Chang An
13 Published Stories
Chang An's Books and Stories
His Amnesiac Lie: My Stolen Life
Horror I learned my three-year relationship was a lie from a conversation I was never supposed to hear.
My boyfriend, Hardin, the man I'd saved from a car wreck that ended my career, hadn't lost his memory. It was all a long con to steal my life's work-a revolutionary game engine-for his mistress, my old college rival.
The man who promised to protect me stood by as she publicly humiliated me, burned my arm with a cigarette, and had me tasered in an alley.
He dragged me into an icy shower when I fought back.
When I tried to leave, he had me held down while doctors drew my blood and stole my kidney for his mistress's aunt.
He called the injury that destroyed my career "unfortunate."
He thought he had broken me, turning me into a prisoner in his mansion, a source of spare parts.
But he forgot who I was.
With the help of my old mentor, I reclaimed my secret identity as the legendary developer "PixelVixen."
And I sent the two words that would bring their empire crashing down: "I'm back." Five Million Dollar Goodbye Kiss
Modern I gave up my acceptance to MIT to support my boyfriend, Brayden Berg. After his family's tech empire collapsed and his parents died, I worked double shifts as a line cook, using my tuition money to help him get back on his feet.
But the day he announced his new company's success, he stood on stage, kissed a high-society lawyer named Jesse Collins, and introduced her to the world as his partner.
The humiliation was just beginning. At a party, Jesse deliberately spilled champagne all over me. Later, trapped in an elevator together, she hissed that I was a "charity case" just moments before the cables snapped.
The crash shattered my leg. When a rescuer peered down from the emergency hatch, able to save only one of us at a time, I heard Brayden's frantic voice from above.
"Save Jesse!" he screamed without a moment's hesitation. "Save her first!"
In the hospital, he explained his choice by saying Jesse was "delicate," while I was "strong" and could handle it. Then, he had the audacity to beg me, his childhood friend, to donate my rare blood type to save her.
He carried me to the donation room, and the moment the bag was full, he ran off with my blood to Jesse's side without a backward glance.
Staring at the fresh needle mark on my bruised arm, I finally realized the boy I had saved was gone. It was time to save myself. The Cage She Built For Us
Sci-fi I poured years of my life into "The Gilded Cage," a virtual world where I became Noah, determined to save Chloe, its tragic villainess. I guided her, taught her, helped her build a tech empire, thinking I' d rewritten her destiny.
But when she finally stood on top of the world, she looked at me, her eyes cold. "You didn't save me, Noah. You just built me a different cage." Then, she brutally threw me from her penthouse balcony.
Ejected from the simulation, I thought I was free. But a system malfunction tethered my consciousness to Chloe's. I was dragged through her past, a ghost watching her childhood trauma and Liam Hayes's betrayal unfold, forced to relive every painful step of her original story. Each memory, a cruel reminder of my failure, of the monster I inadvertently helped create.
Why was I condemned to witness the very pain I' d tried so hard to prevent again? The system said it was a recursive feedback loop, a side effect of her emergent sentience. But it felt more like a calculated torment.
When my consciousness was finally about to dematerialize, Chloe, tear-streaked and broken, reached for me, pleading, "Please. You have to save me." But the phantom pains of her betrayal surged, and I recoiled, spitting out the words that echoed her own cruelty: "My life doesn't need a monster in it." I thought it was over. Then, weeks later, the real Chloe, corporeal and lost, appeared on my doorstep. "I found a way out... You have to help me. You have to save me." The Pet Dog and the Plot
Modern The silence of my house hit me first.
My sweet, goofy rescue dog, Buster, wasn't there to greet me.
He was just gone.
My estranged husband, Mark, and his new girlfriend, Lisa, spread a narrative that ruined me: Sarah Miller, the animal shelter manager, was so negligent she lost her own dog.
My work suffered, volunteers pitied me, and online comments shamed me publicly, painting me as an irresponsible fraud.
They paraded around town with a new, expensive designer puppy, while the loss of Buster became a hole in my life that never closed.
I became a shell, until I overheard them at a charity gala, hidden in a secluded alcove, laughing.
"She still probably thinks he just ran away," Lisa snickered.
"It was for the best," Mark replied smoothly.
