Yi Shi
15 Published Stories
Yi Shi's Books and Stories
Not Just A Nanny: My Comeback
Modern I spent six years raising his twins, believing I was his wife.
Then the bank manager slid a document across the desk.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dunlap. You aren't listed as the mother. Eliana Dudley is."
I drove to Gavin's office, desperate for answers.
Instead, I found him with his high school sweetheart, Eliana, sitting on his lap.
I froze as I heard him laugh.
"Alex was just a comfortable alternative," he told her. "A glorified nanny to keep the seat warm until you came back."
My world shattered.
But it got worse.
At the twins' birthday party, the children I had loved like my own screamed that they hated me.
His seven-year-old son shoved me down the stone steps.
I hit the ground hard. Pain exploded in my stomach.
I looked up, begging Gavin for help.
He didn't move. He just wrapped his arm around Eliana and turned away.
"Come on, kids," he said coldly. "Let's go cut the cake. Alex is just making a scene."
I lay on the cold patio, bleeding out the baby he didn't even know I was carrying, listening to them sing "Happy Birthday" inside.
He thought I would fade away. He thought a check would fix it.
But when I woke up in the hospital, the woman who loved him was dead.
I signed the divorce papers, walked out, and built an empire he could never touch.
Now, three years later, he's begging at my feet.
"I made a mistake," he sobs.
I look at my new husband and smile.
"I know. And now you have to live with it." The Blind Alpha's Rejected Savior
Werewolf Five years. That's how long my Mate, Alpha Courtland, locked me in the Silver Mines for killing his "true love," Kinsley.
But Kinsley wasn't dead. She was hiding in the pack house, living in luxury while I rotted.
When I was finally released, broken and dying, Kinsley framed me again. To protect his "pregnant" mistress, Courtland stood by and watched as she threw my ten-year-old brother off a bridge.
That was the moment my love died. I climbed to the hospital roof, accepted Courtland's rejection, and jumped to my death right before his eyes.
It took my suicide for him to find the truth—that I was the White Wolf who had healed his blindness, not her. That he had tortured his innocent Mate.
He spent three years drowning in regret, his brain rotting from Bond Decay, praying for death.
Until he saw me at a gala.
I wasn't Ana anymore. I was Amelia, the fiancée of a rival Alpha.
He knelt, begging for six months of my time to soothe his dying bond, offering me his entire pack as inheritance.
I agreed. Not to save him, but to watch him die.
And to secure the legacy for the secret son I was carrying—his son. My Marriage License, His Public Fall
Modern For five years, I was the secret wife of billionaire Chace Bentley, hiding in the shadows because he swore it was the only way to protect me from his ruthless family.
But when his security guards dragged me out of his gala by my hair, breaking my ribs while the crowd jeered at the "delusional stalker," Chace didn't save me.
He stood on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, and watched me bleed with cold, dead eyes.
I thought I had hit rock bottom in that jail cell, until I found the documents in his safe.
A prenuptial agreement with a socialite named Celina.
And a trust fund for their future children.
When I confronted him, he didn't beg for forgiveness.
He laughed.
"Everything you own, the clothes on your back, the roof over your head, it's all because of me. My charity."
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a disposable pawn in his rise to power.
But he forgot that I still held the one thing that could destroy him: our original marriage license.
On the day of his grand engagement announcement, I didn't hide.
I walked onto the stage, took the microphone, and introduced myself to the world.
"I'm Gracelyn Weeks, and I'm Chace Bentley's wife." Peace After Pain: My Unwritten Blueprint
Modern The algorithm knew my fiancé was cheating on me before I did. It led me, five days before my wedding, to a secret Instagram account. My maid of honor was wearing my wedding dress.
The account was a shrine to her three-year affair with my fiancé, Arden.
They had crafted a perfect narrative for their followers: they were tragic soulmates, and I was the cold, calculating villain keeping them apart.
The comments were full of hate for me.
But the final twist of the knife was seeing that my best friend, Dallas, had "liked" a comment wishing I'd have an "accident" and break my leg again.
I had saved his life. My family had saved hers from ruin. Why this elaborate, public cruelty?
On my wedding day, I was a no-show.
Instead, as the elite of New York society watched, the ballroom screens lit up with a presentation I' d prepared, exposing every photo, every text, and every single lie. The Architect of My Ruin
Romance For ten years, my life was a straight line towards one goal: winning the National Design Excellence Award, my ticket to study under the world' s greatest architects in Italy. But on the night I reached for my dream, it was snatched away by the last people I expected.
