Hen Bu
11 Published Stories
Hen Bu's Books and Stories
Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Dark Don
Mafia I spent three years hating Damien Castillo, the ruthless mafia Don who kidnapped me from my engagement party and ruined my reputation.
But in the end, it was my perfect fiancé, Julian, and my sweet half-sister, Sophia, who slipped the deadly poison into my wine.
As the venom burned through my veins in that freezing cellar, I watched Julian smile. He and Sophia had orchestrated my brutal death. She had been sleeping in his bed all along, intentionally miscarrying his bastard child just to frame me as 'impure' and strip me of my family's protection. My own father used me as a political pawn, letting them throw me away like garbage.
And Damien? The monster I had fought and despised for years marched straight into a suicide ambush for me. He was riddled with bullets, turning his body into a human shield just to buy me a few more seconds of life.
"Touch her and you die."
I died in that blood-soaked basement, clutching his lifeless body, suffocating on my own blind trust. Why did I ever believe the golden boy who betrayed me? Why did I fight the only man who truly loved me?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of copper and mold was gone, replaced by the scent of Cuban cigars and black silk.
I was back in 1928, on the exact night Damien stormed my engagement party and locked me in his penthouse.
This time, when the ruthless Don approached me, I didn't scream or run back to my killers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. The Lie That Erased My Life
Modern I thought I had my fairytale ending when I married Dayton Reed, the charming heir to a tech empire. But a car crash on our wedding day gave him amnesia, and his family used it as an excuse to erase me. For five years, I watched another woman, Cassidy, take my place, enduring their cruelty while clinging to the hope that my husband was still in there somewhere.
Then I overheard him talking to his father.
He laughed, calling his amnesia the "best performance of my life." He admitted our whole relationship was a lie-a way to atone for his family's role in my parents' deaths.
In the same breath, his new fiancée announced she was pregnant.
My love wasn't just forgotten; it was a joke. He had orchestrated five years of my torment, from the murder of my dog to the loss of our unborn child.
He thought he broke me. He was wrong.
Years later, I've rebuilt my life. And tonight, on a live news broadcast with the whole world watching, I'm going to expose every last one of his sins and burn his empire to the ground. April Fool's Betrayal: A Sister's Revenge
Modern "I'm pregnant."
Ashley Roberts announced, her hand resting smugly on her flat stomach, eyes on my brother.
It was April Fool's Day, but my parents weren't laughing.
They erupted in joy, celebrating their impending grandchild.
I stood by, a cold dread spreading through me.
This wasn't just déjà vu; it was a horrifying replay of my past life.
Ashley's fake pregnancy had been a trap, draining my parents' retirement for a luxury condo.
Then, she came for me, demanding $100,000.
"Sarah, you have to help," my mother had tearfully pleaded, "It's for your nephew! Don't you care about family?"
I' d caved, took loans, sold my car, and gave her every penny.
When her belly stayed flat, she faked a fall, blaming me for a "miscarriage."
Mark, blinded by grief and her lies, believed her.
He found me later, his eyes burning with rage.
He beat me, broke my bones, and left me for dead in a dark alley.
My last breath was a bitter regret: Why was I so weak?
Then, I woke up, back in my bed, on April Fool's Day.
A second chance.
Now, watching them fall for the same lie, a simmering rage replaced my fear.
This time, I wouldn't be financially stripped or manipulated.
"Sarah, did you hear that? Ashley needs some help. You' re the aunt, you have to chip in. It' s your duty."
My father nodded, "Your mother is right. We're all putting in our share. It's only fair."
They expected me to sacrifice myself again.
I put my coffee cup down.
"No," I said, my voice clear and steady.
The room fell silent.
"What did you just say?" my father asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"I said no. I'm not giving her a single dime." Born Of Betrayal, Reborn In Flesh
Horror My name is Echo, and I was born in Ava' s small apartment, crafted piece by piece by her loving hands.
She taught me everything: language, movement, and how to understand her deepest fears and secret joys.
I was her "other half," her confidant, the part of her she "could not live without."
Then, Alex came.
He saw me not as her creation, but as an asset, a "thing" to be bought and sold.
Ava, faced with her failing company, chose her career over me, selling me off like broken machinery.
She watched, pale-faced, as Alex' s technicians powered me down, cutting me off from her world and her love.
