Shangyou Fusu
10 Published Stories
Shangyou Fusu's Books and Stories
Rejected While Pregnant, I Reclaimed My Power
Mafia While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son.
Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate.
An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir.
Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack.
Dante didn't even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her.
He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall.
Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me.
I heard him promise her, "Soon, my love. I'll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve."
The love I felt for him, the power I'd hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice.
He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent.
And I was finally going home. The Untouchable Widow's Ruthless Vengeance
Billionaires I spent three years keeping the Baldwin tech empire from crumbling after my husband died. But his nephew, Haden, despised me, convinced I was just a gold-digging widow who stole his inheritance.
The breaking point came when our biggest rival stormed into my executive office. His daughter slapped a sonogram on my desk, claiming she was pregnant with Haden's baby to force a hostile corporate merger.
Instead of denying the obvious trap, Haden used the moment to completely humiliate me. He pointed down at his expensive leather shoe right in front of our worst enemies.
"Come tie it for me. Auntie."
After forcing me to kneel, he dragged me to his penthouse in a psychotic fit of jealousy, tore my silk shirt open, and violently accused me of carrying his dead uncle's bastard. Meanwhile, our rivals threatened to tank our stock and ruin the family name if I didn't approve the marriage contract in three days.
They all thought I was completely cornered. They thought my cold silence meant I was a fragile woman finally broken by their ruthless power plays. They didn't know I had already spotted the doctored pixels on their cheap, fake ultrasound.
I smiled and agreed to their three-day deadline.
They thought I was preparing a press release for a Wall Street wedding. They had no idea I was preparing a superyacht, a heavy-duty crane, and a bucket of bloody chum to feed the fake bride's real lover to the Great Whites on a live broadcast. Sweet Revenge Of The Stolen Heiress
Fantasy I was only three and a half years old, living in a damp basement and beaten daily by Enoch Pruitt with a heavy leather whip.
"Get up, you useless waste of space!"
He always told me I was a stray he had picked out of the garbage.
But during one brutal beating that nearly stopped my heart, time froze, and a glowing figure called The Chronicler appeared.
"You are not an abandoned orphan, Clare. You carry the blood of the highest gods."
He revealed that I was the stolen daughter of the ultra-wealthy Barrett family.
Then, he showed me the horrific ending of my previous life.
I had died right here on this bloody dirt floor.
My real parents and three brothers went completely insane with grief, turning into ruthless monsters who destroyed themselves and the entire world to avenge me.
Meanwhile, the Pruitt family kept torturing me, locking me in a woodshed and feeding me moldy bread.
The memory of my bones breaking and my real mother's agonizing screams crushed my chest.
Why did I have to suffer like an animal while my true family tore the world apart looking for me?
This time, I refused to die in the mud.
I accepted my divine blood, my eyes glowing gold as I summoned a bolt of purple lightning to strike my abuser.
I just needed to survive the night.
Because my real father's heavily armed convoy was already tearing up the mountain, ready to burn this hell to the ground. Married To A Five-Year Deception
Romance My husband, Jackson, was holding hands with a dead woman.
For five years, I believed my adoptive sister, Scarlett, had died in a fiery car crash. My perfect, blissful marriage was built on her ashes.
But tonight, at a charity gala, I saw her hidden in the shadows with him. She was alive, and beside them stood a little boy with my husband’s dark, curly hair. I overheard everything. My family had faked her death, destroyed evidence to save her from prison, and set her up in a beautiful new life.
My marriage wasn't love. It was a five-year "penance," a sacrifice Jackson made to keep me from asking questions while he, my parents, and my "dead" sister lived as a secret family.
My phone buzzed. A text from her, taunting me.
“You should come see all the beautiful things my family has given me.”
When Jackson found me moments later, his face a mask of fake concern, the urge to scream was a physical force inside me.
But I swallowed it down. I looked into the eyes of the man who had demolished my world, forced a smile, and pulled him into an embrace that felt colder than the grave Scarlett was supposed to be in. The White Wolf's Pregnant Mate, Marked For A Second Chance
Werewolf The Healer told me I was finally pregnant. After two years of doubt, I was carrying the heir to the Blackstone Pack. This pup was supposed to be the key to our future, solidifying my place as the Alpha's Luna.
But just as the joy set in, a Mind-Link from my best friend shattered my world. It was an image of my mate, Damien, pressing another woman against a wall, his mouth devouring hers.
When I confronted him, he dismissed it as "blowing off steam," blaming the pressure of needing an heir.
But the real blow came when I overheard his mother praising his mistress, Seraphina. She was six months pregnant with what they called a "true Blackstone heir."
While I, his fated mate, was just an "empty shell."
Fifteen years of love and loyalty, all for nothing. The business empire I built for our pack was just a tool. Our pup, the miracle I was cherishing, was worthless to them. I was just a political necessity with a weak bloodline, waiting to be replaced.
That night, at the Full Moon Celebration, I was supposed to announce my pregnancy and beg for their acceptance.
