Luo Xi
16 Published Stories
Luo Xi's Books and Stories
Reborn For His Savage Love
Billionaires On my wedding day, the giant screen in the ballroom was supposed to show a romantic video of my fiancé and me.
Instead, it played a sordid deepfake video of me with another man.
My fiancé, the celebrated tech mogul Edward Ford, pointed at me in front of New York’s high society.
“Amelia Stone, you are a disgrace.”
My own father then stepped forward, not to defend me, but to condemn me. He publicly disowned me, announcing he had another, kinder daughter who would take my rightful place.
He gestured to the side, and my illegitimate half-sister, Dara Chase, stepped out, looking innocent and fragile.
Betrayed by the two men I loved most, I fled the ballroom in shame. As I ran into the street, a car hit me with horrific force.
As I died, I floated above my own broken body. I watched as Edward and Dara embraced, their mission accomplished. But then I saw him. Josiah Craft, a guest at the wedding, fell to his knees beside me, his face crumbling into raw, animalistic grief.
I opened my eyes again. I was back in my penthouse, just days before the wedding that was supposed to be my end. Served Scraps By My Cruel Husband
Modern I was once the CEO of a pharmaceutical empire, but now I was a ghost in my own kitchen, forced to serve the husband who stole my life.
Bolden didn't just take my company and frame me as insane; he sat with his mistress, Kandace, and forced me to eat their table scraps like a dog.
They poisoned my father to seize his legacy, gaslit the world into believing I was unstable, and made me scrub floors until my hands were raw and bleeding.
Every day was a performance of submission, a calculated risk to protect my infant son, Leo, from their cruelty.
They thought my silence was defeat.
They believed the drugs had turned me into a hollow shell, unaware that I had been faking taking them for weeks.
When they bulldozed my childhood home and desecrated my father' s grave, the last ember of my old life died-and a cold, ruthless resolve took its place.
Tonight, I' m not just escaping with my son.
I' m taking the evidence of their murders and fraud with me, and I won't stop until their stolen empire burns to ash. From Broken Trophy To Unstoppable Queen
Modern "You could have hurt the baby," my husband snarled, shoving me onto the cold marble floor of the Met Museum.
He didn't check if I was bleeding. He was too busy cradling Alya, the twenty-two-year-old intern I had hired two weeks ago.
Bennett Calloway, the ruthless King of New York, was parading his mistress in front of the city's elite while treating me, his loyal wife of fifteen years, like a clumsy nuisance.
He thought he was teaching me a lesson in obedience.
I later overheard him telling his men, "Kelsey needs to be broken. When she hits rock bottom, she'll come crawling back. That's how you train a wife."
He gave her my vintage Hermès scarf. He let her wear my family diamonds. He stood by as she mocked my infertility, claiming she carried the heir I never could.
He waited for the tears. He waited for the screaming, the begging, the jealousy.
But I didn't cry.
I simply went to our bedroom, took the sketch of the nursery we had planned fifteen years ago, and lit a match.
I watched the dream turn to ash in the wastebasket.
Then, I signed the asset separation agreement, deleted my social media accounts, and threw my SIM card into a sewer grate.
Bennett thought he was breaking a horse. He didn't realize he was freeing a prisoner.
By the time he realized his mistake and tore the world apart looking for me, I was already in Paris, learning that love isn't supposed to hurt. The Pink Car of Betrayal
Modern My husband unveiled a custom pink car on live TV, calling it a "tribute to our love."
The internet hailed him as the perfect man.
But I knew the truth.
That car was the exact place he cheated on me with his VP, Keri.
And the lipstick stain on the passenger seat wasn't mine.
He thought I was at home, waiting to celebrate his success.
Instead, I was at a clinic, signing a waiver to surgically remove my memories.
I aborted the child he desperately wanted.
I smashed the jade locket he claimed bound our souls together.
I burned my passport, my license, and every photo of us in the kitchen sink.
