Jin Yi
14 Published Stories
Jin Yi's Books and Stories
The Mute Bride Is The Secret Mastermind
Modern I was the titan of Wall Street until an indictment and an ankle monitor turned my penthouse into a gilded cage. To save face, I was forced into a marriage with Elza, a "mute" girl from the Schmidt family whom I treated as nothing more than a silent piece of furniture while my empire crumbled.
The night I was poisoned at a high-society gala, a mysterious server in an oversized uniform saved my life with terrifying, clinical precision. They disappeared into the night, leaving me with a silver cufflink and a burning obsession to find the shadow who held my life in their hands.
Back home, I took my frustration out on Elza, telling her she was "exhausting to look at" and "smelled like sickness" after her charity visits. Her own family treated her like a stray dog, trying to humiliate her at the next gala by dressing her in what they claimed was a cheap knockoff while whispering to the press that she was nothing but a high-end escort.
"Stay out of my way," I would growl at her, never noticing the steel in her eyes.
I sat at my table, watching my rivals' stocks plummet and wondering who "The Zero"-the legendary financial ghost-really was. I never suspected that the woman I ignored was the same one solving the equations that were currently burning Manhattan to the ground.
The injustice peaked when Elza stood before the city's elite, not as a victim, but as a queen. She dropped over a hundred million dollars to buy back her family's legacy, revealing a secret fortune that made my own empire look like pocket change.
As I grabbed her wrist and saw the small red mole hidden beneath her watch, the truth hit me like a physical blow. The silent wife I had despised was the savior I had been hunting, and she was finally done playing the victim.
"We have a lot to talk about, wife," I whispered, realizing I had been sleeping next to the most dangerous woman in the world. Bankrupting The Alpha: The Rejected Mate's Ultimate Payback
Werewolf On the tarmac, the wind was cold, but my husband’s rejection was freezing.
"You aren't coming on the jet," Jackson said, adjusting the diamond cufflinks I had bought him.
He pointed to the stairs where his mistress, Amber, stood wearing a silk dress I had commissioned for myself.
"Amber is frail. She needs the comfort of the private cabin. I booked you a commercial flight. It leaves in three hours."
He shoved an envelope into my hand. Economy. Middle seat. Two layovers.
I stood there, the Luna of the pack, being told to fly cargo while a Rogue took my seat on the Gulfstream G650 'I' had paid for.
My mother-in-law even chimed in, clutching the designer bag I bought her, claiming my "healer energy" was too stressful for their precious guest.
Jackson blocked our telepathic bond, took his mistress's hand, and the door hissed shut in my face.
He thought he was the Alpha. He thought he held the power because I had let him play the part for five years.
But he forgot one tiny detail: his name wasn't on the trust fund.
As the jet taxied away, I didn't cry. I pulled out my phone and dialed my personal banker.
"Dr. Hogan?"
"Cancel the flight plan," I said, my voice steady. "Revoke their clearance. Ground the jet at the first refueling stop. And cut the credit lines. All of them."
"All of them, Ma'am? The pack accounts?"
"Everything," I whispered, watching the plane lift off. "Let's see how the Alpha survives without my wallet." Fake Vows, Real Love: The CEO's Wife
Modern For three years, I hid my identity as a billionaire heiress to build a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's career, believing we were creating a future together from the ground up.
The day before our engagement, I overheard him with his boss, Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl he was using to climb the corporate ladder and get closer to her.
He laughed about our "humble" life and mocked the silver ring on my finger, calling it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-million dollar deal I secretly engineered, and saw my love as a naive distraction.
The man I sacrificed my entire world for saw me as less than nothing. My love didn't just die; it turned into ice-cold rage.
So I walked out of his life and straight into the arms of my family's biggest rival.
He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.
"Marry me," Jaxson Banks said with a smirk. "And together, we'll burn their world to the ground." The True Heiress Leaves The Billionaire
Billionaires Calista was the despised wife of billionaire Jett Holder, humiliated daily for not producing an heir. Even her biological parents treated her like garbage, giving all their love to their adopted daughter, Kassandra.
At a high-society gala, Kassandra maliciously framed Calista by slapping her own face in the restroom.
Without asking a single question, Calista's biological father shoved her into a marble wall, cracking her skull open.
Bleeding and unconscious, she was saved by a passing surgeon.
But when Jett saw another man holding her, he didn't care about her severe head trauma. He violently dragged her away, tearing her fresh stitches.
He threw a check at her blood-stained face.
"Go beg Kassandra for forgiveness. If she doesn't forgive you by sunrise, you're getting divorce papers."
Calista stared at the man she had slept next to for three years, her heart finally shattering into dust.
She didn't understand why her own family would rather see her dead, or why her husband blindly protected a venomous liar while treating her like a disease.
