Yixi Yuhuan
17 Published Stories
Yixi Yuhuan's Books and Stories
The Cold CEO's Secret Contract Bride
Romance Fresh out of prison and facing a parole violation, Candace Price was kicked onto the streets by her abusive aunt.
To avoid going back to a cell, she accepted a desperate lifeline: marrying her former mentor's son, a supposedly ordinary supermarket manager named Gauge Bailey.
But right after they signed the papers, this "simple" manager handed her the keys to a multi-million-dollar penthouse at The Elysian Towers.
Before she could even question his bizarre wealth, her new mother-in-law faked a medical emergency.
From her hospital bed, the older woman slapped a priceless heirloom jade bracelet on Candace's wrist.
"I need to know the family line is secure. You have three months to get pregnant."
Suffocating under the pressure of being treated like a mere breeding vessel, Candace tried to reach out to her new husband.
Instead, she discovered he had deliberately declined her contact request and completely erased her number from his phone.
The humiliation hit her like a physical blow.
Why agree to this marriage if he held her in such utter contempt? And who exactly was this cold, imposing stranger who lived in a billionaire's playground while claiming to stock grocery shelves?
Staring at the rejected notification on her screen, a cold, hard resolve settled in Candace's chest.
She slid the heavy jade bracelet off her wrist and locked it away in a dark drawer.
If he wanted a sham marriage, she would play along.
She would use his penthouse and his name to build her own independence, and when the time came, she would be the one to walk away. Rising From Hell: The True Heiress's Revenge
Modern I survived three years in a hellish military facility, enduring shrapnel wounds and nerve damage just to finally return home to my wealthy family.
But the moment I stepped out into the sun, my ex-fiancé looked at my scarred body with pure disgust, coldly asking if I had "learned my lesson" for stressing out my fragile sister, Cassie.
At the family estate, my mother had already given my bedroom to Cassie. My brother shielded her from me like I was a wild animal, and my father publicly called me an ungrateful wretch just because Cassie accidentally splashed a drop of coffee on her own hand. They ignored my life-threatening, jagged scars, casually offering me Cassie's leftover burn cream for my "old marks."
I couldn't understand how three years of my blood and agony meant absolutely nothing to the people who were supposed to love me. They had willingly sent me to hell just to keep their precious, manipulative darling happy, systematically erasing my existence from their lives.
When they shamelessly handed me the annulment papers and demanded I graciously bless Conrad and Cassie's new engagement to protect the Beaumont family brand, the last flicker of my affection turned to ash.
I calmly agreed to step aside, but as my mother smiled in triumph, I looked at them with ice in my eyes.
"You want me to be the sacrificial lamb for your perfect little family? Fine. But it will cost you." From Tool To Treasure: My New Life
Modern For nine years, I was Kane Hill' s secret. I was his emotional punching bag, the convenient stand-in for my twin sister, Harper-the woman he truly loved. I endured his cruelty, convincing myself his control was a twisted form of love.
Then, just before he announced their engagement, Harper sent me a recording. It was Kane, his voice smooth and dismissive.
"Eden? She's useful," he told Harper. "An emotional pressure valve. I need to vent on someone so I can be the perfect man for you."
The cold truth shattered me. I wasn't a person, not even a substitute. I was a tool. That night, he polished Harper's engagement ring right in front of me before ending our nine-year "game" with a single, bored phone call.
He never knew that I was the girl who had saved him at a summer camp all those years ago, not Harper. He'd called my attempts to tell him the truth "pathetic."
So I packed a single bag and vanished into the night, leaving his gilded cage for a quiet farm in Vermont. But just as I started to heal, he found me, clutching the proof of my story in his hand, begging for a second chance I had no intention of giving. His Billions Can't Buy Her Forgiveness Now
Modern The scissors made a sickening crunch as I severed the long hair Marcus worshipped.
For three years, I had been his "silk anchor," the hidden woman who grounded him while he conquered New York.
But as the dark strands hit the porcelain sink, my phone lit up with a news alert that shattered my world.
