Chang An
15 Published Stories
Chang An's Books and Stories
Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband
Modern I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, sitting on a cracked plastic chair at the hospital, when my billionaire husband looked me right in the eye and called me "it."
Ellsworth didn't recognize his own wife in my tight coat and swollen ankles; he was too busy shielding his mistress, Jolie, from the "messy cleaning lady" in the hallway.
"Just ignore it," he told his assistant as I struggled to stand. "Close the doors. We’re running late for the gala."
He left me there with a high-risk pregnancy diagnosis and a prescription I couldn't afford, while he drove off in a Maybach with a woman who had meticulously stolen my entire identity.
When I returned to our cold mansion, the nightmare continued. His grandmother treated me like a breeding animal, and the housekeeper tried to starve me because Ellsworth said my weight gain was "embarrassing" to the family name.
I soon realized the sick truth: Jolie wasn't just his lover; she was a mimic, wearing my old clothes and using my old hair tutorials to play the role of the woman I was before the Banks family broke me.
How could a man who once promised to love me now treat me like a stain on his perfect life? Why was he keeping me trapped in a guest room while parading a fake version of me around the city?
They thought I was a broken, penniless ghost with nowhere to go, but they forgot I was once the sharpest financial mind of my generation.
While Ellsworth was busy playing house with a replica, I was secretly accepting a fully funded PhD and auditing his illegal shell companies from the shadows of his own home.
He thinks he can keep me trapped in this marriage just to secure his trust fund. He has no idea that I’m not just leaving—I’m going to burn his empire to the ground before the baby is even born. Reborn To Crush My Ruthless Husband
Billionaires Frances survived a horrific car crash, only to return to a suffocating life. Her wealthy husband, Baron, and his domineering mother were now relentlessly pressuring her to adopt a "poor, distant relative" named Jagger as the heir to their billionaire empire.
But on her way to sign the adoption papers, a violent vision flashed in her mind. The crash wasn't an accident. She saw her car in flames, while Baron watched with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him stood an older Jagger, who calmly muttered the chilling truth.
"The problem is solved."
A private investigator soon confirmed her worst nightmares. Jagger wasn't a charity case; he was Baron's illegitimate son. The family had been illegally funneling offshore money to fund his elite lifestyle. Worse, Baron's ultimate plan was to label Frances mentally unstable, lock her away in a Swiss sanatorium for life, and bring in Jagger's biological mother to take her place.
For years, Frances had played the perfect, obedient wife in their corporate marriage contract. How could they be so ruthlessly evil, plotting her agonizing death just to legitimize their dirty bloodline and steal her trust fund?
But she was no longer the fragile puppet they thought she was. At the high-stakes board meeting, with all eyes expecting her to submit, she put the expensive pen down.
"I refuse."
Instead of adopting their bastard son, she slammed down an SEC whistleblower threat, forced a new will, and introduced her own handpicked heir. The war had just begun. 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
Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. 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!" Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Pregnant And Fleeing The Ruthless Billionaire
Xiao Youzi For five years, Jodi was the perfect, compliant secret lover to billionaire CEO Armand Taylor.
Then, she woke up to a cold email and a seven-figure wire transfer. Armand was marrying European royalty. The money was a severance package to quietly warehouse her out of sight.
Refusing to be his dirty secret, Jodi invoked her contract's termination clause to leave for good. But Armand wouldn't let her go easily. He forced her to personally train her vicious new replacement, Selah.
Selah immediately tampered with a crucial financial file, framing Jodi for sabotaging Taylor Corp's multi-billion-dollar tech acquisition.
Without a second thought, Armand took the new girl's side. He cornered Jodi in the boardroom, his eyes dead and cold.
"You have three days to fix this. If you fail, I will personally see to it that you go to prison for corporate fraud."
He froze her bank accounts and stripped away her dignity, ready to destroy her life over a blatant lie.
He thought she was just a weak, discarded toy who would break under his threats.
What Armand didn't know was the terrifying secret Jodi had just discovered hidden at the bottom of her bathroom trash can.
Three positive pregnancy tests.
If the ruthless billionaire found out she was carrying his heir, he would never let her escape.
Wiping her tears, Jodi slipped into a severe black silk gown and crashed an exclusive Hamptons gala to intercept the tech CEO herself.
This time, she wasn't playing the obedient lover. She was going to clear her name and burn Armand's empire to the ground. Zero Alimony: The CEO's Runaway Wife
Yue Manshuang I was hemorrhaging severely on the operating table, risking my life to deliver the billionaire Carlisle heir.
Through the unsealed door, I heard my husband Axel's cold, mechanical voice giving a ruthless order to the panicked doctors.
"Prioritize the heir. Above all else."
The ice spread through my veins as he reduced my entire existence to a mere vessel. After I barely survived the emergency delivery, his mother marched into my room, telling me I should be on my knees thanking God they kept me alive long enough to fulfill my only purpose. His sister barged in just to scream at me, calling me a manipulative gold-digger. And Axel? He didn't ask about my pain. He simply stared at me like a CEO evaluating a damaged asset, eventually kidnapping me from the hospital and threatening to use his Wall Street power to ensure I would never see my newborn son again.
I had secretly loved this man for years, swallowing my pride and enduring his toxic family's abuse, only to realize that in my most vulnerable moment, my life meant absolutely nothing to him. Why did I ever think I could melt his icy heart?
My heart simply stopped breaking and turned to solid stone. I bypassed his billions, called a top-tier litigator, and handed Axel a zero-alimony divorce agreement, waiving every single cent of his fortune just to make a clean break. The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. Too Late For Regret: Watch Me Shine
Zitella Shepp Fiona stayed awake for three straight nights restoring an antique watch to surprise her fiancé, Kevon, for his birthday.
But standing outside his VIP club room, she froze when she heard his voice bleeding through the cracked door.
"Marriage to her is just a PR stunt. The Baxter family needs a clean, obedient poster girl for the board. That's it."
He openly mocked her to his friends, claiming she willingly handed over her jewelry design patents as the price of admission to marry into his wealthy family.
Worse, he confessed his true love for his personal assistant, Kayla.
He completely twisted the truth of a past mugging, painting his mistress as a hero and Fiona as a jealous coward. For three years, he had used Fiona's brilliance to build his company's new line, while secretly taking Kayla to hotels and parading her in Fiona's stolen designs.
Three months of bleeding fingers for his custom gift. Dozens of cancelled dinners. It was all a pathetic joke.
Her loyalty and her life's work were nothing but stepping stones for an arrogant heir who thought his money could buy her dignity.
The crushing grief in her chest instantly evaporated, replaced by a sheet of absolute ice.
She dropped the velvet gift box into an antique vase and kicked the heavy mahogany doors wide open.
It was time to strip his company of every single patent she secretly owned and burn his pathetic life to the ground. 
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