Shu Yu
10 Published Stories
Shu Yu's Books and Stories
My Stolen Daughter, My Shattered Life
Modern I am Joanna Haney, heiress to a New York real estate empire. I had a perfect life with my husband, Brad, and our three-year-old daughter, Chloe.
Then, a single sentence from a doctor shattered my world.
"Chloe isn't your daughter."
The truth was a nightmare. My husband and my best friend, Carla, had swapped our babies at birth. My real daughter was abandoned while I unknowingly raised theirs.
They plotted to have me declared insane and locked away. At Chloe's birthday party, they publicly humiliated me, turning the child I raised against me until she screamed that she wished Carla was her mother.
My husband and best friend saw me as nothing more than an obstacle to be permanently removed.
But they underestimated me. With the secret help of Brad's own mother, I orchestrated my escape to Paris. Now, I will find my real daughter, and they will pay for every single lie. The Runaway Wife's Secret Heir
Mafia I stood alone at the center of my art gallery opening, clutching a glass of warm champagne, while the guests whispered behind their hands.
My husband, the Capo of the Chicago Outfit, wasn't there.
A breaking news alert on my phone explained why.
It was a high-definition photo of Dante shielding his mistress, Isabella, from the rain. He was touching her with a protective possessiveness he had never once shown me.
Then came his text:
"Isabella needed me. Go home."
That was the moment the cage door unlocked. I didn't go home to cry. I went to his office the next morning with a stack of papers disguised as "gallery insurance forms."
While Isabella sat on his desk, mocking me for being a boring housewife, Dante was too annoyed to read the fine print.
He just wanted me gone so he could get back to her.
He signed the divorce decree.
He signed the asset dissolution.
Most importantly, without looking, he signed the irrevocable relinquishment of parental rights.
I walked out with my freedom, but fate had a cruel sense of humor. That night, I stared at a positive pregnancy test.
I was carrying the Sovrano heir he had always demanded.
And he had just legally signed away his right to ever know his child.
I fled to the Swiss Alps, vanishing into the snow to raise my baby away from his world of blood and bullets.
I thought I was safe, until six months later.
Dante hadn't just sent men to look for me.
He had burned his own shipping empire to the ground, destroying his status as King, just to prove he would trade it all for the wife he threw away. When Charity Turns Deadly
Young Adult The last thing I saw was the Chicago skyline rushing up to meet me.
Then, merciful darkness.
Now, blinding sunlight streamed through a window, hitting my face as I lay in my university dorm room.
My head throbbed with a pain far deeper than a physical fall.
It was the brutal, horrifying memory of my parents, David and Susan Miller.
Their kind faces, now hauntingly overlaid with images of their blood on the polished floors of our beautiful Chicago home.
They were murdered.
And the architect of that devastation?
Brittany Evans, the very scholarship student my generous parents had taken under their wing, hailed as their "charity case."
Her smile, so sickeningly sweet and fake, her boyfriend Spike's cruel, calculating eyes, haunted my every waking thought.
She had meticulously orchestrated their downfall: the forged will, the baseless accusations leveled against me.
I endured the looks of disgust, the complete abandonment from everyone I had ever known.
The crushing despair consumed me, pushing me to the desperate, final leap.
How could such an act of profound kindness be repaid with such heinous betrayal and wanton violence?
How could I have been utterly blind, so incredibly naive, to allow my entire family, my entire life, to be so mercilessly dismantled, ending in that horrific, unjust way for all of us?
The injustice burned.
But then, I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air.
My hands flew to my throat, my chest.
I was whole.
Alive.
It was the first week of freshman year.
Again.
I had been granted a second chance, and this time, a cold, unyielding rage, something I' d never felt in my first, naive life, settled deep in my bones.
Brittany Evans would not win. The Underestimated Genius: A National Asset
Young Adult Alex Thompson, the quiet academic decathlon captain, just wanted to escape the loud, lavish graduation party.
Surrounded by kids flaunting their Ivy League acceptances, he felt the sting of unspoken judgment.
