Li Xiamo
5 Published Stories
Li Xiamo's Books and Stories
Unwanted Wife, Unbreakable Spirit
Romance The heavy scent of alcohol was always the first sign. For five years, I' d been a ghost in my own marriage, a stand-in for a woman who vanished.
Then, my husband, Ethan, stumbled in, saw me, and murmured a name that wasn't mine. "Olivia."
His kiss, rough and demanding, tasted of whiskey and a longing not meant for me. I pushed him away. "I'm not Olivia." His brief warmth vanished, replaced by chilling disgust. "Ava," he spat, "It's always you." He shoved me hard, threatening to torment me until his "true love" returned, even forcing birth control to prevent our child.
I finally snapped. I lunged at him, a desperate, self-destructive challenge. "You want to torment me? Then do it. Fulfill your promise." An hour later, I lay bruised, my two decades of love for him turned to bitter ash.
With cold determination, I proposed a deal: I'd find Olivia, and he'd grant me a divorce, severing all ties.
A month later, a flimsy tip led me to a dive bar. There, I heard a voice – Olivia's. And Brenda's. Her mother. "He's still obsessed, Mom. He's been looking for me for five years." Olivia, who had supposedly been mute since childhood, was speaking. Perfectly. They were conning him, planning to claim his fortune. Rage surged through me. I had to warn Ethan.
But when I burst into his office, he slapped me, showing a text from Olivia: "Ethan, help me. Ava has me locked up. I'm scared." He believed her. He dragged me to the bar, where Olivia, now feigning a wheelchair, buried her face in his chest, making him angrier. Another brutal slap. "I'm going to make you pay."
Two men emerged, claiming I had held Olivia captive. "Shut her up," Ethan snarled, picking up a steel pipe. He broke my legs, then tossed the pipe aside, saying, "Crawl back to the mansion. The divorce papers will be waiting for you." I cursed him. I lost consciousness.
I woke to Dr. Liam Miller, my loyal friend. He revealed I was six weeks pregnant. With his child. The irony shattered me. I wanted an abortion, but my injuries made it too dangerous. I made Liam promise to never tell Ethan. He agreed. Stale Beer, Sweet Vengeance
Modern The Rusty Mug was a blur of noise and stale beer tonight.
Game night, loud as ever.
I wiped down the bar, going through the motions, surrounded by the same faces, the same routine.
But the man behind the bar wasn't the same Jake anymore.
A sudden shriek split the air near the back restrooms-a woman' s voice, sharp and furious.
Whispers slithered through the crowd: "A teacher," "caught with another man."
My co-bartender, Mark Olsen, a grin twisting his face, looked directly at me.
With fake concern, he asked, "Hope it's not your Emily. She' s too sweet to be messing around, right?"
He didn't know I knew exactly who it was.
Nor did he know I' d already lived this agonizing chapter.
Last time, Chloe, his fiancée, caught red-handed, had played the victim, begging sympathetic Emily for help.
Kind, trusting Emily, rushed to her side.
Only for Chloe to throw her under the bus, fabricating texts, spinning vicious rumors.
The public shame, the loss of her job, broke Emily.
She killed herself.
Blinded by grief and rage, I confronted Mark, just before he shoved me down the back stairs.
I remembered the sickening crack, and then… nothing.
Until I woke up, months ago, back in this very life, this exact day now approaching.
My Emily, gone forever.
My own life, stolen.
Why? Why had they gone unpunished, while we paid the ultimate price?
This was my impossible second chance.
To save Emily.
To save myself.
And this time, they were going to regret every single unforgivable thing they had ever done. My Wife, My Tormentor
Romance For five years, my wife Seraphina' s 'purity' defined my existence.
My days were a relentless cycle of scrubbing, proving I was 'clean' enough for her.
This pristine, empty marriage felt like a lifelong sentence.
Then, a faint love bite on her collarbone sparked a flicker of doubt, quickly replaced by horror when I overheard her chilling phone call.