When he finally came home, he found nothing but an empty house and a gift box containing the remains of our unborn child.
A year later, he crashed my engagement party in Charleston, falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness.
I looked down at the weeping billionaire and felt absolutely nothing.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said calmly.
"But do I know you?" Betrayed Love, Unbroken Melody
Young Adult The silence in the practice room was where my future unfolded, a shared dream with my quartet: Juilliard, then the NYC Philharmonic. Ethan, my secret love; Chloe, my stepsister; and Noah, our steady violist.
But the night before my scholarship audition, the dream shattered. Hidden on the stairs, I heard them-Chloe' s sharp voice, "She gets everything. It' s my turn." Then Ethan, the boy I adored, "Avery' s good, but she holds us back with all that… emotional playing."
Betrayal twisted in my gut as I watched my future, a beautiful melody, curdle into a horrifying, dissonant chord. He didn' t love me; they weren' t my friends.
During my audition, my A-string was loose, buzzing horribly. I saw Chloe' s triumphant smile, Ethan staring at the floor. My dream was over, stolen by those I trusted most. My own family echoed their cruelties, my mother accepting the lie that I had "choked."
Then, they tried to take the silver locket, my father' s last gift. Ethan held me, Noah pried my fingers, and Chloe snapped the chain, kicking me as I clutched the broken silver. "What did you do?" Ethan asked Chloe, but it was too late.
In the shattering pain, a cold resolve formed. I would not be broken. When my mentor offered a chance at the Royal Academy of Music, I seized it, a secret spark of hope in the suffocating darkness. My escape began. His Sacrifice, Her Freedom
Romance The acceptance letter for architecture school abroad felt like my escape, a tangible sign I was finally putting myself first after years of playing a role.
I was Ava Green, once a vibrant art history student, who threw it all away to become the devoted caretaker for Liam Hayes, the brilliant tech mogul who lost his sight in a devastating accident.
His family, grateful for my endless devotion, "helped" my grandmother with her medical bills, creating a silent, crushing obligation that bound me to them and to Liam, for years.
I became his eyes, his anchor, abandoning my own dreams to stitch his shattered life back together, believing our shared trauma forged an unbreakable love.
But then Chloe Davis, his ex-fiancée, a glamorous concert pianist from his "real" world, returned, and I watched his affection fracture, then shift entirely.
At his company' s gala, I saw Liam laugh with Chloe, a genuine, unguarded sound I hadn' t heard in months, a brutal reminder that I was just a placeholder.
Later, I overheard Chloe tell Liam that I couldn' t be his partner, "not really," and his silence was all the answer I needed.
My heart shattered, the realization hitting me: I was a glorified nurse, easily discarded the moment his true equal returned.
The public humiliation came swiftly at a charity gala, when Liam' s sister, Sarah, cruelly exposed me as a "charity case" and publicly shamed me, dousing me in wine, while Liam, lost in Chloe' s orbit, remained oblivious.
Why didn' t he see me? Why did he let them do this to me after everything I sacrificed?
That night, packing my bags, I knew I had to escape this gilded cage; I would reclaim my life, pay back every cent, and build a future where I was seen, for myself. Auctioned: A Husband's Comeback
Romance My name is Caleb Duncan, "The Architect" of D.C., and I built my wife, Nicole Hewitt, into a political powerhouse. We were the ultimate power couple, our lives a seamless blend of ambition and strategy, all focused on her rise to the Senate.
But on my birthday, a seemingly innocent Instagram post from a young mentee, Wesley Clark-a kid Nicole and I were putting through college-showed my wife, laughing intimately with him at our old diner, with a caption hinting at stolen moments.
When confronted, Nicole feigned innocence, then dismissed my concerns with cold contempt, revealing a side of her I hadn't known. Just weeks later, at her biggest campaign gala, she projected photos of me on a giant screen, then publicly branded me a "whore" who slept his way through D.C., attempting to auction me off to donors like a piece of meat.
