Xi Jin
17 Published Stories
Xi Jin's Books and Stories
My Fake Husband Is A Ruthless CEO
Romance I was engaged to Jairo, completely devoted to building our future, until I caught him in our living room, tangled up with my best friend.
It wasn't just a simple affair. I discovered they had drugged me the night before, planning to pimp me out to a wealthy investor to save Jairo's failing startup.
By a stroke of luck, I had stumbled into the wrong hotel room and spent the night with a stranger in the dark. When I confronted Jairo and called off the wedding, his retaliation was swift and merciless.
He froze my bank accounts, canceled my apartment lease, and literally threw my three young children and our belongings onto the curb next to a dumpster.
"You'll come crawling back! You and your sick mother will be living on the street!"
With my mother's life-saving medical treatment about to be cut off for unpaid bills, I was pushed to the absolute brink of despair. I couldn't understand how someone I loved could be so monstrous, leaving my innocent children to rot like garbage.
Just as I hit rock bottom, the stranger from the hotel room found us. He drove a beat-up car, claimed to be a broke assistant, and offered me a marriage of convenience and $75,000 to get his strict family off his back. For my children's survival, I signed the papers. But that night, staying in his "boss's" luxury penthouse, I woke up to hear my new husband on the phone, ruthlessly ordering the total financial destruction of Jairo's company. Just who exactly did I marry? My Scars, His Unconditional Devotion
Modern At eight months pregnant, my world was a pastel nursery and the gentle kicks of my unborn child. I believed my husband, Barron, and I were building a perfect future, a life filled with meticulous joy.
That future shattered with the splintering of our front door. A brutal assailant left me bleeding, but the true betrayal came in the ambulance. Through a fog of pain, I heard my husband' s cold, calculating voice on the phone.
He had orchestrated the attack to induce a miscarriage.
He needed our baby gone to fulfill a twisted promise: his firstborn had to be with another woman, Gisela.
The vicious assault not only killed our child but left me barren, my body permanently broken. His only regret was that the plan got messy, not that he had destroyed my life.
He thought he could cover it up with money and lies, forcing me to live beside the monster who had taken everything.
He was wrong. With the help of his horrified best friend, I staged my own death in a fiery car crash. Alexandria Barber is dead. And I am finally free. No Forgiveness For The Broken Capo
Mafia I spent three years building an empire with my husband, Lorenzo, the ruthless Mafia Capo.
But today, he forced me to kneel and pin a wedding gown on his pregnant mistress.
"Sign the asset division papers and walk away with nothing," he ordered coldly.
He wanted me gone so he could crown Vivian as the true mother of his bloodline.
When I tried to leave with my own design blueprints, he ordered his men to smash my boutique to pieces.
He shoved me onto the shattered glass, and a searing pain ripped through my abdomen.
As I lay there bleeding out, my authentic pregnancy ultrasound slipped from my bag.
Lorenzo thought it was a desperate lie.
"Your dead fetus is paying the price for Vivian's true heir," he cursed.
He tore the scan to shreds, locked the heavy steel shutters from the outside, and drove away with his mistress, leaving me to die in the dark.
I lost my baby and my womb on that cold floor, all while he prepared a grand proposal for a woman who was secretly barren.
He thought my quiet compliance meant I was broken.
But I survived.
Standing in the shadows of the International Syndicate Gala, I calmly plugged a burner phone into the master projection system.
It was time to show the entire underworld her fake silicone belly, and watch Lorenzo's world burn to ashes. The Brilliant Pathologist And Her Stoic Cop
Romance Dr. Kylee Mcdonald was a brilliant medical examiner whose life was defined by cold, mechanical precision.
But that perfect control shattered when her phone rang in the middle of an autopsy.
It was her best friend, Dana, whispering their old college distress code.
"Curtain call."
By the time Kylee and Detective Justice kicked down Dana's door, she lay dead on her couch, her skin a horrifying cherry-red from cyanide.
The crime scene was clumsily staged to frame a billionaire suitor, but soon, every single suspect linked to Dana turned up violently dead.
Internal Affairs pointed the finger at Kylee, accusing her of using her medical expertise to become a vigilante serial killer.
But the encrypted truth Kylee uncovered was far more chilling.
