Quye Xiaofang
12 Published Stories
Quye Xiaofang's Books and Stories
No Longer Her Fool
Romance Ethan Vanderbilt, heir to a formidable real estate empire, believed he had it all: a thriving business, a sophisticated life, and Isabella Hawthorne, the woman he saved from a shipwreck years ago at the cost of his own future children.
His perfect world shattered during their engagement party when Isabella confessed she was pregnant with his rival's baby, then pressed an antique dagger to his abdomen, cruelly demanding he claim the child as his own, rubbing salt in the wound of his infertility.
The ultimate humiliation came after I found her with her lover, Liam Spencer, in our penthouse; she pushed me, splitting my head open, then had her guards chain me outside on our 50th-story terrace during a raging storm, casually dismissing our entire relationship as a mere "dynastic necessity."
Lying bleeding and soaking wet, listening to her dismiss our life, my decades of devotion, my profound love died, replaced by a chilling clarity and an unyielding rage; how could any human be so cruel, so calculating, after everything I sacrificed for her?
But instead of breaking, that betrayal ignited a fire; I walked away from the wreckage of our life, and now, my ex-fiancée, who thought she held all the cards, is about to learn that a Vanderbilt, scorned and humiliated, doesn't just break—he rebuilds, he retaliates, and he truly lives, with a new bride and a new empire, leaving her with nothing but regret. A Twisted Love: Betrayal's Bitter Taste
Modern On my husband Heath's birthday, I sent him a gift: the preserved embryo of the child I had just aborted.
It was my revenge. He had framed my father, driving him to prison and my mother to her grave, all for his mistress, Ember.
When he stormed into our apartment, his face twisted with rage, he slammed me against the counter. "You monster! How could you destroy our child?"
"You forfeited that right the moment you chose Ember over us," I spat back.
But my defiance only led to more horror. He had me committed to a mental asylum where Ember, the architect of my family's ruin, tortured me with electroshock therapy, trying to break my mind.
I feigned submission, then fought back, throwing both of us out of a third-story window. I survived; she was left in critical condition.
Lying in my hospital bed, Heath came to me not with remorse, but with a chilling demand. "Ember needs a tendon graft. You're a match. The surgery is tomorrow."
He thought he had me trapped, that he could force me to sacrifice a piece of myself for the woman who destroyed me.
But as he left to comfort his mistress, I made a call. The next morning, as he begged me not to go through with the "surgery," I walked away, leaving him in the ruins of the life he had shattered. He didn't know this wasn't a surgery. It was my escape, and the beginning of his end. The Wife He Betrayed
Billionaires My life with Liam was flawless. He was the brilliant tech entrepreneur, and I was his cherished wife, expecting our first child, Lily. Everyone said we were the perfect couple, and I believed it.
Then, a crack appeared. It started small – hushed phone calls, a secretive smile not meant for me, a promising new intern named Chloe Davis.
Today, the crack shattered our lives. Liam, who' d never missed a check-up, abandoned me for a "huge deal" and a presentation where Chloe was the star. Alone at the doctor' s, the cold dread in my heart eclipsed the perfect flicker of Lily's heartbeat on the ultrasound.
Later, a news article confirmed my worst fears. Liam, beaming with adoration, presenting Chloe with keys to a luxury car on stage. The public admiration for her "integrity" twisted the knife. It wasn' t just infidelity; it was a grotesque, public performance that humiliated me.
The shock morphed into a chilling rage when I found the pre-signed divorce agreement Liam had given me on our wedding day – an "insurance policy" for his infidelity. He had promised me everything if he ever wronged me. The man who wrote that was gone, replaced by a stranger who had made me a fool.
But the final, brutal blow came at the hospital. Drugged, I overheard Liam and the doctor. They had induced premature labor, risking Lily' s life, just so Chloe could move in as a "live-in assistant." I tried to scream, knowing instantly they were going to take my baby.
They thought I was weak, broken. But as the horror consumed me, a thought pierced through the haze: the email. The one confirming my connection with Ethan Hayes, Liam' s bitter rival. A seed of revenge had been planted just as my world burned down. The Engagement Betrayal
Modern The grand ballroom shimmered with a golden glow, filled with the hum of celebration. It was my engagement party, a day before the wedding, and for eight long years, I had believed I was marrying the man of my dreams.
Then, a casual conversation shattered my world. My fiancé, Mark, and his friends revealed a bet-a perverse wager placed on my virginity, my wedding night reduced to a prize in their cruel game.
Humiliation washed over me as Mark stood by, allowing their repulsive jokes, even adding to them, reducing my years of devoted love to mere "merchandise." His "intimacy phobia," which I' d patiently nurtured, was nothing but a calculated deception to keep me at arm's length while he truly lived. My supposed future husband, the epitome of my life' s aspirations, had been laughing at me all along.
How could he? How could the man I loved betray me so utterly, so casually, right before our wedding? Every sacrifice, every moment of understanding, felt like a fool' s errand. Was everything about us, about him, a lie?