Sitting in the hospital bed, her best friend handed her a sleek black card for Manhattan's top divorce attorney.
A powerful surgeon had also offered her the resources to completely disappear.
Looking at the torn check on the floor, the freezing numbness in her chest turned into a spark of rebellion.
She wasn't going back to that house; she was going to make all of them pay. Love's Betrayal, A Genius Undone
Modern It was supposed to be my graduation celebration, a dinner hosted by my best friends.
Brandon, our class president, raised a glass to me, "The quiet genius."
But their smiles felt like traps, and when Chloe, my fiancée, squeezed my arm, her touch was cold, her perfume reeked of secrets.
Then I saw it-a text on Chloe' s phone from Brandon: "The laxatives are in the sauce for everyone else. Just make sure he doesn't leave."
My celebratory dinner wasn't a party; it was a setup to frame me, leave me with a massive bill, and ruin my future.
When I tried to leave, they blocked the exit, and Brandon, with a triumphant smirk, snatched my backpack.
He pulled out my sealed Stanford acceptance letter and scholarships, then ripped them to shreds, letting the confetti of my future flutter to the floor.
Before I could process the devastation, they dragged me, screaming, into a dark, windowless utility closet-a cruel echo of a childhood nightmare Chloe herself had orchestrated.
The walls closed in, and I gasped for air, panic seizing me as their laughter mocked me from outside.
"We'll let you out when you learn some respect," Brandon' s voice taunted.
How could these people, my supposed best friends, my fiancée, plot such a cruel, calculated destruction of my life?
Why did they hate me so much?
Clutching my phone, I knew I couldn't just survive; I had to fight back, not with their petty cruelty, but with every weapon I had.
This wasn't a prank; it was a war, and I was just getting started. Unraveling A Family's Poison
Modern The soft glow of fairy lights was supposed to mark a perfect first birthday for our daughter, Lily, in the grand living room of the Vance mansion.
Then the front door burst open, and in walked Brenda, the nanny we' d just fired, her face a mask of bitter resentment.
"Quite the party," she sneered, "A party for my granddaughter."
My husband, Liam, stiffened beside me, while I tried to process her insane claim: granddaughter?
"Brenda, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly. "You need to leave. Now."
"This is my son' s house, after all," she declared, pointing at Liam, "Liam is my son. My long-lost son."
My mind reeled at the absurdity, as she brazenly twisted reality.
She then called me a "gold digger" and the "help," her words dripping with venom.
Before I could even respond, her hand shot out, slapping me across the face with a painful crack.
Liam roared, grabbing her, "Don' t you ever touch my wife again! Get out of my house!"
But Brenda simply smiled, unhinged, before her son Ethan and his thuggish friends appeared, a silent, menacing reinforcement.
"This is my real family," she declared, "And we' re here to stay."
She pulled out a faded photo of herself with a young Richard Vance, Liam's father, announcing, "This is the proof! Richard was there, he knows the truth!"
She spun a wild tale of a secret baby swap at the hospital, claiming Richard stole Liam from her.
Then, Eleanor Vance, Liam' s formidable grandmother, descended the stairs, proclaiming, "Brenda is telling the truth. Liam, she is your birth mother."
She denounced my mother-in-law, Lisa, as "too plain" and "not our kind," commanding Liam to "honor your true mother."
She dismissed my marriage, declaring, "This family needs a proper heir, from a proper woman!"
My plea for a DNA test was met with her furious command, "You will be silent! You are a guest in this house, and you have no standing here!"
Eleanor then turned to Brenda, giving her an order, "Put her in her place!"
As Ethan and his friends pinned Liam, Brenda advanced on me, her eyes gleaming.
She slapped me again, harder, sending me crashing to the floor, my wrist screaming in pain.
Lily' s terrified wail pierced the air, and Brenda snapped, "Shut that brat up."
My blood ran cold as she approached my daughter, pulling a dark vial from her pocket.
She forced a few drops of dark liquid onto Lily' s tongue, casually stating, "It' s just a little something to help her sleep."
Lily' s cries choked off, her body went limp, eyes fluttering shut.
A primal, icy fear seized me; my daughter was silent, still. Her Toxic Love, My Masterpiece
Romance For three years, my Nashville apartment was a vibrant storm of Jenny' s laughter and music, a shared dream with my girlfriend.
But on our anniversary, the silence screamed louder than any note when her text popped up: "Jenny Smith has blocked you."
It was Caleb, her narcissistic best friend, throwing another tantrum, and I was the sacrificial lamb again.
I thought I knew the script-her swift unblock, the empty apologies, the constant cycle of her choosing him over me.
Then, on my birthday, Jenny dropped to one knee, a beautiful Gibson guitar in her hand, proposing right in front of our entire social circle.