"Getting rid of Buster was the only way to make room for Muffin."
"And to knock Sarah down a peg," Lisa added.
The world tilted; they didn't just let Buster get lost, they orchestrated it.
They destroyed my reputation and my heart for a designer puppy and cruel sport.
The shock was a physical blow, and the world went black.
I died of a broken heart.
Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open to the familiar morning sun.
It was the day Buster disappeared.
This was a second chance, a miracle.
I wasn't going to waste it. My Family, Their Sinister Game
Modern For ten years, I built a wall of mediocrity around myself.
After my sister Sarah vanished, an alleged suicide linked to the sinister "Blackwood Tech Curse," my parents pulled me from advanced STEM, scrubbed my online presence, and moved two states over.
"Just be average, Ashley," my father pleaded, "Average is safe."
I became an insurance analyst, safe and boring, believing I had outsmarted fate, that Sarah was a random tragedy.
Until today, when an encrypted email landed in my inbox: "Congratulations, Ashley Miller. You've been accepted."
The Blackwood curse, a digital ghost from a defunct institute, promised death wrapped in an acceptance letter, just like Sarah's.
When I tried to expose it, the FBI agent who' d dismissed my fears showed me security footage-me, at the scene of a Blackwood victim's death, then a fabricated psych evaluation painting me as delusional.
My own laptop was framed as the source of a federal hack, isolating me further.
Even my parents, panicked by the lies, asked, "Ashley, honey… Did you… have you been seeing someone?"
The one person I thought I could trust, Davies, believed the frame job.
"The hack came from your laptop," he said, his voice flat.
But then, my own hand clenched, tried to strike me, until Davies, who' d burst in, saw it wasn' t me.
"You' re not suicidal," he whispered. "Something else was controlling you."
He set up a livestream, making my forced stay at a "safe house" public, only for a chilling message to appear on my screen, "WE CAN GET TO YOU ANYWHERE."
Then, a porcelain doll-Sarah' s childhood doll, supposedly lost for years-appeared at my window, its face frozen in a scream.
The lights went out, and in the darkness, my mother, her eyes wide and blank, attacked me with a shard of glass, whispering, "The signal is the vessel."
The next morning, the doctors diagnosed me with "severe schizoaffective disorder, with acute paranoid delusions."
My parents finally broke, signing the commitment papers when a psychiatrist presented a photo altered to show me with a different sister, Eva, claiming Sarah was just my cousin, that their decade of lies was to "protect" me.
I realized then, in the sterile silence of the psychiatric facility, that this wasn' t a ghost story, but a controlled experiment.
And I heard a name whispered in the halls: Marcus Thorne, the vanished founder of Blackwood Tech, now a VIP patient on the top floor.
They thought they had trapped me, broken me.
But they had just given me a new purpose, a new identity, and a clear target. The Doctor's Redemption
Romance The grand hall was silent, a suffocating blanket. I stared at the engagement photo, a smiling lie from a life that was now a ghost story.
Just back from a humanitarian mission, I expected wedding bells, but David Hayes, the man I was supposed to marry, had moved another woman into our home, my clothes gone, my future surgically removed.
He introduced her, Seraphina Thorne, a social media star, her smile as artificial as the diamonds on her wrist, while he couldn' t even meet my eyes.
When I demanded to speak to him alone, he coolly replied, "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Seraphina." The public humiliation stung like a physical blow.
His gaze was that of a stranger. My year away, he claimed, showed him what he truly wanted: a "partner" who strengthened his position, not a "distraction" like me, the doctor who saved lives.
Then came the final cut: he wouldn't let me leave. I was to stay, wear his gifts, and smile at their engagement party, or he would destroy my brother Michael's journalistic career.
Trapped, humiliated, and reduced to a pawn in his cruel game, I felt the walls of the gilded cage close in. Was this the price of love, or was I merely an asset to be discarded and then reclaimed?
That night, as David, my former fiancé and now my captor, forced a sapphire necklace around my neck saying, "You' re still mine," I knew I had to find a way out. I needed to break free from the ashes of my past and reclaim the life I had lost. The Con and the CEO
Billionaires My life was a carefully constructed empire – a tech CEO with a groundbreaking project, wealth, and the perfect fiancée, Chloe.