Instead, I walked onto the stage, looked Damien in the eye, and spoke the ancient words of severance.
Then, I opened a private channel to the one man who could help me burn it all to the ground.
"Kaelan," I sent. "I agree to your plan." The Tycoon's Daughter: A Bitter Inheritance
Billionaires My mother' s hand, fragile as a bird' s wing, tightened around mine.
For eighteen years, she' d sacrificed everything, her hands chapped and sore from cleaning houses, all so I could go to Northwood University.
But with her dying breath, she whispered a secret that shattered my world: "Your father… Richard Thompson."
Richard Thompson. The tech mogul whose face graced magazine covers. My father. It was impossible. A fever dream.
"He has to matter now," she rasped, revealing a promise he' d made to care for me.
The last thing she said before the flatlining monitor screamed her final moments was, "He will hate it. He will hate you. But he will do it. Make him keep his promise."
I walked out of that hospital an orphan, holding a crumpled number that was both lifeline and curse.
When the sleek black car pulled up to my crumbling apartment, I knew my life was over-and just beginning.
My new home felt like a museum, or a very expensive prison.
My half-siblings, Emily and Ben Thompson, greeted me with icy disdain.
"Stay in your lane," Ben sneered, "The one you came from."
I was a ghost in their pristine mansion, eating alone, walking on tiptoes, a cheap paperback thrown in the trash when I dared leave a trace.
Then came the university lecture, taught in French, which I couldn't understand.
My scholarship, my mother' s sacrifice, felt meaningless.
Just as panic swelled, Ben, still with closed eyes, slid his tablet onto my desk.
Real-time translation, a silent lifeline, an unexpected act of protection.
"Don' t fall behind. It' s embarrassing," he grunted.
And then Jessica, the girl I thought was a friend, outed me in the cafeteria.
"So you' re the tech mogul' s bastard daughter," she announced, her voice dripping with venom.
She mocked my mother, sneered at my attempts to belong, and shoved me, my lunch tray clattering to the floor.
I saw red.
Something inside me snapped. I lunged, my fist connecting with her nose.
Blood, screams, chaos. Expulsion loomed.
But my father didn' t come. He sent his assistant, who bought off Jessica' s family with a briefcase full of cash.
Another message: I was worthless, easily bought, and completely alone.
The bullying escalated. Vandalized lockers, spilled books, tripping hazards.
No one would sit with me. I ate lunch in a bathroom stall, enduring it all in silence.
Until one afternoon, in a deserted alley, Jessica and her friends cornered me.
"No one' s here to save you now," she gloated, "Your rich daddy doesn' t care, and your fake siblings hate you."
Just as the football players moved in, a black Audron screeched around the corner.
Ben and Emily emerged, their faces cold and menacing.
Ben punched a football player, breaking his nose.
Emily slammed Jessica' s head against a brick wall, dragging her whimpering form before me.
"You touched our sister," Emily' s voice was dangerously quiet. "She is a Thompson. Now you know the rule."
Back at the mansion, in the aftermath, Ben explained their silent contempt.
"We hate you, but you' re our problem. And we don' t let anyone else mess with our problems."
Then, in the sterile bathroom, with Emily bandaging my cuts, they revealed their mother' s tragic death, her art destroyed by Richard.
And how their own dreams had been crushed by his iron will.
My gift, the glass butterfly, had not been an offering. It had been a ghost.
My tears, long held back, finally fell.
"He' s trying to break you," I whispered to Ben in the cold, dark basement where Richard had imprisoned us.
"He wants obedient successors," Ben replied, recounting his dreams of game development, his mother' s art, all crushed by Richard' s ambition.
"I hate him," Ben confessed, his voice raw.
"Me too," I whispered back, a cold, hard rage solidifying within me.
Then, Emily' s studio, a vibrant space of creation, was a scene of methodical, vicious destruction.
Her hands, tools of her trade, wrapped in bandages, tendons severed.
"He cut her," Maria, the maid, sobbed. "She will never… sew again."
My fear burned away, replaced by a cold, clarifying rage.
"You' re the only one he can' t break," Emily said, her empty eyes burning with desperate intensity.
"You have to be our shield, Sarah. You have to be our weapon. Get strong. Get smart. You have to be the one to break him."
"Okay," I said, my voice steady and clear. "I will." Her Betrayal, His New Horizon
Romance "I need you to be understanding, Ethan." Chloe' s voice barely registered as she packed, her thumb flying across her phone screen. My girlfriend of three years, who I' d poured my heart and soul, and every penny I earned, into building her company, was leaving.
Not for a business trip, but for her ex-boyfriend, Jake. His father had just passed away, and apparently, only Chloe truly understood him. "He needs me," she' d said, as if that explained everything.
I sat on the edge of our shared bed, the words like a physical blow. Then came the kicker. "And my dad," she continued, "You know his health is fragile. He needs to see that I'm with a man who is supportive and understanding." This wasn' t just about Jake' s grief; it was a twisted test for me to prove my worth by financing her emotional affair.
