Xiao Youzi
10 Published Stories
Xiao Youzi's Books and Stories
The Genius Wife He Never Cherished
Modern I gave up my architecture dream and my entire inheritance to help Garrison build his law firm, reducing myself to a glorified maid in his home for five years.
But the night my mother lay dying in the hospital, Garrison didn't come.
Instead, I saw him on the news, proposing to his mistress, Kayla, with a diamond ring bought with my savings.
When I confronted them, Garrison didn't apologize. Instead, he forced me to sign my 15% stake in the company over to Kayla for zero dollars.
He claimed she needed "security" because she was fragile.
Even when I threw the toxicology report at him, proving Kayla had poisoned my mother with arsenic to get her out of the way, Garrison covered it up to save his precious merger.
He looked me in the eye and told me to apologize to the woman who murdered my mother.
That was the moment Janet Gardner died.
I signed the papers, threw the divorce agreement in his face, and vanished into the night without a trace.
Three years later, at a prestigious art gallery in Paris, a gaunt, broken man fell to his knees in front of the famous artist "Jane."
Garrison wept, clutching the hem of my dress, begging for my forgiveness.
I looked down at my ex-husband with a polite, empty smile.
"I'm sorry, sir. Do I know you?" Mafia Princess: Escaping His Deadly Lie
Mafia For three years, a rare liver disease has been killing me. Through it all, my husband Julian has been my rock. Our last hope was a black-market liver, secured through a life-debt owed to my family, the Volkov Bratva.
But from my hospital bed, I overheard him promise that very liver to another woman.
It was for his mistress's mother.
I soon discovered he had a four-year-old daughter with her. Their family was established; I was just the placeholder. On a hidden security feed, I watched him in my dead parents' penthouse—a sacred place he forbade me from visiting—bouncing their child on his knee.
Then he fastened the diamond necklace he'd bought for my birthday around his mistress's neck.
The final blow came when I heard her whisper, "Just a little longer... the fever will do the rest."
He wasn't just leaving me. He was actively trying to kill me.
The love I had for him didn't just die; it turned to a cold, hard stone in my chest. The man whose devotion I never questioned now made my skin crawl with revulsion.
The next morning, I signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I left my wedding ring and the signed divorce papers on the entryway table, blocked his number, and walked out of our house without looking back. Love's Betrayal, A Mother's Vow
Sci-fi Ava stepped off the jet, eager to finally hug her daughter, Lily, after eighteen months away on a critical mission.
A familiar face, her handler, handed her a tablet, saying, "Welcome home, Ava. Everything is ready for your debriefing tomorrow. Tonight is yours."
Her eyes immediately landed on a headline: "Tech Prodigy Lily Thorne Exposed as Fraud, Groundbreaking AI Code Auctioned Off by Estranged Husband Mark Vance."
And then the photo. Lily, bound to a chair on a brightly lit stage, her face pale, a mixture of shock and utter devastation.
Her estranged son-in-law, Mark Vance, stood beside a woman Ava didn' t recognize-his new fiancée, Chloe.
He was sneering into the camera, declaring Lily would be finished, blacklisted, her future one of "menial jobs and constant public humiliation."
The tablet shattered in Ava' s hand, cracks spiderwebbing across the screen.
Her blood ran cold. The rage was a physical force, shimmering in the air around her.
How could he do this? How could a man she once trusted betray her daughter so completely, so publicly?
This wasn't just a betrayal; it was an execution.
"The mission isn' t over," Ava declared, her voice unnaturally calm, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the horrified handler. "It just began." Reclaiming Life, Finding Love
Romance The paper in my hand felt like a death sentence: glioblastoma, an aggressive brain tumor.
That same day, my estranged wife, Chloe, flashed across my laptop screen, pregnant with another man' s child, her new partner, Mark Jensen, by her side.
Before I could even process the betrayal, my five-year-old son, Liam, shattered my phone, screaming, "I hate you!", his loyalty already shifted to Chloe' s new family.
