Meng Fanhua
15 Published Stories
Meng Fanhua's Books and Stories
Trapped By The Coldhearted Billionaire's Game
Mafia Cassidy Fox woke up in a freezing, luxurious penthouse that wasn't hers.
Before she could clear her spinning head, ruthless billionaire Jaret Taylor threw a phone onto the bed.
The screen showed an explicit photo of her boyfriend, Burt, tangled in sheets with Jaret's fiancée.
Burt had fled the moment things got complicated, leaving Cassidy behind as a scapegoat to face a monster.
Jaret demanded an eye for an eye.
He trapped her in the room, choked her until she nearly blacked out, and threatened to completely destroy her career if she refused to submit to him.
When she still fought back and escaped, Jaret's men captured Burt and lured her to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of a hurricane.
Burt was tied to a rusted pillar, beaten and sobbing in terror.
He didn't care about what degrading acts Jaret would force her to perform to pay off his debt.
"Cassidy, please, just listen to them! We can figure this out, just don't let them hurt me!"
Cassidy felt a suffocating wave of despair and injustice.
She had risked her life driving through a deadly storm to save the man who had once saved her from drowning, only to realize she was sacrificing herself for a selfish coward who had already betrayed her.
Jaret sat at the poker table, looking at her rain-soaked body with a cruel smirk.
"Every hand I win, you do exactly what we ask. If you manage to win a hand, we cut off one of Burt's fingers."
Looking at the pathetic man begging for his life, Cassidy slowly picked up her cards. The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Comeback
Billionaires For three years, Corinna swallowed her pride and lived as the obedient, invisible wife of billionaire Holland Warner.
But at a high-society gala, someone shoved a phone in her face. The headline screamed that her husband had just bought a $50 million penthouse for his mistress.
At that exact moment, her private phone rang. Her brother had collapsed in the ICU. The hospital needed five hundred thousand dollars by midnight, or they would pull the plug.
She desperately called her trust fund manager, only to be told her allowance was frozen. When she called Holland, his mistress answered, laughing at her pathetic begging while the shower ran in the background.
Fifty million for a love nest, but not a single dime to save Corinna's dying brother.
When she finally woke up, signed the divorce papers, and left to rebuild her life as a jewelry designer, Holland didn't let her go. He used his Wall Street empire to evict her, cut off her suppliers, and blacklist her brand overnight.
Corinna didn't understand why he was so determined to crush her. He never loved her, so why did he think his money gave him the absolute right to control her soul and watch her drown?
Instead of breaking down, she put on a cheap thrift-store suit and walked straight into the Warner Group headquarters.
She slammed a stack of his family's illegal financial records right onto his mahogany desk.
"Sign the divorce papers,"
Corinna told him coldly.
"Or I will show the world what kind of monster runs this empire." The Price Of Their Cruel Deceit
Billionaires Three years after my fiancé, Kaden, left me at the altar, he crashed back into my life. He found me pregnant, living in the grand mansion he still believed was his birthright.
He wasn't alone. My ex-best friend, Chelsey, stood beside him, her eyes scanning the home with pure greed. They cornered me, their faces twisted with rage, demanding to know who the father of my "bastard" child was.
When I refused to answer their insane accusations, their questions turned to violence. They slapped me, shoved shards of broken glass into my mouth, and pinned me to the floor.
Chelsey smiled as she drove her stiletto heel into my stomach. Then Kaden delivered a final, brutal kick.
In that horrifying instant, I felt the tiny, fluttering life inside me go still. They had murdered my son.
They laughed when I sobbed that the baby belonged to Kaden's older brother, Angus. "Everyone knows he's sterile," Kaden sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "The car accident ten years ago made sure of that." They were so blinded by a decade-old rumor they refused to believe the impossible truth.
