Bu Gui
11 Published Stories
Bu Gui's Books and Stories
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. 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. 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
Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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