Huang Xiaohuai
9 Published Stories
Huang Xiaohuai's Books and Stories
Betrayal's Echo: A Wife's Revenge
Sci-fi Dr. Evelyn Reed had finally done it.
Three years of relentless work, the neural interface cure for her paralyzed husband, Ethan, was a success.
A triumphant smile touched her lips as she reached for her phone to share the life-changing news.
But an email caught her eye, a cheerful invitation that turned her world to ice.
"Dr. Ethan Vance and Miss Tiffany Reed request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage."
Ethan. Her husband. Tiffany. Her own niece.
It was a sick joke, a complete error, yet the high-end Parisian wedding agency confirmed its legitimacy.
Her joy evaporated, replaced by a cold dread as she drove through the night, a ghost to a celebration she was never meant to see.
She saw him there, standing, whole, laughing, with Tiffany tucked into his arm, radiant in white.
He kissed her, a tender kiss meant for the world to see, and Evelyn' s world tilted off its axis.
Then she heard them talking, overheard their cruel confessions: he had always loved Tiffany, while Evelyn was merely "a necessary step," "a convenient solution."
The man she had sacrificed everything for, the man who had promised his undying love, had been betraying her for two years with her own blood.
The pain of betrayal, the hollowness of her sacrifice, the absolute injustice of it all, left her hollowed out, empty of tears.
She watched him walk away from her in the hospital, choosing Tiffany, right after a fire, right after she found out a bomb, orchestrated by Tiffany, nearly killed her.
This wasn't a love triangle; it was a war, and she was losing.
Driven by a quiet, ice-cold resolve, Evelyn began to fight back. The Brewery Heiress's Reckoning
Romance The first thing I remembered from my last life was the smell.
Stale beer, blood, and the cheap, cloying perfume Jenna always wore.
I was on the cold concrete floor of my brewery, my head bleeding, watching my fiancé, Liam, kiss my best friend, Jenna.
They had just pushed me.
'Is she dead?' Jenna asked, pulling away.
'Doesn' t matter,' Liam said, his voice cold.
'With her gone, the brewery is ours.
Her parents will be lost.'
They left me there to die.
In that life, their betrayal led to my family' s ruin and my own demise, bled dry by their endless demands for 'business expenses' that were really just lavish trips and gifts.
I perished, feeling the bitter sting of ultimate betrayal and injustice.
But then, I somehow returned.
I was staring at that same man, my fiancé Liam, very much alive, standing in my parents' living room.
He was giving me the exact same ultimatum, demanding my family' s money for his 'Master Brewer program' and Jenna' s living expenses.
This was the moment I chose him over my family last time.
The moment I signed their death warrant and my own.
Not this time.
This time, the memory of my own blood on the brewery floor was a burning clarity.
This time, Liam and Jenna would pay.
This time, I' m strong enough to fight back. The Algorithm of His Ruin
Sci-fi My name is Sarah Miller, and I built an empire for the man I loved. AuraTech, David Chen' s tech company, was on the brink of collapse until I rescued it by writing the core algorithm that became its foundation. He promised me the world in return.
Now, he' s a tech titan, and I' m a prisoner, framed for corporate espionage-the very crime he committed against my family. He had me locked away in a remote, high-tech detention facility while he and his new fiancée, Chloe Davis, flaunted the smart-fabric made from my stolen family designs.
Chloe, David' s fiancée, arrived to mock me, wearing a dress made from my stolen code. She reveled in telling me how David not only stole my family' s unique textile archives but then crushed their business, turning their legacy into marketable assets for AuraTech. Everything they treasured was gone, destroyed by the man I loved.
The pain intensified when I recalled the truth I discovered just before my arrest: I was pregnant with David' s child. The stress of his betrayal and my imprisonment led to a miscarriage. Yet, in front of me, David coolly ordered the deletion of my family' s digital archives, knowing they contained the ultrasound scans and heartbeat recording of our baby. He erased our child.
He believed he had broken my spirit, but he was wrong. Fuelled by unimaginable grief and rage, I activated the fail-safe I had hidden in AuraTech' s core code. The digital curse, woven through every system and product built on my stolen work, would turn his triumph into a torment, making all who celebrated his fraud into living antennas for my pain. Framed No More: My Vengeful Rebirth
Modern I was at that awful class reunion, the air thick with fake smiles and bitter memories.
Jessica' s sneering laughter echoed in my ears, and then, a crushing pain in my chest.
Darkness.
I was dead.
Not a peaceful passing, but a final, bitter end to a life they' d stolen.
Mike Johnson, my childhood friend, and his toxic girlfriend, Jessica Smith, had meticulously orchestrated my downfall years ago.
They framed me for hacking, shattered my dreams of a Stanford scholarship, and left me with dead-end jobs and a broken spirit.