Then, a ghost from my past shattered it all: my estranged brother, Ethan, weak and dying, called claiming to have pancreatic cancer.
I brought him into my home, sacrificing everything – Chloe' s trust, my company, my reputation – to care for him, only to discover it was all a monstrous lie, a calculated plot to strip me bare.
Caught in a web of deceit, publicly humiliated, and facing utter ruin, an unimaginable horror unfolded: Ethan wasn't just a conman; he was responsible for our mother's death.
Stripped of all illusions, I had to choose: succumb to the darkness or fight back with every fiber of my being. The Impostor Heiress
Young Adult My eighteenth birthday was supposed to be the culmination of a perfect life, the grand debutante ball cementing my place in Dallas society.
I was Gabrielle Johns, poised, confident, and ready to claim the life I' d meticulously prepared for, always mindful of the recurring nightmare of a girl screaming I was a fake.
Then, just as my father was about to speak, the ballroom doors burst open.
A girl, Maria Chavez, a wild, aggressive stranger, stood there.
She pointed directly at me, yelling, "She' s a fraud! I am the real Blakely daughter!"
The room plunged into shocked silence, all eyes on me as I registered her worn clothes against my designer gown.
My heart pounded, but a single, calculated tear traced a path down my cheek as I whispered, "Daddy?"
Maria lunged, splashing wine on my white dress, a violent stain shattering the perfect image.
My own brother, Andrew, my closest confidant, then shockingly defended her, presenting a 'DNA report' from a shady lab and claiming her story was true.
He chose her over me, leading this sobbing stranger further into my home, while my fiancé, Wesley, quickly abandoned me for her.
How could my family, my brother, be so easily manipulated, so quick to doubt the daughter they raised, over a desperate plea and a flimsy lie?
Even as the world tilted, a cold resolve settled in my bones.
The dream wasn't a nightmare; it was a warning.
They expected me to break, to crumble.
But I was a strategist, and this was only the first battle.
I would fight for my life, expose the impostor, and reclaim everything that was rightfully mine. Soul Survivor: Building Hope From Hell
Modern The air around me reeked of gasoline, a sharp tang that somehow mixed with the familiar scent of ancient leather from my family' s priceless library. My phone buzzed, Maria's name flashing on the screen, but I ignored it, focused on the tiny, dancing flame of the lighter in my hand.
Then came her text: "Jocelyn, what the HELL are you doing?! The staff is freaking out! They said you have gasoline! Are you insane? I'm calling the police to have you committed!"
Insane. That' s what they' d label me. A cold smile touched my lips. Let them. They had no idea what was coming.
Seven days from now, "The Veiling" would tear our world apart, merging it with a nightmarish spirit realm. I knew this because I had already lived through it. And died in it.
The last time, I was naive, trusting my best friend, Maria, and my boyfriend, Ethan. I shared my meticulously prepared sanctuary, gave them everything. They rewarded me by pushing me outside to a monster. They feasted on my supplies, while I, disfigured and broken, became their pet. Then, they tortured me, sacrificing my very life force to empower their stolen haven, watching with triumphant glee as my world went dark.
I died believing I was utterly alone, used, and discarded. I died wondering how those I trusted most could become such monsters.
But I came back. Reborn. And this time, I remembered everything. This time, their twisted game was just the first step in my ultimate revenge. The Husband She Tried To Bury
Modern My life as a successful game developer was comfortable, despite the slow drift from my wife, Chloe.
Then, an anonymous link shattered my world: vile, digitally altered photos of my parents, smeared as "hicks" living off my "dirty money." When they bravely decided to confront these lies, a devastating car accident left them critically injured.
At the hospital, Chloe and her childhood friend, Liam, chillingly delayed my parents' critical surgeries, worsening their fragile condition. Chloe then trapped me in a suffocating marriage, siphoning my fortune for three years under the guise of "care" for my parents, even as they languished.
I was a tortured prisoner, constantly reminded of "crimes" I never committed. The sickening truth hit when I overheard Chloe confess everything: the deepfakes, the smear, even orchestrating the accident-all fueled by Liam' s lie that I caused her parents' death.