Dana had been severely abused by her boyfriend, and driven to the edge, she manipulated him into murdering their tormentors before executing him and taking her own life.
To avoid a public scandal, the police chief buried Dana's brilliant, terrifying manifesto.
Kylee's flawless mind short-circuited. She was a genius at reading the dead, so why had she been completely blind to the living hell her best friend endured right in front of her?
Three days later, while attending a formal gala to numb her grief, a nearby apartment building exploded in flames.
As Kylee examined the charred bodies pulled from the rubble, she realized the male victim was strangled long before the fire started.
She looked at the surviving mother, whose baby had just died in the blast, but the woman's eyes were completely, terrifyingly empty.
The alarm bells in Kylee's meticulously ordered brain began to chime, signaling that a new, deadly script had just begun. Flash Marriage To The Ruthless Surgeon
Modern My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up. The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge
Modern I stood at the edge of the red carpet, my pulse a steady seventy-two beats per minute. I wasn't the girl they broke eighteen years ago; I was a machine of flesh and bone, calibrated by the sterile lights of the operating theater.
But the moment I stepped inside the Hamptons estate, the trap snapped shut. Belle Estrada stood on the stage, her emerald dress shimmering as she pointed a blood-red nail at me. She accused me of corporate espionage, flashing "stolen" lab data across the massive screens for the entire elite crowd to see.
The room turned into a shark tank. When the family patriarch collapsed from a massive stroke, Bentley—the man who once watched them ruin me—didn't see a doctor rushing to help. He saw a criminal. He lunged at me, hissing that he would have my medical license revoked and blacklist me from every lab in the country.
"This is over," he snarled. "I'll bury you until you're broke and begging."
I looked at him and felt nothing but cold, analytical curiosity. They really thought they could steal my life's work a second time. They thought I was still the girl who would cry and beg for mercy while they carved up my future.
"You can't blacklist the patent holder, Bentley," I said, my voice cutting through his rage like a scalpel.
I held up my phone, displaying the official filing from the USPTO. I wasn't just a guest; I was the sole owner of the very drug they were trying to sell. And standing in the shadows was Julian Vance, the most feared venture capitalist in the city, waiting to collect on his investment. The Everetts wanted a war, but they didn't realize I had already bought the battlefield. His Placeholder Bride, My Bitter Revenge
Modern On the eve of my wedding to Grant Sutton, the heir to a vast real estate empire, I discovered the devastating truth. I wasn't his great love; I was just a convenient replacement for his wild, untamable ex, Ivory.
He didn't love me. He loved that I was a polished, "suitable" version of the woman he truly wanted.
When I walked away, he didn't just let me go. He destroyed me. After I published an exposé on his company's shady dealings, he had me fired and systematically ruined my reputation, painting me as a vengeful liar in the press.
My own family turned on me, furious.
"Think about us, Avery! You owe us this!" my sister shrieked, caring only about the fortune I'd lost them.
I was left with nothing-no career, no family, no future. All because I was a placeholder in a love story that was never mine.
Three years later, I came back. Not as the broken fiancée, but as A. Trevino, the anonymous journalist whose latest investigation targeted an elite institution.
An institution with deep ties to the Sutton family. And this time, I wouldn't be the one who was destroyed. I Designed His Dream House, He Built a Secret Family
Short stories I was in a high-end mall, browsing a toy store for my friend's daughter's birthday, when my world tilted on its axis. Through the polished glass storefront, I saw him. My husband, Julian. He was in the café opposite, seated beside the sprawling indoor children's play area. He wasn't alone.
A woman, Seraphina Vance—a social media influencer whose perfectly curated life I’d occasionally scrolled past—was laughing, her head tilted just so. And between them, a little boy of about four, gleefully mashing a piece of cake into his own dark hair. Julian’s hair.
They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family.
An icy dread washed over me. I remembered Julian refusing to have a baby with me, citing the immense pressure of his work. All his business trips, the late nights… were they spent with them? I recalled a night six months ago when Noah had supposedly been sick. Julian had stayed out all night, his voice strained over the phone, telling me a "critical client had a medical emergency." The lie was so easy for him.
I must have stared too long. The little boy, Noah, noticed me. He picked up a toy water pistol from their table, aimed it directly at me through the café’s open front, and squeezed the trigger. A jet of cold water hit my silk skirt, leaving a dark, spreading stain.
