Luoye Fenfei
10 Published Stories
Luoye Fenfei's Books and Stories
From Heartbreak To Heroine: My New Boss
Romance I drew a thick red circle around the date, marking my escape from eight years of crushing dedication to an architectural firm-and to David Chen, the untouchable senior partner I' d foolishly adored since day one.
But my whispered plans for freedom were abruptly shattered when David, in a bizarre twist of fate, started showing a new intern, Emily White, the unguarded warmth I'd always yearned for, culminating in the gut-wrenching discovery that he was buying her an engagement ring.
Reeling from this brutal blow, I gave my notice only to be immediately thrust into a crisis at a flooding construction site-one where David, the project lead, was inexplicably unreachable and then, upon his sudden arrival, inexplicably threw me under the bus, suspending me for my "recklessness."
I couldn't fathom his sudden, public betrayal, leaving me utterly bewildered and heartbroken; why, after my desperate attempt to save his project, would he punish me so severely, especially when he'd hugged me moments before, a gesture that defied his usual coldness?
With no other choice, and my career destroyed, I found myself accepting a forced transfer to a new city, unwittingly walking into the dangerous heart of a DEA task force, where the only thing more shocking than my unexpected new life was discovering David Chen standing there, my new boss, ready to lead the charge. A System's Cruel Joke
Sci-fi My body was a battlefield of pain, every nerve screaming as I grasped for control. A chilling, mechanical voice echoed in my mind, a death sentence: "Mission failed. Countdown initiated: 30 days."
I was Olivia, or rather, the soul inhabiting her body, given a second chance by a mysterious System to mend fractured relationships with Daniel and Ethan. I' d poured my heart into earning their affection, and for a time, I succeeded. We laughed, we shared meals, we were a family once more. My life extended, filled with a joy I' d never known. But then Clara arrived.
Introduced as a long-lost cousin, she systematically dismantled everything. Charming, fragile, and a master manipulator, she twisted their love, turning their protective instincts to her, casting me as the jealous villain. My carefully earned affection points plummeted, and with them, my health. The pain began, a constant, gnawing reminder of their betrayal. Every attempt to remind them of our bond was met with accusation, and every tear from Clara sealed my fate.
How could they be so blind? So utterly consumed by her act that they couldn' t see the real me, dying before their eyes? Was the past we shared, the love we'd built, truly so easily erased?
As the countdown relentlessly ticked, a grim acceptance settled upon me. I was losing everything, abandoned by the very people I was fighting to live for. The fight was gone. But then, a cruel knock at the door – Daniel' s voice, impatient and cold. It was time for my final act. His Obsession, Her Freedom
Modern Three years of marriage, three years of silent fury with Blake Harrison.
Then, a nightmare: kidnapped, tortured, and brutally murdered by thugs.
But instead of the afterlife, I woke up to my own funeral party, where my loving husband was celebrating his freedom with my sister, Amelia, accusing me of faking my own death.
My family, the Millers, the very people who had once claimed to love me, stood by, silent witnesses to my humiliation, only to later join Blake in discrediting me, sending me to a mental institution.
It broke me, but in that shattering, a new strength forged; I embraced my "death," watching my essence vanish in a golden glow, ready to finally be free.
Three years later, I returned, a princess with no memory, only to be dragged back into his twisted obsession, discovering he had preserved my supposed corpse and turned my suffering into a perverse play.
He confessed his sick love, his manipulations, even admitting he' d let me be tortured to "test" my affection.
I tried to fight, to turn his own dagger against him, but he only reveled in the pain, until General Alex Vance, a man connected to my forgotten past, burst in and rescued me.
Now, between Blake's renewed tyranny and Alex's baffling devotion, I'm finding pieces of a life I never knew, a history of longing and betrayal that demands to be explored and avenged. The Billionaire's Proxy Bride
Billionaires My life was a picture-perfect dream.
At 21, married to the successful real estate titan Marcus Thorne, I lived in a Manhattan penthouse fit for royalty.
He adored me, called me his "Muse," showering me with exquisite art and personal gestures.
I was pregnant, and our future, with its "little masterpiece" on the way, felt utterly secure.
Then I found a hidden compartment in Marcus’s antique desk, revealing a chilling secret.
Inside, a leather-bound scrapbook held dozens of photos of a woman strikingly similar to me—Isabelle Vance.
