Xu Shinian
7 Published Stories
Xu Shinian's Books and Stories
Falling For My Cold Billionaire Captor
Billionaires Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen. The Price of Betrayal: My White Wolf Path
Werewolf I was the Luna of the Moonstone Pack, but to my husband, Alpha Blake, I was nothing more than a placeholder.
While he showered his "fragile" childhood friend Ariana with attention, I kept a secret black notebook.
It wasn't a diary. It was a countdown.
Missed our anniversary dinner for her? Minus 10 points.
Saved her from a falling sculpture while leaving me to be crushed by steel? Minus 20 points.
I lay in the hospital with broken ribs, watching him leave to comfort Ariana because she was "traumatized" by my accident.
But the final straw came the night I was hit by a truck in a storm he abandoned me in.
Desperate to save our unborn baby, the doctors called Blake. They needed his Alpha energy to anchor the fetus.
"I can't come," Blake said coldly over the speakerphone.
"Ariana is having palpitations. If the fetus is strong, it will survive. If not, it wasn't meant to be."
He hung up.
I felt the life inside me wink out.
With trembling hands, I opened my notebook for the last time.
Incident: Killed our child for her. Final Score: -100.
I signed the divorce papers, left them on the ashes of my life, and vanished.
When Blake finally returned to the empty house, realizing he had lost his True Mate, he fell to his knees and howled.
But he didn't know the truth yet.
The wife he called weak had just awakened as the legendary White Wolf, and I was never coming back. Fatal Affection, Bitter End
Modern The rain hammered against the school bus windows, mimicking the frantic beat of my heart. My estranged wife, Susan, was screaming, trying to drag our brilliant daughter, Emily, off the bus and into the deluge, all for Mark Johnson, a man in his forties who had failed the college entrance exam for twenty years straight. This was his "lucky year," Susan shrieked.
A cold dread washed over me; this had happened before. In a life I no longer lived, my hesitation had allowed Susan to pull Emily off the bus, costing Emily her future. Mark, predictably, failed again and then jumped from a bridge. A year later, Susan had poisoned me at Emily' s graduation party, cursing, "You ruined him! You stole his destiny!"
I saw the memory, not as a dream, but as a prophecy. There would be no hesitation this time. I grabbed Susan' s arm, my grip like iron, pulling her away from Emily. "You are not ruining our daughter' s life," I bit out.
Enraged, Susan slapped Emily across the face, silencing the bus. Just as parental anger was about to explode, the bus driver' s radio crackled: "Route 7 bridge compromised… route to exam center blocked. Indefinitely." Panic erupted, but Susan, oblivious, declared to Mark, "It' s destiny! The universe is making way for you!"
The bus became a pressure cooker. Insults turned to shoves. Mark and Susan were caught in a pathetic brawl in the pouring rain. After checking on Emily, I calmly called the Mayor' s office.
"This is Professor David Miller," I stated, "Your office has confirmed emergency transport. Helicopters. To airlift the students from your location to the exam center." Hope surged through the bus. "Of course, that' s just for the students on the school' s official roster," I added, low enough for just a few to hear. "Any private applicant, like him, would have to arrange payment for a private charter. Astronomically expensive."
The helicopters arrived. Susan, attempting to push Mark to the front, was informed of the $200,000 emergency fee for private applicants. Her jaw dropped. Mark, realizing his entire savings were about that much, asked for his card. Susan stammered, "I used it... I bought you this lucky jade pendant! It cost $300,000!" Just then, a jeweler observed, "That looks like a fake... worth maybe $200."
"You idiot!" Mark screamed, grabbing Susan. "You spent my life savings on a piece of glass?" A police officer moved in. Susan, hysterical, begged me for a loan. I offered a loan agreement: $200,000 at 20% daily compounded interest, her house as collateral, due in 30 days. With the last helicopter preparing to lift off, she signed. Mark scrambled on board.
Minutes later, a new announcement: "Floodwaters at Route 7 bridge have receded faster than expected. Road reopened. Ground transport can now proceed." Susan, standing alone in the rain, crumpled. She had signed away her future for a now-unnecessary twenty-minute helicopter ride. This was only the beginning. My Life, Her Vengeance
Horror On my deathbed, gasping for air, my wife Olivia and our son stood over me, reeking of cold fury and gasoline.
