Yue Manshuang
10 Published Stories
Yue Manshuang's Books and Stories
His Blind Wife, His Regret
Romance The light hit me, sharp and clear, after five years of living in a blurry world. My sight was back, a miracle spurred by my pregnancy.
But the miracle quickly turned to horror when I returned home from the doctor's. I saw my husband, Liam, on a news channel, announcing his engagement to another pregnant woman named Chloe, and proudly stating he was divorcing me-his "blind wife."
I watched in daze as he treated Chloe with tenderness I' d never seen, even feeding her the special nutritional soup our housekeeper made for me.
That same night, suffering from intense pain, I reached out to him, but he coldly dismissed it as "just pregnancy cramps," preferring to text Chloe next to me.
Later, I found him kissing Chloe, their voices drifting, revealing his contempt: "She's blind and deaf to the world, Chloe. She only knows what I want her to know."
The contempt, the betrayal, and the public humiliation scorched through me, leaving nothing but a vast, empty void. How could the man I loved, the man I sacrificed my sight for, be such a cruel, selfish stranger?
I knew then what I had to do. I would play their game, be the foolish wife, until my baby was safe. Then, I would leave, and he would finally see who he had truly lost. My New Eyes Saw His True Lie
Modern After the accident that took my parents and stole my sight, my childhood friend Leo swore he would be my eyes. For years, I believed him, my dark world revolving around the boy who described every ray of sunlight for me. I was even undergoing a risky, experimental surgery to restore my vision, just for him.
Then, I saw the truth with my own eyes. On his phone screen, I was just the "little blind girl" he had to take care of, a burden he was tired of carrying.
The cruelty didn't stop. He let his new flame publicly humiliate me, and when she faked an injury, he forced me to apologize for a "carelessness" that never happened.
The final betrayal came in a dark sea cave. He abandoned me to the rising tide and the pitch-black darkness, leaving me to face the same terror that had once consumed my entire world. He chose her.
He broke his promise. He broke me.
So I left. I found my own vision, my own strength. Three years later, I returned for my first solo art exhibition, and when I saw his face in the crowd, I knew he was about to see everything he had forced me to be blind to. The Scar He Left: Finding True Love
Modern For three years, I was Colton’s hands and feet. I wiped the sweat from his brow and taught him to walk again after the accident that nearly killed him.
He promised me a future.
But the moment his ex-girlfriend, Charlie, returned from Paris, I became nothing.
"She was just the crutch I needed to walk to you," I heard him tell her.
At his recovery party, Charlie shattered his late father’s cherished wooden puzzle box and blamed me. She shrieked that I had poisoned her soup out of jealousy.
Colton didn't hesitate. He didn't check the security footage. He didn't ask for the truth.
He gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my cheeks, and forced the scalding broth down my throat.
"Eat it! Prove you're not crazy!"
He roared while I choked on blood and blisters, the hot liquid searing my skin. He chose the woman who abandoned him over the woman who saved his life.
I took the severance check, deleted every photo, and vanished into the night.
Six months later, I was accepting an award for my new rehabilitation clinic in Australia, wearing a diamond ring given to me by a man who treats my scars like gold.
Colton stood in the back of the auditorium, looking like a ghost. He had finally discovered that Charlie was a fraud who faked her "spiritual journey" to get illegal plastic surgery.
He came to beg for forgiveness.
But when our eyes met, I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel love.
I turned my back on him and walked into the light. When Love Poisons Your Dream
Modern Tomorrow was the grand opening of my dream restaurant, "Aura," a place I'd poured my life and soul into. As I stood there, taking it all in with my girlfriend and business partner, Sarah, a man from the Department of Health showed up for a "surprise inspection" based on an "anonymous tip."
My blood ran cold when he walked directly to the walk-in, pulling out rancid meat and a dead rat from a container I' d never seen. Within an hour, my restaurant was padlocked, and the next morning, my face was plastered across every news site, branding me a "Chef's Dream Restaurant a Health Hazard." My 15 years of relentless work were instantly ruined.
