487/coverorgin.jpg?v=f2315ec669d3740f8cfa6b8315d4e559&imageMogr2/format/webp)