But she was wrong. So terribly wrong. Her parents were alive, well, and thriving in Italy, because I saved them years ago. That explosive secret ignited a cold fury. My torment was about to turn into a meticulously planned counterattack. The Abandoned Daughter's Price
Young Adult The biting Detroit wind cut through my worn coat.
Every day was a fight, cleaning floors, dodging debt collectors, haunted by the memory of my mother, Eleanor, walking out when I was five.
Then, after two decades of silence, her sleek black SUV appeared outside my rundown apartment.
Eleanor, dripping in luxury, had finally resurfaced.
But her return wasn't for me; it was for my bone marrow, to save her "perfect" son, Leo, who had leukemia.
She demanded my "sisterly duty," then offered a pittance for my life-saving donation.
Her lawyer even tried to intimidate me, threatening to expose my difficult past if I didn't comply.
It was a cold, transactional exchange for the body part she needed.
My bitterness festered.
Abandoned, struggled, and now, I was only valuable for my biology, a pawn in her meticulously crafted perfect life.
Was this my purpose?
To be a disposable resource for the woman who casually discarded me?
The injustice burned.
But then a mysterious informant revealed Eleanor's true secret: Leo was adopted, and her entire marriage to the tech mogul Jason was built on a web of deceit she was desperate to conceal.
My bone marrow wasn't just for saving a life; it was to protect her empire of lies.
This wasn't a request; it was a battle.
And I knew exactly how to win. The Millionaire Wife's Cruel Lie
Billionaires My life revolved around two jobs, every penny for Lily, my daughter' s critical heart surgery.
$50,000 was a fortune for our "struggling" family, a sum my wife, Sarah, supposedly understood.
Then, delivering to a gala one rainy night, I saw her.
Sarah, my wife, shimmering in designer finery, bidding millions for a diamond necklace.
"CEO Sarah Thompson is so generous!" the auctioneer boomed, shattering my world.
My "struggling" wife was a millionaire, lavishing gifts on her ex-husband' s child while ours faced death.
Her ex, Kevin, engineered my firing; Sarah, oblivious, simply dismissed the "incompetent delivery guy."
She continued her cruel charade, denying Lily a simple cake, then abandoning her for Kevin's daughter.
Lily's fragile heart worsened, and we were even ejected from the mall, Sarah silent.
How could she live such a calculating lie for five years, faking poverty and neglecting her own child?
Why sacrifice Lily' s survival for millions spent on another' s?
The raw betrayal left my little girl whispering: "Daddy, did Mommy ever love us?"
I walked away, taking only Lily and our broken trust.
Sarah's desperate pleas were hollow, but Lily' s raw cry, "Mommy, I hate you," forced my decision.
I' d take her money, not for me, but to save my daughter, transforming her deceptive wealth into Lily's only hope. You might like
From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
William Jafferson My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." ENRAGED SOUL
otu Harriet Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends.
She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her.
" Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek.
Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing.
They molested and bullied her until she passed out.
" Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried
" Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...."
" No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..."
" Oh, my God...what should we do..."
Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action.
ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl My Family's Faith, My Bloody Fate
Landslide It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy.
Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me.
My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination."
They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why?
It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers.
Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again.
This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family.
Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free. I Tamed the Monster He Sent
Luo Chengfeng The last thing I saw was Thunder’s bloodied jaws, closing in on me.
My daughter, Sophia, lay broken a few feet away, already gone.
Pain, then darkness.
Then, with a gasp, I bolted upright, my heart hammering like a drum.
I was back on the same rough porch, facing the same smug smirk of Old John.
At the end of his chain was Thunder, the Australian Cattle Dog who had butchered my child and me.
“Heard you were back in town, Isabella,” Old John rasped, his voice a cruel mockery of a welcome.
“Brought you a little housewarming gift,” he added, pulling the chain as Thunder whined, straining to reach me, just like that first time.
The memory crashed over me: Thunder’s lunge, the searing agony as his teeth tore my thigh, the hot gush of blood, and then, Sophia’s petrified screams followed by chilling silence as he turned to her.
Old John had known my paralyzing fear of dogs, yet he had specifically brought this hulking beast to torment me.
He had laughed when I pleaded, ignoring the danger, using the dog as his personal weapon.
Every horrifying detail, every agonizing moment of Sophia’s brutal death and my own demise, flooded my mind with chilling clarity.
