My Wedding Night, Her Vengeance

My Wedding Night, Her Vengeance

Bu Gui

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My wedding night was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, brought a dead man to our bed – Liam, her adored junior developer. "Kneel," she commanded, her voice chillingly devoid of the warmth I had once foolishly sought. I knelt on a bed of broken circuits and shattered motherboards, agonizingly sharp against my skin. She forced me to apologize ten thousand times to a corpse, accusing me of stealing Liam's success and driving him to his death. But it was all a lie; I had simply won the AI competition, a prize that was meant to be hers and Liam's. She injected me with a toxic performance-enhancer, amplifying every sensation into agony. Then, she unleashed a torrent of anonymous hackers, forcing me to watch as they systematically cyber-assaulted and dismantled my entire digital life. She recorded it all, crafting a narrative of me as a cheating scumbag, a monster who had destroyed an innocent man. The world believed her, and the public shame, coupled with vicious online attacks, tragically killed my parents. Chloe moved swiftly, seizing my family's tech empire, the company my father had built from nothing. I died in that room, a broken man, humiliated to death. But then, I woke up. I was back at the beginning, a year before the competition's end, the AI prototype humming softly on my desk. This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice for their twisted love. I would not win; I would let Liam have the victory, and Chloe. All I wanted was to live.

Introduction

My wedding night was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

Instead, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, brought a dead man to our bed – Liam, her adored junior developer.

"Kneel," she commanded, her voice chillingly devoid of the warmth I had once foolishly sought.

I knelt on a bed of broken circuits and shattered motherboards, agonizingly sharp against my skin.

She forced me to apologize ten thousand times to a corpse, accusing me of stealing Liam's success and driving him to his death.

But it was all a lie; I had simply won the AI competition, a prize that was meant to be hers and Liam's.

She injected me with a toxic performance-enhancer, amplifying every sensation into agony.

Then, she unleashed a torrent of anonymous hackers, forcing me to watch as they systematically cyber-assaulted and dismantled my entire digital life.

She recorded it all, crafting a narrative of me as a cheating scumbag, a monster who had destroyed an innocent man.

The world believed her, and the public shame, coupled with vicious online attacks, tragically killed my parents.

Chloe moved swiftly, seizing my family's tech empire, the company my father had built from nothing.

I died in that room, a broken man, humiliated to death.

But then, I woke up.

I was back at the beginning, a year before the competition's end, the AI prototype humming softly on my desk.

This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice for their twisted love.

I would not win; I would let Liam have the victory, and Chloe.

All I wanted was to live.

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Her Death, Their Sinful Secret

Her Death, Their Sinful Secret

Young Adult

5.0

The first time Chloe died, I wasn't there. I was in the library, trying to finish a paper, when a text from our friend Emily shattered my world: "Something happened at the dorm. Come back. Now." I ran, only to find flashing lights and yellow tape around our building. Emily, pale and shaking, whispered the horror: "It' s Chloe. She… she fell." The university moved with chilling speed, declaring it a tragic suicide, scrubbing every trace of her from our room as if she never existed. My best friend, gone. But I knew Chloe. She wouldn't just jump. The bruises, the whispered phone calls to a blocked number that made her face tighten with fear-they screamed something else. I tried to tell the police, but they dismissed it, already closing the case. The university wanted me quiet, gone, just like Chloe' s memory. In a haze of grief and rage, I remembered her hidden burner phone and secret journal. I knew they held the truth. That night, I snuck back into our room, found them, and a terrifyingly large man in a dark suit appeared, attacking me. I woke up with a throbbing head, confused, but the buzzing alarm clock confirmed it: Wednesday, 7:00 AM. May 18th. Then I saw her. Chloe, alive, humming at her desk. I had woken up three days in the past. This was my second chance. I could save her. But I failed. Even knowing, even running, I was too late. I watched her fall again, this time on a Wednesday. Despair threatened to swallow me whole, but then a cold, hard determination set in. They had taken everything the first time, covered it up. Not this time. I couldn't save her life, but I could get justice. And the key was the phone and the journal-still hidden where I' d left them in the original timeline. When university officials, including Dean Peterson and the terrifying man who attacked me, burst into my room to silence me, I had a choice. Beg for help? Or fight back? I dialed 911, then deliberately smashed the window, screaming for real police attention. When they finally arrived, I knew my physical evidence was gone. Dean Peterson's smug face confirmed it. So, I played my last card. I looked the officer dead in the eye and said, "I pushed her. I killed my best friend." It was a monstrous lie, a suicide bomb of a confession, but it forced their hand. A suicide they could bury; a murder, they had to investigate. Sitting in the interrogation room, recounting the nightmare to Detective Anderson, the impossible truth started to break through. He listened, he saw the inconsistencies, and for the first time, someone believed me. Chloe's journal and the burner phone, retrieved by my bewildered friend Emily, laid bare the horrifying truth: Dean Peterson was pimping out vulnerable female students, including Chloe, to powerful, wealthy university trustees like the HIV-positive Mr. Thompson. Chloe's death wasn't suicide; it was murder, a desperate escape from a web of abuse and control. My false confession cost me my freedom, my reputation, my sanity, but it ignited a firestorm. The corrupt system crumbled, Thompson and Peterson jailed for life. Standing at Chloe' s grave, the fight over, I knew for the first time: we did it. We changed her story. And no one else would suffer like her again.

