Mo Xiaoxiao
13 Published Stories
Mo Xiaoxiao's Books and Stories
Reborn From Fire: The Mafia King's Bride
Mafia The fire that melted my skin should have been the end of my story.
I had been the perfect mafia wife. I obeyed my father, I married Dante Genovese, and I even birthed his daughter.
But in return, he locked us in a safehouse and lit a match.
He watched from behind a steel door as I burned to ash, all because his mistress, Sofia, was jealous and wanted me out of the picture.
My own brother had spiked my champagne to ensure I was too weak to fight back.
I died screaming, my lungs filling with smoke and the scent of my husband's betrayal.
But when I gasped awake, I wasn't in hell.
I was in the bridal suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
My hands were smooth. My skin was unblemished. The date on the digital clock burned red in the darkness.
It was three years ago.
It was the night of our engagement. The night it all began.
Dante was in the bathroom right now, humming contentedly as he washed off the scent of his mistress before coming to claim his "lawful prize."
In my past life, I waited for him. I let him take me, thinking my submission would earn his love.
Not this time.
I didn't run to the lobby for help. My family had sold me out.
Instead, I took the elevator to the Penthouse floor.
To the territory of the Outfit.
To the door of Matteo Moretti—The Butcher. The only man ruthless enough to make Dante tremble.
When the door opened, revealing a man with eyes like ice and a gun in his hand, I didn't flinch.
I fell to my knees and looked up at the monster who could save me.
"I am Elena Vitiello," I whispered, the drug in my veins setting my blood on fire.
"And I have a proposition." Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge
Modern I was the "crazy girl" my family sent to a survivalist commune in Utah to rot. Four years later, I returned to Manhattan with a titanium USB drive and a heart full of ice, ready to blackmail the one man who could burn my family to the ground.
But I underestimated how much they hated me. My fiancé, Preston, was already laundering money through my inheritance and sleeping with my replacement. He didn't even flinch when I showed him the evidence of his crimes.
Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, smashed my phone, and shoved me out of his moving Lincoln into a midnight storm. I hit the wet pavement hard, my knees scraping against the asphalt as I watched him drive away, laughing about how I was a "dirt-poor exile" that nobody wanted.
Within minutes, my credit cards were flagged as stolen and my father’s lawyers were drafting a statement calling me mentally unstable. I was left shivering in a puddle of oily sludge, wearing a ruined Chanel suit, with no money, no home, and no one to hear me scream.
I couldn't understand how they could be so cruel. I was their flesh and blood, yet they treated me like a broken toy to be discarded in the trash. I was a "distressed asset" in a city that only valued gold.
That’s when a black armored SUV pulled to the curb. King Wagner—the ruthless shark of Wall Street and Preston’s own uncle—looked at my muddy face with cold, calculating eyes. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a leash.
"You belong to me now," he whispered, pulling me into the dry warmth of his car. By the next morning, he had announced our engagement to the world, turning me into the very weapon that would slit my family's throat. Abandoned In Paris, Reborn In London
Modern For three years, I played second fiddle to my boyfriend' s "childhood friend," Eve.
When Damion finally whisked me away to Paris to rekindle our dying spark, I thought things might change.
Instead, the moment we arrived, he abandoned me in the hotel lobby without my passport because Eve called with a "crisis."
I spent my first night in Paris stranded and penniless while he rushed to comfort her.
When he finally returned the next morning, he didn't apologize.
He flew into a rage because I' d sought safety in an old college friend' s room, accusing me of cheating while he still smelled like her cheap perfume.
He actually punched the only man who helped me, screaming that I was the toxic one.
The gaslighting was the final straw. I didn't feel anger anymore, just a cold, liberating indifference.
While he begged on his knees, quitting his job and promising to cut Eve off forever, I simply walked away.
I boarded a plane to London for a promotion I' d once turned down for him, leaving him with nothing but his regrets and the "friend" he chose over me. Frozen Cargo, A Betrayed Wife
Modern My husband made me ride in the freezing cargo hold because his mistress wanted peace and quiet.
I died back there, clutching the "vitamins" she gave me, while they laughed in the front seat.
It wasn't until my frozen body was found that Atlas realized he had just killed his own wife and unborn child.
Ten years ago, I saved Atlas from a car crash that left me with the mind of a child.
He hated me for it.
He treated me like a burden and let his mistress, Kacie, feed me high-dose abortion pills disguised as health supplements.
When the police uncovered the truth, Atlas' s world shattered.
He discovered Kacie had never been pregnant-but I was.
Consumed by a belated, violent rage, he executed Kacie with his own hands and demanded the death penalty for himself.
He thought death would be his redemption.
He thought he could find me on the other side and make amends.
But when his spirit finally reached out to mine, begging for forgiveness, I didn't feel the love I had yearned for in life.
I felt nothing.
"Go away, Atlas," I whispered, watching his soul crumble.