But just as they threw my broken body into the pool to drown, a car smashed through the estate gates. It was Angus. And they were about to learn the devastating truth: he wasn't just the baby's father. He was my husband. His Wife, Her Lover, Their Daughter
Romance The first time I knew my marriage was over was when I saw my wife Angela and our daughter Chaney laughing with Giovanni Brown at the private airfield. For ten years, I had been the perfect political husband, sacrificing my music career to be a stay-at-home dad and Angela' s smiling prop.
Then, this morning, I found the hotel receipts. Dozens of them, stretching back a decade, always two rooms booked but only one used, always on nights she was supposedly at a "political retreat" with her campaign manager, Giovanni. My world shattered.
At the airfield, Angela adjusted Giovanni' s tie, her smile warm and intimate, a smile I hadn' t seen in years. Chaney held Giovanni' s hand, looking up at him with adoration. I was the intruder. When I confronted them, Angela' s face paled, then flushed with anger, not shame. Chaney scowled, screaming, "Daddy, you' re embarrassing us!" She then delivered the final, killing strike, clinging to Giovanni and yelling, "You' re just a useless stay-at-home dad! Uncle Gio helps Mommy with important things!"
The humiliation was a physical thing, hot and suffocating. Angela didn' t defend me; she agreed. I realized I was just a service provider, a convenient accessory they no longer needed.
They thought I was nothing without them. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. Beyond the Fire: A Wife's Ultimatum
Billionaires They said our story was for the ages. Olivia and Ethan, childhood sweethearts who built an empire, Miller-Reed Tech, from nothing. Our marriage was supposed to be the final, perfect brick in our carefully constructed life.
Then, a week before our wedding, Ethan confessed to an affair with an intern, Chloe, dismissing it as a "mistake." I buried the pain, believing our love was strong enough to mend any crack.
Three years later, during a fire at our company, I saved Ethan from a falling beam, only to be crushed myself. He, however, ran past me, bleeding and pinned, to comfort Chloe who had only twisted her ankle. Later, in the hospital, he didn' t know I was near death, while diverting top medical teams for Chloe' s minor injury.
The betrayal escalated when Chloe brazenly visited my hospital bed. She flaunted Ethan' s devotion, admitted to setting the fire herself to make him a "hero," and then dropped the bombshell: she was pregnant with Ethan's child. She mocked my "cold bed," stating I was merely a "business partner," not a wife.
When Ethan finally confronted me, he saw my horrific injuries. But instead of remorse, he rationalized his neglect, claiming I was "too strong" to need him, unlike "fragile" Chloe. He begged for forgiveness, but when Chloe re-entered, attacking me, he shielded her, blaming me for "upsetting" her.
The ultimate choice was clear. With cold resolve, I gave Ethan an ultimatum: sign an uncontested divorce for half the company, or face an arson investigation against Chloe and a complicity charge against him. The clock was ticking. When Home Becomes A Nightmare
Modern My daughter, Lily, was just one month old when I hired Ms. Jenkins, a live-in nanny.
As CEO of my own tech startup, I needed help, and she came highly recommended.
But from the moment she arrived, she started subtly undermining me.
She criticized my career, told me "a mother's place is with her child," and openly suggested her daughter would be a better wife for my husband, Mark.
I tried to set boundaries, but her manipulative behavior escalated, culminating in her attempting to "ward off evil spirits" by shaking my baby with a pair of sharp scissors.
I immediately fired her.
But then, Ms. Jenkins put on a masterful show of emotional blackmail, pleading with Mark that she had nowhere to go.
Mark, ever the soft touch, sided with her, portraying me as heartless for wanting rid of a woman who had just endangered our child.
He guilttripped me, leveraging my privileged background against his own humble roots, twisting my compassion into a weakness.
Trapped, and to my eternal regret, I gave her one more week.
I hadn't solved a problem; I had merely delayed a disaster.
Two weeks later, returning home from a postpartum recovery center, I found the locks changed.
My house was in chaos, occupied by Ms. Jenkins, her "perfect homemaker" daughter Tiffany, Tiffany's destructive son, and Mark' s abrasive mother.
They had trashed my home, stolen my valuables, and were arrogantly claiming it was their house, that Mark owned everything.