My death at that reunion was just the cruel crescendo of their lifelong amusement at my expense.
The injustice burned hotter than any physical pain.
Why did I have to suffer for their venomous games?
Why was my future stolen, and they got away scot-free?
The sheer, unfair waste of it all.
Then, sunlight streamed through my bedroom window.
My old room, exactly as it was before everything went wrong.
My hands, seventeen again.
I wasn't just back in time, I was back, a second chance.
But a chilling notification on my phone confirmed my worst fear.
"Did you see it? Mike and Jessica at the game last night!"
They were back too.
And they remembered.
They thought they had a cheat code to life.
They were wrong.
This time, I was ready. My Fall and The Billionaire's Fall
Modern Our anniversary was supposed to be a night of celebration, a quiet evening in our Brooklyn brownstone, cementing the perfect life my husband Ethan and I had built.
But a sudden fall down our dimly lit stairs ripped that perfect facade apart, plunging me into darkness and pain.
In the sterile blur of the Manhattan hospital, drifting in and out of consciousness, I heard my husband' s voice, clear and cold, talking to a doctor: "The increased sedative dose is my directive... She won't feel it... The fetus is viable, but proceed with the induction... It's critical for Liam's formal introduction to the Miller Family Foundation."
Our baby, gone. My legs, paralyzed. Ethan' s sorrow felt too practiced, too deep. As I lay 'unconscious,' I overheard him tell his lawyer something monstrous: the fall wasn' t an accident; it was orchestrated. My baby' s death, planned. My paralysis, a consequence he accepted. All for a child named Liam, and a debt to a woman named Olivia.
My entire marriage was a meticulously crafted lie, my life a pawn in his ruthless game. How could the man who promised me forever shatter my world so utterly, all for a 'debt' and a hidden son, ensuring I could never have children again?
But beneath the feigned despair, a steel resolve took root. They thought I was broken and gone. They were about to learn that Sarah Miller doesn' t break, she rebuilds – and she comes back for everything they took. The Medal of Honor: A Father's Fight
Modern The whistle blew, but the hit came a second later-a sickening crunch that echoed across the field.
I watched my son, Caleb, collapse, his dreams of a football scholarship shattering with his knee.
Ryan Blakely, the star linebacker from the town' s wealthiest, most powerful family, stood over him, flexing, a sneer on his face.
Then his father, Mr. Blakely, offered me a paltry sum to sign an NDA, dismissing the career-ending injury as an "in-game accident," outright threatening my livelihood if I didn't comply, all while the corrupt sheriff and coach turned a blind eye.
I saw my son's spirit break as he was mocked on crutches, and I realized nobody would help; the system was rigged.
But then, I remembered a promise, a fading beacon in the dark: a general, Maria' s commanding officer, who once told me, "We don't leave our own behind," after handing me my Medal of Honor wife' s medal.
With nothing left to lose, I clutched that medal and drove toward a military base, hoping a general's word still meant something. His Sister's Last Gift
Fantasy As a successful surgeon, I, Michael, dedicated my life to my chosen sister, Chloe, whose critical lung condition required a transplant.
My biological sister, Sarah, however, remained nothing but a painful, inconvenient burden, ignored and resented for years.
Terminally ill and near death, Sarah made a final, desperate call from her hospital bed, her voice weak as she tried to say goodbye.
My only response?
A chilling, impatient "If you're not dead, stop bothering me!" before I hung up.
I dismissed every subsequent plea from her university, every warning about her rapidly deteriorating health, convinced she was just a "drama queen" faking for attention.
Even when her name appeared on the critical admissions list at the very hospital where Chloe was scheduled for her life-saving surgery, I coldly scoffed, "She's doing this to ruin my day."
How could I, a healer, allow such a festering hatred to consume me, built on a lie I blindly believed for years?
The sheer, crushing weight of Sarah's silent suffering and my monstrous indifference hangs over me, a chilling testament to my unforgivable cruelty.
But then, the unimaginable truth was slammed into my reality: the anonymous donor who saved Chloe's life was none other than Sarah.
In a single, devastating moment, her ultimate sacrifice exposed the agonizing depths of my abandonment, shattering my carefully constructed world and setting me on a course of inescapable, public ruin. The Day I Caught Him Cheating, I Married Another
Modern I walked into my apartment dripping wet from the rain, only to hear a guttural moan coming from the bedroom. I told myself it was just the TV, but my shaking hands could barely fit the key into the lock.
When the door swung open, I saw a pair of red stilettos on the floor and my fiancé's favorite silk tie discarded like trash. I pushed the bedroom door open to find Javon in our bed with another woman, the sheets I had just washed two days ago tangled around them.
Instead of apologizing, Javon looked at me with a sneer and barked, "You don't know how to knock?" He claimed he paid the bills, even though I worked double shifts just to keep the lights on while he chased a promotion he'd never get.