"I'm finally free." His Secret Wife, His Public Shame
Billionaires My boss shoved me into a room to handle a VIP patient who was threatening suicide. She was Evelin Bennett, a famous fashion influencer, hysterical over her fiancé.
But when she tearfully showed me a photo of the man she loved, my world shattered. It was my husband of two years, Ben, a kind construction worker I'd found after an accident left him with amnesia. Except in this photo, he was Bernard Logan, a ruthless tycoon standing in front of a skyscraper bearing his name.
Just then, the real Bernard Logan walked in, dressed in a suit that cost more than my car.
He strode past me as if I didn't exist and wrapped his arms around Evelin.
"Baby, I'm here," he murmured, his voice the same deep, soothing tone he used on me after a bad day. "I'll never leave you again. I promise."
He had made that exact promise to me a hundred times over.
He kissed her forehead, declaring he loved only her-a performance for an audience of one: me. He was showing me that our entire marriage, our life together during his amnesia, was a secret to be buried.
As he carried her from the room, his cold eyes met mine one last time.
The message was clear: You are a problem to be erased. Shattered Vows, Unspoken Love
Billionaires For six years, I devoted my life to my wife, tech CEO Isabella Stone. After I saved her from a fire, I became the sole caregiver for her comatose mother, putting my own life on hold so she could build her empire.
Then she went on national television and told the world our marriage was just a debt of gratitude. She never loved me.
That same night, her mother died. I tried to call her, but her ex-fiancé—the man who abandoned her in that fire—answered the phone.
She was with him, pregnant with his child, while her mother died alone in a hospital.
At the funeral, she collapsed and lost the baby. Her lover screamed that it was my fault, and she stood by his side, letting him blame me.
I divorced her. I thought it was over.
But as we left the lawyer's office, her lover tried to run me over. Isabella pushed me out of the way, taking the hit herself. With her last breath, she confessed the truth.
"The baby... he was yours, Izzy. He was always yours." My Farewell To A Wicked Wife
Modern The hospital corridor smelled of disinfectant, quiet except for my wife Sarah's voice through the door. She' d claimed amnesia after a car accident, unable to remember me, her husband of five years.
But what I heard next wasn't confusion. "It' s just for seven days. Then I'll say my memory came back. He can't blame a 'sick' person, right?" Mark Davis, a junior developer at our company, responded, "Aren't you worried he'll just cut you off? Financially, I mean."
Sarah laughed, a chilling sound. "David? He loves me too much. He'll feel guilty and give me anything I want. This is the only way to get him to step down so you can take over the Alpha Corp project. Once you're in charge, everything will be ours." My world shattered. The woman was a stranger.
The next day, Sarah, with a fake bandage, announced Mark as acting CTO, thrusting a temporary leave form at me. Everyone watched, expecting an explosion. They knew I co-founded the company, built its technical foundation from scratch.
I signed the papers without a word. "Okay," I said, my voice even, leaving Sarah bewildered. Did they truly believe I was blind to their scheme?
She had no idea. The Alpha Corp project, her intended prize for Mark, had a one-hundred-million-dollar penalty for failure. A seven-day time bomb she had just armed herself. This wasn't merely her plan anymore; it was mine too. My Monster Husband, My Salvation
Romance My brother, Ethan, was my whole world, the only light in a home cloaked in shadows, a world where my stepsister, Chloe, reigned supreme, pulling the strings of my father and the man I loved, Dr. Liam Miller.
The call came on a Tuesday, pulling me from my mother' s art gallery, and dragging me into a family meeting that would shatter what little peace I had left.
Chloe, with a chilling smile, revealed her plan: to marry me off to Noah Blackwood, a reclusive billionaire rumored to be monstrously disfigured, all to settle her own failed engagement and save my father' s crumbling finances.
My world crumbled further when I realized Liam, my childhood friend, the man I had painted a thousand times in my dreams, sided with them, his eyes cold and judgmental, dismissing my pleas as "selfish."
Then, with a terrifying suddenness, Ethan collapsed, his small body going limp in my arms; a horrifying consequence of an overdose of his heart medication that Chloe had orchestrated, and Liam, ever so blind, had enabled.
My rage wasn't just cold anymore; it was a consuming fire, burning away years of fear and submission, leaving me with one clear thought: if I was to be a pawn, I would play this game to win, not just for Ethan' s life, but for my own freedom.
I would marry Noah Blackwood, but not as their sacrifice; I would use his power to burn their world to the ground and finally claim justice. When Your Child Becomes Your Killer
Modern The last thing I remembered was the bitter taste of the tea my daughter, Stella, had made for me.
I died slowly, my body betraying me while my mind screamed, alone in a secluded D.C. apartment. Stella, the brilliant Yale graduate, the political commentator I had molded into a star, watched.
Just a day before, her viral video had already shredded my reputation, painting me as a monster.