My wife wasn' t just cruel; she was auctioning me off.
The 'Ethan Experience' she chirped, chilling me to the bone.
Those excruciating 'cleansings' weren't about her mysophobia; they were about erasing me for her lover, Julian.
My raw, burning skin wasn't from clumsiness, but industrial-strength soaps meant to wipe away any trace of me.
They filmed me, naked, for a pre-auction 'preview,' inviting a crowd of socialites to watch.
My wife, the woman who claimed disgust at my touch, was selling me like property.
The night arrived, and I found myself sedated, stripped, and pushed into a glass room, the auctioneer's voice already booming my 'unveiling.'
How could the woman I vowed to protect turn me into a living spectacle, a commodity of contempt?
The betrayal was a physical ache, the humiliation a crushing weight.
Was this truly my fate, to be auctioned off, utterly broken and shamed?
All for a man who claimed to be 'allergic' to me, a lie she orchestrated for five years.
Just as the curtain began to rise, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the haze.
My godmother, Eleanor Vance, a formidable force, burst in, holding the annulment papers I thought I'd never need.
My escape began not with a fight, but with a signature, as my dignity was finally restored.
That night, I didn't become a spectacle; I became free. Mike's Bet, Sarah's Win
Modern The smell of burnt turkey still hung in the air, but the stench of ruin was far stronger. My husband Mike, the man who worked his hands raw, sat at our kitchen table, his head in his hands. Eighty thousand dollars. Vanished. Emily’s college fund, Mom’s arthritis surgery, next year’s mortgage on our Texas ranch house. Our entire future.
He’d lost it all in a ‘friendly game’ of poker with his old buddy, Jake Riley. Mike was broken, promising double shifts, desperate to make it right. But it was too little, too late.
I knew Jake. A leech, a con artist. Eighty grand in one night? This wasn’t just bad luck; it was a setup. They thought they’d taken my hardworking, trusting husband for a fool. They thought they’d won.
The numbness faded, replaced by cold fury. A faint, almost invisible scar on my left wrist, a ghost from a past I’d buried in the neon glare of Las Vegas, began to throb.
I smashed Emily’s ceramic unicorn, took her meager savings. ‘Get up, Mike,’ my voice cold, hard. ‘We’re going to pay Jake a visit.’ He was terrified. I just smiled, a bitter, dangerous smile. He had no idea who he’d married. And Jake Riley was about to meet the ‘Phantom Hand.’ 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. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
/0/86827/coverorgin.jpg?v=5a03194cb2937b6e3ed06af8c27cac42&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83261/coverorgin.jpg?v=e30db038d961759d8b3257c80508f431&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81425/coverorgin.jpg?v=61c546a9ac4ccb9fb54e71c8aaab19e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80734/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f05c95a0e30ca2107a231141a5db482&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18625/coverorgin.jpg?v=69f5b1a9c282451dfaac90889ffd8189&imageMogr2/format/webp)
0
TOP UP
Reading History
Sign out
Get the APP
/1/102856/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab447bb3dfea8a92331d6f2abd61bff7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102860/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd4279179a94dd229627ce7640bf190d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101423/coverorgin.jpg?v=46b8ac4ba2161e0b69a9b73304ac43c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79054/coverorgin.jpg?v=248fd387f8a7ef06a95d551925555a22&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101926/coverorgin.jpg?v=368e7983714c1a0bd18be7d5ea10f6b7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101923/coverorgin.jpg?v=e39c3414725524d940dc167ac21cf8b0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/65656/coverorgin.jpg?v=bca7a26f976b281a1ac0e8d986049347&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101922/coverorgin.jpg?v=85446ccd5cc7810ecc42f10e6e51a892&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/65243/coverorgin.jpg?v=c379c588e73b2cdf26996617a080fa17&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101428/coverorgin.jpg?v=a6edc7fa863c44c8d677b68f6b8753a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)