But this time, as Thunder lunged forward once more, I forced my trembling legs to stop.
No. Not again.
This time, things would be different. Reborn to Reign: A Mother's Fury
ffssg My name is Sarah, and I remember the cold.
Not the chill of winter, but the stainless-steel table against my back.
My sons, Michael and Gabriel, were gone, their screams replaced by silence.
My husband David, blinded by ambition, led us to that abandoned clinic.
His sister, Veronica, craved an heir for her powerful husband, Senator Harrison.
She believed my "Legacy Fertility" and my children's "vital essence" could help her.
A quack "expert" performed monstrous acts on my seven-year-old twins.
Then it was my turn; they brutally harvested my ovarian tissue.
I was left to bleed out on a filthy floor, my insides torn.
I died there, a vow of revenge frozen on my lips.
Later, I saw Veronica on the news, pregnant and glowing with what she stole.
But then, warmth. Sunlight.
My eyes snapped open to my own familiar bedroom.
Michael was on my chest, Gabriel curled beside me, both alive, young, and whole.
The calendar read October 14th—the very day it all began.
The memory slammed into me: David's averted eyes, the isolated building, Veronica's cold voice, Michael's terror, Gabriel's whimper.
This wasn't a dream; this was a second chance.
Veronica, triumphant in my first life, had risen on my family's ashes, her belly swelling with a lie while mine was emptied by her greed.
No. Not again.
This time, I wouldn't just survive.
I would take everything she had, everything she wanted.
Her husband. Her position. Her future.
My revenge would be absolute, and my children would live. The game had begun. A Father's Vengeance
Bu Gui 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. My Heart, My Vengeance
Lan Zixin I spent three years locked away by my husband, Ethan, in a soundproof panic room.
My legs, shattered in the "accident" he orchestrated, were useless.
He stole my songs, my career, my life, and gave them to Chloe, a talentless fraud he built into a star.
Then, they wheeled me out-a prisoner displayed for the "happy family": Ethan, Chloe, and my son, Leo.
Leo, who looked at me like a monster, holding Chloe's hand and calling her "mom."
Ethan ordered me to confess to plagiarism, to blame my own "jealousy" for his intricate web of lies that destroyed me.
But the ultimate cruelty came later.
Chloe, supposedly dying from a heart condition, needed a transplant.
"You're a match," Ethan stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
"You will donate your heart to Chloe."
It wasn't a request; it was my execution.
My heart for hers, the last piece of me carved out and given to the woman who stole my life.
As the scalpel touched my skin, Chloe whispered, "This is for stealing my life, you bitch."
I closed my eyes, uttering one word to the mysterious "Pact" I made years ago.
Then, I left my body to die.
Yet, I woke up.
Not gone, but back.
And the Pact whispered a new bargain: return to stop Ethan, who, shattered by my death, was becoming a true monster.
The deal was clear: save him and save my sister.
I stepped back into hell, but this time, the chains were broken, and I was ready to fight. The Twin Who Stole Tomorrow
Jin Yi I woke up to the hum of the office lights, keyboards clattering.
This was my desk at Visionary Films.
I was alive, and it was October 14th – the day before everything went to hell.
Last time, my identical twin sister Jessica stole my script, getting me accused of plagiarism, leading to my parents disowning me and my career's ruin.
It ended with my death at the hands of a crazed fan.
Now, I was inexplicably back, but the horror was far from over.
I soon realized Jessica didn't just steal finished work; she could pluck ideas straight from my mind, instantly.
Even a simple drawing, conceived moments before, would appear on her social media, claimed as her own.
My entire creative future was being systematically looted by this parasitic twin.
How could she reach into my thoughts, my unformed dreams, and claim them?
The injustice burned, the confusion maddened me.
This wasn't just sibling rivalry; it was a soul-sucking tether.
Desperate, I fled LA, burning every piece of my work.
But a frantic phone call from Jessica revealed her creative well had run dry without me.
This led me to Mama Martha, who confirmed a dark Hoodoo binding: a cursed doll, made with my essence, stealing my life force.
Now, armed with a powerful gris-gris bag, I'm back.
I'm ready to expose her and shatter the source of her stolen talent on the biggest stage imaginable. 
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