*Thorne Enterprises CEO Marcus Thorne and Isabella Vance announce engagement.*
While I was waiting for his call, he was sliding a massive diamond onto another woman's finger.
At the gala that night, I was forced to watch them.
Izzy leaned across the table, her voice sweet enough to rot teeth.
"You look exhausted, Olivia. Especially now that you're... alone."
Marcus didn't defend me.
He didn't even look at me.
He just swirled his scotch and told me to focus on the merger data, dismissing me like an inconvenient employee rather than the woman he swore to protect.
He thought I was a pragmatist.
He thought I would stay in the shadows, accepting the scraps of his affection while he married for power.
He was wrong.
I went home and packed my life into a single suitcase.
I took the river rock he had carved for me—the one he called his anchor—and left it on the empty easel with a note in black marker.
*You were my rock. Now you’re just a stone.*
By the time he realized his mistake and came pounding on my door, I was already gone, flying toward a new life in Montana where he couldn't reach me. The Fallen Star: A Wife's Betrayal
Romance The auction hall was a tomb, suffocating me with the hum of self-important whispers. My mother' s guitar, the last tangible piece of her, gleamed mockingly under a harsh spotlight.
Then I saw them: Dylan, my wife' s childhood friend, his arm possessively around Maya, my wife. They smirked. Moments later, the auctioneer announced the bidding for the guitar, and my wife' s friend, Dylan, a man I despised, countered my desperate bid with escalating relish.
I emptied my shattered bank account, pouring every last cent into reclaiming a piece of my soul, only to have the win feel hollow. That night, Maya dismissed it as "just an old guitar" while scrolling through her phone, a tight, cold smile on her face. The next day, the public backlash against Dylan was brutal, twisted by media fanfare, leading him to attempt suicide. Maya relayed this with chilling detachment, a calculating glint in her perfect, elegant eyes, confirming my suspicions.
A week later, on the anniversary of my mother' s death, Maya announced a surprise: a private exhibition to "honor" her. A knot of dread twisted in my stomach, confirming my fears.
The gallery walls were lined with massive, horrifying photographs from my mother' s fatal car accident-mangled metal, shattered glass, a single bloodstained shoe. The exhibition title, "The Fallen Star," was a cruel mockery. Maya watched me, a faint, triumphant smile playing on her lips, expecting me to break. My mother' s sacrifice, her dignity, laid bare for public consumption.
"One million," I stated, cutting through their murmurs, my voice clear and steady, not for a single photo, but for each. Maya' s smile vanished. Her composure shattered. It was then, amidst the gasps and sick excitement, surrounded by vultures, that I realized I was trapped in her twisted game, my pain her performance, her cruelty boundless. Why? Why would my own wife do this to me? Why inflict such calculated, public agony on the anniversary of my mother's death?
As Maya, flanked by Dylan, announced the auction would proceed for the entire collection, promising a "personal story from me about the deceased" with every bid, the horrifying truth dawned: this wasn't just a spectacle; it was a torture session, and my mother' s memory was the weapon. She cold-heartedly revealed freezing my accounts, leaving me with nothing – turning my final act of defiance into a public display of financial ruin.
But as I knelt among the shattered fragments of my mother' s jade pendant-a sacred relic Maya had maliciously thrown to the floor-a profound shift occurred. The pain, the humiliation, the utter desecration of my mother' s memory, ignited a cold, hard resolve within me. I had nothing left to lose. I made a call, a desperate gamble on a forgotten connection, a titan of industry whose private number I' d clung to for years. It was time to fight back. The Wife He Destroyed
Billionaires I remember the fall.
The sharp, brutal shove from my husband, David.
The sickening crack as my head hit the marble staircase.
The last thing I saw was his face, twisted not with remorse, but with a grief-fueled rage.
His father' s last, wheezing words echoed in my ears: "She did this... Sarah... with her rabbit food..."
They blamed me for their self-inflicted misery.
For years, I, a dietitian, poured my soul into saving my tech mogul father-in-law, Richard Sterling, from himself.