Suddenly, Caleb' s shrill voice tore through the room from her phone, berating her for daring to get engaged without his "blessing."
Without a second thought, she snatched the holy grail guitar back from my hands and declared, "The party's over!" leaving me humiliated and empty-handed.
The next day, Caleb posted a video of him smashing a replica of that very guitar, calling it "trash," followed by Jenny gifting him a diamond-inlaid one, saying, "My girl knows who really matters."
How could someone who claimed to love me treat me like collateral damage, over and over, all for the approval of a spoiled, vindictive man-child?
I blocked them all, packed my battered guitar, and called Sylvia Hewitt, the legendary producer, ready for a new beginning. His Secret Son, My Lost Child
Romance My maternity leave was almost over, and registering my newborn daughter, Lily, at the Social Security office was supposed to be a simple, routine step, given the new "Family Unity Act' s" strict one-child policy.
But the clerk' s words hit me like a blow: "The SSN for your family has already been issued, for a boy named Ryan Todd. Registered by your husband."
Ryan, the son of Sabrina, Matthew' s 'friend' whose husband died. My perfect life shattered.
My husband, Matthew, the man I loved, had sacrificed our daughter' s future, dedicating her only slot to another child, an act that condemned Lily to state custody by her first birthday.
When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain as "selfish," then his hand lashed out, leaving my cheek stinging and my heart aching.
Seeking answers, I went to his office, only to find him openly intimate with Sabrina, who then gaslit me, implying Lily wasn't his, a lie Matthew instantly embraced.
Branded "crazy" and thrown out, my marriage, my love, my hope for a family, all died in that moment.
But as I left, one chilling thought remained: I wouldn't let them win. I would save my daughter, even if it meant doing it alone. Second Life, New Rules
Fantasy My first life ended with the smell of cheap whiskey, a throbbing leg, and the bitter irony of my ex-wife' s golden boy getting the scholarship that should have been mine. I died alone, broke, and knowing I was a failure in the eyes of my kids and the woman I' d sacrificed everything for.
Then, I woke up. The sun was hot on my face, the air thick with popcorn, and I was nineteen again, in my football uniform, standing on the side of the road. It was the homecoming parade, the exact moment my life had been destroyed.
I saw Sabrina Johns, the town' s golden girl, laughing on the wobbly float. In my past life, I' d heroically saved her from that collapsing monstrosity, letting it crush my leg and shatter my future. That act of self-sacrifice led to a lifetime of misery, a marriage fueled by her guilt and my ruined dreams. She' d always despised me, painting me as a cripple who trapped her.
To my dying breath, I thought saving her was the beginning of our tragic story. I never knew my future was already stolen, my dreams already dead, long before the float ever fell. Did my sacrifice even matter? What twisted game was this?
This time, as the float lurched and the giant hornet head tilted, I didn't move forward. I stepped back. I was back, and this time, things would be different. His Uncle's Wife: A Second Chance at Love
Romance Sarah Prescott, once left heartbroken at the altar, finally found peace. She lived a serene life on the sprawling Prescott estate, a beloved wife to Arthur Prescott Sr., and a devoted mother to their two-year-old son, Cody.
Then, like a ghost from a past she' d buried, Ethan Prescott Jr. swaggered back. Her ex-fiancé, the man who' d vanished hours before their wedding, stood there with a heavily pregnant woman, ready to reclaim his perceived territory.
He expected tears, or pathetic pining. He smirked, announcing his new wife, Ronnie, and their coming "heir," then condescendingly offered Sarah a pittance to remain. But his arrogance quickly dissolved as Sarah introduced Cody, her son, who bore the undeniable Prescott eyes.
Ethan' s smug face contorted in disbelief. "Whose child is that?" he stammered, demanding answers. How could she have moved on, let alone with Artie? The commanding patriarch now stood declaring with steely resolve: "Sarah is my wife. And Cody is our son."
The revelation shattered Ethan's world. The woman he'd discarded was now the lady of the house, his uncle's wife, and mother to his heir's half-brother. Stripped of everything, Ethan faces a brutal new reality, setting off a dangerous chain of events he never saw coming. His Cruelty, Her Crown
Xuanhuan For generations, my family bore a strange, ancient burden: the Karmic Concord, an ethereal tether binding one Hayes woman to a destructive "catalyst." For me, it was Julian Thorne, a man born to inflict torment.
I silently understood that each public humiliation, every calculated cruelty he dealt, was a necessary cut, a step towards my ultimate soul's liberation.
But his games grew crueler; after forcing me on a grueling, body-breaking trek for his superficial girlfriend, he then, without blinking, bruised and twisted my already injured leg in a remote hospital, publicly accusing me of theft.
