Luo Lijiang
14 Published Stories
Luo Lijiang's Books and Stories
The Ruined Heiress and Her Ruthless Monster
Modern My fiancé cheated on me with a bottle service girl on the giant screen at our own engagement party. I woke up the next morning in a strange bed, smelling of sandalwood and expensive scotch, only to realize I was in the penthouse of Julian Blackwood—the man I had cruelly humiliated ten years ago.
Before I could even process the shame, my world collapsed. My father suffered a massive stroke, and my half-brother Conrad immediately moved to seize the family empire, while a swarm of illegitimate siblings emerged to strip us of every cent.
"You're a stain on my floor, Vivian," Julian told me, his eyes as cold as a stormy sea. He didn't just want me gone; he wanted to watch me go bankrupt. My stepmother hissed that I needed to get on my knees and beg him to be our lawyer, or we’d end up on the street. Then, a biker with a metal bat tried to kill me on a dark Hamptons road, proving my own family had already put a price on my head.
I didn't understand why the boy I once called "the gardener's son" was now the only one standing between me and a shallow grave. Julian saved my life from the wreck, but his touch felt like a threat. Was he protecting me, or just making sure he was the one who got to finish me off?
Standing in the lobby of Blackwood & Partners, I looked straight into the security cameras and told the biggest lie of my life. I told the world that Julian was obsessed with me, turning a restraining order into a scandalous affair. If I had to be a villain to survive my own family, I would be the most dangerous one New York had ever seen. The Genius Heiress They Tried To Break
Mafia I stood outside the Genovese estate in the freezing rain for two hours, waiting for the man I loved to let me in.
I was Elena Russo, the brilliant forensic accountant who had just laundered forty million dollars for the family. I was the adopted daughter, the fixer, and the fiancée of the Underboss, Luca.
But the moment Sofia, the "real" daughter, returned, I became nothing but a placeholder.
Luca looked me in the eye, swirling his scotch, and delivered the blow.
"I need you to hand your work over to Sofia. She needs the prestige to be accepted by the Commission."
He demanded I give up my life’s work—a complex laundering algorithm—so his new favorite could take the credit.
When I refused, the humiliation began.
Sofia faked a fall into the pool, and my adoptive father kicked me into the deep end to "teach me a lesson."
I nearly drowned.
Luca didn't save me. He handed me a diving mask and told me to find Sofia's lost ring at the bottom of the freezing pool before I was allowed to warm up.
They stole my code. They ruined my reputation at the university. They slapped me in front of the press.
They thought I was a stray dog with nowhere to go.
They were wrong.
Lying in the hospital bed, I dialed a number I had memorized years ago.
"This is Asset 724," I whispered. "I'm ready to come home."
The next day, the Russo empire began to crumble.
And when a convoy of black SUVs arrived to collect me, Luca finally realized his mistake.
My real father wasn't a nobody.
He was Don Moretti, the King of the West Coast.
And he was here to burn their world to ash. Too Late, Mr. William, She's Free
Modern Franklin William destroyed my father, then raised me as his ward. For ten years, I loved him, not as a guardian, but as the man who held my world in his hands.
On my 18th birthday, I confessed. He crushed me with five words.
"Love is a liability, Eliana."
His cruelty escalated. He got engaged to a ruthless socialite who publicly branded me his "pet project." He forced me to wear a cheap necklace I was allergic to, the metal burning my skin like a brand of shame. That night, he stumbled into my room, drunk, and violated me, whispering his fiancée's name.
My own mother called, not to comfort me, but to scream that I had ruined her social standing before disowning me.
I was nothing. A project. A disposable toy. But as I sat in the wreckage of my life, an encrypted email arrived from my long-lost godfather. The subject line was clear: "It's time, Eliana. There's a way out." The Divorce I Never Knew
Billionaires My wife, Catalina, is a billionaire CEO. To me, she’s an angel. Three years ago, her stalker, Dixon Bright, shattered my hand with a hammer, ending my career as an architect. Catalina nursed me back from the brink, her love the only thing holding me together.
On our fifth anniversary, I went to the DMV. The clerk looked at me strangely. "Sir, our records show you were divorced three years ago. On October 12th."
The same day I was attacked.
The record also showed who Catalina married that very day: Dixon Bright.
My world tilted. Her tender care—feeding me, dressing me, encouraging me to draw with my left hand—was it all a lie? I found their secret house, a glass mansion she called an "investment." Inside, she wasn't punishing him. She was kissing him.
I pressed my ear to the glass and heard the words that destroyed me.
"It was your idea to cripple him," she cooed to Dixon, stroking his hair. "It was the only way to make sure he'd never leave me. You did a good thing, Dixon. You earned your reward. You earned me."
My loving wife hadn't just betrayed me. She had ordered my destruction to turn me into a pet she could keep in a cage.
My phone buzzed. A text from Catalina. "Happy anniversary, my love. Can't wait to celebrate tonight. <3"
She thinks I'm her broken treasure, safe in her grasp. She has no idea I just saw the warden with the key. She thinks she broke me.