Then, Brenda, Mark' s mother, handed me divorce papers signed by Mark, declaring he wanted me out with nothing.
My home invaded, my property plundered, my daughter threatened, and my marriage betrayed-I was stripped of everything.
How could the man I loved, the father of my child, conspire to leave me completely destitute?
Fueled by a cold, protective rage for my daughter, I activated the hidden cameras, sending an emergency text to my father.
I signed the divorce papers, a silent promise of the battle to come.
This wasn't over; it was just beginning. When Revenge Kills, Love Prevails
Billionaires My crystal glass felt cold, a stark contrast to the stifling ballroom where hundreds of people laughed around me.
Then I saw her, Scarlett Hayes, the city' s richest heiress, moving directly towards me, her cruel smile widening.
She publicly humiliated me, reminding everyone how her family funded my mother' s medical bills and my education. She' d always made it clear what I was: her servant, her puppet.
I was nothing more than a stand-in, a substitute for Liam, her obsessed-over step-brother. The constant abuse, the public shaming – it was all her game.
But then my phone rang. It was the hospital.
"Mr. Miller?" a nurse' s voice said, urgent. "It' s your mother."
A cold dread washed over me. I raced to the hospital, but it was too late.
My mother was gone. The payment for her emergency medication had been canceled, that very afternoon. By Scarlett.
She had done this. Her petty revenge had cost my mother her life.
The grief was a physical blow, but beneath it, something else simmered. The deal was broken. I had nothing left to lose.
I walked back to her mansion, left her key and her credit card on the table.
"My mother is dead," I said, my voice flat.
"Well, that' s not my problem," she retorted.
"No," I said, looking her directly in the eye for the first time without fear. "It' s not. Not anymore."
I turned and walked out, leaving my life as her puppet behind. For the first time in a year, I felt like I could breathe.
I was free. Or so I thought. My Family, My Betrayal
Modern The heavy iron gate groaned shut, a sound I knew too well after five years inside.
I stood there, a single duffel bag holding all that was left of my old life, traded my prison gray for ill-fitting civilian clothes.
Then a sleek black car pulled up, and Maestro Chen, the man who saw something in my prison-yard music, told me we were going home-my old home.
But "home" had already moved on, without me.
Liam Carter, a man with my face, had stolen everything: my fiancée Olivia, my family' s love, even my dog Apollo.
My family-my parents, Robert and Sarah, and my sister Emily-they didn' t just embrace him, they erased me, the painful reminder of a tragedy they preferred to forget.
They even cheered as Liam, the imposter who now wore my own sweater, feigned a heart attack to steal their sympathy, completely overshadowing my unwelcome return.
The word "family" turned to ash on my tongue as I realized I was nothing more than a ghost in my own house, a forgotten inconvenience.
I was a punchline to a cruel joke, a fugitive framed for arson by the very imposter my family rallied to protect.
They chose the lie, leaving me to burn, and then branded me a violent, unstable criminal to the world.
Completely alone, disowned, and hunted, I was staring into an abyss of betrayal I hadn't imagined possible.
But as I looked at the embers of my destroyed past, a cold certainty ignited: I wouldn't just disappear; I would rise.
I became Lloyd, severing every last tie, not merely to escape, but to orchestrate a crescendo of truth-a final, devastating performance to reclaim my name and expose the monsters they truly were. His Recipe, Their Ruin
Romance The roar of the crowd was deafening, chanting the name of our brewery, "Chadwick Ales!" We' d just won the biggest award in the country for my beer, a recipe I' d perfected, a dream my wife Nicole and I built from the ground up. I was about to go on stage to accept our gold medal.
But Nicole, my wife and CEO, stepped directly in front of me, blocking my path, and pulled her brand manager, Wesley, into the spotlight instead. He, the smooth-talking influencer who knew more about hashtags than hops, wrapped an intimate, possessive arm around her waist as cameras flashed, capturing them accepting my award.
