Xiao Xiaosu

I returned to New York with a broken suitcase and exactly three hundred and forty-two dollars in my bank account. My mother was dying in a public hospital, and the only treatment that could save her required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit I didn't have. While I was pleading with the billing department, I ran into my billionaire ex, Gannon Sharpe, and his cruel fiancée, Aleta. Without a second thought, Aleta slapped me so hard my lip split, kicking my belongings across the floor and calling me a gold-digging thief in front of the entire staff. I looked at Gannon, the man I once loved more than my own life, hoping for a shred of mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure revulsion and told me I belonged in the gutter. He believed the lies his grandfather told him—that I had abandoned him after his car crash and vanished with millions. He had no idea I was the one who actually pulled him from that burning wreckage, or that I was currently skipping meals in a moldy motel just so our secret son could have formula. He called me "disgusting" and walked away, leaving me to rot. I wanted to scream that I was the genius scientist who wrote his company’s core algorithms, and that the child he didn’t know existed was shivering with a fever only blocks away. But the ironclad NDA I signed to save my family kept me silent, even as Gannon looked at me like I was something he’d stepped in. Desperate for health insurance to save my mother and son, I took a bottom-tier data entry job in the basement of Gannon’s own tower, intending to stay invisible. But when a billion-dollar error threatened to bankrupt his empire, I couldn't stop myself from hacking the system to fix the code. Now, the man who hates me is standing in my cubicle, demanding to know how a "dropout" knows his most guarded secrets. Gannon is finally digging into my past, and he’s about to find out exactly what—and who—I’ve been hiding for the last four years.

I was four months pregnant with the Alpha's heir, and I had given up everything for Michael. I hid my identity as the daughter of the powerful Alpha Hayes, stripped away my inheritance, and poured my personal fortune into building his pack. I thought we were the golden couple. But one rainy night, Michael came home smelling of vanilla and deception. Exhausted, his mental barriers slipped, and I heard his thoughts project through our Mind-Link to his mistress, Serena. "She is just a vessel," his internal voice sneered. "Once the pup is born, we take the child and reject her. I only need the Hayes money a little longer." My world shattered. I wasn't his mate; I was a bank account with a pulse. The cruelty escalated when a waiter tripped at dinner, sending boiling soup flying toward our table. Michael didn't reach for me or his unborn child. He lunged to shield Serena, leaving me to take the scalding liquid full force on my pregnant belly. While I lay in the hospital with burns, he told the doctors to prioritize Serena's "shock" over my injuries. He thought I was broken. He thought I was trapped. He was wrong. I bribed the nurse to write two words on my chart: "Spontaneous Abortion." Then I froze every asset in the pack, signed the divorce papers, and vanished. Michael wanted a future without me? He’s about to find out exactly what that costs.

For three years, I gave up my life as "Nemesis," the undefeated lawyer, to be the perfect wife for LA's star prosecutor, Keith Sampson. I traded my legal briefs for cookbooks, believing I could heal the man I loved. On our anniversary, he came home drunk, kissed me desperately, and whispered another woman's name. "Holly," he breathed. "I knew you'd come back to me." But the final verdict on our marriage came at a restaurant. When a waiter spilled a pot of scalding coffee, Keith didn't hesitate. He lunged to shield his ex-girlfriend, Holly, from a few drops. The rest of the pot splashed onto my arm, causing second-degree burns. He panicked over the minor red marks on Holly's hand, rushing her to a private clinic. He never even looked at my blistering skin. He just handed me his credit card. "Take a cab to urgent care," he said. "I'll call you later." That was the moment the devoted wife died. I walked out and never looked back. Three months later, I stood across from him in a courtroom, representing the man he was prosecuting in the biggest case of his career. He had no idea the quiet housewife he'd discarded was the legal legend known as Nemesis. And I was about to destroy his perfect, undefeated record.

After seven years of marriage and a heartbreaking miscarriage, the two pink lines on the pregnancy test felt like a miracle. I couldn't wait to tell my husband, Drake, the man who had held me through every painful infertility treatment. On my way to find him, I saw him in a park with a woman and a little boy. The boy, who looked just like him, ran up and shouted, "Daddy." The woman was Kiana, the crazy stalker who'd "accidentally" pushed me down the stairs five years ago, causing my first miscarriage. The son was four years old. My entire marriage, all the nights he held me while I cried over our lost child—it was all a lie. He had a secret family with the very woman who caused our pain. I couldn't understand. Why put me through seven years of hell trying for a baby he already had? He called me "stupidly in love," a fool he could easily deceive while he lived his double life. But the truth was far worse. When his mistress staged her own kidnapping and blamed me, he had me abducted and beaten, thinking I was a stranger. As I lay bound on a warehouse floor, he kicked me in the stomach, killing our unborn child. He had no idea it was me.