Left in agony, he abandoned me, only to reappear with an unthinkable demand: my healthy kidney, to save his dying lover, Brynn.
His offer-a grotesque marriage, a lifetime of "care" under his thumb, knowing my own health would be shattered-felt like an insult after so much already endured, and for a bond that had just begun to loosen its grip.
How could one man possess such audacious cruelty, expecting not just my spirit, but my very body, as payment for his desires, for a life linked to a lie?
Yet, shivering, broken, and coerced into a cold storage cell to await his will, a profound, luminous dream broke through: a divine revelation that sacrificing a part of myself, not for him, but by my own choosing, was the true, final path to complete spiritual ascension. The Cost of Their Lies
Modern I woke up in my own bed, my familiar floral comforter, my slightly messy room.
The sun was too bright, and a wave of nausea hit me.
Then, Jessica’s sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the kitchen, "Emily? You up?"
My digital clock flashed 7:32 AM, April 12th – the day before my world ended.
Just then, Jessica appeared, her smile too wide, wanting to borrow my Mustang for the Desert Bloom festival.
The image of my beautiful car, mangled, a body on the asphalt, flashed before my eyes.
Last time, I’d been blind to her manipulative ways, handing over the keys to my dream car.
She drove it drunk, killed an innocent man, then, with my boyfriend Mike’s help, used my own driver’s license to frame me.
My denials were useless against their calculated lies and her fake tears.
I was abandoned, accused, then dragged from my apartment by the victim’s son and his crew.
They left me broken on the side of the highway, my body never recovered.
The phantom pain echoed through my limbs, the memory of her betrayal and my agonizing death so vivid, so raw.
How was I back?
Why was I here, staring at these two people who orchestrated my destruction, their faces masks of innocence?
A choking rage, hot and living, simmered within me.
But this time, my eyes were wide open, and my voice was steady as I said the single, defiant word that would change everything: “No.”
This time, they wouldn’t get away with it. The Twin Who Stole Tomorrow
Horror I woke up to the hum of the office lights, keyboards clattering.
This was my desk at Visionary Films.
I was alive, and it was October 14th – the day before everything went to hell.
Last time, my identical twin sister Jessica stole my script, getting me accused of plagiarism, leading to my parents disowning me and my career's ruin.
It ended with my death at the hands of a crazed fan.
Now, I was inexplicably back, but the horror was far from over.
I soon realized Jessica didn't just steal finished work; she could pluck ideas straight from my mind, instantly.
Even a simple drawing, conceived moments before, would appear on her social media, claimed as her own.
My entire creative future was being systematically looted by this parasitic twin.
How could she reach into my thoughts, my unformed dreams, and claim them?
The injustice burned, the confusion maddened me.
This wasn't just sibling rivalry; it was a soul-sucking tether.
Desperate, I fled LA, burning every piece of my work.
But a frantic phone call from Jessica revealed her creative well had run dry without me.
This led me to Mama Martha, who confirmed a dark Hoodoo binding: a cursed doll, made with my essence, stealing my life force.
Now, armed with a powerful gris-gris bag, I'm back.
I'm ready to expose her and shatter the source of her stolen talent on the biggest stage imaginable. 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. 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. 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?" 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." Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!
Zhen Xiang For seventeen years, I was the crown jewel of the Kensington empire, the perfect daughter groomed for a royal future. Then, a cream-colored envelope landed in my lap, bearing a gold crest and a truth that turned my world into ice.
The DNA test result was a cold, hard zero percent-I wasn't a Kensington. Before the ink could even dry, my parents invited my replacement, a girl named Alleen, into the drawing room and treated me like a trespasser in my own home.
My mother, who once hosted galas in my honor, wouldn't even look me in the eye as she stroked Alleen's arm, whispering that she was finally "safe." My father handed me a one-million-dollar check-a mere tip for a billionaire-and told me to leave immediately to avoid tanking the company's stock price.
"You're a thief! You lived my life, you spent my money, and you don't get to keep the loot!" Alleen shrieked, trying to claw the designer jacket off my shoulders while my "parents" watched with clinical detachment.
I was dumped on a gritty sidewalk in Queens with nothing but three trunks and the address of a struggling laborer I was now supposed to call "Dad." I traded a marble mansion for a crumbling walk-up where the air smelled of exhaust and my new bedroom was a literal storage closet.
My biological family thought I was a broken princess, and the Kensingtons thought they had successfully erased me with a payoff and a non-disclosure agreement. They had no idea that while I was hauling trunks up four flights of stairs, my secret media empire was already preparing to move against them.
As I sat on a thin mattress in the dark, I opened my encrypted laptop and sent a single command that would cost my former father ten million dollars by breakfast. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves, but they forgot one thing: I'm the one who leads the pack. 
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