A faded concert ticket, inscribed "For Izzy, my only dream, my eternal muse," confirmed my worst fear.
My entire relationship, every tender word, every grand gesture, was a meticulously crafted lie, a painful echo of his past love.
Humiliation and devastation washed over me, a physical blow to my gut.
I, his beloved "Muse," was merely a stand-in.
Our unborn child, conceived in this grand deception, twisted my insides.
Brad, Marcus’s best friend, accidentally revealed the truth: "Izzy’s back! Thorne’s already ditching the pregnant kid-bride!"
Isabelle herself then flooded my phone with gloating photos and videos of her and Marcus, reliving their old haunts.
Every cherished gift, every thoughtful act, was revealed to be a cruel mimicry of his love for her.
I was trapped in a gilded cage built on a lie.
How could I possibly live with this soul-crushing betrayal?
Who was I, truly, if my entire existence within this marriage had been a substitute?
The raw despair was unbearable, eclipsing everything.
My resolve hardened, brutal and swift.
I walked out of my illusionary life, leaving New York and Marcus Thorne, and began the painful process of reclaiming my own future. The Tainted Lover's Cold Comeback
Mafia I was Grayson Deleon' s secret weapon and his lover. I took a bullet for him, saved him from a cartel, and in return, he promised me a secret marriage, a life where it would always be us.
But on the night of my secret Juilliard graduation, I watched from the wings as he got down on one knee for my best friend, Camilla.
He called her "pure," a word he used to contrast with my "taint" from the cartel rescue. A leaked video later proved this wasn't just a betrayal; it was a conspiracy. I heard them laughing about their "perfectly executed plan" to get rid of me, the "distraction."
The man whose life I had saved had orchestrated my public humiliation, discarding me because of the very scars I earned for him.
My world was ashes, but from them, something cold and hard formed. I made a single call to a heritage network I'd been using to find my lost family. It was time to disappear and never be his secret again. My Grave, His Madness
Fantasy My funeral was just weeks ago, but as a ghost, I, Elara, the Governor's wife, was forced to watch the wake from the corner of my own grand ballroom.
My husband, Governor Marcus Thorne, a man whose entire career was built on my family's name and money, wasn't grieving; he was seething, convinced I had faked my death.
He believed I was hiding somewhere in our sprawling estate, playing a cruel game to deny his trusted chief of staff, Izzy, a life-saving bone marrow transplant.
But Izzy, a woman I had once taken under my wing, was lying.
Her supposed illness was a meticulously orchestrated ruse designed to deceive Marcus, fueling his obsession to find me.
As an invisible spirit, I agonizingly witnessed Marcus' s escalating madness: he systematically destroyed my family' s legacy, fired loyal staff, and brutally tormented my ten-year-old brother, Leo, all to force me out of a hiding place that didn't exist.
His depravity culminated in the desecration of my grave, only for my true, decomposing body to be dismissed by his paid medical examiner as a "random corpse."
How could my brilliant, ambitious husband be so utterly blind, a puppet in a macabre performance designed to destroy everything I held dear?
What sinister motive drove Izzy to such extreme lengths, and why was I, even in death, still the target of this malicious charade?
It wasn't until Leo, with a final, heartbreaking act of defiance, revealed the unique surgical pin embedded in my desecrated remains that Marcus's world shattered, finally exposing the horrifying truth of his own monstrous actions and setting the stage for Izzy' s chilling, triumphant reveal of her decades-long revenge and the complete collapse of his empire. His Betrayal, Her Bloom
Fantasy For centuries, I, Elara, the ancient Guardian of Redwood Creek, tied my very soul to the immense Patriarch redwood, silently protecting the Harrison family through a pact they barely understood.
James Harrison, the family heir, once seemed to respect my beloved tree and me, showing a youthful kindness that warmed my ancient heart.
But when his fiancée, Brenda Van Doren, saw nothing but lumber and obstacles in the ancient redwoods, James, once reverent, coldly ordered my life tree cut down.
Each scream of the chainsaw ripped through my essence, forcing me to watch as my centuries of life and power drained away with the felled Patriarch.
James, with Brenda by his side, mocked my agonizing pain, then further humiliated me, treating me as a mere servant and even trying to extract my very life force for Brenda' s fleeting vanity.