Afterward, Nicole flatly announced I was being forced into a "sabbatical" due to "rumors" about her and Wesley, claiming it was for my own good. Wesley, smirking, handed me a box containing my personal effects, including my precious recipe notebooks - the soul of our brewery.
My heart didn' t just ache; it was a heavy, cold stone in my gut. The betrayal was so complete, so cold, I was left with only a quiet, resolute clarity. Then I went home to find Nicole and Wesley throwing a party in our house, celebrating their victory.
It was all a game, she whispered, trying to placate me. But I was done playing. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the divorce papers I' d had drawn up weeks ago. I just needed a reason to sign them. And she had given it to me, cold and clear. Celestial Heart, Mortal Betrayal
Fantasy I was Jocelyn Chavez, a celestial being on Earth for a sacred trial of love, fated to marry Pastor Ethan Lester in our quiet Pacific Northwest town.
Just hours before our wedding, Ethan came to me, his face cold, demanding I become a daily blood donor for my adoptive sister, Tara.
Tara had spun a malicious lie, claiming she saved him from a car crash when in truth, my forbidden celestial powers healed him, nearly destroying me.
He accused me of selfishness and drama, echoing Tara's cruel accusations that I had drugged him, then watched as my adoptive parents forced me to bleed myself daily, my life force draining away for their lies and greed.
I was dying, betrayed by the man I loved and the family who raised me, unable to reveal the truth of my divine nature due to ancient celestial law.
As my mortal body faded, I chose to sever my ties to this cruel world and return to the Celestial Realm, even if it meant facing a punishing penance, rather than enduring this slow, unjust demise. The Art of Un-Making: A Star's Vicious Comeback
Romance Eight years.
That' s how long I poured my soul into my music, my career, and the woman who molded me, Cassidy Vance.
We were a Nashville power couple, or so I thought.
My latest album, months in the making, sat unlistened on her desk while she flirted with some record label suit, her back always turned to me.
Then, a text. A grainy photo of Cassidy boarding a private jet with Cal Rivers, the new country-pop sensation, her "new project." She dismissed me with an ice-cold phone call about an "emergency meeting," then hung up.
Hours later, her Instagram shattered what was left of my world: a cozy cabin, a glass of wine, and a caption announcing Cal as her new "#muse."
My phone exploded. Public humiliation, accusations of being a jilted lover-it was relentless.
She called, not to apologize, but to threaten: "I made you, Liam. Don' t forget I can un-make you." To prove it, she froze my accounts, then revealed she' d sold my childhood home, the place where I wrote my first songs, for scrap. Everything I was, everything I loved, turned to dust.
How could someone I loved so deeply, someone I built my entire life around, betray me so completely?
My career, my home, my identity-all wiped away for a younger, more marketable model. Why did I ever trust her? How could she be so cold, so calculating?
Whispering a silent prayer to the voice in my head, "The Guide," I finally gave in: "Sever my love for her." Four years later, after surgically removing every last trace of the man I was, Noah Stone returns to Nashville. And the leading judge of "Nashville' s Next Legend" is Cassidy Vance. The Phoenix Plan
Sci-fi My phone buzzed on the morning of my SATs.
A text from Liam, my older brother, who vanished three years ago, right after his own SATs.
"Don't take the test. I'll explain. Don't tell Mom."
But the woman fussing over me wasn' t my Mom.
The scar on her neck was on the wrong side.
My 'dad' wore his watch on the wrong wrist.
They were imposters, eerily calm, forcing me towards that exam-the last thing Liam had endured before he disappeared.
Then, Liam's best friend, Ethan, seemed to join their twisted game.
He calmly told me Liam was dead and I was hallucinating.
My phone, once full of my own proof, was wiped clean.
They were systematically gaslighting me, pushing me to question my sanity.
Why were they so obsessed with this test?
What was truly happening?
Was I insane, or was it all a terrifying lie?
Just as I stood on the brink of despair, another text from Liam appeared, seemingly from nowhere.
He used our private "Phoenix Plan" code.
