Ting Er Xiao Ling
11 Published Stories
Ting Er Xiao Ling's Books and Stories
The Secret Wife Makes A Spectacular Comeback
Modern On our third anniversary, I spent hours cooking my husband's favorite meal, waiting for him to come home.
Instead of a greeting, I overheard him and his mother in the living room, planning to evict me. He was an A-list actor, and I was his secret wife—a "failed PR investment" they now wanted to erase with a $250,000 NDA.
He told me my trailer-park background was a stain dragging his career down. Later, when I suffered a severe allergic reaction to a sleeping pill and nearly died, he didn't care. He stormed into my hospital room, accused me of faking a suicide attempt for attention, and called my late mother a pathetic drunk. Even the arrogant ER doctor treated me like a desperate, hysterical housewife wasting medical resources.
I gave up three years of my life to be his unpaid maid and his shadow, only to be thrown away like garbage. But what my husband didn't know was that the mysterious, top-tier creator "Xen" he was desperately trying to sign a life-changing deal with to save his career... was actually me.
I ripped the IV out of my arm, bleeding onto the hospital floor, and smiled at him.
"I'm going to watch you fall."
I hired the most ruthless divorce lawyer in LA to take half his fortune, and quietly canceled his dream contract. This time, I'm going to watch his gilded life burn to the ground. Too Late, Ex-Husband: Watch Me Shine
Modern Idella's mother was dying in the ICU, needing a two-million-dollar deposit within forty-eight hours for a lifesaving surgery.
Desperate, she begged her billionaire husband, Fount, for an advance on her own trust fund.
Instead, he tossed her a hundred-thousand-dollar check for "funeral expenses," fired her from his company, and seized her life's research.
He froze all her bank accounts, leaving her unable to even pay the vet bills after their five-year-old surrogate son nearly drowned her dog.
When she tried to stop the boy, Fount threatened to have her dying mother thrown onto the street unless she bowed her head and apologized to the child.
Stripped of her dignity and money, Idella dragged herself to Fount's private office, only to overhear a conversation through the cracked door.
Inside, Fount was intimately holding his adopted sister, Angelita.
"But Austin is our flesh and blood, Fount. He can't keep calling that barren loser 'Mom' in public."
Idella's universe shattered. She was nothing but a pathetic shield to cover up their incestuous affair, and her severe infertility diagnosis had been a complete lie orchestrated by Fount's doctor.
Three years of a sham marriage crushed her soul, but the absolute despair quickly morphed into a freezing knot of hatred.
Just as she hit rock bottom, her phone buzzed with a call from Fount's biggest corporate rival, offering her a five-million-dollar signing bonus.
Idella took off her diamond wedding ring, ready to burn the Fitzgerald empire to the ground. I Am Not Your Pawn Anymore
Modern Barrett handed me a Montblanc pen and a legal document, his voice as cold as the rain lashing against his Tribeca penthouse. He told me to sign an admission of guilt for an SEC violation I never committed.
"Eighteen months in prison, Anaya," he said, adjusting his cufflinks without looking at me. "The trust fund is set up. You'll get twenty million dollars the moment you step out."
I was being sold. The man I had loved for ten years, the man whose secrets I had kept, was trading my freedom to save his merger with Adele Townsend. He had scrubbed the digital logs of Adele’s illegal trades and pinned everything on me. When I refused, he didn't see my heartbreak; he only saw a malfunction in a business transaction.
"Do not speak her name," he hissed when I mentioned Adele’s fraud. "This merger is bigger than you."
He forced the pen into my hand, calling me dramatic while his security guards dragged me to a locked bedroom to "cool down." I spent three days parched and starving, listening to the muffled sound of champagne corks popping down the hall. They were celebrating my destruction. My heart finally gave out in that luxury cage, the darkness swallowing me as I realized I was nothing more than a disposable asset to him.
I died in that room, alone and betrayed by the person I trusted most. How could he do this? How could a decade of loyalty be worth less than a stock price? Why did I let him treat me like a sacrificial lamb for so long?
GASP. I shot up in bed, my lungs burning, but I wasn't in the penthouse. I was in my old, peeling Brooklyn apartment, and the date on my phone was May 12th—three years ago.
My phone buzzed with a text from Barrett: "Where are you? Bring the Townsend files. Now."