Later that day, a venomous spider bite and a brutal car crash-orchestrated by Chloe herself-left me clinging to life, only for her and Mark to attempt to block my treatment at the hospital, almost succeeding.
They dragged me from my hospital bed, still recovering, and locked me in my own basement, binding me to a chair.
Forced to confess to lies I never spoke, I endured their physical and emotional torment, my own son throwing a toy car at my face.
Every word they spoke, every blow they landed, twisted the knife of injustice deeper, making me question how the woman I loved and the child I adored could become my tormentors.
My world was crumbling, everything I built stripped away by those closest to me, leaving me utterly alone and broken.
But then, a new doctor, Evelyn Reed, emerged, a beacon of hope against the darkness, a promise that this nightmare, and the lies that fueled it, would finally be exposed. The Night They Buried Me Alive
Romance The yacht bucked like a wild beast in the Lake Michigan storm, and my family faced a terrible choice.
There were only two spots left on the rescue boat, and my father didn' t hesitate: "Caleb, get in. Grab the dog."
They chose my adopted brother, the "good luck charm," and my mother' s prized show dog over me, yelling for me to swim to a non-existent marina.
My fiancée, Molly, was already gone, announcing her engagement to Caleb on the evening news before they even knew if I was dead or alive.
When I finally dragged myself back, barely clinging to life, I was met not with relief, but with rage and disgust.
My "brother" Caleb, the perfect son, framed me for theft, and my parents, the people who were supposed to love me, forced me to strip naked in front of their staff, searching for something I didn't steal.
How could my own family do this? How could they betray me so completely, not just once, but again and again, pushing me to the absolute breaking point?
That day, as I walked away, leaving everything and everyone I knew behind, I wasn't just leaving a house; I was severing a destiny.
I was done being Ethan Duncan, the cursed son; now, I would simply become Ethan, and I would build a life so strong, so independent, that their world would crumble without me. Beyond The Pep Rally Humiliation
Romance My name is Maya Rodriguez, and I pretty much live at WOLF Radio, spinning indie tracks and secretly nursing a hopeless crush on Ethan Miller, our university' s star quarterback.
He' s that guy – popular, talented, and completely out of my league.
Then came Homecoming.
A text from my best friend shattered my world: Ethan was about to ask Chloe Davis, the campus queen, to the Ball.
And he was going to do it using my microphones!
My stomach clenched.
I had to stop him.
In a panic, I recorded a voice note to Liv: "Liv, I have to stop this! I can't let him use the WOLF Radio mic to ask Chloe! You know how I feel about Ethan!"
But a forgotten Bluetooth connection turned my private confession into a public announcement, booming across the entire stadium.
The mortified silence, then the gasps and laughter.
My deepest secret, broadcast to thousands.
I wanted to die.
Chaos.
Humiliation.
How could my mistake be so catastrophic?
I was the invisible sound tech, always behind the scenes.
This was beyond anything I could imagine.
The star quarterback, frozen on the field, looking directly at me.
But then the impossible happened: Ethan sought me out.
He wasn't angry.
He was oddly amused.
He revealed a massive misunderstanding – the proposal wasn't for Chloe, or even for him.
My public humiliation was all for nothing.
Or was it?
What exactly was the campus heartthrob doing, being so incredibly kind to the girl who just declared her crush to the whole school? The Twins He Destroyed
Romance The Thorne mansion reeked of unspoken rivalries.
I, Sarah Ashton, was one of eighteen women, disowned by my family for this role.
Ethan, my childhood sweetheart, now saw me with cold resentment, obsessed with Brenda, who claimed to save his life.
A chilling premonition haunted me: Ethan' s rage-filled face, his hands stained with my blood, my newborn twins' cries silenced. He kills us.
So, the faint blue lines on the test brought not joy, but icy terror. My unborn, his children. The ones he would destroy.