But tonight, my escape begins. Betrayal's Sting: A Husband's Reckoning
Romance Tonight was supposed to be special. Our fifth anniversary. I' d booked our favorite restaurant, bought a new shirt Chloe loved.
Then, scrolling through social media, a photo from her company' s group chat caught my eye. Chloe, laughing, her hand resting on the arm of her intern, Liam.
The caption called it "burning the midnight oil." I called it a lie.
I typed a reply, directly into the chat: "Looks like fun. Chloe, I\'m still waiting for our anniversary dinner. The reservation was for seven."
My phone rang instantly. It was Chloe, her voice a furious hiss. "What the hell do you think you\'re doing? Are you trying to embarrass me?"
"Embarrass you?" I retorted, her dismissive tone burning me. "I' m sitting here alone on our anniversary. You told me you were stuck in a meeting."
She called me needy, childish, then hung up.
All my sacrifices, my life savings poured into her startup, the sleepless nights coding her company' s foundation – for this? To be a ghost in her shiny, successful life?
The truth was laid bare: I was just an afterthought.
I looked at our wedding photo, so full of hope, then slowly, deliberately, turned it face down. Then I blocked her.
The next morning, her company's lead engineer called, panicking. "It's the Genesis build. It's a complete disaster. Liam broke it."
Chloe had brushed off my warnings about Liam's sloppy code. She called him a rockstar.
Now, she needed me to fix her golden boy' s mess. She sent her assistant to drag me to the office.
Then Chloe herself called from the assistant's phone. "Ethan Miller, you get down here right now!"
She tried to smooth-talk me, sweet-talking about "us."
And then I heard it. A soft, wet sound, a kiss. And Liam' s voice. "Is he giving you trouble, boss? Let me talk to him."
Chloe' s hushed, affectionate whisper: "It's fine, sweetie. I've got this."
My world stopped. "Sweetie?" I repeated, the word dripping with mock sweetness. "Is that what you call your interns now, Chloe?"
The betrayal, concrete and undeniable, sliced through me.
All that anger, all that pain, crystallized into one chilling realization: "You don't need me. You need my work. There's a difference."
"Consider your contract terminated," she threatened.
"Consider it terminated," I replied, and hung up.
I finally felt nothing. Just a vast, empty space where five years of my life used to be.
I was done. Redemption's Echo
Billionaires The air in the penthouse reeked of success, a scent I barely remembered. Facing Liam Hayes, the tech titan I once knew as a struggling professor, I felt my nails dig into my palms. My design firm was ashes, my reputation ruined, and my father lay dying, all thanks to him.
He offered me fifty thousand dollars-insulting, yet just enough for my father' s surgery-to marry a reclusive billionaire in his protégé's place. My pride was a luxury I couldn't afford. But as I clutched the check, a overheard conversation shattered everything: Liam' s revenge wasn' t heartbreak. He' d orchestrated my downfall, my company' s ruin, and even my father' s "accidents," wanting to see me broken and begging.
Back at the hospital, fresh tests revealed the fifty thousand was a mere down payment; my father needed continuous, expensive care, or the surgery would only buy him months. Liam had known. He' d given me just enough hope to hang myself. Then, a friend revealed the final, devastating truth: Liam' s empire, everything he was, was built on my forgotten sacrifice-I' d anonymously funded his failing startup, selling my award-winning design to save him.
The irony was a brutal blow, the realization that I had saved him, and in return, he had systematically destroyed me, my family, and even the child I didn' t know I carried, now lost to the stress he inflicted. My father' s life was still in Liam' s hands, a chilling reminder of my powerlessness.
But when the call came, confirming my father' s death, Liam' s carefully constructed game shattered. He' d lost his leverage, and I, stripped of everything, suddenly found a terrifying, liberating freedom. The man who sought my ultimate suffering would now face my unyielding resolve. When The Pawn Strikes Back
Romance My wedding day was supposed to be perfect, a celebration with my fiancé, Andrew, the "golden boy" lawyer, and my best friend, Molly, by my side.
But then, during a heartfelt song at Andrew's bachelor party, I watched them both break down, tears streaming, clinging to each other in a way that felt chillingly intimate.
Stepping out for air, I overheard Andrew whisper to Molly, "I'll be wearing this at the wedding... as if I'm finally marrying you," confirming a devastating truth: their bond was ancient, predating me for years. My entire two-year relationship, my engagement, was a meticulously crafted lie, a desperate ploy for Andrew to stay close to the woman he truly loved-my best friend.
How could I have been so blind? So utterly used? Every promise, every moment, a cruel performance. The woman he pursued, the woman he proposed to, was merely a prop in his tragic love story with someone else.
That night, lying next to the man who built his world on my shattered trust, I made a promise to myself: if I was just a pawn in their twisted game, I would become the queen of their downfall. When Family Betrays: A Cult's Embrace
Horror I ran from the New Dawn Sanctuary, leaving behind Prophet Elijah' s twisted sermons and Caleb' s possessive gaze, hoping for a real family with my biological parents.
But on a remote "bonding" trip, my mother Brenda, father Earl, and brother Kyle revealed their true colors.