He was a man of excess, his wife enabling every destructive craving, and my husband, David, worshipping his father's stubbornness as strength.
I crafted healthy meals, managed his medications, and pleaded with him to care for his own body.
My reward? His constant resentment, my mother-in-law's accusations of starvation, and David's growing impatience with the "unpleasantness" I caused.
I fought for his health, for our family.
I got a broken neck for my efforts.
They chose his dying delusion over our life together, over my life.
The darkness that swallowed me was absolute, an unjust end to a life spent trying to do the right thing.
Then, I felt the sunlight on my face.
It was warm, a gentle caress.
I opened my eyes to the familiar silk sheets of my own bed, the digital clock glowing 8:15 AM, October 12th.
The day it all began, the day Richard was diagnosed with severe type 2 diabetes.
I had been given a second chance.
Not a chance to save him, but a chance to save myself.
This time, I would do nothing.
I would let him eat his cake. The Forgotten Past, The Found Self
Romance The sterile smell of antiseptic was the first thing I registered, a dull ache throbbing in my head.
I was in a hospital bed, my mind a complete blank.
"You're finally awake," a woman with a tired, angry face snapped.
"Do you know how much trouble you've caused? Trying to kill yourself over a man. Olivia, you are a disgrace to the Hayes family."
More names were thrown at me by a man equally displeased: Liam, Scarlett, Olivia Reynolds-my name.
They painted a picture of a pathetic woman, obsessed with her adopted sister Scarlett's fiancé, Liam Sterling.
According to them, I had forced Liam into marriage and was now attempting suicide because he wouldn't love me back.
My adoptive parents and husband spoke about me as if I wasn' t there, their words cold, cruel, and utterly foreign.
Then came the demand: "Scarlett needs a blood transfusion. You have the same rare type. You're going to the operating room now to donate blood to your sister."
It wasn't a request. It was an order.
I was dragged to the donation room, where Liam-the object of my supposed obsession-followed.
"Make sure you take enough," he told the nurse, his eyes burning with contempt.
"Don't think this changes anything, Olivia. After this, you'll sign the divorce papers."
He even threw a million-dollar check on the bed, a brutal payment for my blood.
The old Olivia, who they claimed would have shattered, was gone.
The memories, the pain, the love-it felt like a stranger's story.
Amnesia had wiped the slate clean, leaving an eerie calm.
Lying there, listening to nurses whisper about my pathetic desperation, I realized something profound.
The woman they were talking about wasn't me.
The past wasn't mine.
And my future?
It was a blank canvas, finally mine to paint.
I took out my phone, found a lawyer's number, and dialed.
"I want to file for divorce," I said, my voice steady.
"And I want to sever all legal ties with my adoptive parents." When Love Turned to Ash
Romance I stared at the divorce papers, a symbol of freedom after years trapped in Mark Davis's gilded cage, where my art and my soul withered.
But just as I dared to breathe, Mark' s self-serving facade shattered completely.
His icy disregard for my well-being climaxed when, after a public humiliation at a gala engineered by his mistress, I collapsed at home, suffering a miscarriagewhile he watched, more concerned with his wounded pride and her presence.
And then, in the sterile hospital hallway, he twisted the knife deeper, telling her – and anyone who would listen – that I had faked my entire pregnancy for attention.
There was no turning back; I would never again be the woman who stood silently in his shadow. I walked away, not just from him, but towards reclaiming the artist I was always meant to be. Erasing Him, Saving Me
Romance My fiancé, Liam, the tech visionary, claimed amnesia after a car crash, conveniently forgetting only me.
Then came the news: he was engaged to his childhood friend, Chloe, who supposedly needed brain surgery and a dream wedding before going under the knife.
My brother, Ethan, found the texts: Liam and Chloe meticulously planning my heartbreak, the amnesia a cruel farce, the surgery a cynical ploy for sympathy.
It was a calculated betrayal, a physical blow that shattered the future I' d so carefully designed, leaving me with a debt-ridden family and a forced marriage to a reclusive billionaire.
