Xiao Mao Mao

My husband, Dalton, publicly humiliated me for the tenth time, flaunting his pregnant mistress, Justine, at a conference for the company I built. I was trapped, paying for my mother' s endless medical bills. But then Justine took it a step further. She went to my mother' s hospital and cruelly told her everything-all the affairs, all my sacrifices. My mother, in her despair, jumped from the rooftop. At the funeral, Justine crashed the service with a brass band, showering my mother' s casket with confetti. "She's just trying to be thoughtful!" Dalton yelled, shielding her as I lunged forward in a blind rage. He shoved me back, his eyes blazing. "Don't you dare touch her! She's carrying my child!" He raised his hand to strike me, and I braced for the impact, my world completely shattered. But the blow never landed. A chillingly calm, powerful voice cut through the chaos. "I wouldn't advise that, Dalton." My estranged, billionaire father had just arrived.

I flew to London with a custom engagement ring, ready to surprise my boyfriend for our anniversary. Instead, I found him wearing a matching "couple's bracelet" with his "anxious" female best friend, Britney. He even ditched our anniversary dinner because she had a "panic attack" over a chipped nail. Realizing I was the third wheel in my own relationship, I quietly transferred to a university in Berlin to escape. But Graham wouldn't let go. He followed me across the continent, dragging my mother along to guilt-trip me into coming back. When that didn't work, he handed me a "farewell gift." As I opened the box, a sickly sweet smell hit me-he was trying to drug me to kidnap me back to New York. My legs gave out, but I didn't hit the floor. I fell into the arms of Harrison McKee-Britney's terrifyingly powerful uncle and my new professor. "Find another side chick, Graham," Harrison growled, pulling me close. "This one is taken."

I had been dead for a year, my spirit tethered to my daughter, Emma, watching over her in the orphanage. Then, the director called my ex-husband, Elroy, for Emma' s urgent medical treatment, but he coldly refused, telling her, "Then let her die. It would be a convenience. She can go join her short-lived mother." A week later, Emma died at five years old, because her father wouldn' t spare the money to save her. Days later, Elroy arrived at the orphanage, believing I had faked Emma' s death to manipulate him. He pulled back the sheet covering her small body, sneering, "Very realistic. A good prop." He then picked up our daughter' s body, carried her outside, and tossed her into a dumpster, scattering raw meat around it, taunting, "Let's see how long this prop lasts when the stray dogs find it." My spirit screamed, but I was powerless as dogs tore at her. He believed I was alive, orchestrating a sick game, but I was a ghost, a silent, screaming witness to his monstrous cruelty. Why did he hate us so much? Then, I saw him with Ivonne, his childhood sweetheart, heavily pregnant, and the horrifying truth clicked: he had a new family, and he wanted Emma' s heart for his new daughter.

For twenty years, all Ava Lewis wanted was to find her biological family, the missing piece of her identity. When her adopted sister, Brittany Miller, beamed and said, "Almost there, Ava. You're going to love our old town. It's where all the family traditions started," Ava believed it was the start of something beautiful. But the moment they stepped out of the car at a secluded, dark cabin, the loving facade shattered. Two burly men appeared, seizing her arms as her "parents" stood by, their faces blank, their smiles gone. "Don't fight it, Ava," Brittany's voice was chillingly cold. "It'll be easier if you just cooperate." Dragged inside, bound to a chair, Ava watched in horror as Brittany approached with a strange, ancient device, a needle glinting. "This is our family tradition," Brittany explained, piercing Ava's chest. "We are connecting your life force to this ancient family relic. It will bring us good fortune and health." Her "parents" chimed in, "It's your duty as our daughter." Ava' s life force drained away with each transfer, leaving her hollow and weak, while her biological family seemingly thrived. But after the forty-ninth transfer, the truth, colder and crueler than any physical pain, was revealed: "That's the point," Brittany whispered, a malicious smile twisting her lips. "This was never about health. It was about your death." Bound, exposed, bleeding, Ava realized she was merely a product, auctioned off to the highest bidder for their depraved entertainment. Then he appeared, "the Master," a man who seemed to stop the horror, only to brand her with her own essence, making her a monument to his family's generational vendetta. But from the depths of betrayal and despair, a burning rage ignited. She might be broken, but she would not be silenced. She was Ava Lewis, and she would make them pay.

The scent of gasoline and burning silk was the last thing I knew on my wedding day. Flames danced around me, illuminating my new husband, Liam Thompson, my stepbrother, as he clutched a locket with my stepmother Sarah' s picture. "You ruined it all, Ava," he sneered, his face contorted with a hatred I' d never imagined. He carved Sarah' s name into my skin and then forced the locket down my throat, piece by agonizing piece. The suffocation, the searing pain, the betrayal-they were a twisted sacrament to a love I was only just beginning to comprehend, a love that would consume us all. Then, darkness. I awoke to the antiseptic smell of my familiar bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window. Downstairs, Liam' s frantic yelling and Sarah' s feigned sobs echoed from below, a chilling replay of the day my life ended before. It was real. I was back. Back to the day of the incident, the day my father signed away my future to protect his pride, the day I walked like a prisoner to my own execution. The humiliation, the pain, the fire-never again. A sharp knock on my door. It was Sophia, my "best friend," feigning concern, ready to lead me into the trap. "Ava? Are you in there? Something terrible is happening downstairs!" she called. But this time, I wouldn't be the victim. I smiled, a cold, sharp curve on my lips. "A Céleste purse like that is more important. You deserve it." As her footsteps faded down the hall, racing for a status symbol, I knew this was my chance. Let the real performance begin.

