Lan Zixin
11 Published Stories
Lan Zixin's Books and Stories
He Killed Love, She Killed His Empire
Mafia I was securing the diamond clasp of my necklace when the security monitor blinked to life, revealing my husband burying his face between his assistant's thighs.
Just an hour later, Dante Moretti stood by my side at the Gala, playing the part of the devoted Capo, while his mistress smirked at me from across the room in a dress that screamed for attention.
I wanted to leave. I had packed my bags, ready to disappear.
But then the doctor told me the news: I was six weeks pregnant with the Vitiello-Moretti heir.
I thought the baby might save us. I thought it would stop the madness.
I was wrong.
When his mistress accused me of betrayal to cover her own tracks, Dante didn't listen to his wife. He listened to the woman warming his bed.
In a blind rage, the man who swore to protect me struck me down.
I felt the sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen before I even hit the stone floor.
As blood stained my pristine white dress, I realized he hadn't just broken his vows.
He had killed our unborn son.
So, when the opportunity came to detonate the gas line and fake my own death, I didn't hesitate.
I let the world believe Seraphina Moretti died in that explosion.
Ten years later, I returned to a city that thought I was a ghost.
I dismantled his supply lines, froze his assets, and watched his empire crumble piece by piece.
And when he was finally on his knees in the rain, broken and destitute, I stepped out of the shadows.
I didn't come back for his money.
I came back to hand him the ultrasound photo of the child he murdered.
"Hello, Dante." Elaine's Fury: The Woman Reborn
Billionaires For five years, they told me my cousin Juliette was in Asia, atoning for a data breach that almost destroyed our family's tech company. I played my part as Elaine Stewart, the perfect philanthropic daughter, engaged to my father's brilliant successor, Cole. My life was a carefully managed performance to uphold our family's public image.
That lie shattered on the night of our biggest product launch. I saw them on the private airfield next to the event hall. My fiancé, Cole, and my cousin Juliette. And between them, holding both their hands, was a little girl.
My world stopped. The girl was Kiarra, the four-year-old "niece" Cole had told me about. His daughter.
I soon discovered my entire life was a PR stunt, a shield for their secret family and a much darker corporate crime. My own father had framed Juliette for a data breach he orchestrated, and she was blackmailing him. My mother was in on it, funding their lavish life to ensure their silence.
Then I found the video call recording. My cousin and my fiancé, laughing at me.
"My sweet, naive charity case of a cousin," Juliette's voice dripped with mockery. "She's so easy to fool."
They thought I was a pawn, good for photo ops and nothing more. A cold fury burned through the shock, melting away the girl I used to be.
The company's annual shareholders' meeting was in two weeks, live-streamed to the entire world. They were expecting a celebratory corporate video.
But this year, I would replace it. I would replace it with irrefutable proof of the affair, the secret family, and the blackmail.
They were about to find out how wrong they were. Husband's Deception, Wife's Awakening
Romance This was the third time I had tried to kill myself. Each time, my brother-in-law, Dustin Martin, found me and saved me.
But then, I found his watch, a Patek Philippe I' d commissioned for my husband, Evertt, who was presumed dead in a plane crash. The engraving on the back read: "H&E, Forever." My heart stopped. Why did Dustin have Evertt' s watch?
A cold dread filled me. I had to know. I had to find out the truth. I stumbled out of my hospital room and heard voices from the waiting area. It was Kylee, Dustin' s pregnant fiancée, and a man' s voice I knew better than my own. It was Evertt' s voice.
I peeked around the corner. "Dustin" was holding Kylee in his arms. "Evertt, what if she finds out?" Kylee whispered. "What if she realizes you' re not Dustin?" "She won' t," Evertt said, his voice cold and indifferent. "Her grief is too deep. She sees what she wants to see."
The man who had saved me from suicide, the man I thought was my brother-in-law, was my husband. My living, breathing husband. And he had watched me suffer, letting me drown in grief, all for his dead brother' s fiancée.
My entire world had been a lie. A cruel, twisted joke. But then, a new thought, cold and sharp, cut through my pain. An escape. I would be strong enough to destroy him. Five Years, A Cruel Deception
Romance The blinking cursor on Liam Miller' s screen mocked him: "Invalid Certificate Number." He sighed, leaning back in his leather chair, the city lights shimmering behind him. Their five-year marriage certificate, an official document, yet it wouldn' t register for their new foundation.