The centuries of silent devotion and sacrifice I'd poured into his family felt utterly wasted, reduced to a performance for their twisted entertainment.
How could the boy I had subtly guided, whose prosperity I had secretly ensured, turn to such heartless cruelty, dismissing my existence as mere superstition?
The betrayal didn't just break my pact; it shattered my being, leaving me on the brink of utter dissolution, wondering if any of his supposed care was ever real.
However, just as my fragile form began to dissipate, an ancient call from the true heart of the forest beckoned, igniting a powerful transformation within me as I ascended into a true Forest Guardian.
Now reborn, I will reclaim what was stolen and bring a reckoning to those who dared to desecrate the sacred. Eight Years Lost, Now Truly Free
Modern I gave my boyfriend, Blake, eight years of my life. I was his loyal paralegal and devoted partner, sacrificing a promotion and even a child for the future he promised us.
Then I overheard the truth from outside his office. He called me "damaged goods," laughing with the woman he gave my job to.
His cruelty escalated. He publicly humiliated me, then banished me to the firm's basement archives. When intruders attacked me there, I called him, bleeding and begging for help.
"You're being dramatic," he said, and hung up.
He left me to die. The trauma caused me to miscarry the baby I never knew I was carrying.
Lying in a hospital bed, I saw his social media post: a smiling selfie with her, captioned #Blessed.
That was the moment I decided to disappear. He thought he had broken me. He was wrong. He had just set me free. Burned Alive, Reborn Anew
Mafia The smell of gasoline and burning flesh clung to my last breath, a horrific perfume of my own end.
My wife, Olivia, and her grandmother, the woman I' d sacrificed everything to save, celebrated my agonizing death.
"You staged the kidnapping, you killed my lover and my son, how dare you still be alive!" Olivia shrieked, as flames licked at the cage they' d locked me in.
Her grandmother, my supposed savior, added, "You couldn' t give me a child, so you targeted my grandson, I' ll teach you a lesson you\'ll never forget!"
I died watching them smile, consumed by fire, bewildered by their monstrous accusations.
I had given my family' s entire fortune to rescue her grandmother, even taken multiple stab wounds in the process.
The media had hailed me as a hero, "the ultimate proof of our love," but it meant nothing to them.
Olivia' s lover, Ethan Hayes, jealous of the attention, had tragically drowned with their son, Lucas, and they blamed me.
They smiled as I burned alive, a fool who gave everything and received only contempt.
Then, a frantic, insistent ringing pierced the fiery memory.
My eyes snapped open.
I wasn't in a burning cage; I was in my bed, the one I shared with Olivia.
The calendar on my phone screamed a terrifying truth: it was the fifth anniversary of my marriage, the very day her grandmother was kidnapped.
I was back, forced to relive the nightmare.
But this time, I wouldn't be the fuel for their fire.
I silenced the phone, the urgent ringing of the kidnappers cut short.
This time, their fate was their own. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. 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. Ex-Husband's Denial: Wife Reclaims Her Shattered Life
Er Ye Fiona prepared a candlelit anniversary dinner, scallops glistening on porcelain, champagne chilling beside a "Three Years" card—her secret pregnancy swelling beneath her silk dress.
The doorbell rang, but it was just a delivery. Then Emmanuel called: his ex, Carley Marshall, crashed her car. He blew off their night.
Cramps hit like a vise. She collapsed, blood soaking her gown, screaming into the phone: "I'm losing the baby!" Emmanuel scoffed, "Fake ploy for attention," and hung up—Carley's voice cooed in the background.
Paramedics rushed her to ER for emergency D&C. The baby was gone. Audrey saved her life. Emmanuel sent lilies with a card: "Stop dramatizing."
She signed divorce papers. He laughed it off, contested everything, froze her out of hotels and clubs. Dragged her from the St. Regis by force, dumped her sobbing on a rainy sidewalk with her suitcase in puddles—Gus drove off without looking back.
He thought she was manipulating him, playing jealous games for attention. But she'd truly carried his child, bled out alone while he comforted Carley. How could he not believe her, even after the hospital proof? Why twist her agony into lies?
Now blacklisted and broke, Fiona clutched her grandfather's antique restoration tools. No more begging—she'd expose his cruelty, rebuild from the ashes, and make him regret ever underestimating her. 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. 
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