The woman I had loved, built, and trusted more than anyone had orchestrated my public humiliation, my complete professional and personal destruction. How could she do this? Why this level of calculated cruelty?
Drugged and cornered, I saw no escape, until a familiar face, my wife' s fiercest rival, Gabrielle Johns, pulled me from the jaws of despair, ready to help me fight back and burn her world to the ground. The Wife Who Knew Too Much
Modern My father, the most honorable man I knew, was slipping away, but hope glimmered-a lung transplant. Sitting by his hospital bed, holding his hand, I told him we had so much time left.
I stepped out for a moment, and returned to a nightmare. Masked men stood over my father. A phone blinked red, livestreaming. They slammed me against the wall, forcing me to watch as they tore at my clothes and my father, horrified, coded.
The world exploded. The livestream of my humiliation was everywhere, twisted to paint me as a party girl responsible for my father' s death. Ethan, my perfect fiancé, abandoned me. The hospital sued me. Then my mother, broken and blaming me, took her own life.
I was utterly alone, an outcast, haunted by a question that screamed in my mind: Why? Why us? Why me? What unimaginable darkness could orchestrate such public, brutal destruction?
Five years later, a man I thought was my savior, my loving husband, delivered the chilling answer that shattered my entire reality. I was a fool, but being a fool had just become my greatest weapon. The Governor's Daughter: Reborn to Reign
Modern I woke up in my luxurious bedroom at the Governor' s mansion, silk sheets, sunlit, on the eve of my debutante ball. This wasn't the cold, damp room where I' d breathed my last. But then, the memories slammed into me, a tidal wave of betrayal.
My own brother, Harrison, my fiancé, Brent Astor, and Chloe, my father' s orphaned campaign manager' s daughter we' d taken in, had conspired to destroy me. Chloe, in my special gown, stealing my moment. Their public smear campaign, framed as a 'charity initiative,' was a front for an offshore nightmare that meticulously ruined my name.
My father's health mysteriously deteriorated, he died, and Harrison ascended to Governor. I, Savi, died alone, my reputation in tatters, branded for 'mistreating' sweet, innocent Chloe. The phantom pain of my last breath still haunted me.
How could my closest family members unleash such malevolent destruction, assassinating my character and ultimately my life, all while posing as heroes? Why was I, the victim, painted as the villain?
I looked at the calendar: it was that day. The debutante ball. I was back. A fierce, cold rage extinguished the fear. This time, things would be different. Chloe wouldn' t steal anything. Harrison and Brent would pay, dearly. And my father' s honorable legacy? I would secure it, no matter the cost. My Fiancée and My Betrayal
Romance Sarah Miles, a passionate journalist, was just days away from her dream: a prestigious UN Human Rights Correspondent Fellowship in war-torn Lendu and a wedding to her devoted fiancé, Ethan.
Her life, meticulously built, felt like it was finally ascending.
Then, a sudden, insidious message shattered everything.
Anonymous photos and videos flooded her phone, revealing Ethan, naked, with Chloe Hayes – Sarah' s own half-sister.
The man who had relentlessly pursued and championed her ambitions was a brutal liar, caught in a sickening affair.
His desperate excuses and attempts to manipulate the situation only deepened the agonizing wound.
Adding insult to unspeakable injury, Chloe' s chillingly cruel taunts made it clear this wasn't mere infidelity; it was a calculated act of destruction.
How could the man she loved betray her with her own family?
Why would Chloe, whom she was just beginning to connect with, orchestrate such pain?
The sheer audacity and inexplicable malice left Sarah reeling, grappling with a profound sense of injustice and a world turned utterly upside down.
With her meticulously planned future in ashes and her heart irrevocably broken, Sarah made a defiant choice.
The fellowship in Lendu transformed from a career ambition into a desperate, immediate escape.
She systematically dismantled her entire life, prepared to plunge into the chaos of a war zone, determined to find a future free from her shattered past, even if it meant confronting unthinkable dangers alone. My Ex's "C" Was Never Me
Billionaires Another wire transfer pinged.