His Golden Ambition, Her Ruin

His Golden Ambition, Her Ruin

Fantasy

5.0

My name is Ava Green, and I have a secret. Anything I touch with intense emotion turns to solid gold, a strange Midas Touch responsive not to greed, but to love, fear, and passion. Mark Sterling, my brilliant and ambitious husband, was the recipient of my deepest love, and our penthouse glowed with five hundred shimmering testimonies to our shared intimacy. Then the five-hundredth transformation happened, a golden lace tear on a pillowcase, signifying I could make one powerful wish. Mark begged me to wish for his ultimate ambition: to be the CEO of Innovate Global, hailed as a visionary. My heart broke for him, seeing his vulnerability, and I closed my eyes, making the wish for the man I loved. The next night, the world changed. Mark became CEO, a savior to the media, but at his first press conference, he announced his engagement to Dr. Emily Hayes, his "childhood friend." He destroyed me. When he came home, surrounded by our golden memories, he revealed his cruel plan: Emily was his path to power, and I, merely "convenient," was to remain his wife, in name only, lest my prominent family's shares suffer. He needed my family' s influence-and my power-but I was just a piece on his board. I was trapped, my love, my magic, my soul, all sacrificed for his kingdom. Then, a text from Leo Vance, my childhood friend and a cybersecurity genius, offered a glimmer of hope: "The library. Midnight. Don't be followed." He revealed Mark' s orchestrations, how he' d ruined a man' s life, and then, a passage from my family's archives: a forbidden technique, a reverse Midas Touch, fueled by profound pain, where malicious wishes come true. "He thinks he broke you, Ava," Leo said. "Let him think that. We can use this." And so, my plan began, sharper and clearer than any gold.

A Father's Vengeance

A Father's Vengeance

Horror

5.0

The smoke burned my eyes, thick and acrid, as my three-year-old son, Caleb, coughed weakly beside me. My wife, Jennifer, stood at the wine cellar door, her gaze fixed on her brother-in-law, Ryan. "It's for Molly's sake," she said, her voice chillingly devoid of warmth. "The guru said Caleb's energy caused her asthma attack. We have to cleanse it." She slammed the heavy oak door shut, the bolt thudding into place, trapping us. My son, who had a severe peanut allergy and sensitive lungs, was left to suffocate in the toxic smoke. Days bled into a hazy nightmare until Jennifer' s brother, Wesley, appeared, revealing Jennifer never loved me; I was just a rebound. He then callously threw more sage onto the embers, sealing our tomb deeper. I clawed our way out, just barely, carrying Caleb' s limp, blue body to a hospital, clinging to a desperate thread of hope. But Jennifer arrived, not for us, but demanding Caleb's O-negative blood for Molly' s minor fender bender injury, ignoring doctors' pleas. "He's my son. Do it," she commanded, her eyes cold. Then, with a casual glance at Caleb, a nurse, obviously bribed, fed him a peanut granola bar. The flatline screamed, and Caleb arched, his tiny chest still. Jennifer, with Ryan' s arm around her, turned her back on our dying son to comfort Molly' s fake tears. My world shattered. Ryan' s venomous whisper echoed: "You and your son, you were always in the way." How could a mother abandon her child to such a horrifying death? How could she choose a niece over her own son, then murder him without a second thought? Something inside me didn't just break; it turned to dust, then reformed into steel. Andrew Wright had to die, so the man who would take everything from them could be born.

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