The poison she gave me simply finished the job. Dying by the hand of your own child, the one you sacrificed everything for, is a special kind of hell.
There was no confusion, only a chilling clarity as my life drained away, her cold, detached eyes the last thing I saw. How could the daughter I pushed to greatness pay me back with death and public humiliation? Was this truly the end of everything?
Then, with a gasp, I woke up.
The familiar smell of old wood and fried onions filled my lungs.
My hands, strong and calloused, not the useless claws of my deathbed. And there she was: a seventeen-year-old Stella, rebellious and sharp, clutching that art school acceptance letter.
I knew this moment. This was where the fatal battle of my first life began, the path leading directly to my murder. This time, everything would be different. A New Horizon After Her Betrayal
Romance My marriage to Seraphina had rules: five years of waiting for full moons and "energetic alignment."
During a raging wildfire, I found my wife, Seraphina, intimately huddled with another man, Julian, and a young boy, Leo, looking like a blissful family.
She didn't care I'd discovered her betrayal; she just told me I was 'upsetting the harmony' and kicked me out of my own home.
She even refused my divorce, claiming it would 'disrupt her karmic path' and then abandoned me bleeding in a cafe after I was injured saving her, to coddle a child who wasn't even hers.
Was my love and sacrifice truly so worthless, so easily discarded for a life built on her curated lies and calculated manipulations?
But then I saw the pictures and videos of her secret life, the raw, unhinged laughter broke free-the man who loved Seraphina was dead, and a new, free me was finally born. A Decade of Lies, A Moment of Truth
Romance Ten years with Ethan, my high school sweetheart, culminated in the diamond ring I' d always dreamed of.
My engagement party buzzed with excitement, a celebration of our perfect love story.
But the dream shattered when Ethan violently shoved me at the party, his voice ice-cold.
Then, a scene I' ll never erase: Ethan, on our marital bed, with Chloe-my old friend, now my bitter enemy.
And the chilling truth: his proposal wasn't for me at all.
The ring I wore bore Chloe' s initials.
Our apartment, my future, everything, was meticulously designed for her, a cruel charade.
He ripped down our photos, denied my pain, and then, he slapped me, demanding I apologize to the very person destroying my world.
My own parents, my mentors, had even distanced themselves, thanks to Chloe's past manipulations-all known to Ethan.
I was a pawn, a placeholder in their twisted game of revenge and manipulation.
How could the man who promised to love and protect me conspire with the woman who stole my art scholarship, the woman he knew was my deepest wound, to orchestrate such a public humiliation?
But no more.
On the very day he planned to discard me at the altar, I decided to reclaim my story.
I canceled the wedding, booked a flight overseas, and exposed their entire deceitful plot to his horrified family.
This wasn't an ending; it was my defiant beginning. Too Late For Regret, Mr. Vanderbilt
Billionaires The sterile scent of rubbing alcohol was too familiar. For five years, I'd been pregnant with Ethan Vanderbilt’s child, only to lose them, each time beneath the gaze of his wife.
This time, Olivia, his wife, stood over me, a cruel smile pasted on her face, a gleaming needle in her hand. Ethan watched from the doorway, just like always. After the screams and excruciating pain, I lost not only my baby but also my ability to ever have children again following a forced hysterectomy.
The news broke my father, who leaped to his death because he couldn't bear my torment. At his funeral, Olivia forced me to my knees, then kicked me relentlessly until my surgical wounds burst, leaving me bleeding uncontrollably. She even took photos of my battered body, laughing as she suggested I sell myself to pay for his burial. Then, she deliberately scattered his ashes into the mud.
How could Ethan, the man I once loved, stand by and watch me endure such depravity? Why was I trapped in this living hell, systematically tortured, robbed of my children, my body, and now my father, all based on some horrifying, unknown lie?
As Olivia rained blows upon my head in the pouring rain, her hateful laughter echoing, I fumbled for my phone. There was one person who knew the true story behind Olivia’s venom, the real reason for her twisted revenge. With my last breath, I pressed record. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother
Nero Daniels My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive. His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms
Temple Madison For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.* My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." A BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA LORD
Nooriva "Where do you think you're going, huh? You're mine now, Little Mouse. Get back in the house!" Vincenzo's voice boomed, sending chills down Victoria's spine as her world seemed to crumble.
Victoria Washington was shattered-betrayed by her boyfriend who dumped her the day before his wedding, to her sister. She was left humiliated, mocked by everyone. But fate had other plans for her.
She's broken, he's lost. She's full of fear, and he's the monster. Yet, somehow, he's her light while he remains in darkness.
Vincenzo Dante will stop at nothing to tarnish his family's name for forcing him into a marriage he never wanted. But what he doesn't realize is that his new wife is stronger than she seems-too broken to bend under his cruelty. But when love begins to bloom, and secrets start to unfold, what will happen next?
The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." 
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