Mark O' Connell, the tech mogul's son, and his popular girlfriend, Brittany, singled him out.
They mocked his "empty hands," implying he was a "total bust" with no college acceptance.
The taunts escalated quickly, Mark blocking his exit and offering him a hundred dollars to admit he was a "failure."
Brittany gloated, waving her USC acceptance, while others showcased their prestigious university logos.
Tired of it, Alex quietly presented a small, unassuming metallic medallion.
The popular crowd erupted in laughter, dismissing it as a "cheap keychain" or a "weird D&D guild pin."
Mark, enjoying his power, then ordered his jock friends to "teach him some manners" and force him out.
Why was Alex so unnervingly calm, even as the jocks moved in?
What was this mysterious medallion that caused such ridicule, yet held him so composed?
Their cruelty was palpable; his quiet dignity hinted at a secret they couldn' t possibly comprehend.
Just as they reached for him, Alex's phone buzzed with an urgent, blocked call.
"Reroute transport to O'Connell Innovations," he calmly requested.
Mark scoffed about his "imaginary escort service," until a convoy of black, federal-looking SUVs suddenly pulled up outside.
A sharp woman in a suit, Ms. Hayes, emerged, immediately addressing Alex: "Mr. Thompson, we were expecting you."
With icy precision, she revealed his true designation: "The Prometheus Fellowship is a matter of national priority."
The party instantly fell silent.
Mark and his father, their faces drained of color, realized their petty bullying had just triggered a national incident.
Alex, the perceived "loser," calmly walked out, leaving their shattered world behind. When Her Secret Son Blew Up My Life
Romance I waited three long years for Jen, my fiancée, to return from her "deep cover assignment," dreaming of the wedding we' d planned.
Then, I overheard her icy voice in my own home office, admitting she' d hidden a pregnancy and given birth to a two-year-old son during her so-called mission, all while plotting to use me to secure a future for her family.
The next morning, Jen and her accomplice, Drew, shamelessly brought her son to my house, maintaining their elaborate lie, while Drew set me up for a malicious scheme involving the boy' s severe allergy.
Jen watched as I was unjustly accused, choosing to believe Drew over me, and then abandoned me, leaving me injured and alone on my kitchen floor.
Drowning in her betrayal and the crushing weight of being a fool, a desperate coldness settled over me.
That' s when I picked up the phone, calling my powerful grandfather, ready to accept the arranged marriage offer I' d always rejected, a contract that promised a way out, no matter the cost. The Night I Hunted a Killer, They Hunted Me
Horror At East Coast University, being Valedictorian wasn't an honor; it was a death sentence.
Every year, the top graduate met a horrific end, fueling whispers of a chilling campus curse.
Three years ago, my brilliant sister, Claire, delivered her valedictory speech, radiating hope and promising to break this very curse.
But just a week later, she was found dead, an alleged suicide, leaving behind a cold, printed note: "Allie, never pursue peak glory."
Claire always called me "Allie-cat," never just "Allie;" I knew instantly the note was a fake, a twisted cover-up for her murder.
Consumed by grief and an unyielding desire for justice, I spent three years meticulously climbing the academic ladder, earning the top spot, becoming this year's Valedictorian to expose the truth and lure her real killer into the light.
The night before graduation, I went live online, publicly challenging the murderer, declaring Claire was slain and not the first victim of this academic reckoning.
But instead of catching *them*, the police stormed my dorm, arresting *me*, accusing me of being the serial killer responsible for all the other Valedictorian deaths.
Then my own mother, face masked and frantic, burst in, screaming a desperate confession, trying to take the fall for *my* alleged crimes, hinting at a horrifying family secret far deeper than I could ever comprehend.
How could I, the one tirelessly hunting the truth, suddenly become the monstrous subject of a nationwide witch hunt, framed as the cold, calculating killer I sought to unmask?
Shoved into the back of a police car, the only image seared into my mind was my mother's face—pale, terrified, a silent plea begging me to finally unravel the devastating truth she couldn't speak aloud.