My money was good enough for her father' s exorbitant medical bills, my time good enough to build her empire, but my feelings? An inconvenience to be suppressed. A cold clarity settled in my gut: it was over.
She didn't even say thank you when I handed her all the cash I had and the keys to my car-the car she demanded, along with money for Jake' s "funeral expenses." "I knew you'd understand," she' d said, just before walking out the door, leaving me in the sudden silence of the apartment I paid for, heading to comfort another man.
The second the door clicked shut, I moved. Not with anger or hurt, but with a cold, clear purpose. I packed my work, my clothes, everything I owned-leaving behind every trace of her. Then, I canceled every payment to her and her demanding father.
"It' s over, Chloe. Don' t come back to the apartment. You are on your own." I blocked her number, her social media. I felt only profound relief. For the first time in a long time, my future was mine. The Billionaire's Calculated Comeback
Billionaires The harsh fluorescent lights of the ER flickered over Sylvia' s pale face, her party dress torn, mascara smudged.
She was my vibrant, wild fiancée-to-be, now fragile and broken from a "roofie" incident.
I knelt at her gurney, proposing in that sterile room, promising to be her anchor, to always keep her safe.
My life as a simple craft brewery manager felt real with her, far from the corporate schemes of my wealthy family.
But the night before our engagement party, rushing to find her, I found her apartment door slightly ajar.
Then I heard it: "Wasn't the fake roofie stunt enough? This isn't fair to Caleb!" and her callous response, "Caleb's just too... vanilla. I have needs."
The 'roofie'-a performance. My devotion, my comfort, my entire world built on her calculated lie for "content."
The woman I loved, mocked me, played me for a fool, shamelessly indulging in an illicit party with her sleazy manager.
Every word of sincerity, every act of tenderness I gave her, was met with cold, manipulative mockery.
How could the woman I was ready to marry be so utterly fake, so greedily hollow, so ruthlessly cruel?
My world collapsed, but in the ruins, a new, chilling clarity emerged.
I pulled out my phone, scrolled past her name, and dialed a number I hadn't touched in a year.
"Dad. About that merger... I'm in."
She thought she was playing games with a vanilla brewery manager. She had no idea she was messing with Caleb Wright, the heir to Wright Oil.
The game was far from over. It had just begun. The Wife Who Walked Away
Modern For thirty years, I lovingly maintained our family home, a legacy from my parents.
Now, in my late fifties, a promise resonated: the Italy trip my husband, David, made me under wedding fireworks.
When I finally brought up that cherished dream, he scoffed, "Too old for that."
Days later, on his laptop, I saw it: five plane tickets to Rome and Florence.
For David, our son Mike, his wife Jessica, our grandson Leo.
And my sister, Emily.
Not for me.
My dream trip, his very promise, was given to everyone else—especially Emily, whom David openly admired.
This wasn't an oversight; it was a deliberate, casual cruelty.
I drove them to the airport, listening to their excited chatter.
At the curb, David publicly humiliated me over a "lost" passport, grabbing my arm.
Even after it was found, he didn't apologize.
They just rushed to the gate, leaving me alone.
No one looked back.
The humiliation burned, hotter than anything before.
My family, my entire life, simply walked away, discarding me.
Thirty years of giving, of being taken for granted, culminated in this brutal moment.
This was my reward.
I watched them disappear, then turned and walked out of the airport for good.
I drove straight to a real estate agent, listing the house—my house, inherited and solely in my name.
Then, I booked my own one-way ticket: Paris, France.
My flight was in three days, the same day they were due in Rome.
My old life was over. 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. The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. 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." Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
The Comatose Wife's Billionaire Family Comeback
William Jafferson I was trapped in a locked-in state for six months, fully conscious but unable to move a single muscle.
My step-family, Delma and Jazmyne, marched into my hospital room, forged a Do Not Resuscitate order, and yanked out my oxygen tube just to stop paying my medical bills.
When my three-year-old daughter, Amari, leaped out from under the bed to protect me, they beat her mercilessly.
They kicked my tiny girl in the stomach, smashed a heavy metal IV pole into her fragile shoulder, and dragged her out by her ankles.
They even tied her to a tree in their backyard and let a massive Rottweiler tear into her flesh, laughing as they recorded her agonizing screams.
I lay in that hospital bed, hearing every blow and every desperate cry.
I didn't understand why they had to torture an innocent toddler just because they thought I was a worthless piece of trash with amnesia.
A tidal wave of absolute fury crashed against the invisible walls of my paralyzed body, burning away the despair.
Gritting my teeth until my jaw popped, I forced my dead weight off the mattress and dragged my atrophied legs across the freezing floor to a landline.
With trembling, bloody fingers, I punched in a twelve-digit military-grade encrypted code.
It was time for my real family—the most powerful men in the country—to make these monsters pay. He Signed Away His Own Wife
Cornelia #Chapter1 Chapter
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. 
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