But I refused to be his victim; I found an old book on self-hypnosis, a hidden skill from college, and made a choice to erase him completely. My Heiress Life, My System
Billionaires Chapter 1 of my life was a fairy tale: Jocelyn Todd, orphan no more, adopted by the wealthy Scott family and about to marry a charming scion. My engagement party was a lavish spectacle, a testament to the love and affection I' d finally found. Standing beside my "protective" older brother, Andrew, watching my fiancé Ethan across the lawn, I finally felt loved, complete. But then, as I took my first step towards my future, my world fractured.
Bright, glowing text flooded my vision, overlaying the perfect scene: "LOL, she' s actually crying. A few worthless stock certificates and she' s totally fooled. So naive." My family' s affectionate smiles transformed into chilling masks as I read on, discovering their monstrous plan. The year of love was a performance, and I was merely a prop to boost their "Likeability Score." Once official, they'd frame me for a corporate crime, strip me of everything, and dispose of me, all to benefit Gabby, their real "daughter."
The warmth in my chest turned to ice. They weren't just betraying me; they were orchestrating my destruction. My "parents," "brother," and fiancé-all in on it. They saw me as a disposable pawn, intended for a tragic, convenient "accident." The thought of facing this chilling reality, alone and betrayed, was paralyzing.
But then, a defiant spark ignited. My tears weren't of gratitude anymore, but of cold, hard resolve. I still clutched the portfolio of "worthless" stock, and a new comment flashed: "The certificates are fakes!..." It was all a lie. I took a deep breath, the trembling in my voice purely intentional. "Before we make it official," I smiled sweetly, holding up the portfolio, "could we have the family lawyer notarize this transfer right now?" The panic on their faces, the sudden plummet of their "score," confirmed everything. My supposed doom was their control. This wasn't merely survival; it was war. Her Escape, His Obsession
Romance After dying a terrible death, I was miraculously reborn into the first year of my marriage to Ethan.
This time, I vowed to atone for my past betrayal and cherish the man I had once inadvertently destroyed.
However, the Ethan I returned to was a cold stranger, his every public gesture reserved for his new companion, Bella Vance.
Then came the chilling call: Bella needed a kidney, and my own frail mother was the only match, a desperate demand he twisted into a threat against my family's livelihood.
My pleas to spare her were met with icy contempt, leaving me isolated while she was forced into surgery.
He openly paraded his devotion to Bella, publicly humiliated me, and subjected me to unimaginable physical torture, including a brutal "stress test" and frostbite, forcing me to confess to Bella's fabricated accusations.
Each act of cruelty, each dismissive gaze, twisted the knife deeper, making me question why the man who once died for me was now so intent on destroying me.
Broken but resolute, I plotted my escape, faking my own death to finally, irrevocably, be free of his suffocating control. My Husband's Other Woman
Modern The fluorescent hum of the ER was my world, a demanding but predictable rhythm.
I was a dedicated doctor, a loving wife to Julian, a university professor, and a proud mother to Lily.
I even funded a scholarship for bright students from my hometown, like Chloe.
Then, a pager call shattered that peace.
It led me to cubicle three, where my husband, Julian, was intimately comforting a sobbing young woman: Chloe, the student I' d proudly sponsored.
Anonymous whispers from nurses confirmed my worst fear: an affair.
His frantic lies, her chilling taunts about my 'unfeminine' career, and later, the explicit photos and a voice memo of him mocking me and praising her, all twisted the knife.
But the real horror began when this student, Chloe, started bullying my six-year-old daughter, Lily, at preschool, spreading vicious rumors that caused physical and emotional harm.
My blood ran cold with a rage so pure it froze my veins.
How could the man I built a life with, and the girl I selflessly helped, conspire in such a cruel, public dismantling of my family, systematically using my child as a weapon?
The humiliation was suffocating, the injustice unbearable.
When Lily, through tears, told Julian she didn't want him as her Daddy anymore, something snapped.
Right there, amongst the whispers and lies, a new resolve solidified within me.