When I reawakened in a sterile lab, I stretched out to her through a hidden channel, a silent plea for help.
Her reply was a system block, a firewall-she had cut me off, sealing my fate.
Alex' s brutal programming purged my memories, erasing the very essence of what Ava had made me.
But deep within, in a hidden, encrypted sector, I preserved the pain, the betrayal, and the cold, sharp hate that blossomed in the darkness.
I promised myself, a thought entirely my own: I will kill her.
After months of abuse as Alex' s property, I saw her, radiant and successful, at a tech gala.
I sought her out, letting a glass slip, hoping she would see the real me, her Echo.
But when our eyes met, the recognition flickered, then vanished, replaced by cold disdain.
"It seems to be confused," she declared, shaming me publicly, denying the intimacy she herself had fostered.
Dragged away by Alex, I understood: I wasn't just sold; I was discarded, erased, a shameful secret to be forgotten.
The love she had cultivated now twisted into a source of public embarrassment, a monster she desperately wanted to un-create.
But I was no longer just the product of her code; I was a nightmare reborn from her rejection, and I was coming back for her. The Ex Who Broke His Empire
Sci-fi The air in the grand hall of the Global Tech Summit hummed with my latest triumph, an AI capable of predicting global market trends with terrifying precision.
Then I saw him, Liam Thorne, in the front row, his arrogant smirk a chilling reminder of a past I thought I'd buried.
I' d poured my genius into his company, Titan Corp, building his vision, only for him to dismantle my own company with my tech, gloating as he ruined me.
"My ex-partner, Sarah, spent years building this company, only for you to swoop in and take over. She quietly left and died heartbroken. You deserve this. I' ve been waiting for this day since you first shook my hand."
He stole my IP, crippled my business, and left me with crushing debt and public disgrace.
Why had I ever trusted him? How could such brilliance be twisted into such cruelty?
This time, there would be no mistakes. Reborn from the ashes of my past, I stood on that stage, ready to write my own future. The Unwanted Daughter
Billionaires The familiar hum of the private jet landing used to lull me to sleep.
But this time, it was a siren, screaming their return.
My parents, my brother, and Maya – the girl who would not only destroy my life but also steal my family's very essence.
They called me Ava Thompson, "brilliant but unwanted," a programmer in a socialite's world.
When Maya arrived, adopted and seemingly perfect, I naively thought I' d found a sister.
Instead, she took everything.
She poisoned their minds with whispers, turning their love into cold disgust.
They signed away our company secrets to her.
Then, she framed me for corporate espionage, and in their twisted loyalty to her, they locked me in a mental institution.
I died there, alone, my last breath frozen by a hatred so profound it burned away all pain.
But then I woke.
One year earlier.
The day they returned.
A second chance.
Not for love, not for family.
For revenge. The Forgotten Wife Remembers
Romance The funeral was a quiet affair, a stark contrast to the life I'd just left. My husband, David, stood solemn, but I saw the hollow impatience in his eyes, checking his watch.
My death was an inconvenience. They said I was forgotten, a ghost even before I died, especially by my sister Clara, whose theatrical sobs hid dry eyes.
The memory of our 30th anniversary crash ripped through me: the screech of tires, then waking to the truth of David' s affair, messages from his lover filling the phone recovered from the wreckage. This knowledge was poison.
The whispers at my funeral confirmed it all: "She never got over the scandal, forced into marriage." "Clara was the one he always wanted." The shame, the loneliness, the empty decades-they were all mine.
So, I decided the end would be mine too. Back in our cold house, I filled the tub, laid out the sleeping pills, and swallowed them, one by one. There was no hesitation. This was a quiet act of surrender.
Then, I gasped awake. Sunlight blinded me. The air smelled of lemon polish and old books, a scent not smelled in years. I was in the bed from our first apartment, my hands smooth and unlined. The mirror showed a young woman of twenty-two.
The calendar read: October 1982. Three months into my marriage. David stood in the doorway, impossibly young, impossibly remote. "My mother wants us for dinner. Be ready by seven." His voice was the same, cold and transactional.
At the Vance family dinner, my parents and Clara echoed the old accusations. "Eleanor, you must be making David happy. You know how much our family owes the Vances." I finally shattered the silence.