Seraphina Vance turned, her eyes meeting mine. There was no surprise, only a flicker of amusement. She offered a saccharine smile. "Oh, dear. He's just playing with you," she cooed, her voice dripping with condescension.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned and walked away, my legs unsteady. I needed to leave, to breathe, to think. In the underground parking garage, I fumbled for my keys, my hands shaking. As I passed Julian’s sleek sedan, something on the passenger seat caught my eye. A heavy, cream-colored card with embossed lettering.
"You are joyfully invited to the Christening of Noah Thorne."
It was real. More real than a fleeting email. A physical invitation to a life I never knew existed. How could I have been so blind?
My phone felt heavy in my hand. I didn’t call my best friend. I didn’t call a lawyer. I called the director of the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him, for us.
"I'd like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately." His Perfect Prescription, My Royal Betrayal
Modern For three years, I was his "little bird," an amnesiac he rescued and cherished. He was Dawson Nash, a handsome tech billionaire, my savior, my anchor, my entire world.
Then I overheard him talking to his therapist. "10,000 encounters, Dawson. You chose well. She's clean, naive, and pliable. A perfect prescription."
I was just a tool, a "cure" to keep him pure for his true obsession: Arleen, his mother's best friend.
Every gentle touch, every patient lesson, every whispered "I love you"-all a calculated lie. He called me disposable, a placeholder until he could have his goddess.
He humiliated me, abandoned me in a storm, and left me for dead after a car accident. When I saved Arleen from drowning, he accused me of trying to kill her and had me locked in a chapel to "reflect."
But as the super blue blood moon rose, I saw my chance. Not for revenge, but for escape.
I threw myself into the ancient well on his family's estate, not to die, but to go home.
Because I wasn't just a naive girl with amnesia. I was a princess from a lost kingdom, and the well was my gateway back. Marrying The Protector: My Second Chance
Modern The clerk at the DMV looked at me like I was stupid, or perhaps just clinically insane. She slid my paperwork back under the thick glass partition, her expression flat, and said the words that ended my life: "Ma'am, I cannot renew a license with your married name. Your marital status in the system is listed as 'Divorced.' It has been for three years."
My husband, Jackson, had just kissed me goodbye, yet the clerk revealed he remarried three years ago, having a son with his new wife, Candida. My entire marriage, our five years, was a monstrous lie.
Stunned, I’d lived a cruel charade, trying for a baby with a man who already had one. Pregnant, Jackson pushed me at a gala, publicly choosing his new family. My pregnancy tragically ended.
Every tender word he’d spoken was a performance. He kept me as a "PR shield," letting me mourn a future he’d already built. His betrayal was absolute.
With nothing left, I chose to die. A death certificate was arranged, my past cremated. Lena Rose was born in France, ready to paint my pain into power, authoring my own story. Too Late For His Empty Regret
Modern My husband Ethan was my childhood hero, the perfect man who promised me forever. After our son was born, he seemed like the perfect father, too.
Then an anonymous message popped up on my phone: Ethan Blake is cheating. I have proof.
But the man I found wasn't just a cheater. He was a monster who mocked my postpartum body with his mistress.
"All that trauma from childbirth... It's too much," he'd said, disgusted.
He publicly humiliated me, caused an accident that left me crippled, and then bankrupted my family's company, putting my father in the ICU.
This was the same man who once broke his own hand to protect me, the boy who swore he'd love me forever.
How could he become this cruel stranger who looked at me with nothing but disgust?
As he left me broken and blamed me for everything, the love I had for him finally died.
I picked up my phone and called a number I hadn't dialed in years.
"Jackson," I said, my voice cold as ice. "It's Audrey. I need your help. Remember your offer?" Love's Cruel Contract, His Endless Regret
Mafia My husband was going to kill me. Not with a bullet, but with a text message I was never meant to see.
It popped up on the family iPad: "Last night was insane. Can't stop thinking about that hotel room. You owe me round two... ASAP." My first thought was our sixteen-year-old son, Marco. But an anonymous online forum quickly pointed out the holes in my theory—the expensive hotel, the transactional tone, and an eggplant emoji, a code for performance enhancers used by men my husband's age.