I wouldn't stand for it. The wedding was off. But this wasn't just a cancellation; it was a detonation. I would make sure he paid for every single lie, every betrayal, and every tear. The Sculptor Who Became Queen
Fantasy For ten years, I was Lily, the devoted apprentice, the silent force behind Master Thomas, the legendary sculptor.
My hands, scarred and stained, shaped his clay, sharpened his tools, and managed his chaotic life, making his artistic legacy my own.
Our bond was a monument, forged in the dust and silence of his mountain studio, beyond simple love or romance, more enduring than any fleeting passion.
Then, one Tuesday, the monument cracked.
Master Thomas, beaming like a madman, introduced Serena: a gaudy, perfume-drenched city creature who declared herself his "new muse."
And then came the final blow, echoing in the stunned silence of the workshop: "She has agreed to become my wife."
The woman who replaced me had never touched a block of clay in her life.
His betrayal was a public declaration that my decade of devotion meant nothing, that I was easily discarded for a fleeting fancy.
My fellow apprentices seethed, ready to protest this injustice, wondering why I merely offered a small, imperceptible nod.
How could I contain the storm raging inside me?
How could I let them see the truth – the bitter rage, the cutting contempt for this senile old goat who dared to light his own legacy on fire for a minute of warmth?
But I had a dangerous secret: some secrets are not kept.
A strange, new connection had just begun, allowing another apprentice, Leo, to hear my true thoughts-the ones I locked away behind my serene facade.
He heard my silent, scathing assessment of Serena, my quiet strategies, and my fierce protection of the younger apprentices when Thomas demanded I bow to his new "Mistress."
The battle had just begun, and the old man, lost in his infatuation, had no idea I wasn' t just a sculptor.
I was a warrior, and it was time to reclaim what was mine. My Grandmother's Curse
Young Adult My parents always said I was bad luck, but my Grandma Stella was the only light in my brutal home, my only shield against their cruel abuse.
When Grandma Stella finally succumbed to her pain, ignored and reviled by my mother, her last breath was a desperate plea for relief, drowned out by contempt.
My mother, truly monstrous, ordered me to take Grandma' s body and dump it in the industrial lot, a feast for stray dogs, claiming she was "trash."
Against their wishes, I secretly buried her in the old church cemetery, the one they coveted for themselves, whispering a desperate vow for justice into the cold earth, sealing it with my own blood.
But soon, strange accidents plagued our house-my brother's fever, our truck dying, even our chickens dropping dead without a mark.
They blamed me, a proven curse, and brought in a crooked preacher who, instead of helping, declared me the vessel of misfortune and conspired to use me as bait for "the spirit."
Now, cornered and used, I realize my quiet promise to Grandma was far more powerful than I ever imagined, turning our home into a terrifying battleground where true reckoning begins. Divorce Papers and a Newborn
Modern I was 39 weeks pregnant, eagerly nesting for our daughter, Emily.
Our Austin home was filled with dreams of a perfect new family.
My ambitious architect husband, Ethan, traveled constantly for "high-stakes" projects.
But I trusted our future.
Then, breaking news flashed across the screen: a military coup in South America.
On it, his award-winning documentary filmmaker ex-girlfriend, Olivia, was caught in the chaos, presumed in grave danger.
That same night, as my first contractions began, Ethan dropped a bombshell.
He was flying to South America immediately.
Not for business, but for her.
He walked out as my water broke.
He was choosing his ex over his wife and unborn child.
Days later, news of Ethan's critical injury reached me.
It unleashed a barrage of demands from his family and friends.
They expected me to rescue him, to pay his escalating medical bills.
They expected me to be the forgiving "dutiful wife"—despite his shocking betrayal.
But the deepest cut came when my lawyer unearthed the truth.
For years, Ethan had been secretly siphoning thousands from our joint savings.
He was taking from our daughter's future, funneling it to Olivia's 'humanitarian' non-profit.
It wasn't just abandonment.
It was a cold, systematic betrayal, built on lies.
How could he do this to us, to Emily?
I refused to follow his family's script.
When a critically injured Ethan finally returned, expecting forgiveness and a tearful reunion, I was there.
Not as a heartbroken wife.
Instead, I was armed with divorce papers and a fierce determination to reclaim every penny he stole.
This was my battle, for Emily and for me.
It was the beginning of a new life on our own terms. The Comeback King of Vegas
Mafia Three years ago, my step-brother Chad and ex-fiancée Jessica conspired to strip me of everything, casting me out of the powerful Harrison family empire.
Now, I was a different man, forged in Las Vegas under the tutelage of the formidable Big Tony Costello, learning the real game of power.
Tonight, I sat quietly in the Bellagio' s most exclusive VIP room, observing, a discreet cog in Big Tony' s vast machine.
Then, loud and obnoxious, Chad swaggered in, Jessica clinging to his arm like a trophy.
His mocking laughter boomed as he recognized me, "Alex Miller! Didn't expect to see you in a place like this, unless you' re running chips now?"
Jessica' s practiced disinterest and feigned sympathy only twisted the knife, reminding me of her betrayal.
They tried to break me, publicly humiliating me with their false pity and accusations of being a "pauper" clinging to the edges of their world.