I secretly bribed the doctor to hide my twin pregnancy.
Days later, Brenda announced her fake pregnancy; overjoyed Ethan demanded marriage.
The horror peaked when Brenda, feigning a fall and accusing me, screamed I harmed her "baby." Ethan' s fury erupted.
He punched me, then kicked my stomach.
Agony ripped through me. "My babies…" I choked, bleeding. "Ethan… I'm pregnant…"
He laughed, "Pregnant? You? Don' t try that lie now."
He saw only his "victim" and "attacker," dismissing my agony.
My premonition became real: my twins, lost to their father's blind rage.
As darkness consumed me, Eleanor Thorne, Ethan's grandmother, burst in, face etched with horror. She knew.
With her help, I escaped, grieving my lost children.
Ethan built his joyous new life on Brenda' s lies, unaware Eleanor was patiently orchestrating a reckoning he' d never forget. Falcon's Fury: The Heiress Returns
Billionaires Three years at Yale, I missed the Texas heat and the Sterling ranch, counting down the days to surprise my sister, Lily.
I pictured our joyful reunion, the familiar echo of laughter in the grand halls.
Instead, a chilling silence hung over the mansion. Her familiar room was replaced by a gaudy guest suite.
A faint, rhythmic creaking led me to the gardens. There, under a wilting magnolia, stood a crude dog run.
And inside, a tattered pink fabric betrayed the unimaginable – Lily.
My sister, rail-thin, hair matted, whimpered, "No… no cookies. Cookies are for good people. Master says I'm a pet."
Just then, Pamela, my stepmother, emerged, smug and heavily pregnant, dangling Lily's half of our family's sacred Falcon emblem.
"Ava, darling. Home a bit sooner than expected, aren't we?"
"That badge means power, and Lily graciously gave me her share," she purred, her gaze predatory, eyeing mine.
How could Robert, my own father, stand by while his daughter was brutalized?
He had shielded Pamela, allowed her to twist our family's legacy into this grotesque nightmare.
This wasn't merely a family dispute; it was an act of heinous cruelty. A deliberate erasure of everything my mother had built.
And I, the rightful heir, was now utterly alone, powerless.
When her goons cornered me, tearing away my own Falcon emblem, she declared Falcon International finally hers.
But they didn't know that under my shirt, hidden by years of preparation, was a silent beacon.
With a single, desperate press, I had activated the Ghost Tactical Squad—Falcon's most elite, most discreet unit.
The game was about to change. The Unspoken Farewell
Romance I was Emily Rose, a top-tier law student, interning at the prestigious Kent Corporation.
William Kent, the notorious playboy heir, relentlessly pursued me, and I fell hard, believing I was finally his "one."
Old Man Kent had even announced a challenge: the woman who could tame William for six months would be the next Mrs. Kent.
I pictured a future, a ring, a life.
Then the news broke: Sophia Vanderbilt, William’s society-approved match, staged a public, bloody suicide attempt, blaming me as the gold-digging home-wrecker.
William, to save his family's reputation and his own ascent, instantly turned on me, calling me a calculating liar.
The Kents ensured my scholarship vanished, my reputation was shredded, and I became a corporate pariah.
They didn't stop there; my nurse mother was framed for theft, and my younger brother faced drug charges.
My world burned as their lawyers offered a chilling ultimatum: confess and disappear, or my family would face ruin.
I refused, and the next day, a black SUV ran a red light.
Then, nothing.
Until I snapped awake, back at the very Kent gala where William first charmed me – the night it all began.
My heart hammered, a wild bird trapped, but this time, it vibrated with a cold, clear resolve.
Why was I back?
To relive this nightmare, this betrayal?
No, this time, I wouldn't be their lamb.
I met William's gaze, my eyes cold and flat: "Not yours, Mr. Kent. Excuse me."
This time, the game was mine to play. You might like
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." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. 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!" 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 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. 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." 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. The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." 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. 
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