My fiancé, Mark Johnson, the lead judge, awarded the prestigious prize to Olivia Chen, a woman with no design experience, who had submitted an amateur sketch of a "dream closet." The polite applause sounded distant as I watched her embrace the trophy, while Mark beamed beside her, never once looking at me.
As I confronted him, his bodyguards dragged me away, my career and my decade of dedication dismissed with a wave of his hand. Later, I overheard him tell Olivia that our engagement was merely a "debt" he had to pay, crushing every "I love you" and shared dream into dust. He laughed, calling my decade of effort a "hobby" he was willing to fund.
The public backlash was immediate, but Mark, feigning sincerity, tried to minimize the scandal. He then threatened to cut off funding for my mother' s critical medical care, holding her life hostage to control me. Blacklisted from the design industry, I sold everything and took a humiliating job as a barmaid.
Then, Mark and Olivia walked into my new workplace, and he deliberately humiliated me, throwing money at me and demanding I "entertain" them. When I refused, Olivia faked a theft, and Mark, seizing the opportunity, blamed me. In the chaos, I was shoved, hitting my head and collapsing. In the hospital, Mark brought a gaudy diamond necklace, expecting me to be bought. But I wasn't broken. I was done. A Ring Crushed, A Heart Broken
Sci-fi My shoulder felt like it was tearing apart, dangling precariously from a skyscraper' s edge, the city lights smeared far below. Wind howled, drowning out everything but the terror that coursed through me. My feet scraped against cold, smooth glass-nothing to stand on but the abyss.
Then, a sharp yank on my collar pulled my head back, forcing my chin up. It was Olivia, the woman I' d spent three simulated years trying to save, her face pale and hard, eyes devoid of warmth. "Look at me, Noah," she commanded, her voice cutting through the roar.
She wore the black dress we picked out together, now looking like funeral attire. "You didn' t save me," she hissed, her grip tightening on my shredded shoulder. "You played God. You pulled my strings, moved me around like a pawn in your own pathetic little hero fantasy." My attempts to speak her name were pathetic croaks, lost to the wind.
"He was getting married tonight, you know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Liam. He' s marrying someone else. He was mine! My beautiful disaster. My pain. He was mine to lose. Not yours to take away." With a guttural scream, she dragged me closer, and my ring, meant as a promise, fell from my pocket.
She watched it fall, then let go of my collar, stepping on the velvet box, crushing metal and stone. "None of this was real," she said, her voice flat and dead. "You' re not real. Your help, your kindness... it was all a lie. A cage." Then, she shoved the mangled ring into my mouth, forcing me to swallow it, my own failure.
"Get out," she growled, pushing me with all her rage. My feet were already in the air, my body past the point of no return. As the city rushed up to meet me, everything went white, and I gasped to find myself in a sterile white pod, still feeling every bit of her betrayal. His Secret Fiancée, My Secret Fiancé
Romance For five years, I poured my life into Apex Holdings, into Mr. Harrison, my mentor, my confidant, the man everyone assumed I' d marry.
I walked into the company meeting expecting a promotion, maybe even a proposal, only to watch my world shatter as he beamed, announcing his engagement to a doe-eyed intern half my age.
The room applauded, their polite smiles hiding victorious smirks, and the intern, Bethany, held up her massive diamond, looking at me with triumphant pity.
Humiliated, I announced my own whirlwind marriage, but my supposed husband was a stranger, hired on the spot.
He refused my resignation, sabotaged my projects, and when I finally forced him to sign, his new fiancée, Bethany, deliberately opened my parrot' s cage, and Mr. Harrison, in a fit of rage, kicked my beloved Sky, the last gift from him.
He accused me of faking my pain, while everyone whispered about my jealousy, leaving me isolated, just like after my parents died, leaving me to question if my five years of loyalty meant nothing.
Desperate for a clean break, I accepted a marriage proposal from Mr. Davies' s son, a man I hadn' t seen since childhood, hoping this drastic step would finally erase Mr. Harrison from my life. The Dog Stays: And So Does My Revenge
Romance For seven years, I was the perfect political wife, seamlessly orchestrating every gala, every public appearance.
I stood behind my Congressman husband, Ethan Scott, a silent, smiling prop in our opulent D.C. townhouse.
Then, at our annual fundraising event, he tapped a glass for silence, his arm draped possessively around his pregnant mistress, Sabrina.