It was another "apology payment" from Victoria Sterling, my girlfriend of five years.
This one was different: $500,000.
Far more than her usual fifty thousand, a sum that had already made me secretly rich.
I' d played the role of the devoted, slightly naive boyfriend perfectly for too long.
But this unprecedented amount felt less like an apology and more like a severance.
Then, a video message arrived from Dylan Price, from Vicky' s social circle.
It showed Vicky at a party, her arms wrapped around a young man, kissing him deeply.
He looked unsettlingly like me, a younger, perhaps less worn version.
Dylan' s text followed: "That' s Caleb Vance. Her childhood flame. Guess who\'s back?"
Suddenly, Vicky' s pet name, "My C," and her online handles like "ForeverC," made a sickening kind of sense.
I was never "C" for Ethan.
I was a stand-in.
A sharp pang of genuine hurt hit my chest.
I remembered being a scholarship kid from Appalachia, chasing her, believing she saw something in me.
Her friends had called me a "charity case."
I later found her hidden love letters to Caleb, recently signed, calling me "just a boy, a distraction."
When I finally confronted her during our breakup, she exploded.
"You don\'t break up with me, Ethan. I decide when this is over! You belong to me!"
I was shocked by the raw possessiveness in her voice.
Her absolute conviction that she owned me, body and soul.
She saw me as nothing more than an expensive pet, a compliant placeholder.
How could I have been so blind, so foolishly naive for five years?
But that immediate hurt quickly turned cold, pragmatic.
If I was a substitute, I was a well-paid one.
That $500,000 wasn't severance; it was a bonus for a long-term performance.
With millions now in my accounts, I was financially independent.
It was time to leave Vicky and her gilded cage behind. The OAX Murders
Horror Sarah Miller always felt like an outsider among her Omega Alpha Chi sorority sisters, yearning for a place at the heart of their tight circle. One fateful night, after a typical bonding party, she woke to an unspeakable horror: all five of her friends lay dead, victims of acute poisoning. Sarah was the sole survivor.
Instantly, the spotlight of suspicion turned to her. The police presented a chilling web of evidence: a panicked audio recording from Chloe' s phone, capturing her sisters' dying pleas, "Sarah, wake up!"; records showing Sarah's key fob used when she claimed to be sound asleep; and a disturbing handwritten note in her own script, confessing a desire for peace if "they were gone."
Sarah vehemently denied everything, desperate to believe she was asleep, but her memories were a terrifying blur. How could she be involved in such a monstrous act? The pieces didn't fit, adding to her dread: a pre-death text about a "prank" targeting her, and Danielle's chilling journal entry stating, "That wasn't Sarah."
Then came the devastating truth: a forgotten psychiatric history, revealing Dissociative Identity Disorder. And the final, grainy footage – "another Sarah," calmly exiting the room after the murders, a faint, chilling smile on her face. Now confined, Sarah lives in an inescapable nightmare, realizing the horrifying killer is not outside, but an integral, malevolent part of herself, waiting to re-emerge. The Video's Twisted Lie
Young Adult I was nineteen, trapped in a nightmare, living in a house where my mother' s fists were a constant presence, leaving me bruised and broken.
My father was my only hope, a beacon of normal in the chaos, though often conveniently absent.
One day, my boyfriend Ethan, witnessing another brutal attack, finally called 911, but a mysterious video my mother showed him twisted his concern into chilling disgust in an instant.
He walked out, abandoning me, branding me "sick" and "dangerous."
Before him, my own grandparents, the very people who once hugged me tight, had turned their backs after seeing that same hidden footage.
My father, who promised to protect me, also saw the video and joined the silent chorus of condemnation, leaving me utterly alone.
The beatings continued, escalating, my world shrinking to a painful, isolated cell.
What was on that damned video that could turn everyone I loved, every single person, against me, twisting their affection into hatred and judgment?
