Sisi Qingwang
10 Published Stories
Sisi Qingwang's Books and Stories
The Heiress They Underestimated
Romance I am Avelia Sterling, the sole heir to Sterling Media. Yet, whispers followed me everywhere: a woman couldn't lead, I needed one of the three "candidates" my father picked. For years, I foolishly held a secret hope for Ethan Clark, trying to earn his attention.
Then, I overheard him on his knees, his voice thick with emotion—not for me, but for Bella White, our housekeeper’s daughter. He vowed to marry her once he gained control of Sterling Media, calling his arrangement with me a mere "charade" to repay my father.
My entire world crumbled, replaced by a bitter reality. Bella, the innocent victim, exploited every opportunity to frame me, from a broken keychain to a shattered family heirloom. Ethan, Noah, and Lucas, my intended protectors, always circled her, ready to condemn me, even when I found my own birthday gift, the state-of-the-art Starbright Arts Center, had been used by them to promote *her* "art."
Why did they always believe her crocodile tears? How could they be so blind, so eager to paint me as the villain while she systematically undermined me? The injustice was a suffocating weight.
At my birthday gala, it all culminated: Bella, feigning injury, screamed I’d sent thugs after her. Noah, in a fit of rage, struck me across the face. Then, Ethan, with infuriating martyrdom, offered to marry me—not out of love, but "to control" me and "protect Bella." My heart, already a stone, hardened further.
Through the stinging pain, I met his gaze. "That won't be necessary, Ethan," I said, my voice cutting through the silent ballroom. "I'm already engaged." Just then, the grand doors swung open, and the man they called "the cripple" wheeled in. Betrayed Wife: Hiding The Mafia Boss's Son
Mafia I woke up wrapped in the arms of a man I believed would burn the world for me. Michael Thorne was the underworld’s golden boy, and I was pregnant with his legacy.
But by sunset, the illusion shattered. During our family brunch, the doors burst open and a woman dragged a four-year-old boy into the room.
The child had Michael’s nose. His chin.
"Tell them who Leo is!" the woman screamed.
Michael froze. He didn't deny it. While I stood there in shock, his mistress lunged at me, clawing at my face. My husband hesitated.
In that split second, I realized I wasn't his wife; I was just an incubator for his empire. He had kept a secret family as an insurance policy.
My father destroyed Michael’s career in an hour, stripping him of his money and status. But I wanted to destroy his soul.
He begged for forgiveness, weeping, claiming he loved our unborn child more than anything.
So I placed a hand on my stomach and looked him dead in the eye.
"There is no baby, Michael," I lied. "Your legacy is dead."
As he fell to his knees, broken, I walked away to build my own empire—with the son he would never know existed. Auctioned Daughter, Shattered Wife
Billionaires My husband, the tech billionaire I adored, sent his men to take me to an undisclosed location.
When we arrived, I found our sixteen-year-old daughter, Julianne, on a stage, being auctioned off like a piece of art to a crowd of sick elites.
My husband, Everett, used this to blackmail me into resigning from my career. But after Julianne's subsequent suicide attempt, he let his mistress—an unqualified researcher—perform the surgery, leaving our daughter in a permanent vegetative state.
He publicly humiliated me, claiming our marriage was a lie and that I was a stalker.
He forced me to kneel and beg for my daughter's life, only to let his mistress shatter my surgeon's hand with a trophy.
After they pulled the plug on Julianne, they tricked my mother and me into drinking her ashes.
They left my mother for dead at the bottom of a flight of stairs. As I knelt over her broken body, my grief finally turned into a cold, hard resolve.
When Everett texted, demanding my presence at his celebration party, I replied with two words.
"I'll be there." A Lie Sung: His Deception, Her Amnesia
Romance The world believes Liam Carter wrote the greatest love song of the decade for the woman on stage. He didn't. He wrote it about me.
And now, Olivia, the woman singing it, my Olivia, is engaged to him, just three years after doctors gave me my diagnosis and she vanished.
I' m here, in a stadium seat, my final breath getting closer, watching her. She' s polished, famous, beautiful. But her voice, the one that once sang me to sleep, now sings a song about my death, written by another man.
Liam Carter, handsome and confident, proposes. Olivia cries happy tears, says yes. The stadium erupts, celebrating a love found, a perfect happy ending. Everyone is part of this moment. Everyone except me. I am the forgotten footnote in a story that used to be mine.
The pain in my chest is no longer an ache; it' s a sharp blade. It' s not just the cancer. It' s the sight of her, so happy, in a life I have no part in, a life built on the ashes of ours.
Then, blood. A hot, wet cough, and blood on my hand. I have to get out. My body is failing, but a new truth begins to emerge. It was all a lie. She didn' t just leave me. She was taken. Betrayed By Miss Wrong, Claimed By Mr Right
LGBT+ Captain Ethan Carter, a decorated officer, thought his life was set: a prestigious military career and an engagement to Isabella Hayes, a political scion, marked them as Washington's newest power couple.
But Izzy publicly detonated their future, calling off the wedding to embrace Julian Vance, a self-proclaimed visionary who dismissed Ethan's traditional values as "stifling" and "outdated" to a shocked populace.
Ethan endured a relentless media firestorm and public humiliation that felt like a knife twist, but the real blow came when his beloved mentor, Mac, was brutally murdered in what appeared to be a "mugging gone wrong," subtly orchestrated by Vance.
Beaten, framed, and ridiculed, Ethan watched as Izzy, astonishingly defensive, defended Vance, accusing Ethan of malicious plots, utterly blind to the monster she was protecting.