When I slapped him, he didn't show remorse-he called me a "stupid bitch" and lunged at me with a look of pure malice. My life was a total wreck; my fiancé was a cheater, and my grandmother was about to be kicked out of her nursing home because I was forty dollars short of the payment.
I felt like I was falling off a cliff with no one to catch me. Why was the man I loved treating me like a cockroach in my own home? Just as Javon moved to strike me, a shadow fell over the room. A man in an expensive black trench coat stood in the doorway, his presence sucking the oxygen out of the room.
It was Carmine Wilkinson, a man I had never met but whose terrifying calm made my heart stop. He didn't look at the trash on the bed; he only looked at me. He handed me a monogrammed handkerchief and asked one simple, brutal question.
"Do you want revenge?"
I nodded, desperate for any lifeline in the middle of my imploding world. He didn't offer me a shoulder to cry on; he looked me in the eye and gave me an ultimatum that would change my life forever.
"Good. Get your ID. We're going to City Hall." You might like
Erasing the Woman He Promised Forever
Rabbit Five years ago, I gave my fiancé, Floyd Meyers, my neural interface to save his life after a car crash left him in a coma.
He promised to cherish me forever, but now he's engaged to another woman, Jaylah Ryan. Together, they're publicly erasing me, making it clear I'm being thrown out of the house I once called home.
In my last life, I broke down. I cried and begged for an explanation.
He told me a psychic claimed I was the source of his bad luck.
He had me locked away in a mental hospital, then drowned me in the cold lake behind our house, convinced he was freeing himself from a curse.
I sacrificed a piece of my own body for him, and he repaid me with humiliation and murder.
But I woke up again, back in this house, just days before their engagement party.
This time, I will not cry. I will not beg.
This time, I have an escape plan, and I will walk away before he can destroy me again. Betrayal's Echo: A Wife's Revenge
Huang Xiaohuai Dr. Evelyn Reed had finally done it.
Three years of relentless work, the neural interface cure for her paralyzed husband, Ethan, was a success.
A triumphant smile touched her lips as she reached for her phone to share the life-changing news.
But an email caught her eye, a cheerful invitation that turned her world to ice.
"Dr. Ethan Vance and Miss Tiffany Reed request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage."
Ethan. Her husband. Tiffany. Her own niece.
It was a sick joke, a complete error, yet the high-end Parisian wedding agency confirmed its legitimacy.
Her joy evaporated, replaced by a cold dread as she drove through the night, a ghost to a celebration she was never meant to see.
She saw him there, standing, whole, laughing, with Tiffany tucked into his arm, radiant in white.
He kissed her, a tender kiss meant for the world to see, and Evelyn' s world tilted off its axis.
Then she heard them talking, overheard their cruel confessions: he had always loved Tiffany, while Evelyn was merely "a necessary step," "a convenient solution."
The man she had sacrificed everything for, the man who had promised his undying love, had been betraying her for two years with her own blood.
The pain of betrayal, the hollowness of her sacrifice, the absolute injustice of it all, left her hollowed out, empty of tears.
She watched him walk away from her in the hospital, choosing Tiffany, right after a fire, right after she found out a bomb, orchestrated by Tiffany, nearly killed her.
This wasn't a love triangle; it was a war, and she was losing.
Driven by a quiet, ice-cold resolve, Evelyn began to fight back. His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth
Luo Chengfeng The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time.
Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]"
My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize.
It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me.
He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard.
My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug.
But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me.
The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it.
"This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire.
Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman.
Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off."
She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin. His Betrayal, Her Fiery Rebirth
Catherine The air still reeked of scorched metal and something sickly sweet, even as I stood on the gantry, watching the heat waves rise from the test pit below. My husband, Liam, stood beside me, his face impassive as he held out a pen.
"Sign the papers, Ava," he demanded, his voice flat.
Suspended beneath us, held by a massive industrial claw, were my parents-pale, terrified, and renowned NASA scientists. Liam' s new mistress, Scarlett, was pregnant, and he needed a "real home" for his new family.
I had laughed, a raw, broken sound, when he told me, then confronted him, only for him to offer divorce papers and a blank check.
"Take it. It' s more than you deserve," he' d said.
My refusal led to broken legs, a vicious smear campaign, and then, he took my parents.
Now, he offered the pen again: "Sign. Or they' re gone."
My parents' eyes screamed, though their mouths were taped. My father shook his head, a desperate plea for me not to comply.
But I couldn' t let them die. My own life was already over.
"I' ll sign," I whispered, tasting ash. "Just let them go."
Liam nodded to the operator, but the claw didn' t rise. It opened.
My parents fell, their screams swallowed by an inferno. The stench of burning flesh hit me, and I vomited.
Liam watched, his eyes empty.
The world dissolved into grief and fire. There was nothing left. I turned, and with a final look at the man I once loved, I threw myself into the flames.