The injustice burned, the confusion was a constant ache, an unbearable mystery that defined my monstrous new reality.
Pushed to the brink of death in a final, savage assault, the truth finally surfaced: the horrifying secret the video held wasn't about me at all, but my own father' s unspeakable abuse of my sisters, and my mother' s twisted, monstrous attempt at protection.
I was just a pawn in their dark game, but now, finally, I knew their secret, and this time, everything would change. More Than Just Paper: The Degrees That Fought Back
Modern I stood on the polished stage of "Startup Goldrush," a triple-major Ivy League prodigy, ready to pitch myself and make my working-class family proud.
Then, Victoria Sterling, the lead judge, unleashed her attack: dismissing my credentials as "just paper," demanding I decode her vague tech jargon, and insinuating my degrees were fake.
A 'technical glitch' conveniently wiped my digital proof, and then, in a staged "accident," she soaked my physical diplomas with sticky kombucha, smirking as they disintegrated into an illegible mess.
The lowest blow came when my own brother, manipulated backstage, walked out and publicly told me to apologize, demanding I stop embarrassing our family.
Betrayed and humiliated, my world crashed, and I crumpled to the floor in a panic attack on live television, branded an "Ivy League Imposter."
How could years of relentless hard work, incredible sacrifice, and genuine achievement be twisted into such a horrifying, public destruction?
They tried to bury me, but as I lay in the darkness, remembering my brother's calloused hands and unwavering belief, a furious resolve ignited – I wouldn't just survive this, I would fight back.
I opened my laptop, my fingers trembling but firm, and began drafting an email to Dean Thompson, Harvard University, ready to expose their lies. You might like
Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian
Julian Reid Kenzie, the former leader of the Aegis Alliance, opened her eyes to find herself reincarnated as a freezing, abandoned infant in a wet cardboard box.
She was rescued from the rain by Devin Ayers, a ruthless billionaire, and rushed to a private hospital, but a deadly threat was already waiting for her.
The ER doctor, Desiree Dillon, approached her with a syringe. Through a sudden burst of telepathy, Kenzie read the doctor's dark thoughts. Desiree wasn't trying to cure her fever. She deliberately ignored the safe dosage, drawing a lethal amount of Diazepam to permanently silence the crying baby and disguise it as sudden infant death.
"This will make it all go away," Desiree smiled gently, the needle glinting as it moved inches from Kenzie's arm.
Trapped in a weak, paralyzed three-month-old body, Kenzie couldn't run, fight, or even speak. She could only watch the poison inch closer.
How could she survive death only to be assassinated in a hospital bed by a corrupt doctor? She used to command armies. The sheer injustice and terror of dying completely helpless in this tiny body ignited a blinding rage inside her.
Refusing to be a victim again, Kenzie pushed her newborn brain to its absolute limit and unleashed a desperate telepathic scream directly into the billionaire's mind.
"Poison! She's trying to kill me!"
Devin, who had been looking away, suddenly froze, his icy gray eyes locking onto the doctor's wrist. From Prison Cell To Billionaire's Target
Jv Lingxian The freezing rain lashed against my face as I clung to the iron gates of the Hendrix estate, begging for a chance to prove I didn't kill my best friend.
I had come here for mercy, but the man I had secretly loved for years had a different plan. He didn't want to hear my truth; he wanted to see me broken.
As the sun rose, the estate manager delivered the final blow. He shoved Emery’s phone into my face, showing a forged text message that framed me for her death, then turned his back as the gates slammed shut.
My own family didn't offer a lifeline, either. When the police came for me, my parents didn't fight for my innocence; they chose to disown me to save their bank accounts from Alfredo’s wrath.
I was thrown into Rikers Island, stripped of my dignity, and subjected to years of calculated, brutal torture paid for by the man who once held my heart.
How could the person I loved turn my life into a private slaughterhouse based on a lie?