Then, chaos erupted: a deliberate, violent car crash, my chance to escape the clutches of a corrupt system and dark accusations.
Now, on the run, I chase the elusive whispers of Mom’s hidden fears and a mysterious clue from my long-dead father’s past, determined to unearth the real answers that lie buried beneath the surface of my sister’s tragic death. Beyond Betrayal: A Billionaire's Fall
Modern I was an artist who gave up my career for my tech CEO husband, Jakob. Pregnant with our child, I believed our life was a perfect dream built on his genius.
That dream shattered when I discovered his genius was a lie, built on stolen code. Then I overheard his real plan: to drug me, publicly ruin me, and auction off my body after murdering our unborn child.
At our anniversary gala, he forced drugged champagne into my hand. I watched him destroy my art-my last dream-before I collapsed, losing our baby on the cold museum floor.
They left me for dead, having taken everything-my love, my art, my dignity, and my child.
After I survived, I walked into the interrogation room where he was being held. I showed him a fabricated DNA report proving the baby was his, alongside a real document proving he'd had a secret vasectomy.
He broke down, believing he'd murdered the son he never knew he could have. "I'll do anything," he sobbed.
"Then sign these," I said calmly, pushing the divorce papers and a full transfer of his billion-dollar empire across the table. A Mother's Vengeful Heart
Modern The world turned into a twisted metal scream. One moment, I was humming along in the car with my son, Ethan, in the back. The next, a violent jolt, a blinding pain, and then - silence. Too much silence. My son was gone.
My husband, David, pulled me from the wreck, a mask of panic on his face. But in the emergency room, as I drifted in and out of consciousness, his voice from the hallway cut through the fog: "Just make sure it' s done. No loose ends. The problem is solved. Now I can finally move forward without any… distractions."
A distraction? Was our son just a problem to him? The man I loved, the father of my child, had orchestrated his death. And when I woke from surgery, he delivered another cruel blow, a lie that ripped away my ability to ever be a mother again. He buried Ethan without me, dismissed his toys, and called my love for our child an "obsession."
The grief I felt became a chilling clarity. He hadn't just lost our son; he had murdered him. And then, at night, I found his hidden life-another woman, Victoria, and another son, Alex. An email from David, dated the day Ethan was born, called my son an "error."
How could he have done this? How could his hate run so deep? Every moment, every memory, was re-framed by this horrific betrayal. The man I married was a monster, his grief a sickening performance.
My son's last drawing, a simple wish for his daddy to play catch, solidified my purpose. I was no longer a grieving mother; I was an instrument of justice. My work was just beginning. A Bitter Pill Called Regret
Romance My head throbbed as I cooked Marcus's favorite meal.
It was our tenth anniversary, a milestone I' d hoped would bring some semblance of peace to a decade marred by his growing distance.
But Marcus never came home.
Instead, an Instagram notification flashed: Skyler Reed, beaming beside my husband, champagne in hand, captioned: "Celebrating new beginnings with Mr. T!"
When I finally reached him, his voice was dismissive, cold: "You've let yourself go, Ellie. Skyler's a breath of fresh air."
The casual cruelty was a physical blow, leaving me reeling, a sudden nosebleed staining the anniversary tablecloth I' d prepared for a dinner that would never happen.
Who was this woman I had become, a ghost of my former self, constantly tired, always bleeding?
Why did I allow myself to be chipped away, humiliated, while he flaunted his affair so brazenly?
Then, the final, devastating cut: my only comfort, my loyal dog Gus, brutally run down after Skyler maliciously kicked him into the street.
My world went black, only to be replaced by the harsh hospital lights and a grim diagnosis: glioblastoma.
Marcus, now belatedly awake to his ruin, would beg me to fight.
Yet, the profound irony was a bitter pill: his decade of calculated cruelty had left me with no fight left.
But though I was dying, this story was far from over-just not in the way anyone expected. You might like
The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. 
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