Yue Rujing
11 Published Stories
Yue Rujing's Books and Stories
Too Late For Regret: The Betrayed Heiress
Romance Chloe Montgomery was supposed to marry Devon Hale, the man who faithfully stood by her when vicious rumors ruined her reputation five years ago.
But while trying on wedding gowns, she overheard a conversation through a cracked door that shattered her world.
"Paid the guy to spread those rumors, tank her reputation. Made her look like damaged goods no one else would touch."
Devon was the one who destroyed her. Worse, he was only marrying her now to drain her trust fund to save his company, while secretly having an affair with her sister, Olivia. When Chloe confronted her family, her mother slapped her across the face and kicked her out. Days later, Olivia taunted Chloe with the truth, then deliberately threw herself into the freezing Hudson River, dragging Chloe down with her.
Devon dove into the icy water without a second thought. But he swam straight past Chloe, hauling her fake-sobbing sister to safety and leaving Chloe to drown in the black depths.
As her lungs burned and the darkness closed in, a soul-crushing despair washed over her. How could five years of supposed adoration be a calculated lie? Why did her own blood hate her enough to watch her die?
But she didn't die. Pulled from the abyss by a Wall Street titan who publicly exposed their lie, the last shred of Chloe's fragile heart turned to steel. She went home, threw her diamond ring into the garbage disposal, and prepared to burn Devon's life to the ground. The Vengeful Ex-Wife's High Society Comeback
Romance Six years ago, I was driven out of Manhattan with nothing but the clothes on my back.
My two-year-old son, Alex, was dead, and I was branded the monster who killed him.
My husband, Corwin, threw me away without a second glance, choosing to protect his new fiancée—my cousin Evelina, the real murderer.
When I finally returned to their elite engagement party, everyone thought I was still that pathetic, broken woman.
Evelina dug her acrylic nails into my skin, warning me to stay away from her man.
Corwin looked at me like I was rotting garbage.
To publicly humiliate me at their private yacht party, he forced me to drink three full bottles of neat whiskey in front of the city's elite.
"For every drop you spill, I add another bottle," he commanded coldly.
I drank until my stomach tore open, collapsing onto shattered glass and coughing up dark red blood while they watched with predatory joy.
They thought they had won. They thought I was finally destroyed.
They didn't know the trembling hands and the terrified tears were all a carefully calculated act.
I wiped the blood from my chin and smiled.
I didn't come back to this city to clear my name or beg for forgiveness.
I came back to drag every single one of them to hell. Allowance, Lies, and a Secret Ex
Modern My husband, Jerrold, rushed out for an emergency IT call, leaving his phone behind. A bank alert flashed across the screen: a $2,500 mortgage payment to his ex-wife, Jackie Reid.
My heart sank. For five years, he' d told me his take-home pay was only $4,000 a month, and I struggled to cover our family' s expenses on the meager $1,200 allowance he gave me.
When I confronted him, he stammered excuses, and his parents, who knew all along, defended his 'obligation' to his past.
But the lies ran deeper. I soon discovered his real income was over double what he claimed, and our entire five-year marriage was built on a foundation of deceit to pay for his guilt over cheating on his first wife.
He had me clipping coupons and telling our son, Leo, 'no' to simple treats, all while he secretly funneled $150,000 of our money to his ex. He wasn't just lying; he was stealing our future.
That's when I stopped crying and started collecting evidence. I hired a lawyer and walked into that courtroom ready to take back every penny he stole from me and our son. When Dead Husbands Walk Again
Horror The day Michael Miller came back from the dead was a Tuesday. I was in my home office, the one that used to be his, when the doorbell rang, followed by a commotion downstairs. A man' s voice, familiar yet chillingly out of place, echoed through the house.
It was Michael Miller, my husband, whose funeral I' d attended three years ago. He stood there, healthy and tanned, not alone. A blonde woman clung to his arm, and beside them, two children with his dark hair and pale blue eyes stared up at me, their faces hostile.
"Ava," he said, his voice smooth, as if he' d just returned from a business trip. "I' m home." He introduced the woman as Chloe Davis and the children as Jasper and Ruby, explaining casually that he had faked his death to escape crushing debts. He expected me to accept them, to move into a guest room, to welcome his new family into our home.