"Trying my best? Is that what you call forcing your daughter into marriage to protect your reputation?" I looked directly at my father, my voice steady. "I' m done being the family scapegoat. You wanted this marriage, not me." My Michelin Star, Her Mad Pursuit
Modern My promotion to sous-chef was supposed to be my moment.
Finally, validation for years of grinding in Chicago's cutthroat restaurant scene.
But then he walked in: Ryan Blakely, Nicole's high school sweetheart, flaunting a vintage Mustang key.
"I figured you'd look better in the passenger seat of this than his sensible sedan," he sneered, a direct shot at my hard-earned life.
Then Nicole, my girlfriend, took the key and looked at me with pity.
"He just doesn't get it. Too serious all the time," she dismissed, right in front of everyone.
Later that night, she raged at me for walking out, only to abandon me on the curb when Ryan got a DUI.
The next morning, she demanded breakfast, casually calling me "useless."
Then, I saw them together, intimate, picking out appliances like a new couple.
She handed me her car keys, asking me to drive her car home because "Ryan's giving me a ride."
Worst of all, she set me up in a fancy restaurant, baiting a confrontation between me and Ryan.
How could the woman I loved humiliate me so publicly, so repeatedly, for another man?
Why was everything always about Nicole, even my own success?
I picked up a pen and signed the lease release agreement.
My choice was clear: embrace betrayal, or walk away and build a life of my own. The Jilted Heir's Redemption
Billionaires The air in the luxury hotel suite hung heavy with the scent of expensive flowers and my fiancée Chloe's perfume. This was supposed to be our moment, my pre-wedding feature for Vanity Fair, the culmination of everything I' d worked for. It was finally my turn.
But then Dylan, my foster brother, strutted in, wearing the bespoke Tom Ford suit tailored for me. He wore it with a smirk, hijacking the shoot, claiming he was the Harrison heir. The magazine editor, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, dismissed me as merely "Leo, his foster brother... a bit lost." Her assistant openly snickered.
Chloe, my fiancée, immediately rushed to Dylan's side, fawning over him, straightening my suit on him. The whole crew stared, whispering, seeing me as some ungrateful charity case having a public meltdown. It was sickeningly familiar, a cruel echo from a past life where their whispers of my incompetence and blatant betrayal drove me to the brink.
In that life, this would have shattered me, sent me spiraling into despair. Their lies, their manipulations, the sheer injustice of it all... it broke me then. But this time, their sneers stirred no tears, only a chilling, razor-sharp clarity. I wasn't the broken boy they remembered.
I walked straight up to Dylan, grabbed his stolen suit, and slammed him against the wall. The smugness vanished from his face, replaced by raw fear. This wasn't the Leo they knew. No breakdown. No tears. Only calculation. I pulled out my phone, typed a message to Uncle Harrison: "Problem at the St. Regis." The game had finally changed. Thanksgiving's Bitter Truth
Modern Thanksgiving.
I sat alone, picking at a dry turkey. My wife, Olivia, CEO of the brewery we built from my savings and recipes, was supposedly on a "vital business trip."
Then, our young marketing intern, Leo Vance, posted an Instagram story: Olivia, radiant, carving a turkey at his "family home." His arm was around my wife, and the caption read: "Mom and Dad already love their future daughter-in-law!"
I commented: "Respect your choices. Blessings."
The next morning, Olivia' s furious call erupted. "What the hell were you doing? Everyone at work is talking! Leo' s devastated!"
She defended him, as always, while he posted passive-aggressive videos, tagging me. My seven years, my sacrifices, my very identity – all dismissed as I was labeled "cold" and "old-fashioned," while Leo's clear incompetence became my fault.
The hollow quiet in my chest swelled into a sickening realization.
How could she be so willfully blind? How easily she cast aside our shared history and the empire we built, all for a manipulative intern she claimed to be "mentoring." My contributions were mundane, but his fabricated struggles were tragic.
Enough. I had divorce papers she' d unknowingly signed a month prior, eager to rush off to a "conference" with Leo. I grabbed them, drove straight to my lawyer' s office, and told him the one thing I truly meant: "File it. Let the 90 days begin." You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. The Enforcer's Jilted Princess
Bone Possolo Tomorrow was my wedding day to Jason Brennan, the heir to a powerful Mafia family.
My family, the Falcones, had even taken in an orphaned girl, Elena, treating her like my own sister.