He confirmed my terrifying suspicion: I was trapped.
In a simulation.
And to truly escape, he wrote, "You have to jump. From where you are now."
It was my only hope.
So, I jumped. They Chose Wrong: The Trailblazer's Triumph
Fantasy My eighteenth birthday. Our small living room felt heavy with Mother Brenda' s looming expectations.
On the mahogany table, two lockets gleamed: the silver "Trailblazer Charm" and the dull gold "Wallflower Charm," said to shape destinies.
"Jessica is destined for great things," Brenda announced, pushing the Trailblazer toward my older sister.
In my first life, I meekly chose the Wallflower.
Jessica became a shining tech star, but ambition and betrayal tore her apart, dead before thirty.
My Wallflower life was a quiet whisper-unremarkable, a "manageable" wife in my wealthy husband's shadow.
Then, Jessica' s dying breath whispered a terrible truth about the Wallflower' s hidden power. Her warning painted a target; the same opportunists found me. My quiet life ended with a brutal, sudden stop.
I' d believed the Wallflower offered refuge, an easy existence. Instead, it delivered manipulation and an invisible death. It was a gilded cage.
The injustice burned fiercely. Was this cherished "charm" truly a curse, a deceptive lure for us both?
Suddenly, my eyes snapped open.
The oppressive living room, my eighteenth birthday, the lockets still gleaming.
Brenda's familiar favoritism began. But this time, Jessica' s greedy gaze was fixed on the Wallflower. She remembered too.
This choice wasn't about destiny-it was about survival. This time, I' d rewrite our story. From Neglected Wife to Tech Empress
Modern The spotlight hit Ethan, and the crowd cheered for our AI launch, the culmination of years of *my* groundbreaking work.
But my world shattered the instant his eyes, full of an affection he hadn't shown me in years, flickered to his assistant, Chloe, as he credited *her* with cracking *my* core algorithm.
That public lie, that possessive look mirroring my deceitful father, was a searing betrayal, instantly extinguishing the future of our unborn child.
The applause for *her* stock options felt like a funeral dirge for *my* genius; I walked out, terminating my pregnancy, then served him divorce papers.
His hand meeting my face was the final, brutal confirmation of his blindness and my freedom from everything we built.
How could one careless look unravel a decade, erase my professional identity, and destroy a family?
My unwavering truth compass guided me: I called an old friend, ready to build an ethical AI empire, armed with the intellectual property Ethan thought he owned.
Now, as his company collapses, he will finally face the agonizing truth of losing everything he never truly saw. You might like
The Biker's Mistake: Return Of The Heiress
Wu Li For four years, I secretly poured my family's trust fund into the Schwartz MC, acting as the President's Old Lady and the club's private ATM.
But when Daryl returned from his cross-state run, he didn't come back alone.
He brought home a blonde mistress and a four-year-old boy with his exact same gray eyes.
"She gave me an heir. From today on, she is the official Old Lady of this chapter."
He expected me to step down to a shared club girl, demanding I stay in the grease pit to tune their bikes and pay their bills.
When I cut off their vendor accounts and demanded my millions back, his family showed their true, parasitic colors.
Daryl and his mother locked me inside my own heavily reinforced workshop.
Through the ventilation shaft, I heard them plotting their sickening next move.
They couldn't kill me because they needed my wealth and my engine patents to survive on the highway.
Instead, they planned to slip tranquilizers into my water, force Daryl on me, and get me pregnant so I would be legally tied to him forever.
"A woman with a baby never walks away," his mother sneered.
They thought locking me in the dark would break my spirit and turn me into their obedient slave.
But they had no idea they had locked me inside a fully stocked chemical armory.
I grabbed the high-grade racing oxidizers and industrial solvents from my workbench.
They wanted a private party tonight, so I was going to make sure they never forgot the fire. Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." Betrayed by My Boyfriend, Claimed by the Mafia Boss
Krystal Catherine loved Marco with all her heart.
Until she discovered that he had betrayed her with her own sister.