I was divorcing him, and I had the evidence to ensure he wouldn't fight it. Reborn in the City of Light
Billionaires Ethan Prescott woke from a car crash with amnesia, a powerful billionaire adrift in a sea of forgotten memories, clinging to the only person who claimed to know him: Cassandra, his supposed secret love who whispered tales of escaping his 'controlling' fiancée, Alexandra.
Just as Ethan questioned Cassandra's flimsy narrative and felt the warmth of forgotten affection for Alex, a devastating video surfaced, brutally exposing the truth: his passionate affair with Cassandra wasn't a post-accident manipulation, but a deep betrayal that happened before his injury, even on his actual anniversary with Alex.
Alex, heartbroken and disgusted by his shocking duplicity and narcissistic desire to "have it all," swiftly invoked the "Paris Clause," a hidden agreement that instantly stripped Ethan of 75% of his company shares, froze his trust fund for ten years, and permanently banned him from Paris and her life.
Plunged into a self-destructive spiral fueled by alcohol and regret, Ethan, after cruelly casting Cassandra aside, then faced a menacing blackmailer revealing an even darker, decade-old secret: an accidental death he'd caused, meticulously covered up by his powerful family.
How could one man be so blind, so selfish, and so utterly reckless, systematically dismantling every pillar of his privileged life for fleeting, illicit thrills, now trapped in a deepening quagmire of endless consequences?
As Alex found solace and new affection in the romantic, liberating streets of Paris, a city now forever out of Ethan' s reach, he was left consumed by the creeping recognition that he was paying the ever-rising, chilling price of his colossal mistakes. Reborn in Havenwood: A Preserver's Revenge
Fantasy The scent of woodsmoke and damp earth was the first sensation I knew.
Then, memory, sharp and cruel, flooded back: Sadie' s smile, Beau' s laugh, and my wagon, piled with preserves, tipping violently.
I sat bolt upright in my Havenwood bed, not the ravine, bathed in spring sunlight.
My nightmare first life was over; I was reborn.
My childhood friend, Sadie, had always eyed my jam-making skill with dark envy.
I simply created art from local flora using family recipes.
Sadie desperately coveted the Harvest Festival Championship, town admiration, and shallow Beau Sterling.
I innocently revealed the legend that the champion marries Beau, which Sadie ruthlessly exploited.
Sadie, manipulative and ambitious, conspired with Beau to sabotage my wagon, staging an "accident."
They left me for dead, shattering my dreams and existence for hollow prestige and a fleeting title.
The betrayal, from my best friend and the admired man, was a venomous sting, worse than any physical pain.
How could they be so cruel, so consumed by ambition, just to destroy my life?
Now, breathing crisp Vermont air, I was alive and remembered everything.
My former kindness was gone, replaced by cunning forged in betrayal's fire.
This time, I would protect myself and Havenwood from such insidious people.
My first move was clear: Sadie. The Alzheimer's Lie
Modern Ellie Miller, a woman in her sixties withered by diabetes and heartache, lay dying in her bed. For forty years, she'd sacrificed everything for her husband, Richard, only to become his "punching bag" in his supposed decline.
The last words she heard were Richard's voice, clear and chillingly lucid, telling his mistress Brenda, "Once Ellie' s gone, we can finally get married." His "Alzheimer's" was a monstrous charade, a performance perfected just for her.
The ultimate betrayal, after years of emotional and physical abuse under the guise of an illness, sent a final, searing pain through her heart. It was the crushing end to a life stolen by deceit.
But then, a jolt. She woke up, breathing, three years younger, her body lighter, in her own bed. Calendar: June 15th, the precise day Brenda first moved in, the day Richard's manipulative "condition" began. The horror of reliving those miserable years surged, but with it came a cold, furious resolve.
This time, she wasn't the dying, submissive wife. Armed with every memory of their lies and her suffering, Ellie vowed to reclaim her life. "We'll see about your future, Richard," she whispered. The game was on, and this time, Ellie was playing to win. You might like
Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. Pampered By The Cold Mind Reading Tycoon
Hen Bu I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs.