A cold, cruel smile touched my lips as I typed the reply that would start his nightmare.
"I quit." Orchestrated Accidents: A Heiress's Revenge
Modern They told me one of them would be my husband. Seven men, groomed by my father to be part of our music empire. I only ever wanted one: Devon Valenzuela, the band's brilliant, brooding lead singer.
But the night I caught him kissing his "sister," Delilah, I learned the devastating truth. The seven of them weren't rivals for my hand; they were a pack, united in a secret pact to protect her. I was just a variable in their game.
They orchestrated "accidents" to keep me dependent-a near-miss in the studio, a fall from my horse that left me with a broken leg. Devon played the part of the doting fiancé perfectly, nursing me back to health.
Then I overheard him confessing to another band member.
"It was the only way to get her attention," he said. "The bone breaking… that was an accident. Not part of the plan."
At my 21st birthday party, he humiliated me by broadcasting a video of my most private confessions of love for him to all our guests. But he didn't know I had a video of my own-one that would expose his precious Delilah and tear their entire world apart. The Altar, The Lies, His Penance
Modern Five years ago, my fiancé, Carter, left me at the altar. My sister, Camilla, framed me, and my own parents helped brand me a promiscuous woman who got pregnant by a stranger.
Abandoned and shamed, I was left to raise my son, Leo, alone, surviving three suicide attempts and a complete mental breakdown.
Now, Carter is back. He's obsessed, convinced Leo is his son, and is trying to take him from me. He even used a DNA test to prove Leo isn't my biological child, pushing me back to the edge of insanity.
When my sister tried to disfigure me with acid, I finally fought back. I slapped my parents, severing ties with the family that used and abused me.
But the truth was far more twisted than I ever imagined. Carter's mother confessed everything-the lies, the manipulation, the real reason he abandoned me.
He destroyed his own career in an act of penance, but it was too late.
Because the man who saved me, the man who stood by me through it all, had loved me in secret for years. And I was finally ready to see him. When Memory Returns, Love Dies
Romance Sunlight hit my face, but I woke to a room I didn' t know, a smiling couple in a picture on the nightstand-strangers. Panic built. Then, a man from the picture walked in, tray in hand. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he said. He was my husband, Ethan, and my name was Ava, but it meant nothing. My memory reset every night, a rare amnesia, he explained.
Then, one evening, it happened. My memory didn' t reset. I remembered everything: his assistant Chloe, their too-familiar glances, and their cruel whispers in his office. "It's convenient," he' d said. "She doesn't remember. I can do whatever I want." He saw me as a broken toy, his "perfect arrangement."
I ran, lost in a city that was supposed to be home. When I returned, defeated, Chloe was on my sofa, wine in hand, acting like she owned the place. "Where else would you go?" she purred. Ethan, instead of concern, was annoyed. When I dared to demand a divorce, he grabbed me, threatening. He coerced me into kneeling before Chloe, forcing me to apologize. Then, she slapped me. He watched.
The monster had built his life on my disability, isolating me, delighting in my helplessness. He had convinced my parents I needed isolation, turning me into a commodity. He didn' t just exploit me; he maintained my torment. How could he be so cruel?
But then, a secret journal, hidden by a past self, revealed everything. He hadn't just used me; he was enabling my condition. The realization was sickening. I was trapped, but this time, the truth was burned into my mind. I knew I had to escape. Dowry Denied, Destiny Rewritten
Modern The air in the Las Vegas hotel choked with stale champagne and failure.
My fiancé, Mark, slumped at the poker table, surrounded by his smirking cousins, Kevin and Brian.
A fortune in chips piled before them. Mark' s pile was empty.
My heart sank when Kevin announced the amount: "One hundred and eighty thousand dollars."
That was my dowry, a fund for our future, our new home.
Mark' s mother, Brenda, cornered me, her voice sharp. "You need to fix this, Sarah. It' s a family debt. You have the money. Pay it."
My blood ran cold. She wanted my dowry to cover a reckless gambling debt.
Mark wouldn' t even look at me, a pathetic man playing for sympathy.
"Brenda, that' s… that' s everything we have," I stammered.
"What kind of life will you have if your husband is in debt to his own family?" she countered. "Pay it, Sarah. It' s the only way."
I looked at Mark, begging him with my eyes to defend us. He just shook his head, a weak gesture of defeat.