And then I woke up.
My legs were whole. The date on my phone was yesterday. It wasn' t a dream. It was a second chance. The Algorithm of His Ruin
Huang Xiaohuai My name is Sarah Miller, and I built an empire for the man I loved. AuraTech, David Chen' s tech company, was on the brink of collapse until I rescued it by writing the core algorithm that became its foundation. He promised me the world in return.
Now, he' s a tech titan, and I' m a prisoner, framed for corporate espionage-the very crime he committed against my family. He had me locked away in a remote, high-tech detention facility while he and his new fiancée, Chloe Davis, flaunted the smart-fabric made from my stolen family designs.
Chloe, David' s fiancée, arrived to mock me, wearing a dress made from my stolen code. She reveled in telling me how David not only stole my family' s unique textile archives but then crushed their business, turning their legacy into marketable assets for AuraTech. Everything they treasured was gone, destroyed by the man I loved.
The pain intensified when I recalled the truth I discovered just before my arrest: I was pregnant with David' s child. The stress of his betrayal and my imprisonment led to a miscarriage. Yet, in front of me, David coolly ordered the deletion of my family' s digital archives, knowing they contained the ultrasound scans and heartbeat recording of our baby. He erased our child.
He believed he had broken my spirit, but he was wrong. Fuelled by unimaginable grief and rage, I activated the fail-safe I had hidden in AuraTech' s core code. The digital curse, woven through every system and product built on my stolen work, would turn his triumph into a torment, making all who celebrated his fraud into living antennas for my pain. The Jilted Wife's Brilliant New Life
Shirlee Melnick As the world burned outside our penthouse, my husband secured two tickets to the Helios Initiative-a billionaire's ark for humanity's brightest minds. I was a brilliant software architect who sacrificed my career for his, so I assumed the second ticket was mine.
Instead, he asked me for a temporary divorce. He needed to legally bring his doe-eyed protégée, Katia, as his "Key Collaborator."
"It's the only logical solution," he said calmly, handing me the papers.
He explained that his work with her was essential for rebuilding civilization, while our marriage was mere "sentimentality." He was leaving me and my mother, who sold her home to fund his career, to die.
He offered me a "fund" to be comfortable while the world ended, insisting he still loved me. The man I had built my life around was discarding me like an outdated accessory.
But he made a fatal miscalculation. He forgot the billionaire funding the ark owed me a life-altering favor. My hand shook as I dialed the number I hadn't touched in ten years.
"Emmett," I whispered, "I need to call in that favor." The Heiress Hoax
Reilly Mcardle The Texas heat shimmered, another ranch chore done.
For years, strange comments floated in the air, a private, unsolicited social media feed just for me.
Sometimes oddly accurate, sometimes nonsense.
Then a woman and a girl appeared on our porch, clutching a fake DNA report.
"She’s your daughter too," Maria Rodriguez declared, claiming my life.
The air crackled.
New comments hissed: "Here comes trouble. The real heiress arrives."
My blood ran cold.
I’d lived this day before.
Last time, I followed the comments' treacherous advice.
They said Ashley loved peanut butter cookies, so I baked them; she nearly died from a severe allergy.
My parents' love turned to suspicion.
Later, the comments screamed "Ashley’s in danger!"
I rushed to help, only to be framed by Maria with fake texts and videos, making my parents believe I was a monster.
Disowned, I was sent away, then found and brutally killed in a staged car accident.
The comments, my supposed guides, were actually my undoing, twisting my actions, alienating my family, and sealing my doom.
The horror of reliving this nightmare again and again was unbearable.
But waking up today, with the sun on my face, the same day endless: I refused to be a puppet.
This time, I would fight back, armed with the knowledge of their lies. The Last Call: From Star to Scapegoat
Zhi Yao My life was a blueprint for success.
Ethan Miller, a rising star in architecture, about to claim the American Horizon Architectural Prize, surrounded by my loving sister Ashley, my beautiful fiancée Victoria, and even my adopted brother Jason.
But one call, one dark warehouse, shattered it all.
Ambushed, my hands crushed, my career obliterated, I woke to a nightmare.
My own sister and fiancée, the women I trusted most, confessed to orchestrating the brutal attack to clear the path for Jason’s success.
They abandoned me in an earthquake, then left me for dead on an exploding yacht, all while publicly slandering my name to cover their tracks.
The betrayal was a pain far deeper than any broken bone, a horrifying injustice that twisted my soul.
Why them? Why Jason? Why this absolute destruction of my life?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, a mysterious offer emerged: "reforging" through Phoenix BioGenesis.
I accepted, not for healing, but for a chilling rebirth, returning as a ghost of my former self, a silent observer ready to meticulously dismantle the lives of those who thought they had won.
This time, the masterpiece would be my revenge.