His grief for Mac ignited into a white-hot rage, fueled by the sheer injustice and the chilling realization of Vance's malevolence and Izzy's damning delusion.
With nothing left to lose, Ethan abandoned his life of public service, vowing a blood debt, accepting immediate deployment to a distant warzone - not just to fight for his country, but to reclaim his honor and avenge his fallen mentor. Their Shared Secret, Her Sweet Victory
Romance The heavy satin of my wedding dress felt like a shroud.
Today was supposed to be the most joyous day, marrying Ethan Davenport, cementing a powerful alliance.
Instead, I was trapped in darkness, my screams muffled by the thick, soundproof walls of a panic room.
Jessica Miller, my childhood companion, had drugged me.
I clawed my way out, nails broken and bleeding, only to stumble into my own reception.
And there she was, radiant in my gown, standing beside my groom.
"Jessica? Ethan, what is happening?" I croaked, my voice raw.
Jessica's face was a mask of feigned concern, her lies echoing through the ballroom.
"Oh, Sarah, why are you doing this? You know Ethan and I are in love."
Whispers of "unstable" and "breakdown" filled the air as security, loyal to her family, dragged me away.
Ethan looked at me, his face unreadable, before turning back to Jessica.
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
They threw me into the cold New England night.
A blinding flash of headlights.
A screech of tires.
Then, nothing.
I gasped, shooting upright in my own bed, sunlight streaming through the window.
My heart hammered against my ribs, echoing the terror of what had just been.
The date on my phone brought a chilling realization: it was the day before the wedding.
I was alive.
A new message popped up from Jessica Miller in the family chat: "So excited to marry my love, Ethan, tomorrow!"
My blood ran cold.
Her audacity was shocking, but this time, I knew.
This time, she wouldn't win. The Wife He Blinded: Her Clear Path
Romance It was our second wedding anniversary, and I sat in a Boston women's clinic, a secret hope blossoming with every beat of my heart concerning my three-month late period.
When my name, Sarah Miller, was called, I knew.
I clutched the grayscale ultrasound photo – three months pregnant, our baby, Liam's and mine.
My joy lasted seconds.
There he was, my husband Liam Harrison, his arm around his college sweetheart, Olivia Hayes, in the waiting room.
He barely spared me a glance, his eyes cold, only urgent commands to fetch sweets for her.
The tiny hope for our marriage, nurtured for two years, turned to ash.
This pretense, this life as his second choice, had to end.
But Olivia wouldn't let me go quietly.
She masterfully framed me for a staged mugging, convincing Liam I'd hired someone to hurt her.
Then, in a final act of cruelty, she intentionally pushed me down a grand staircase in our home, leading to a devastating miscarriage.
Lying in that hospital bed, broken and empty, my baby lost, a chilling fury consumed me.
How could he be so incredibly blind, so utterly fooled by her lies, so dismissive of me, his wife?
His unwavering devotion to her, even as she destroyed us, was incomprehensible.
That fury ignited Liam' s doubt.
Security footage and confessions exposed Olivia's tangled web of deceit, even her secret marriage.
Now, he's full of remorse, begging for a second chance.
But my path is clear: I'm stepping out of his shadow and into the bright Boston sun, ready to build a life on my own terms, leaving him and the past firmly behind. The Girl Who Cheated Death & Injustice
Young Adult I was the golden child. Valedictorian, set for Stanford on a full ride. The American Youth Scholar Championship? Just a final victory lap, a taste of competition before my bright future.
Then came the roar of angry voices, the hands grabbing me. "You cheated!" they screamed. Event security, police. They found a micro-earpiece in my custom bracelet, a receiver. A college kid named "Ace" confessed, said I paid him via Venmo.
None of it was true, but no one listened. Stanford pulled my acceptance. Our small Oregon town, once proud, turned on my family. The online hate was relentless. My dad's heart couldn't take the stress; he died. Mom faded away, gone weeks later.
I was in a cell, awaiting a trial I knew I'd lose. The grief, the injustice – it was a crushing weight. I died not knowing how they pulled it off, how they shattered my life and destroyed my family with lies.
Until I woke up. The cheap floral carpet of a motel lobby. My best friend Jess, shaking my arm: "The Championship starts tomorrow!" This was it. The day before it all went wrong. My second chance. And this time, I wouldn't just survive; I'd expose them all. The Stolen Retirement: Eleanor's Reckoning
Modern I was looking forward to a quiet retirement after 35 years as a senior records supervisor, my future secured by a diligent pension.
My husband, Mark, had even encouraged early retirement, saying our son Kevin and his pregnant wife Chloe needed my help with the new baby.
Everything seemed perfectly arranged.
But at the county pension office, the clerk’s words shattered my world: “Your pension has been active and payments have been directed to a Ms. Sheila Dixon for the past three years.”
Sheila Dixon. Mark’s high school sweetheart.
The authorization? Signed by Mark Vance himself, citing “spousal consent and redirection for family support.”
Back home, I overheard Mark telling Kevin, “Your mother can be a bit selfish about money sometimes. She doesn’t understand hardship like Sheila does.”
My blood ran cold. My money, funding his old flame.
When confronted, Mark snarled, “If you make a fuss, you’ll regret it. You’ll find yourself with nothing.”
And Kevin, my own son, defended him, blindly siding with "Auntie Sheila."
My entire family life, a complete lie.
The man I married, the son I raised, betraying me so casually.
How could they do this?
Was I just disposable to them?
But I wasn't nothing.
This pension, my future, was all I had left, and I earned it.
I would get it back.
The very next morning, I walked straight to HR and filed a formal fraud complaint.
My fight had just begun. 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. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. 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. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
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