The pressure was crushing, a trap closing in. My hand trembled as I reached for my purse, numb with shock and a twisted sense of duty.
Then, a line of text shimmered in the air, a translucent pop-up.
"Kevin and Brian are exchanging triumphant glances. They are predators who just cornered their prey."
I blinked, shaking my head, but it was still there.
Then another: "Brenda' s eyes are fixed on your purse, gleaming with anticipation, like a hawk watching a mouse."
The fog in my brain cleared. This wasn' t tragic loss. This was a performance. A carefully planned scam to steal my money.
Seven years of love, crumbling in an instant. The man I was to marry was a conspirator, his mother the mastermind.
The devastation felt physical, but a cold, hard anger began to rise.
They thought I was a fool. They were wrong.
My hand became perfectly steady. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of betrayal.
"No," I said, the single word cutting through the tension. When Best Friends Become Strangers
Young Adult I spent my entire childhood as one-third of an inseparable trio: "EOM Forever."
That meant a built-in future, headed to UCLA with my best friends, Olivia and Maya.
And by college, I was supposed to choose which of them I' d pledge my heart to.
But as my cursor hovered over the UCLA "Submit" button, thinking about that pact, triumph was replaced by a chilling sense of surrender.
Instead, on a whim, I clicked "Confirm Enrollment" for Yale.
It wasn't just a different school; it was an escape route.
Because for months, our tight-knit world had been invaded by Liam Spencer, a charming new transfer.
He charmed Olivia and Maya, and then effortlessly pushed me to the sidelines.
My messages in our group chat became sparse, often ignored, as their plans revolved around him.
Liam's "accidents" were always strangely convenient – a spilled glass of red wine on my laptop, a sudden "fainting spell" right before graduation.
And every time, Olivia and Maya leaped to his defense, dismissing my feelings.
"It's just a sweatshirt, Ethan," Olivia chided when Liam wore mine.
"He needs it more," Maya chimed in, with a heart emoji.
The ultimate betrayal came on Decision Day: Liam pushed me, cracking my head open on a stone planter.
Even then, as I lay in the hospital, Olivia and Maya pled for his forgiveness, calling him "tormented."
How could they be so blind?
My childhood best friends had become total strangers, enabling a manipulative narcissist, turning my life into a living hell.
I was done being their afterthought, their punching bag.
Leaving them behind wasn't just a decision; it was a desperate declaration of war for my own life.
But letting go of "EOM Forever" meant they wouldn't let go of me.
Not Olivia, not Maya, and certainly not Liam. You might like
Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon
Rum Runner I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground. The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife
Meng Xinyu I stood in the darkest corner of the Pierre Hotel’s ballroom, my cheap polyester dress itching against my skin while my wristband buzzed with a DARPA Priority Red alert.
In front of the city’s elite, my fiancé Bryce Calloway took the stage, not to toast our future, but to publicly end our engagement and announce he was with my sister, Chloe.
The room turned on me instantly, a hundred pairs of eyes pinning me down with pity and disgust as they physically backed away like I was contagious.
When I returned home, my mother shattered a crystal vase at my feet, screaming that I was a humiliation and a "dropout" who didn't deserve a cent of the family fortune.
Chloe and Bryce mocked me, laughing when I told them I had a mission with the National Security Agency, convinced I was either a pathological liar or a low-level criminal.
They watched in horror as a black, unmarked military helicopter descended on our backyard to extract me, yet they still chose to believe I was being arrested for drug trafficking.
They saw a pathetic girl who couldn't even parallel park, never realizing I was Dr. Nova Vance, the lead physicist behind the world's first successful fusion reactor.
To secure funding for my research and gain a "fortress" of a name, I signed a thirty-day marriage contract with the arrogant billionaire Roman Knight.
He treats me like a fraud, convinced I’m a gold-digger who failed out of college, while I quietly run global energy simulations from his guest bedroom.
He has no idea that the "loser" he’s forced to live with is the same anonymous grandmaster who has been ruthlessly crushing him in online strategy games for months.
"The contract is active," I told him, looking past his expensive suit.
"But don't expect me to be your maid." The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator
Eydie Pfefferle My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island.
He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis.
When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate.
They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard.
They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy.
Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise.
"Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation." Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." 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." 
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