Instead of defending Catherine, her family blamed her for standing in the way of their happiness. To them, she was nothing more than an unwanted daughter who had ruined the love story between Marco and the sister they had always favored.
So Catherine gave them exactly what they wanted.
She gave up Marco. She gave up the family that had never truly seen her as one of their own. Just when she thought her life couldn't get any worse, her parents sold her for twenty thousand dollars to an old, ugly man who had already been married once.
Catherine thought her life was over.
Then a stranger appeared and offered her a way out.
His name was Lorenzo.
He offered Catherine a contract marriage.
He needed a wife.
She needed protection.
It seemed like a simple arrangement, and Catherine never expected it to change her life forever.Because she didn't know who Lorenzo really was.
To the world, Lorenzo was a ruthless billionaire and the heir to one of the country's most powerful business empires.
Behind closed doors, he was far more dangerous.
He was the heir to a Mafia dynasty, a man who controlled an empire built on blood, fear, and absolute power.
When Lorenzo offered Catherine a marriage of convenience, she accepted without hesitation.
He needed a wife.
She needed protection.
Neither of them wanted love.
At least, that was what they told themselves.
But after Catherine became Mrs. Romano, Lorenzo's rules began to change. He wanted to know where she went, who she spoke to, and which man dared look at her for too long. The more Catherine tried to keep their marriage strictly business, the more possessive Lorenzo became.
He no longer wanted a temporary wife.
He wanted Catherine completely.
Then Marco finally realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life and came back for her. He expected Catherine to still be the woman who waited for him, forgave him, and accepted whatever affection he was willing to offer.
But Catherine was no longer that woman.
The daughter her family discarded had become the wife of the most dangerous man in the underworld.
And Lorenzo Romano would burn the world down before he let anyone take his wife away. His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride
Priority I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them. 
/1/114566/coverorgin.jpg?v=7543cde38a202c7c8317deb46ec33469&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113324/coverorgin.jpg?v=ff677c7ca661420c3ff4449d65200d63&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/93925/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a15f9d972afd801566c5a3627b9a7e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89115/coverorgin.jpg?v=3a825ba83ae4bbe009600d903333eab9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86540/coverorgin.jpg?v=385771374af2e2648e9355b2e084c425&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85722/coverorgin.jpg?v=8adf2246b0c4cc59ad6423e1f695641f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85365/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c60b5c786fedfa459ecd795c41764f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84587/coverorgin.jpg?v=07fde86fba783d113690a08f8ccd2321&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84133/coverorgin.jpg?v=6b674f90bccb440d3f7fc6a3b04fbe9a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83933/coverorgin.jpg?v=b58742f8909246d663d7fae931280afb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83790/coverorgin.jpg?v=ed22af583e7ef229fce3292294572618&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82634/coverorgin.jpg?v=aa6d2f77dd675cd596f73058b9e0bb7b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81303/coverorgin.jpg?v=d70f424cc3d2001675d81577c1ecd1f1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80739/coverorgin.jpg?v=d60e87344365afc144c6c415f506748e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18734/coverorgin.jpg?v=1919c7ff63919c7399bf79cecd0c8297&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/130058/coverorgin.jpg?v=9bf30cd1f272508c16a288b18103eb75&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/109835/coverorgin.jpg?v=347b6bc9e1f7867c275e6614a6b689ab&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=164013c02dfb792cf8a9a1af73947c2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/131527/coverorgin.jpg?v=f68f55732b652de9b6b58595d3e984ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110543/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f0ee157aa0330f018878a364164f099&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114602/coverorgin.jpg?v=647b8ec2327f2ef98bb0fad7973e3408&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/54953/coverorgin.jpg?v=7441efa32fb71b51c0210df6bda95ea6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=7234b1637f8eea10bd4b1cd4629a74a1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80559/coverorgin.jpg?v=91a41c41f0acb4e80b9e053cf8488371&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116506/coverorgin.jpg?v=cec867ee481280cf1b43282a37c44f01&imageMogr2/format/webp)