Chloe, his seemingly supportive wife, brushed it off as a "silly computer glitch." He loved her boundless optimism, especially after the devastating news that they couldn' t have children. He founded the "Miller-Davis Foundation for Hope" because she urged him to turn their personal pain into a public mission to help others.
The next morning, with Chloe off to Monaco, Liam decided to settle the registration in person. The clerk' s words hit him like a physical blow: "There' s no record of a marriage certificate with this number... According to the state, this marriage never happened." Five years. A small, intimate beach wedding. Crying. Laughing. Families and friends. All fake?
His mind raced, replaying every moment. Was their entire life together a meticulously crafted lie? The loving gestures, the shared dreams-were they all just an elaborate act? He stumbled out, the useless paper a scorching brand in his hand. He had to find her. He needed the truth.
He didn't pack, didn't call his assistant. He just booked the first flight to Monaco, a desperate, singular thought consuming him: I have to find her. I need the truth. But the truth he found was far more brutal. He watched from the shadows as Chloe, radiant and in white, walked down an aisle, not to him, but to Ethan Vance–his protégé, his mentee. It was another wedding. And she was the bride. The Apocalypse Architect: Designing His Demise
Sci-fi The phantom chill of icy water jolted me awake, but I wasn' t drowning in Lake Champlain;
I was safe in my luxurious Boston apartment.
My fiancé, Matthew, and his mother stood over my bed, demanding I sign papers to dissolve our shared assets, claiming it was just a formality.
But I recognized this moment, a chilling deja vu-I had been reborn just thirty days before "The Great Silence."
In my last life, this conversation ended with me refusing, crying, feeling utterly betrayed and abandoned.
I remembered how he' d later abandon me to monstrous creatures, using me as a decoy for his pregnant mistress.
This time, there were no tears, only a cold, hard resolve.
I signed away everything we had built, but my enemies didn't realize they were signing their own death warrants. My plan wasn't just to survive the coming apocalypse, but to exact a ruthless, quiet revenge.
I walked out, leaving Matthew clueless, carrying his driver's license-a silent weapon.
I drove north to my reclusive father's fortified compound, desperate to warn him and bring my Army Ranger brother home before the world went silent.
Days later, Matthew called, desperate and alone, his mother and mistress gone.
He begged for help, but I sent him to a decoy cabin, tracked by a hidden camera. Watching him stumble in, not alone as promised, I saw his true nature.
The ensuing fight drew creatures, and he resorted to a horrifying act of self-mutilation to survive.
He eventually found our true haven, using a child as bait to draw the creatures to our gate. But I had one last, silent trick up my sleeve, linked to his greed and his pride.
With a single click, Matthew's old smartphone became his personal alarm, a blaring siren in a world that hunted by sound.
His end was swift, brutal, and orchestrated by me. We rescued the traumatized child, Elyse, a silent victim like my own brother, Andrew, who had also mutilated himself to save innocents.
Our fortress became a home, a sanctuary of silence and love, as we rebuilt a new family from the ashes of the old world.
We became protectors, finding purpose and happiness not in spoken words, but in the enduring strength of our bond. My Heart, My Vengeance
Horror I spent three years locked away by my husband, Ethan, in a soundproof panic room.
My legs, shattered in the "accident" he orchestrated, were useless.
He stole my songs, my career, my life, and gave them to Chloe, a talentless fraud he built into a star.
Then, they wheeled me out-a prisoner displayed for the "happy family": Ethan, Chloe, and my son, Leo.
Leo, who looked at me like a monster, holding Chloe's hand and calling her "mom."
Ethan ordered me to confess to plagiarism, to blame my own "jealousy" for his intricate web of lies that destroyed me.
But the ultimate cruelty came later.
Chloe, supposedly dying from a heart condition, needed a transplant.
"You're a match," Ethan stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
"You will donate your heart to Chloe."
It wasn't a request; it was my execution.
My heart for hers, the last piece of me carved out and given to the woman who stole my life.
As the scalpel touched my skin, Chloe whispered, "This is for stealing my life, you bitch."
I closed my eyes, uttering one word to the mysterious "Pact" I made years ago.
Then, I left my body to die.