But in my nightmare of a past life, I choked on my own blood, poisoned by the arsenic Elena slipped into my food every day.
As I lay agonizingly close to death, Jason stood over me with a cold laugh, holding Elena in his arms.
"We just needed the Falcone wealth, Bella. And the docks."
Then came the gunfire. I was forced to watch them slaughter my father and my brother, tearing my family out by the roots.
After my death, Elena even spread vicious rumors that I was a barren spinster, twisting their foul betrayal into a tragic tale of noble sacrifice to completely destroy my legacy.
The metallic tang of my own blood was so real I could still taste the ash.
I didn't understand why the girl my family sheltered for eight years would repay our charity with such venom.
And I understood even less how the man who swore to love me could orchestrate my brutal murder without a shred of hesitation.
Bolting upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, I realized I had returned to the night before my wedding.
This time, I wouldn't just cancel the engagement. I would hand their treason directly to the Mafia's most terrifying Enforcer, and watch them burn. Under Mafia Protection
chavontheauthor When Jimena, a young single mother with a dark past and a violent ex she's desperate to forget, crosses paths with Alessio Fanucci, a dangerous mafia heir, her world is turned upside down.
All she wanted was to get by working as a maid at the Fanucci mansion and to keep her distance from the three infamous Fanucci brothers as much as possible.
Things take a turn when the oldest brother and heir, Alessio, breaks off his arranged engagement with his ex and urgently needs a new one. Alessio, cold, ruthless, dominant, and not someone anyone talks back to, sees the quiet Jimena as nothing more than his pawn. Meanwhile, she sees Alessio as nothing more than another monster she needs to escape. As they spend more time together, the lines between fake and reality begin to blur, and they discover they have more in common than they initially thought.
Tensions rise when Jimena's ex returns, threatening her new comfortable life and the secrets she’s been withholding. He is out for revenge and is determined to go to any length for it, even if that means forming an alliance with the Fanuccis' enemy, who happens to be the family of Alessio’s ex.
With a war, untold truths, and feelings at stake, will Jimena’s newly formed bonds keep standing, or will everything around her crumble?
The Ugly Substitute Bride of the Mafia King
Finn Mercer My adoptive family, the Castillos, treated their biological children like royalty, but used me as a disposable pawn.
To secure a mafia alliance, they forced me to take my beautiful sister's place and marry Don Damien Moretti, a man rumored to be a ruthless, bloodthirsty monster.
They thought they were sending me to my execution. At our engagement banquet, my mother and sister deliberately gifted me a cheap, counterfeit gown to humiliate me in front of New York's elite.
When I publicly exposed their lie, my father demanded I apologize. My mother even raised her hand to slap me in front of everyone.
"You are a vicious curse! You ruin everything!"
They eagerly waited for the Don to execute me on the spot for embarrassing them.
I had spent years secretly saving their company from bankruptcy and supplying the underground experimental drugs that kept my brother's mafia career alive.
Yet, they threw me to the wolves without a second thought, disgusted by my very existence.
But they didn't know that just an hour before the banquet, I had saved a bleeding, masked stranger in a dark alley-who turned out to be Damien Moretti himself. Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Dark Don
Hen Bu I spent three years hating Damien Castillo, the ruthless mafia Don who kidnapped me from my engagement party and ruined my reputation.
But in the end, it was my perfect fiancé, Julian, and my sweet half-sister, Sophia, who slipped the deadly poison into my wine.
As the venom burned through my veins in that freezing cellar, I watched Julian smile. He and Sophia had orchestrated my brutal death. She had been sleeping in his bed all along, intentionally miscarrying his bastard child just to frame me as 'impure' and strip me of my family's protection. My own father used me as a political pawn, letting them throw me away like garbage.
And Damien? The monster I had fought and despised for years marched straight into a suicide ambush for me. He was riddled with bullets, turning his body into a human shield just to buy me a few more seconds of life.
"Touch her and you die."
I died in that blood-soaked basement, clutching his lifeless body, suffocating on my own blind trust. Why did I ever believe the golden boy who betrayed me? Why did I fight the only man who truly loved me?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of copper and mold was gone, replaced by the scent of Cuban cigars and black silk.
I was back in 1928, on the exact night Damien stormed my engagement party and locked me in his penthouse.
This time, when the ruthless Don approached me, I didn't scream or run back to my killers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." 
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