Jia Zhong
10 Published Stories
Jia Zhong's Books and Stories
Too Late, Vitiello: The Bride Strikes Back
Mafia I was about to walk down the grand staircase to marry Dante Vitiello, a feared mafia Don, sealing a powerful blood oath between our Families.
But at the bottom of the marble steps, I found his former mistress wearing an exact replica of my three-million-dollar bridal gown, bleeding from a minor scrape and screaming that I pushed her.
Dante immediately stormed into the foyer, his dark eyes furious, and crushed my wrist in a violent grip.
"Bow your head and apologize to her," he demanded in front of the entire underworld elite.
His mother stepped forward and spat at me, calling me a vicious, jealous girl who brought shame to their empire.
The surrounding made men and high-society guests whispered in condemnation, entirely taking his side.
But the deepest betrayal wasn't his mistress crashing the wedding.
I soon discovered Dante had ordered his legal team to draft a predatory annulment contract the night before.
It was titled "Major Fault of the Bride," a meticulously planned trap designed to frame me and strip my family's port territories as reparations for this staged disaster.
I looked at the man I was supposed to marry, realizing he thought I was just a naive pawn he could humiliate, rob, and discard.
He truly believed I would break down in tears and submit to his power.
Instead, I pulled out my encrypted phone and summoned the Mafia Commission's Arbitrator.
"Cancel the marriage ceremony," I commanded coldly, preparing to shed my heavy bridal gown. "Tonight, there is no wedding." Reborn To Choose The True Alpha Mate
Werewolf I died in a fire of betrayal.
My stepsister smiled as she watched me burn. My fiancé held her waist, whispering sweet nothings while the flames consumed my home. They murdered my father, poisoned my pack warriors, and drained my inheritance-all while I played the perfect, trusting fool.
But the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance.
I woke up ten years in the past, the scent of smoke still haunting my lungs, the memory of their betrayal seared into my soul. I am no longer the naive Alpha heir they could manipulate and discard. I know every lie they will tell. Every weapon they will use. Every secret they think is buried.
This time, I smile while they plot. I nod while they scheme.
And when they strike, I'm ready-not to crumble, but to destroy.
The moment I walk into that hall and see my stepsister's fake tears and my fiancé's feigned concern, I don't flinch. I don't cower. I look them in the eye and call their carriage accident what it really is: attempted murder.
I summon the police. I bring in Alpha Donnie Sinclair-the powerful, dangerous man I rejected in my first life-to witness the truth. I gather witnesses. I produce evidence. I publicly humiliate the Beta who thought he could use me.
And when my stepmother's trusted maid finally breaks, when the full conspiracy unravels in front of everyone...
She screams that my mother's death wasn't an illness. She screams that my father was involved.
The web is so much bigger than I ever imagined.
But I've already burned once. And this time? I'm the one holding the flame.
They wanted a pawn. They got a queen. And I will not stop until every single one of them pays.
"I cannot truly understand why I would give up a man like Donnie for a man like Jarod in my past life. But I cannot let that happen again this time."
This time, I choose myself. And I'm coming for everything they stole. The Dying Billionaire's Secret Contract Wife
Romance I stood in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, clutching a crystal flute of champagne that felt like a lead weight. It was my engagement party, the night I was supposed to be the happiest woman in New York.
Then my phone buzzed with a link that shattered everything. I watched a video of my fiancé, Jed, tangled in the arms of my roommate while he laughed about how I was just a "boring, safe little girl" he needed to tolerate until my family's stock transfer went through.
When I confronted him and walked out, I thought the nightmare was over, but my own father called me in a rage. He didn't care that I’d been betrayed; he only cared that the merger was the only thing keeping him from bankruptcy. He froze my bank accounts and left me with exactly forty-two dollars to my name.
Jed started sending me threats, promising to leak private videos to the press if I didn't come back to him. I was penniless, homeless, and being hunted by a man who wanted to destroy my soul.
Desperate, I took the only deal left on the table: a contract marriage to Hardin Hunter, a reclusive billionaire heir with terminal heart failure. The deal was simple: ten million dollars to be a "nurse with a ring" for six months until he passed away.
I signed the papers and moved into his gothic manor, expecting to wait for a heart to stop beating. But when Hardin pinned me against a wall, his grip like iron and his pulse thundering with a strength no dying man should possess, I realized the "dying" heir was a lie.
"You're not dying," I whispered, feeling the raw power of his heart against my hand.
Hardin just looked at me with eyes like molten glass and said, "I might be a monster, Elsie, but I'm the only one who can keep you alive." My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Mafia My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. Abandoned By My Hero, Reborn Stronger
Modern For years, I was the orphan girl hopelessly in love with my guardian, Jordan. He was my protector, my entire world, the man who promised he would always keep me safe.
Then he announced his engagement to Gwyneth Duran, a woman who saw me as a rival to be crushed.
One night, he stumbled home drunk, mistook me for her, and forced a kiss on me. But when he woke up the next morning, he looked at me with pure disgust.
"I know what you're doing," he spat. "Trying to worm your way into my life. Stay away from me."
His fiancée slapped me, calling me a slut, and his parents, believing their lies, threw me out with nothing. The man who had been my hero now saw me as something vile.
With my heart shattered, I made one last call.
"Aunt Diana? I'm coming to Chicago."
From now on, he and I are nothing but strangers. Five Years of His Lies
Modern For five years, I tolerated my husband Franklyn' s cheating. My only condition was simple: keep it out of my sight.
Then his college crush, Heaven, came back. He didn't just parade her around-he stole the community center I designed in memory of our late son and gave it to her as a gift.