Yet, I woke up.
Not gone, but back.
And the Pact whispered a new bargain: return to stop Ethan, who, shattered by my death, was becoming a true monster.
The deal was clear: save him and save my sister.
I stepped back into hell, but this time, the chains were broken, and I was ready to fight. My Daughter's Defender
Fantasy A five-million-dollar inheritance from a distant aunt. It was meant to be our fresh start, a dream come true for my loving husband, Mark, our sweet daughter, Lily, and me.
But within hours, my world shattered. First, Lily lay tragically still on the patio below, then my mother and I were caught in a horrific car crash. We were all gone.
Floating above my dead body, I watched Mark. His grief-stricken face twisted into a chilling smirk as he embraced his very pregnant assistant, Jessica. He brazenly confessed: they had murdered my daughter, my mother, and me. All for the five million dollars.
The betrayal was a physical ache, a searing pain, for a family wiped out by the man I loved, all for greed. An unspeakable injustice burned within me.
Then, strangely, I woke up. The familiar email from the lawyer pinged again. My Lily was alive, tucked safely in her bed. This time, they wouldn' t win. This time, I would make them pay. The Son She Sacrificed
Modern I worked three grueling jobs, every aching muscle and burning eye for my son, Noah.
He had a rare blood disorder, his medical bills a relentless mountain.
I sacrificed everything, even my late father' s cherished guitar and took out predatory loans, just for Noah' s life-saving transplant.
My wife, Chloe, seemed to struggle alongside me, always talking of bad investments and financial woes.
Then, one delivery took me to a swanky charity gala.
Inside, I saw her.
Chloe. Radiant in a shimmering blue dress, laughing freely with Julian Thorne, a distinguished, wealthy art collector.
This wasn' t my struggling artist wife; she was a stranger brimming with effortless wealth.
Days later, a mysterious USB drive revealed the horrifying truth.
On video, Chloe laughed with Julian, admitting our "struggle" was a five-year "test."
She spoke of Noah, our dying son, as an "inconvenience," even hinting his marrow could be "fortuitously" diverted to Julian' s nephew, Alex.
I clung to hope, but Chloe herself, Noah' s own mother, redirected his life-saving transplant to Alex.
Noah died. My world imploded.
Every sacrifice, every tear, every ounce of love was nothing but a pawn in their sick game.
How could the woman I loved, his own mother, be capable of such monstrous, calculated cruelty?
How could she condemn our child to death for a "test," for a wealthy man's convenience?
The truth shattered me; I collapsed, consumed by grief and unfathomable betrayal.
I woke up in a hospital, broken but not defeated.
With Dr. Olivia Ramirez's unwavering support, I slowly healed.
When Chloe offered "family money" and suggested "another child," I saw her true, empty remorse.
She could never pay for the life she took, nor mend the love she destroyed.
Now, alongside Olivia, I channel my unending grief for Noah into "Noah's Light," a foundation helping children like him.
This is my path forward, a legacy for Noah, a future she' ll never touch. Jilted No More: Her Sterling Comeback
Modern My husband, Mark Sterling, returned from a tech retreat a changed man.
He brought with him Tiffany Royale, a "disruptor" influencer whose smile was too bright, her boasts too loud.
In the tranquil living room I designed, he coldly announced his desire for a divorce.
"I'm marrying Tiffany," he declared, praising her "Gen Z insights" as the future of his company, while Tiffany preened smugly.
She swiftly joined Sterling Innovations, immediately dismissing me and my established network as "outdated legacy thinkers."
I watched calmly as her disastrous "modern strategies" alienated key partners and threatened the company's very foundations, yet Mark remained utterly blind.
When her incompetence led my powerful network of women – titans of finance and law – to withdraw their support en masse, Mark screamed, blaming me.
In a fit of rage, he banished me, his "old and bitter" wife, to our sprawling Hamptons estate, believing it to be my silent exile.
He had no idea that the "Cold Palace" wasn't a prison; it was my perfectly appointed command center.
And with my formidable "Sorority Sisters" by my side, we were just getting started.
The man who thought he was a genius was about to learn who had truly paved his path to power, and who would now dismantle it, piece by piece. You might like
After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything
Rabbit My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune.
For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me."
He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster.
He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous.
The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built. 
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