After three years of hell, I walked out of those prison gates with nothing but a scarred body and a hollow soul. The woman who loved Alfredo Hendrix died in that cell. Now, I’m back in the city where it all began, and I’m done hiding. The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. His Unwanted Wife: The Genius's Spectacular Comeback
Lan Zixin For seven years, I was the perfect wife to Denny Sanford and the brilliant CTO who built the core technology of his billion-dollar empire.
But at my brother-in-law's memorial service, I hid behind a velvet curtain in the study and caught my husband passionately kissing the grieving widow, Brittany.
They weren't just having an affair. Brittany was pregnant with Denny's child.
"Once the paternity test confirms the baby is a Sanford heir, we control everything," she whispered.
"Christa is brilliant with data, but clueless with people. She's completely harmless," Denny sneered, dismissing me as a convenient tool.
My world shattered. Under his protection, Brittany had already stolen the credit and millions of dollars in consulting fees for my patents. To maintain his perfect facade, Denny even abandoned our six-year-old daughter's championship to hold his mistress's hand through a fake hospital visit.
I had sacrificed my days and nights to build his company, only to realize my entire marriage was a calculated lie designed to fund his second family. He thought my scientific detachment made me blind, stupid, and weak.
Harmless? I smiled coldly in the dark, backed up every server log proving my intellectual property, and messaged the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York. If he wanted to build his future on stolen data, I would show him exactly how a scientist dismantles a flawed experiment. Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. His Accidental Cure: The Runaway Contract Wife
Norrra I was drugged and sent to a hotel room to be compromised, but I ended up in the presidential suite with a stranger.
I didn't know the man I clung to in my hallucinogenic haze was my own husband, Devaughn Winters, a man I hadn't spoken to in a year.
When I woke up the next morning, the terror of what I’d done hit me like a physical blow. I fled, leaving behind nothing but a shredded dress and a lingering sense of dread.
I thought I’d finally escaped the cold, suffocating contract of our marriage when I signed the divorce papers, but I was wrong.
My mother-in-law arrived at my apartment, freezing my sick mother’s medical funds and threatening to ruin me for the "infidelity" she claimed I’d committed.
She dragged my secrets into the light, leaving me with no choice but to fight back with a knife in my hand and a 911 call on speaker.
But just as I thought I was free, the man I’d spent the night with—the man who was supposed to be my stranger—tore up our divorce papers and declared that I was his to keep.
I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand, trapped between a ruthless father who wanted to sell me for corporate secrets and a husband who demanded I belong to him in life and in death.
How did he not know who I was that night, and why is he suddenly claiming me as his own?
I’m done being a victim, and if he thinks he can own me, he’s about to find out exactly what happens when a cornered woman decides to burn it all down. No Heir For The Cheating Billionaire
Marnie Nomura Hadley married into the Jacobson family, a ruthless Wall Street empire. Her prenuptial agreement was absolute: she wouldn't touch a penny of the family wealth until she produced an heir.
But one rainy night, she used a copied keycard to enter a secret Tribeca penthouse, only to find her husband tangled in bed with a famous actress.
When she slapped the divorce papers in front of him, Cleveland didn't apologize.
"The party who files walks away with nothing. You will die in this position."
He tore the documents to pieces. To protect his flawless public image, he forced Hadley to attend family galas, smirking coldly while his grandfather publicly humiliated her for her "barren" stomach. When Hadley finally fought back and confronted his mistress, Cleveland snapped. With a single phone call, he froze her bank accounts, revoked her access to their home, and left her stranded in a cold parking garage.
She had given up her independence for a man who treated her like a useless breeding machine. He thought he could erase three years of her life in an instant, confident that his money made him invincible.
But Cleveland didn't know she was holding the ultimate weapon to destroy his precious legacy. As he received a frantic call about his mistress and rushed to his SUV, Hadley finally screamed the agonizing secret she had hidden for years.
"I can't give you an heir! It's over!"
Watching his taillights disappear into the dark, Hadley prepared to burn his empire to the ground. Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
William Jafferson My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. 
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