"Jocelyn and I have agreed to a divorce," he announced, his eyes cold, dismissive, while the room gasped.
He expected me to nod, to accept the humiliating settlement, to stay on as a "household consultant" for her.
But I refused, declaring I was leaving that night.
He laughed, assuming I was dependent on him, that I' d be crawling back.
Then Sabrina' s cruel sneer cut through the air: "The dog stays."
Buddy, my golden retriever, my last connection to the child I lost, was yanked from my side.
Sabrina feigned a bite, screamed, and Ethan, without hesitation, ordered Buddy to be put down.
My world shattered. This wasn' t just about Buddy; it ripped open an old wound.
Sabrina had given my premature son, Leo, a deadly teddy bear in his NICU crib. Ethan had blamed me for his death, choosing her over our grief.
Now, he was literally sentencing my last piece of family to death for her.
My tears were gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I was trapped, sick, and nearly burned alive in my room, thanks to Sabrina' s arson, but a hidden message from Andrew, my childhood sweetheart, illuminated a path forward.
It was time to fight. His Miracle, Her Madness
Fantasy I was Elara, a woman from the Appalachian mountains, dubbed 'the hillbilly cure.' I was brought to save Julian Thorne, a paralyzed heir. I poured my life force into him, healing his broken body, and against all odds, I fell deeply in love. We even had three unique children-precious, living eggs, humming with a power few understood.
But once healed, Julian scorned me, seeing only a primitive necessity, not a wife. Fueled by his jealous stepsister, Cassidy, he orchestrated a cruel spectacle at a gala celebrating his 'miracle.' He forced me into a sadistic egg hunt: identify my children among a hundred fakes, knowing for every wrong guess, one would be brutally smashed.
Under the blinding lights, my heart shattered. The first wrong guess ended with a sickening crunch. The second egg, sickeningly, was whisked away to be an 'exotic omelet'-its psychic death tore through me, leaving me writhing in agony. When Cassidy moved to burn my last child, I chose a different path.
My only option was self-destruction. I publicly confessed to being a con artist, claiming I never loved Julian, only his immense fortune. My heart broke as I collapsed, sacrificing my name to save my daughter. Why would anyone unleash such cruelty on the woman who saved them? How could this monster revel in my pain?
Yet, as I lay dying, my magnificent daughter hatched, unleashing her powerful Thunderbird blood. A psychic torrent forced Julian to relive every ounce of my selfless love, his healing, and the horrific, soul-shredding deaths of our other two children. His mind shattered into maddening despair. My mountain family arrived, reclaiming me from this hell. We faked my death, leaving him haunted by his cruelty, while I found true freedom and peace back home. Her Unforgivable Sin
Horror My life was perfect, filled with the laughter of my five-year-old twins, Noah and Mia.
We were building a couch fort, our own little world.
Then, her Tesla pulled into the driveway.
Chloe, my estranged wife, brought not just herself, but Leo, her old high school flame, into our home.
When my innocent children stood up to the stranger, Chloe' s temper flared.
"You two need a timeout," she snapped, dragging them, whimpering, into the soundproof wine cellar.
My gut screamed, but she slammed the heavy door, the lock clicking shut.
I begged, I pleaded, pounding on the door, while from the living room, I heard Chloe's laughter with Leo.
Then, seeing Leo's Instagram post – an ultrasound of their baby – shattered me.
A new life, while mine were trapped.
My desperate efforts to rescue Noah and Mia came too late.
The cellar was silent.
Too silent.
I found them, blue-faced, unbreathing, an open bag of nuts nearby.
Their severe peanut allergy.
My world ended.
And Chloe?
She shrieked, accusing me of drama.
At the hospital, after the doctor confirmed they were gone, she called, furious I' d ruined her evening.
Later, she laughed in my face when I told her, believing it was a pathetic manipulation.
My children, who loved her unconditionally, were dead because of her cruelty, and she didn't even care.
How could a mother be so utterly devoid of humanity?
The cremation was quiet, just me, their paternal uncle, and my father-in-law.
But a few hours later, I walked into the house to the sounds of my wife having sex with Leo.
She saw the urns in my hands and dismissed them as "junk."
That was it.
My love, my family, my life – all irrevocably destroyed by the woman I married.
With Mia's drawing of "our family" clutched in my hand, I signed the divorce papers and began to disappear. A Double Life Exposed
Modern The school admissions office. A new chapter for my son, Leo, a fresh start we hoped for.