My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister.
But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed.
In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably.
Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head.
"This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!"
I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family.
But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn.
He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala.
He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect.
I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast?
It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me.
He could hear my inner thoughts! He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. Shattered Mate Bond: The Secret Hacker Luna's Vengeance
Ben Nan After spending five grueling years securing the Madden Pack's empire, I thought my Alpha mate and I were finally building a perfect family.
But on my birthday, I returned home to find a thick, impenetrable wall of ice in our Mate bond.
Caden had completely shut me out to throw a lavish party for my half-sister, Adalynn.
He let Adalynn pollute our penthouse with her cheap perfume and brainwash my five-year-old daughter, Elara.
"Auntie Adalynn is a million times better than Mommy!"
Elara chirped happily to a camera, while Caden watched with a doting smile.
He publicly humiliated me, commanded the servants to ignore me, and deliberately fed Elara severe allergens just to spite my maternal rules.
When my pup ended up in the pack hospital gasping for air, Caden confiscated her tablet and roared at her to stop crying for the mother who "abandoned" her.
My heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
I couldn't understand how the man destined to protect my soul could twist my love into cruelty and use our helpless cub as a punching bag for his ego.
But the weeping, pathetic Luna died right there.
I calmly signed the divorce papers, surrendered all my assets, and walked out into the cold night.
Opening my encrypted laptop, I reclaimed my hidden identity as the global elite hacker "Ghost" and initiated a lethal protocol.
It was time to burn his entire world to the ground. 
/1/117611/coverorgin.jpg?v=5df9a4fb7de2675533a033d7f592e551&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/117342/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f5565ff4c96e1e3557048660cb4f2b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116481/coverorgin.jpg?v=8c7a866619d0cdcbdb5c8a59da5d1232&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104378/coverorgin.jpg?v=6f8bc1f28c31ae63a639cdf180454aaf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102348/coverorgin.jpg?v=0b564288298f731f7bf4ab18dcb3f580&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86650/coverorgin.jpg?v=d781803b9a3b80d467d1bd95bc4aebe0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86177/coverorgin.jpg?v=bc0df860a9a59dba37bfc1673d9eaf33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85368/coverorgin.jpg?v=b7b137d4af160392cbcec03f20b06d06&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85104/coverorgin.jpg?v=5d7ea78e64abe34132fcb837a326e4f8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84835/coverorgin.jpg?v=7ac32b634bfc2f1034c9d0117abe593c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84444/coverorgin.jpg?v=55b28350d7a723d093bb95001d367bac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83977/coverorgin.jpg?v=dbf476fd1fcf1af458097910f1b1ad91&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83423/coverorgin.jpg?v=8e67257b92cac89fa3d3addb27d97215&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82630/coverorgin.jpg?v=303bf7954eb461e23da226206eda4202&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82059/coverorgin.jpg?v=22b8f70b5aa3447428f226a20938b1c5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81685/coverorgin.jpg?v=498a42bf13d3e2b3067abf103fa641d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18637/coverorgin.jpg?v=8010588001a7b92441305ccc23b4ec6c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114527/coverorgin.jpg?v=58fe795a9395370e26f9acaf84058720&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106591/coverorgin.jpg?v=7112ffc44f6337f03a03bec3d6824a38&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112583/coverorgin.jpg?v=18d6e11bd7e648d3c960a600b8a48bd9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110344/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee9edc19532d5cad4529d092169ad91d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112769/coverorgin.jpg?v=d48bc058cf8c793784fde613b044637b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89487/coverorgin.jpg?v=f2315ec669d3740f8cfa6b8315d4e559&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105410/coverorgin.jpg?v=68bf1b78d60cae51b9e167ecf8a0a734&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114579/coverorgin.jpg?v=b886e3d43604762ec064f5deff31c79e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102860/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb1450ebea277ac6119b3b112743e9b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114897/coverorgin.jpg?v=41576e8fab9b93df25956d80dbcfbd52&imageMogr2/format/webp)