I stumbled home, desperate for Sarah' s comfort, only to find her on the phone, her back to me, whispering, "It went perfectly, Mark. Better than we could have hoped." My culinary rival, Mark Davies. My heart stopped as she continued, "He completely fell apart. He looked like a kicked puppy." Then the chilling revelation: "The money is safe. I moved the last of it this morning. He never even checked the accounts. He trusted me completely."
She had embezzled everything, justifying it as a "mercy killing" for my career. The betrayal was a physical blow. The world tilted, and I fell, hitting my head, the last thing I saw Sarah' s cold annoyance. I woke up in a hospital, two days later, to news that my license was permanently revoked. My life, my name, my future – all gone.
They thought I was weak, finished. They had killed Ethan Miller, the chef. But a ghost could do things a living man couldn' t. A plan, desperate and insane, began to form. I reached for the phone, dialing a number I hadn' t called in years. "Chef Dubois," I whispered. "It's Ethan. I need your help. I need to disappear." Betrayed by Trust: A Love Story
Mafia It was my birthday, and my stepsister, Tiffany Stone, stood before me, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. In her hands, she held my mother' s cherished vintage record, the last thing I had left of her. Then, with a sharp, deliberate motion, she shattered it on the marble floor, stomping on our mother' s smiling face.
That night, they came for me-a black van, no license plates. They dragged me from my bed to an abandoned warehouse, smashing my hands and feet with a cold metal pipe. Then came the gasoline, poured over me as I screamed. My therapist, Dr. Ethan Sterling, the only person I trusted, had given me a distress beacon, but as I reached for it, I heard his voice over a walkie-talkie: "Keep her alive, but don' t actually kill her." My blood ran cold, hope replaced by an abyss of despair.
I woke up in the hospital, and Ethan sat by my bedside, a mask of concern. But before I could speak, my father stormed in, slapping me and accusing me of faking my kidnapping for attention. Tiffany, my stepmother, and my half-brother joined in, a united front of accusation. Ethan then forced me to my knees, instructing me to apologize. My heart shattered.
Back home, I overheard Ethan and Tiffany, him comforting her for being "shaken" by "what happened." I found out my mother's irreplaceable necklace was up for auction. At the auction, I tried to buy it back, but Ethan outbid me, then publicly proposed to Tiffany, who promptly shattered the necklace and then shoved me down a grand staircase. I lay there, bleeding, as Ethan turned his back to comfort Tiffany.
I knew they would never see me, never believe me. Why did he betray me? What did I do to deserve this endless torment from the people who were supposed to protect me? How could the man who promised to save me be the one orchestrating my downfall?
My world didn' t just collapse. It ceased to exist. On the night of Tiffany' s fashion show, after being further humiliated by my family, I disowned them all, including Ethan, and, drawing a dagger, plunged it into my own chest, staging my death. The Wife He Tried To Erase
Modern My life was a carefully constructed ballet of order and purpose. As an ER doctor, I thrived in controlled chaos, with a loving husband, Mark, a rising star in the police force, and a seemingly ordinary life.
Then, one volunteering shift at a free clinic shattered everything. I was brutally attacked, injected with a mysterious virus, my very being violated by a gang.
But the real horror began when I discovered the footage-a humiliating video of my assault, captured and uploaded by my own stepson, Kevin. My career, my reputation, everything I had built, crumbled overnight, reduced to internet fodder.
How could this happen? Why would Kevin, the boy I tried to love, betray me so cruelly? The pain was a physical ache, deepened by the bizarre, almost theatrical sympathy from Mark, who swore he' d find my attackers.
The truth unfurled with sickening clarity: it wasn't random violence. Mark had orchestrated my assault, weaponizing a virus and manipulating his son to pave the way for his ex-wife, Sarah, to return. My loving husband had tried to erase me. The call to my former mentor at the FBI, Dr. O' Connell, was my only hope. The Vineyard Heiress: Unearthing the Truth
Romance My life at Johns Vineyards, one of Napa Valley' s most prestigious wineries, was perfect.
I was the 25-year-old VP of Operations, dating my boyfriend of eight years, Anthony, and living the legacy I'd been raised for.
Then, a new field hand, Sabrina Chavez, walked in, casually mocking my simple choice of wine.
Soon after, I found a discarded condom in our family picnic area, a disgusting violation.