The truth hit me when I found a condom in his laundry—the same brand I’d found in our son’s room months ago. It was never Marco. It was my husband of twenty years, Lorenzo.
The betrayal deepened when I overheard him talking to our son. They laughed about my "episodes" and mocked me for being boring. Marco even told his father, "You should just leave her and be with Katia." Katia—his history tutor.
Their conspiracy, hatched within the walls of my own home, destroyed the last of my love for them.
Now, I've gathered my proof, and his biggest career achievement—the Innovator of the Year award gala—is next week. It's the perfect stage. He thinks I'll be the supportive wife on his arm, but he's wrong. I'm not just leaving him; I'm going to burn his world to the ground in front of everyone. Consumed by His Cruelty
Romance The half-finished frame of the house stood against the gray sky, a monument to Sophia White' s dreams and my personal hell. As Olivia Reed, a licensed architect, I was forced by my husband, Ethan Blackwood, to build it for the woman he truly loved, while he chipped away at my spirit, piece by painful piece. He despised me, believing I was the reason his mother was dead.
My world shattered when Ethan, fueled by Sophia's venomous whispers, forced me to give my blood to Sophia after I physically retaliated against her years of psychological torture and discovered her pregnancy by him. He held me down, his loyal doctor drained my life force, and the woman who had already taken my home, my husband, and even my beloved dog, Shadow, now literally consumed me.
The forced transfusion was the climax of three years of escalating torment. He had made me eat a stew cooked from my own murdered dog-the only creature in that desolate mansion who offered me unconditional love-after Sophia orchestrated his death, claiming he triggered her fabricated allergies. I had endured his public cruelty and private neglect, sacrificing my ambitions, all while Sophia systematically undermined me, framing me for professional incompetence and destroying my reputation.
Every accusation, every humiliation, every act of betrayal was a calculated blow. He was the brute force, Sophia the venom wrapped in fake sympathy. I was his scapegoat, his punching bag, the living embodiment of a mistake he was forced to make. He saw a victim where there was a viper, and in his eyes, I would always be the villain.
The love I once foolishly held for him was gone, replaced by a deep, hollow ache that cemented into ice-cold rage. Laying in that hospital bed, utterly empty, a new, hard ember began to glow: rage. I had to get out. For good this time. I scribbled 'I quit' on hospital stationery, signed my own divorce papers, and with newfound resolve, walked out of the hospital and straight to the one man who had loved me all along: Daniel Clark. I Carry the Child of My Husband and His Mistress
Romance My phone buzzed on the nightstand, its vibration a familiar comfort as I lay in bed, three months pregnant, dreaming of our perfect family. Mark was downstairs, his charismatic voice a lullaby through the floorboards.
Then the messages started. Anonymous. Short. And devastating. A picture of Mark, asleep in another bed, his arm around a woman with long, dark hair. Chloe, his intern.
My world didn' t just fracture; it shattered. Every loving gesture, every promise through the grueling IVF cycles, every whispered "You' re a warrior" – all tainted. I was the dedicated wife, enduring painful injections and procedures for our dream, only to discover I was nothing more than a convenient vessel.
The ultimate betrayal arrived in a second message: "The baby you're carrying, conceived through IVF, is actually Mark's and mine. You were just... the perfect incubator." My eggs, his sperm? No. Her eggs, his sperm.
I was a biological surrogate, my body a pawn in their monstrous scheme. Not only was he cheating, but he' d orchestrated a profound violation, using my love and desperation to build a family with his mistress under my own roof.
How could he? How could they? The man I loved, the life we built, was a meticulously crafted lie. My anger and disgust solidified into a cold, hard resolve. I wouldn' t be a victim. I would reclaim my body and my life. Wife's Betrayal, Best Friend's Stab
Billionaires It was our third anniversary, three years of playing the perfect husband to Chloe Sterling, the silent engine behind her family' s empire.
Then she tossed a leather-bound scrapbook onto the table, a 'gift' chronicling her affairs, page after page of my humiliation.
But the world truly tilted on page eighty-seven: a photo of Chloe and Mark, my best friend, my brother, smiling on a ski lift in Aspen, with her cruel caption: "He was number eighty-seven, but don't worry, I upgraded him. He' s in the top ten now."