His mother, Eleanor, and siblings, Sarah and Ben, burst in, not with shock, but relief, claiming amnesia had kept him away. They sided with him, Eleanor even suggesting I move to the guest cottage. The family I had tirelessly saved from ruin, the company I' d rebuilt from scratch after his "death," now saw me as an inconvenience, a lingering ghost in my own life.
I thought of the child we were supposed to have, the one I lost due to the stress of saving his company, of dealing with his fake death. The painful memory of my miscarriage, alone in this big, empty house, while he was off starting a new life, a new family.
Then, Chloe' s son, Jasper, kicked my shin and called me an "old witch." Chloe giggled. The dam holding back my buried grief and rage shattered. I looked at their arrogant faces, their triumphant sneers. They had no idea who I had become in the fire of his betrayal. They didn' t know the thriving Miller Corp was no longer theirs. It was mine. Playing Their Game, Winning My Life
Billionaires The exclusive bar hummed with the city' s elite, and from my secluded booth, I had a perfect view of my brother, Ethan, and my fiancé, Noah, holding court at the bar.
They were betting on me, on my future, confident I was a nervous wreck after a minor accident, completely unaware I was meticulously listening to every word.
I had been back with the wealthy Smith family for six months, a life everyone envied: a mansion, endless credit, an influential fiancé.
But it was all a charade; beneath the surface, I was nothing more than their pawn, their trophy, targeted by my brother' s arrogance and my fiancé' s oppressive control, while the adopted daughter, Chloe, simmered with resentment.
I was a victim, a fragile damsel in distress. Everyone saw it but me.
I watched them, learned their weaknesses, and then I orchestrated my own engagement to Noah, making him believe he was securing the true heiress, all while pulling his strings.
They were consumed by their petty rivalries, completely blind to the game I was playing, a game where their arrogance was my ultimate weapon.
Their bet on me was just the beginning; I was playing for a much bigger prize.
With chilling precision, I created scenarios, fanned their egos, and subtly moved them into positions where they would self-destruct, all while I appeared to be the struggling, innocent girl.
I was merely the quiet, fragile girl they thought they were protecting.
They talked about winning, but they had no idea they were already losing.
The truth was, I wasn't just in the game; I was the game master, and they were all about to find out exactly what happens when you underestimate a Smith. Poisoned Prophecy
Fantasy My mother, Evelyn, was born deaf-mute, burdened by an ancient prophecy: she would speak three times, and disaster would follow each utterance.
I, Sarah, grew up under this constant, quiet dread.
The first words came when I was a teenager, a rough whisper to my father, David: "Don't go, David."
Hours later, he plunged from our high-rise balcony, an "accident" that shattered our lives.
But I saw the grainy security footage: Mom stood in the doorway, simply watching him fall, her face a chilling, unreadable mask.
She then vanished to her hometown, Blackwood Creek, leaving me with a growing, terrible suspicion.
Five years passed, my fiancé Mark brought a fragile peace, but Mom's cryptic second words to him at a public dinner reignited the whispers.
The next night, Mark was climbing his balcony railing, vacant-eyed, just like Dad, saved only by his parents' timely intervention.
Then, the staticky, desperate phone call: Mom's third utterance, "Sarah, listen to me. You have to get away... Mama loves you."
Her voice was raw with terror, not manipulation.
Moments later, the news screamer: Evelyn Hayes found dead, an apparent suicide in Blackwood Creek.
Suicide? After that warning, after that desperate love?
My heart screamed; the official story felt like a carefully constructed lie designed to hide something monstrous.
I refused to believe it.
My mother's last terrifying words, her love, and her impossible death demanded answers.
Blackwood Creek held those secrets, and I swore to uncover them, no matter the cost. Happily Ever After, Without You
Modern Five years ago, I drove away from Boston, vowing never to look back at the city that had shattered my world.
I had meticulously rebuilt my life in Portland, nurturing a freelance design business, a loving marriage with my supportive husband, David, and a joyful life with our son, Leo.