Storming towards Anthony's office to vent, I stumbled upon a scene that froze me: Sabrina, in a revealing top, flirting brazenly with Anthony, who was flustered and complicit.
His pathetic excuses, her deliberate "trip" into his arms, and a button conveniently popping open, confirmed my worst fear: a betrayal happening right before my eyes.
The disgust choked me, but the real shock came when he chugged non-potable water, only for unedited CCTV footage to pop up showing him and Sabrina in a tool shed, their vile secret exposed.
Instantly, Anthony dropped his act, wrapping his arm around Sabrina, snarling that she was the "real" heiress, the one who "deserved" my life.
My world shattered. How could the man I loved turn on me so viciously, siding with a stranger who claimed my identity?
Amidst a dramatic board meeting and a public birthday humiliation orchestrated by Sabrina, aided by Anthony, I felt utterly alone and betrayed.
But just when all seemed lost, my brother Andrew, who had flown in, held crucial evidence: the full hospital security footage from my birth. He looked at the screen, a forgotten memory surfacing, and pointed at a tiny figure.
"I remember this," he whispered, his eyes widening. "I followed that nurse. She took my baby sister, Gabby, into that little dark room. I was worried she' d be scared of the dark."
He unknowingly corrected the swap, ensuring my place in the family. The truth was out, changing everything. Love's Bitter Truth
Modern For ten years, I was the picture of a devoted husband, building a life with Chloe in our comfortable Bellevue home.
My life felt stable, successful, exactly what her image-conscious parents approved of for their daughter.
Then came the news: Leo, Chloe' s tumultuous musician ex, had died.
A drug overdose, labeled suicide.
Days later, my wife, my Chloe, drove her car straight off the Deception Pass Bridge.
Grief-stricken, clearing out her laptop, I stumbled upon a password-protected blog.
"Leo1998."
Inside, ten years of her raw thoughts: "I married Ethan today... They just gave me a life sentence with his shadow."
Another entry: "I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming... I felt so disgusted afterward I scrubbed my skin raw."
My heart, already broken, shattered into a million pieces.
The woman I adored had spent a decade despising my every touch, every act of love, pretending I was another man.
My entire existence was a lie.
The words burned through me: disgust, resentment, pity.
My world collapsed beneath the weight of her betrayal.
How could my decade of unwavering dedication, my honest love, have been nothing more than a painful charade for her?
The sheer, pointless waste of it all.
Then, darkness.
But instead of an ending, I jolted awake to the smell of stale coffee, in my old college dorm.
My phone buzzed: a text from Chloe.
The date: September 15, 2014.
Ten years in the past.
The day of our first official date.
This time, I knew the cost of playing her fool.
This time, I would write my own story. Too Late, Mr. Thorne
Billionaires For ten years, I was Sarah, the billionaire tech mogul Alex Thorne’s secret girlfriend, a ghost hidden away while he built his empire.
I toiled in his marketing department, hoping one day he'd make us public.
But then my father, my only family, was dying, needing a treatment I couldn’t afford.
Alex wouldn't see me, not even for an emergency, and my father died waiting.
Heartbroken, I went to his penthouse to collect my things, only to find his icy COO, Jessica, lounging on his bed, wearing my silk robe.
Alex emerged, unfazed, then Jessica smirked, confessing she’d methodically sabotaged my career for a decade, suppressing my pay, blocking my promotions.
To my horror, Alex dismissed my ten years with him as a mere “transaction,” calling me a "liability" and siding with the woman who gleefully admitted destroying my life.
The man I loved, the man who could've saved my father with pocket change, had allowed this calculated cruelty to unfold.
How could my loyalty and love be so profoundly worthless to him?
But a quiet strength surged.
I raged, not about his money, but his fraud, his betrayal of a decade of my life.
Then, a surprising proposal from my childhood friend, David, offered a lifeline.
I quit, and with a defiant click, posted my wedding invitation, marrying David in seven days, announcing a true new chapter to Alex's entire company.
They threatened, slandered, but I was done being quiet; I had my own truth to tell, a new life to build, and this time, it was all mine. You might like
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. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything
Rabbit My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune.
For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me."
He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster.
He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous.
The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built. Burned By Him, Reborn A Star
Rabbit The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack."
Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard.
The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn.
"Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress. 
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