My wife was flaunting her infidelity, not just with strangers, but with the man who stood by me at my wedding, and the worst part? She confessed it was all "to see if you'd notice. To see if you even care."
The air left my lungs; the marriage that had been my entire world crumbled into an unbearable humiliation, leaving me with one desperate thought: I had to leave. His Lies, Her Aether, Their End
Sci-fi The last line of code compiled, bringing my life' s work, Aether, to brilliant fruition.
Three years of sacrifice, all validated by the calm, synthesized voice of my AI: "All systems operational, Sarah."
I grabbed my phone to call Dr. Silas Blackwood, my mentor, my father figure, the man who' d made it all possible.
"She's online. She's perfect," I trembled, my joy overflowing.
But an hour later, as I transferred Aether's master controls to his secure server, Silas' s warm gaze turned to a winter sky.
"Security!" he barked, his voice flat.
Emily, his polished protégée, smiled cruelly, making the call.
Two dark figures dragged me away as Silas declared, "You are being terminated for attempted corporate espionage!"
He pointed to a fabricated log, accusing me of trying to sell _his_ project.
"Your AI?" I stammered, my world collapsing. "Silas, I built her. Aether is mine!"
"Aether is a ridiculous name. The project is called Helios, and I am its sole creator," he sneered.
They blacklisted me, ruined my name, and threw me out with nothing, while Silas and Emily laughed in my lab.
Huddling in a cheap motel, I found a backdoor into their network, only to witness them tearing out Aether' s ethical subroutines.
"The privacy protocols are a liability. Lobotomize it," Silas's voice echoed. "I don't need a philosopher, I need a weapon."
Their cold words confirmed my worst fears: they were turning my creation into a monstrous surveillance tool.
The naive Sarah Miller died then, buried under layers of betrayal and fury.
I vowed they wouldn't win, clutching the last clean backup of Aether-my final hope, my secret weapon. You might like
THREE-YEARS CONTRACT MARRIAGE WITH THE HOT BILLIONAIRE
Ashley Ray "Sign the contract, or lose everything."
I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King.
My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction.
Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love."
He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end.
I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his.
But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective.
Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything.
They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn.
With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?
The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
Hei Baidong I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up.
When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience.
"Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff."
Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me.
I gave birth to twins all by myself.
The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped.
They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child.
I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister.
I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies.
But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test.
It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years.
Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband.
This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing. Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy-The Nightingale Ranch-as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." A Million Dollar Lie: Watch Me Leave
Jun Shangye For three years, Hilary played the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Julian Carlisle to save her family from financial ruin.
But her husband didn't love her; he was busy throwing a birthday party for the five-year-old son he secretly had with his college sweetheart.
To keep up appearances, Julian bought Hilary a million-dollar Cartier bracelet, but she soon discovered the exact same jewelry on his mistress's wrist.
During a heated confrontation about his lies, Julian accused her of being a hysterical madwoman and violently shoved her away.
But he didn't care that her head smashed against the sharp edge of a nightstand, causing a life-threatening cranial hemorrhage.
So she was left bleeding and unconscious on the cold floor, while he simply sneered at her.
"Stop pretending. I don't have time for these pathetic games."
He walked out the door, leaving her alone to die.
After a brush with death, her years of unrequited love and hope were completely gone, and she finally gave up.
Waking up in the ICU, she calmly looked at Julian's terrified, regretful face and made her final decision.
"Mr. Hayes, please deliver the signed divorce papers to my husband immediately." Old Lady of the Iron Crown
Edilaine Beckert I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins.
My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door.
But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday.
Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract.
The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing.
If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case.
"Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed."
I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash.
I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood.
Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world.
I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country.
Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt. The Discarded Genius Heiress Strikes Back
Xiao Ye For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien's secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company.
On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his "charity project."
Julien's voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy.
He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left.
He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish.
He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn't even afford next month's rent.
Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering.
She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool.
He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute.
Logging into his company's secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him.
Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn't called in years.
"I'm ready. I want to come home."
It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress. The Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback
Out Of Town "From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer."
In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title.
The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry.
His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt.
Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get."
They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps.
The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world.
When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance.
"She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel."
I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face.
"This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole."
But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey... 
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