When photos of their affair were leaked at her launch event, he shielded her from the cameras and pointed the finger at me. He told the world I was an unstable, grieving wife who was having an affair.
He forced me to publicly confess, shattering my reputation. Then he came home and told me Heaven was pregnant and that I needed to move out of our penthouse to give her a "calm environment."
"You know how much you care for children, Clara," he said, using my deepest pain against me.
That night, I signed the divorce papers. At the airport, as he screamed my name from behind the security gate, I calmly pulled the SIM card from my phone, dropped it in the trash, and boarded the plane. A Twisted Love, A Dark Ritual
Horror The box arrived on a Tuesday, innocent enough, addressed to me, Ethan Miller, in my college buddy Liam' s messy handwriting.
Inside, though, tucked among wood shavings, were human ribs. Unmistakably.
My stomach churned, the horror escalating when I found Liam' s note, claiming these macabre remains were from his "weight loss surgery" and I had to make bone broth for "spiritual closure."
It was sick, insane, but what do you do when your friend sends you human bones and asks you to make soup?
So I did what any horrified person in the 21st century would do: I posted it on a niche online forum, only to receive a chilling private message: "It' s a ritual. Soul Swap. They' re trying to take your body. DON' T DO IT."
My blood ran cold, the warning echoing as I stared at the bones. I couldn' t throw them away; I had to dispose of them discreetly.
A desperate plan formed: I' d feed the human ribs to the sanctuary bull, fake the soup with beef bones, and send Liam the video.
But my girlfriend, Sarah, suddenly developed an unsettling interest in my "bone broth," and a new message from my anonymous guide arrived: "They know you' re thinking of tricking them. The vessel must consume the offering willingly. If you fake it, they will know. The consequences will be worse. Be careful who you trust. Even those closest to you."
Watching Sarah hum over the simmering pot, a horrifying truth began to dawn on me: the people closest to me might be the ones I should fear the most. The Husband's Deadly Game
Horror I was just days from my due date, nesting in our Bay Area home, full of anticipation for the arrival of our child with my beloved husband, Ethan.
Without warning, I woke up blindfolded, hands bound, struggling for air in a damp, cold forest, my heavily pregnant body pressed painfully against the earth.
Over hidden speakers, I heard Ethan's voice, transformed from loving husband to callous ringmaster, casually discussing a brutal "performance art" with his mistress, Chloe, and acknowledging my water had broken.
He then ordered agonizing electric shocks, bet ten million dollars on my death, and unleashed vicious dogs before I was dragged to a makeshift table for a forced C-section, sans anesthesia, all for their twisted amusement.
How could the man who once wore a simple silver locket, a symbol of our shared journey from nothing, now orchestrate such monstrous betrayal, turning his pregnant wife and our unborn child into pawns in a deadly, public spectacle?
After enduring unimaginable tortures and surviving a coma, I miraculously awakened, not to forgive, but to ensure that the man who stole my child and desecrated my love would face consequences, and I would finally find a fragile peace far from his shadow. After Saving Him, He Condemned Me
Romance I was a successful Chicago paramedic, seeking peace from city trauma, when I saved Ethan Caldwell, the charming heir to a Northern California empire. He promised a quiet life, true love, and soon, I was pregnant with our son. My future felt perfect.
But this gilded cage harbored a sinister core. His icy mother, Eleanor, and his seductive sister-in-law, Veronica, resented me, plotting to erase my happiness.
I discovered Ethan and Veronica locked in a scandalous embrace, and that same day, an excruciating pain ripped through me – I lost our child.
Instead of comfort, I faced unspeakable cruelty: they callously denied me proper medical care, ushering me to an ill-equipped local clinic, leading to my baby's tragic stillbirth.
Then, they forced a drug upon me, designed to steal my fertility forever.
They brazenly framed me for poisoning Veronica, publicly shaming me, with Ethan blindly believing their every lie.
The ultimate horror struck when Veronica flaunted a chilling jade pendant, casually revealing it was crafted from our son's ashes, a grotesque desecration.
My husband, the man who vowed to protect me, saw none of their evil nor my innocence.
He watched, complicit, as they conspired to commit me to a remote mental institution, believing their manufactured narrative of my "insanity."
How could the man I loved be so utterly blind, so heartlessly callous?
But even as they dragged me into the night, a hidden text from my Chicago lawyer ignited a fierce fire within me.
This wasn't the end of me; it was the explosive start of my calculated, ruthless reckoning against them all. 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.
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. No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband
Amigo On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door.
Not for business. For her.
I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night.
For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority.
So I chose myself.
Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back.
When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands.
But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed.
He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back.
A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost. The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Ravaged Crown - A Mafia Romance
Nicole Fox What would you do if you walked in on your husband cheating?
I'll tell you what I did:
Ran out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back.
A month later, I'm broke, jobless, almost homeless.
But then, while filling in as a waitress at a fancy restaurant, I trip and land in the lap of a gorgeous stranger.
One thing leads to another and we end up hooking up.
Afterwards, he leaves.
That's the end of that... right?
WRONG.
Because the next day, my temp agency sets me up for a job t
hat seems too good to be true. But when I arrive for the interview, my jaw drops. It's the stranger. Turns out he's rich. Like, very rich. And powerful. Like, very powerful. And here's his offer:
"Live in my house.Be my wife.Have my baby."
Needless to say, I start to freak out.
I stand up and stammer, "Um, I'll have to get back to you..."
And he replies:
"You're misunderstanding.It wasn't a question. You're not going anywhere." The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." 
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