Chad then brought in a professional cheat, Silas, who, with Jessica' s distracting help, tried to swindle me out of $50 million in a high-stakes poker game.
When I exposed their brazen cheating, the Harrisons themselves stormed in, my step-mother' s slap resounding across my face as they arrogantly refused to pay the debt, threatening to use their power to silence me.
The sheer audacity, the injustice of being treated like trash again by the very people who took everything, was infuriating.
How could they be so brazen, so certain of their untouchable power, even after being caught red-handed?
Was I forever marked as the Harrison reject, destined to be humiliated whenever our paths crossed?
But they underestimated the silent strength I had cultivated, the quiet confidence that now flowed through me.
"No limit," I stated, leaning into the table, ready to turn their spectacle into their undoing.
What they didn't know was that the real power in Las Vegas was already on its way, and their cruel game was about to become their worst nightmare. 5 Years, 99th Penalty
Romance For five years, I was Sarah Jenkins, devoted caregiver to Ethan Montgomery, the handsome heir supposedly paralyzed after an accident. I sacrificed my youth, nurturing his phantom pains and enduring his moods. One stormy night, I risked my life to bring him his "emergency pain medication."
Approaching his suite, I overheard him. Ethan' s voice, chillingly detached, revealed his "paralysis" was a lie. I was merely "penalty number ninety-eight" in his five-year revenge game against an ex-girlfriend.
My world shattered. He was a monster, and I, his puppet. The humiliation intensified as I was systematically replaced. Then came the "ninety-ninth penalty": a brutal ambush in a derelict warehouse, orchestrated by his accomplice, Mark, the agony recorded for Ethan's sadistic pleasure.
How could such malice exist? The physical pain paled against the soul-deep violation, the crushing realization of my utter powerlessness. My body was broken, but a cold, unyielding rage ignited within me.
I wouldn't be his next victim. As the storm quieted, a decisive plan formed. I would disappear, truly vanish. My staged death would be his unwitting farewell, and for me, the first step towards a new life, finally free from his monstrous shadow. Saved a Life, Lost My Name
Young Adult Our small house always felt heavy with unspoken things.
Today, it felt sharp, like a shard of glass against my skin.
Grandma Susan, my only comfort, hummed softly outside.
A cold dread, my familiar "knowing," whispered of coming disaster.
Then I saw it: a sleek cougar, yellow eyes fixed on Grandma.
I called my father, a deputy, begging for help.
He was at the fair with Jessica, his favored daughter, and scoffed.
"You're just trying to spoil her fun," he laughed.
The town watched as I fought alone, risking everything to save Grandma from the attacking beast.
My own father never came.
His furious colleagues returned, reporting his indifference.
Jessica, my stepsister, gloated about *our* shared birthday, her annual cake mocking my lifelong neglect.
Later, I found the cougar’s secret: a tiny cub, Jessica’s cruel trophy, hidden in our shed.
I led the enraged mother cougar away, deep into the woods, knowing I was marked.
Scratched and terrified, I returned only for my father to publicly grab and slap me.
“You’re a disgrace, Emily!” he raged, just as the cougar lunged directly at *me*.
Why did this beast hunt me?
Why did my own father constantly poison my existence, always protecting Jessica’s malicious whims?
Then, a crumpled envelope revealed a full university scholarship.
He had hidden it.
As his monstrous lies about Jessica, the cub, and a lifetime of dark family secrets unraveled, everything I believed combusted.
My mother’s eyes, finally truly seeing me, filled with a dawning, terrifying horror.
And then, the gunshots shattered the night. The Day Her Heart Died, His Empire Fell
Romance Ellie, a woman who sacrificed her dreams for her husband Marcus's tech empire, NovaCore, receives a devastating diagnosis: late-stage pancreatic cancer.
As she grapples with her mortality, she confronts Marcus about his escalating infidelity with Chloe Sanders and his cold indifference towards her.
Instead of comfort, Marcus dismisses her pain and accuses her of dramatics, even suggesting she "die to get his attention."
The grim reality of her impending death forces Ellie to face the harsh truth of her broken marriage and her husband's betrayal.
She prepares for her final farewell, arranging her cremation and cutting ties with the life that has only brought her heartache.
Even as she weakens, Chloe's malicious taunts continue, culminating in the cruel demolition of Ellie and Marcus's first home—their symbol of innocent love and shared dreams.
In her final moments, Ellie leaves Marcus a signed divorce paper and a journal entry wishing she had never met him, asserting that he destroyed her and took everything.
Overcome by guilt and a terrifying vision of Ellie’s death, Marcus tries to atone by rebuilding their first home and showering the "resurrected" Ellie with love and attention, believing he has been given a second chance.
However, his manufactured reality shatters on their 20th anniversary when a ghostly Ellie reveals the devastating truth: he's been living a hallucination, a desperate dream to escape his grief and the consequences of his actions.
As his dream collapses, Marcus loses everything – NovaCore, his fortune, and his sanity – ultimately vanishing, a ghost forever haunted by the woman he destroyed and the love he could never reclaim. You might like
After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. 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. 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. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything
Rabbit My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune.
For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me."
He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster.
He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous.
The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built. 
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