But a mandatory design conference now pulled me back, forcing me to confront the ghosts of a past I had believed were long buried.
The first ghost appeared in the form of Jessica Bellwether, a former sorority sister, whose familiar laugh cut through the convention center's buzz.
She approached me with that same pitying smile, mentioning "him."
"He still talks about you," she whispered conspiratorially, her words a deliberate jab.
"If you just admitted your mistake, he' d take you back."
Mistake? That singular word plunged me back into the nightmare of my own rehearsal dinner.
I was there, in a beautiful white dress, standing before two hundred of Boston' s elite, when Ethan Hayes, my fiancé, produced a sheaf of printed messages.
He publicly branded me a deceitful woman, twisting my most intimate expressions of grief for my beloved, deceased brother, Mark, into fabricated evidence of a secret lover.
Chloe Vance, his ambitious colleague, had orchestrated the deception, and he, in his blind fury and pride, had cast me aside without a single question.
My world disintegrated on that elegant ballroom floor, a public execution orchestrated by the man who had promised me forever.
How could he have so easily devoured such a monstrous lie, so readily destroying me and the memory of my brother?
The sheer unfairness and the profound pain of his betrayal had lingered for half a decade, a scar hidden beneath my newfound peace.
Now, Ethan, hearing whispers of my quiet happiness, has tracked me across the country.
He' s invaded my serene Portland life, demanding answers, accusing me of abandoning him.
His audacious presence has rekindled a righteous anger I swore I' d never feel again.
This time, I won' t just walk away; I will speak my truth, and he will finally hear the brutal reality of what he truly did. The Unseen Culprit
Xuanhuan The scent of lavender oil was thick in the air, a constant reminder of my new life as a blind massage therapist.
Years ago, while proctoring an SAT exam, my sight inexplicably vanished, leaving me to navigate a world of sound and touch.
But my quiet existence shattered when two familiar voices, brimming with arrogance, drifted in: Vic Stone, boasting about cheating, and David Miller, whispering about 'the culprit' who was 'right there in the exam room' when I went blind.
My hands froze, my heart hammering as the full, horrifying realization hit me: my tragedy wasn't a freak accident, but a premeditated attack.
My entire life, my career, my very existence, had been stolen by someone in that room.
Who was this mastermind, hiding in plain sight?
Why me?
And what did David know that he couldn't openly say?
The injustice burned hotter than any anger I'd ever known.
Before I could demand answers, a sudden, blinding pain plunged me into a different kind of darkness.
Yet, I gasped awake, light flooding my vision, back in that SAT room on the very day it happened.
I was Michael Davies, proctor, again – with a terrifying second chance to stop my own undoing, and expose the monster who stole my life. You might like
Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon
Piao Guo Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone.
Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat.
"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."
"You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are."
When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice.
Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters.
They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff.
To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance.
Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie.
The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage.
Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family.
But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil. The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Zillionaire
Felix Turner Isabel returned to her penthouse after a grueling seventeen-hour flight, only to be greeted by the cloying scent of another woman's perfume.
Her husband of three years, Darius, sat waiting with divorce papers. He wanted to marry his mistress, Dove, and offered Isabel a measly one million dollars, treating her like a greedy charity case from the Rust Belt who should just take the payout and vanish.
But Isabel didn't want his pity. She demanded the four percent equity stake in his family's company that she rightfully owned—a stake worth 1.5 billion dollars. When she revealed this, the wealthy family turned vicious. They refused to acknowledge that she had secretly saved their empire from bankruptcy years ago. Instead, Darius and Dove orchestrated a brutal public execution. They ambushed her at a top law firm, spreading malicious lies that her investment money was stolen from a Ponzi scheme. They even hired a fake victim to scream at her in the lobby, successfully terrifying Isabel's lawyer into dropping her case on the spot.
She had quietly rescued their entire legacy, yet they were willing to frame her as a criminal and destroy her life just to keep her rightful billions.
As Darius and his mistress gloated over her absolute ruin, the most ruthless and feared lawyer in New York suddenly stepped in front of Isabel, his voice cutting through the dead silence.
"Your case, I'll take it." 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!" Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." 
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