They were selling me back to the cult for money, despite my pleas, abusing me, and cutting my hair.
Delivered back to the Sanctuary, my adoptive mother Seraphina didn't recognize my battered self, ordering me to the feared Re-Education Quarters.
Then, a forgotten nickname, "Sunshine," cracked her icy demeanor.
Seraphina's recognition unleashed a terrifying, blood-soaked fury on my biological family, punishing them with mutilation and imprisonment for daring to "harm what was hers."
Trapped once more in their gilded cage as "Chloe," I realized the horrific depth of their possessive "love" and the monstrous evil of the cult.
My heart hardened with a desperate resolve: I couldn't escape a second time, but I could burn it all down.
With the help of a hidden FBI agent, Anna, I concocted a reckless plan – sacrificing my own body in a staged attack to draw out the cult leaders.
My pain would be their reckoning, and the sirens I heard would be our salvation. Their Cruelty, Her Conquest
Modern The wind howled around me, as frigid and sharp as the searing betrayal that had relentlessly driven me to the precipice of this towering high-rise balcony.
My own brother, Ethan, stood directly in front of me, his once-familiar face horribly contorted by the insidious and manipulative lies of Chloe, our adopted sister.
"You did this, Sarah," he snarled, his voice raw with manufactured rage, "You drove Chloe to try and kill herself, you always hated her."
Without another word, his hands clamped onto me, shoving me with devastating force.
The world lurched violently, a choked scream tearing from my throat as I plunged downward, the glittering city lights rushing up to meet me in a horrifying blaze of agonizing pain and absolute terror.
My very last, agonizing thought was of my beloved mother, left all alone, and the crushing, utter injustice of everything.
Then, absolute blackness. Until a sudden, skull-rattling jolt.
I gasped, air burning my lungs as my eyes snapped wide open, finding myself in a car, my mother Eleanor gripping the wheel, moments before the sickening, unavoidable crunch of metal on metal.
This was it: the exact day, the precise moment, everything began to unravel in my previous, tragic life.
The vivid, searing memories of Ethan' s unparalleled betrayal, of Chloe' s relentless, insidious poison, all crashed over me with chilling clarity.
No. This nightmare would not, could not, happen again. I was undeniably alive, inexplicably reborn, and this time, fueled by an unbreakable resolve, I would not be the same weak, manipulated girl.
This time, I would absolutely protect my mother, and this time, without a shadow of a doubt, justice would finally be exacted for all their cruelty. The Weekend Wife's Escape
Modern My world shattered when my fiancé Ethan’s “work wife,” Chloe, announced her pregnancy with his baby at his Vegas bachelor party.
Then came his outrageous "solution": he'd live with her during the week to "support the baby," and I'd be his "weekend wife" at our Hamptons home, our wedding indefinitely postponed.
Eight years of my life, discarded like trash.
His family’s snickers about my "new money" and "frivolous" Art History degree, his casual critiques – it all swirled into a bitter cocktail.
I was expected to be “mature,” to accept being his mere diversion.
The humiliation deepened when Chloe began taunting me on social media, proclaiming her "blessed" new life with *my* fiancé.
The final blow came at the alumni gala: Chloe faked a fall, and Ethan, in a fit of rage, *slapped me in front of everyone*, his loyalties clear.
He truly believed I'd crawl back.
But just as I thought I’d drown in despair, a drunken call from my childhood friend, Noah, brought a lifeline: "Marry me, Ava."
In that desperate, raw moment, I said yes.
I ripped off Ethan’s ring and walked out, not just from him, but from the gilded cage he’d trapped me in.
This wasn't a tantrum; it was my defiant escape.
And I was going to burn every bridge on the way out. Wedding Bells, Death Knells
Romance Seven years of my life were stolen, locked away for a crime I didn't commit. Now, out of that concrete cage, the California sun feels alien against my skin, and the only thing I crave is peace. Not salvation, not forgiveness, just a final resting place: my ashes scattered among the ancient Redwoods I once dreamed of with him.
But achieving even that final wish requires money, a sum I, a pariah with a prison record, can barely imagine. So, I swallow my pride and take a job in the opulent heart of Los Angeles. On my first shift, amidst the clinking glasses and hushed power plays, I hear a familiar laugh. Liam. The man I still love, the man who believed I was a murderer, who saw me imprisoned for his sister’s recklessness.
He’s not alone. My former best friend, now his fiancée, Jess, is by his side. Their eyes, once filled with affection, now gleam with cold fury and malicious triumph. They relish in my humiliation, forcing me to clean up their messes, parading their love in front of me, a constant reminder of the life I lost.
Why do I endure this exquisite torture? Why do I allow the man I cherished to break me, piece by agonizing piece? Because I’m dying, and this agonizing job is my only chance to fulfill my last desire.
Then, Liam offers me a new role: his personal attendant. A public spectacle of my subservience, designed to parade my shame at every elite gathering. The pay? Substantial. A devil’s bargain, perhaps, but it's the only key to the Redwoods. I accept, my dignity traded for a final breath of freedom among the trees. You might like
Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. 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!" Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." 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." The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." 
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