They threw me out of this city three years ago, calling me crazy, an obsessed medical student trying to ruin a business heir' s life because he chose someone else. Now I' m back, a doctor, ready to face the judgment all over again. But at my parents' suffocating welcome-home party, the news blared, announcing the brain death of renowned neurosurgeon Dr. Ben Carter. My world shattered. My glass hit the floor, and a raw, guttural sob tore through me. Everyone stared, not with judgment for Ethan, but with confusion for a grief I couldn' t name for a man I didn' t remember. They thought I was breaking over Ethan Hayes' engagement to Emily Vance. But I hadn't shed a single tear for him. Instead, I was destroyed by the death of a stranger on the news. That moment, kneeling amidst broken glass and a grief too immense to comprehend, was the beginning. It ignited a desperate, burning need to understand who Dr. Ben Carter was and why his death felt like the end of my world.

My daughter Maya' s ragged breath was the only sound in our quiet, dusty home, her small body wracked by fever. I begged my husband, Caleb, to take her to a doctor, but his eyes were cold and his voice flat as he refused, prioritizing his sister-in-law Brenda' s son over our dying child. My mother-in-law, Mary-Ann, handed me old, expired antibiotics, saying they should be "good enough," sealing Maya' s fate. For two agonizing days, I watched her fade, desperately clinging to a miracle that never came. On the third night, my world shattered as Maya went still in my arms, her silent passing tearing a primal scream from my throat. In my grief and rage, I confronted Caleb and Mary-Ann, only for Caleb to silence me with a violent fist, leaving me bleeding and abandoned in the darkest national forest. As I lay dying, I saw a chilling vision: Brenda, wearing my locket, stealing the life my long-lost Army Colonel father had come to claim for me. They took everything-my daughter, my life, my future-and gave it to my worst enemies. But then, I woke with a gasp, the silver locket cool against my skin, Maya sleeping soundly beside me. It was three days before her illness, three days before her death, and this time, I wasn't just a mother. This time, I was an avenger.

I woke with a gasp, the Southern sun blazing. Today was my debutante ball, the pinnacle for any young woman of the Ashley dynasty. But the date, the gown, the very air in my room, triggered a flood of memories from a lifetime ago-the same ball, the same stolen heirloom dress on Babs, my family's charity case. I watched passively as she paraded in my priceless gown, public outrage engulfing me, until Father' s sudden, suspicious death and my brother Tom Jr., infatuated with Babs, seized power. They sent me away, to years of hell in a "behavioral correction institute," where I eventually faded, learning Babs orchestrated it all for revenge, announcing her engagement to Tom Jr. as my life ended. The cruelty of that past life, the utter betrayal by Beau, my fiancé, Tom, my brother, and the sheer injustice of Babs's deceit, surged through my veins. How could they have been so blind, so easily swayed by a viper in our midst? No. Not again. This time, I sat up, my spirit forged in the fires of that hell. My gown was missing, but I remembered another: Mother's legendary debutante dress. This time, I would not despair. This time, I would be in control. This time, Babs would not win. This time, they would all pay.

I woke up in a stale motel room, the memory of my brutal murder, orchestrated by my fiancée Seraphina Vance and her cousin Julian Thorne, searing everything. This was my second chance, a fresh start. I tried to escape their glittering, poisonous world again, but they dragged me back, trapping me in a sadistic game. They made me Seraphina' s pet, then Julian' s punching bag, a living target for their physical and emotional abuse. Then, in a horrific twist, Julian brutally murdered my loyal dog, Buster, before my eyes, accusing me of madness. But the ultimate betrayal came when he ruthlessly orchestrated a fire, consuming my innocent parents and little sister. My family was gone. Annihilated because of them. How could such monstrous cruelty exist? Why was I doomed to relive this nightmare, only to lose everything again? As grief hardened into an icy, unyielding rage, an unexpected ally emerged: Veronica Shaw, the Senator's enigmatic Chief of Staff. She saw their evil. Together, we would expose them. This time, the Vance empire would burn, and the flames would consume their lies and crimes, bringing justice for my shattered life.

Every time it rained, Hans would wake up from the nightmare that had haunted him for the past eight years. The picture that his love died in his arms closed the door on others. Another rainy night, a car accident brought Moira into his life. This girl had the same features as his beloved. Now that she had lost all her memory after waking up, she was the perfect substitute for his lost lover. However, fate had another plan and their sweetness was replaced by the cruel truth. She was none other than the daughter of his sworn enemy. Where would their story go? Would love still survive in hatred?

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

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!"

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."