Then the woman at the desk dropped a bombshell, her voice flat. "Staff Sergeant Mark Johnson already has a child enrolled here."
Mark Johnson was my husband, Leo' s father.
"His son, Ethan Johnson," she continued, "and his wife, Jessica Johnson, is the emergency contact."
Wife? Jessica? The names echoed, cold and sharp, triggering a horrifying flashback.
In another life, this exact scenario had already unfolded, leading to an abyss of deceit and despair.
I remembered Mark' s smooth lies, his flimsy tales of helping a "hero's widow," forcing Leo to be a whispered secret.
Then came the unspeakable: Leo, my sensitive son, vanished from a bus stop.
The frantic calls, the police reports, the agonizing silence.
Weeks later, a horrifying news item: a child found, badly hurt, "two fingers missing."
I never knew if it was Leo.
The torturous uncertainty, Mark' s chilling indifference, his brutal concern for his "reputation" over my grief.
And finally, the river-cold, dark, an attempted escape from the pain.
Now, here I was again, back at the exact start of that soul-crushing nightmare.
The same casual dismissal, the same insidious destruction of my life, my son' s future, unfolding again.
But then, a surge of icy fury consumed me, hardening my resolve into something unbreakable.
This wasn' t a rerun of despair; it was a second chance.
This time, there would be no crumbling, no quiet suffering, no drowning.
Mark Johnson was going to pay.
And I would make sure everyone heard the truth, loud and clear. A Mother's Vengeance: Reclaiming Her Daughter
Billionaires I was supposed to be recovering, sipping green juice at a luxury Arizona retreat, post-car accident.
One scroll on Instagram ripped my perfectly curated world apart.
The girl wearing my daughter Chloe’s bespoke gown at our estate wasn’t Chloe.
It was a stranger, Ashley, who then introduced her ‘mother’ as Brenda Hoskins, the *acting CEO* of *my* company, AuraNova.
In the blurred background, chillingly, was my sweet Chloe, serving drinks, her shoulders slumped, nearly falling as someone bumped her.
My housekeeper dismissed it as ‘a small get-together,’ but the school records told a different story: Chloe was registered as Mrs. Peterson’s granddaughter, and her tuition was shockingly overdue.
My own daughter, reduced to a charity case, while the woman I fired, Brenda Hoskins, ran my billion-dollar company with my husband, Rick, by her side.
When I finally found Chloe, she was thin, bruised, her spirit dim, and shrinking from my touch.
Ashley, the impostor, brazenly claimed my luxurious master suite as ‘her parents’ room.’
Medical tests confirmed the horrifying truth: Chloe was being systematically drugged with hormone blockers and sedatives.
Retrieved security footage revealed the chilling daily reality: Rick and Brenda watched, smiling, as Ashley and her clique humiliated and abused Chloe, turning her into an unwilling house servant.
They hadn't just stolen my company and my life; they were meticulously destroying my daughter’s spirit, erasing her very existence.
My blood ran cold, then boiled with a rage so profound it threatened to shatter me.
But the despair lasted only a second, replaced by pure, unadulterated fury.
They had taken everything, but they were about to learn that nothing burns hotter than a mother’s vengeance. The Bride Who Vanished: A Billionaire's Reckoning
Billionaires My Hamptons wedding to tech mogul Ethan Carter was supposed to be a fairytale, lauded by Page Six and celebrated by all who knew of his apparent devotion. But beneath the dazzling facade, a chilling secret had festered for three years: Ethan’s sordid affair with Instagram influencer Olivia Vance, a truth Olivia herself reveled in exposing through taunting texts, explicit photos, and videos sent directly to my phone.
The lies became unbearable. Then, just hours before I was set to walk down the aisle, Ethan appeared on national television with Olivia, publicly announcing their pregnancy. Mere moments later, I witnessed his entire family, his mother included, gathered at a private beach house, cooing over Olivia’s bump and warmly embracing her as the soon-to-be Mrs. Carter. My world tilted. I was a fool, utterly erased.
The humiliation felt like swallowing broken glass, a raw, open wound. How could an entire family be complicit in such a brazen betrayal, reducing my life to a grotesque charade? But amidst the agony, a cold, hard resolve solidified within me. This was no longer just about escaping my suffocating gilded cage. This was about making Ethan pay dearly. I confirmed the final details with Mr. Jones. A tragic accident. My death. His utter ruin. You might like
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." 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 Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." 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 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. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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