"Our son was conceived with Alex' s sperm," Olivia whispered, a venomous hiss. My son poured gasoline over me as she smiled, "You spent your entire life raising a child for the man I loved!"
The first flame brought searing agony; my world exploded into fire. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the inferno.
Then I opened my eyes. The smell of gasoline was gone, replaced by roses. I was young, strong, in a tuxedo. This was my wedding night, thirty years earlier. The door burst open; Olivia, pale and panicked, clutched her phone.
"Alex sent me a message," she stammered. "He' s at the cliff. He' s going to jump." Her father, Mr. Miller, sternly forbade her from leaving. "If you don' t complete this wedding today, the Miller family will disown you!"
Olivia looked at me, her eyes filled with venomous hatred. She slapped me, a sharp sting. In my first life, I had begged her to stay, dedicating thirty years to her and her family, building their empire, raising her son-Alex' s son-only to be burned alive for my devotion.
The betrayal was a fresh wound, a guiding light. This time, I would not be a fool. I looked at Olivia, her face twisted with fear and hatred, and made a decision. A Marriage Never Meant To Be
Romance My engagement to Ethan Hayes was suffocating, bound by a grim family rule: no breaking up, only widowed. My brother' s dying wish had sealed my fate with a man who no longer loved me. He loved Chloe Davis.
The definitive moment arrived when my brother's watch, my most prized possession, was shattered by Chloe Davis. Worse, Ethan, my fiancé, sided with her, dismissing my grief and the watch's immense sentimental value.
Instead of comfort, I received an onslaught. His mother lectured me, and Ethan himself dismissed the broken watch as "silly" and "worn out," offering an "upgrade" like my brother's last gift was a trivial inconvenience. Then, Chloe returned with Ethan, feigning an apology, only to deliberately destroy the watch further, crushing the delicate mechanism.
With each calculated move, they chipped away at my identity. His friends joined in, accusing me of cruelty, while Ethan, oblivious or uncaring, simply saw me as "dramatic" and "making a mess," even as I lay bleeding on the floor of my own apartment. He was more concerned about being late for a dinner reservation with Chloe than about my pain.
Why was I continually subjected to this emotional torture? Why did he let her weaponize my dead brother's memory? The answer finally became painfully clear: I was a problem to be managed, not a partner. So, I picked myself up, cleaned the blood, and calmly put an escape plan into motion. His compliance was no longer about weakness-it was my camouflage. His Reckoning, Her Reign
Romance The heavy oak door of San Francisco City Hall felt cold under my fingers. I was waiting for Ethan. We were supposed to get our marriage license today.
My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: "Running late. Emergency at the hospital." Typical. Dr. Ethan Miller, the respected neurosurgeon, always had an emergency.
But then, a new post from Chloe Davis, his research assistant, popped up. A photo: her, in our master suite, Ethan's arm around her. Another: a sonogram, tiny and gray, with a heart emoji. The caption read: "Future Dr. Miller coming soon! #blessed #surprise."
My breath caught. Our master suite. The one I decorated. He didn't just abandon me at City Hall. He moved her into our home.
My phone vibrated again. A long message from Ethan: "Ava, I can explain. It was a mistake... She's young, her research career is just starting... You've always wanted kids, right? She can go abroad... You can raise it. It'll be our baby."
Rage, cold and sharp, flooded me. He wanted me to raise his mistress's child. I, Ava Chen, Investment Director at Chen Corp, from a family that built a tech and real estate empire in this city, was no fool.
I dialed a number I knew by heart. Liam Walker answered on the second ring, airport noise in the background. "Ava? Everything okay?"
"Marriage license," I said, my voice steady. "City Hall. Now. You in?"
He'd been in love with me for eight years. "Liam," I said, "Are you in?"
Another pause, shorter this time. "Give me an hour. Don't move." He hung up. My story was just beginning. You might like
The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." Too Late For Regret: My Dead Heart
Catlaina Sloggett Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast.
The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan.
"Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm.
A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker.
"Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games."
The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined.
Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death.
Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch.
Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile.
Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face.
Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector.
He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut.
Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash.
She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise.
But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid.
"Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury."
Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation.
What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body? I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. 
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