My world shattered when Liam, the boy I' d loved my entire life, brought home a vapid social media influencer as his girlfriend. His parents, who always treated me like a daughter, saw my heartbreak and offered to adopt me, to cut the cord of hope that was strangling me. I agreed to be adopted, planning to start a new life in London. But Liam, convinced I was just playing hard to get, staged a humiliating public proposal to his new girlfriend, Brittany, specifically to get a reaction out of me. At the party, he flaunted Brittany, showered her with affection, and even tried to provoke me by giving her the bouquet meant for me. Instead of crumbling, I clapped, then calmly announced to everyone that I was about to become Liam's sister. His fury was immediate. He forced me into his car, subjected me to a degrading display of intimacy with Brittany, and then abandoned me on a deserted road. Just hours later, Liam was severely injured in a car crash, ironically while protecting Brittany, and his parents asked me to stay with him at the hospital. When I found out he had been fed doctored chat logs, twisting my words to paint me as cold and manipulative, I realized his cruel game was all based on a lie. He believed it without question, destroying our 20 years of trust. He then tried to violently force me to marry him, resulting in another car crash that left him with severe, irreversible brain damage, forever trapping him in the mind of a child. But out of that darkness, I found light. In London, I met Ethan, a kind and sincere architect. We fell in love, built a life, and shared a beautiful, uncomplicated future that was more real than any dream Liam had ever promised.

The first thing I felt was the splintering pain in my back, a sharp, ugly ache. My art school interview, my one shot, was missed because a ladder slipped. Instead of concern, my adoptive parents, the Davises, stood over me and my ruined canvases, their faces masks of fury. "Stealing Emily's scholarship spot wasn't enough," my mother shrieked, "now you've sabotaged her art career? We never should have adopted you!" My father grabbed me, hauling me up despite my cry of pain, and dragged me to the attic, slamming the door shut with a deafening metallic click. The familiar dread of claustrophobia seized me. "Please," I gasped, pounding a weak fist against the door, "Please, don't. I can't… I can't breathe." But their footsteps faded, her words echoing: "She's just being dramatic." They left me there, trapped and forgotten, my pleas turning into choked sobs no one would hear. Days later, they discussed plans for Emily during their European vacation, dismissing the growing, sweet stench in the house as my mess. They never thought of me again, not for seven days, not until it was too late.

My son, Caleb, stood in my home office doorway demanding a graduation trip to Hawaii, acting as entitled as ever. I told him to ask his father for the money because I was divorcing Matthew-his reaction, laughing and saying, "Guys cheat, Mom. It's not a big deal," shattered me. The next text message, from an unknown number, linked to a Reddit post by "UnrulySon" – a private photo of me, labeled by Caleb: "My mom was a total party girl back in the day. Bet you wouldn' t guess it now." Scrolling further, I found his horrifying comments calling me "the warden" and revealing how "Aunt Nicole," my husband' s mistress, had groomed him for years to spread lies about me online, even twisting a moment I saved his life into a calculated performance. As rage boiled over, I vowed to make them all pay, starting by uncovering every single one of Nicole' s manipulations and my husband' s financial schemes.

My eyes shot open on October 12th, the day I lost everything in my last life. My sister Stella was in mortal danger from a placental abruption, her business assets frozen by a lawsuit-the exact nightmare repeating itself. Despite my desperate pleas not to, my brother-in-law Matthew called our father, Brian Clark, who was on his anniversary trip with his new wife, Debra. Instead of help, Father's voice, devoid of care, coldly accused us of manufacturing drama, hanging up and abandoning his hemorrhaging daughter. I watched, horrified, as paramedics wheeled Stella's gurney toward a public hospital, her life slipping away, while my father orchestrated betrayal, poisoning minds against us. My father just wanted us to lose everything; he said, "I don't want daughters like you." Then, a miracle: Anthony Hughes, a lawyer and old family friend, stepped in, saving Stella and exposing Debra's elaborate con to swindle my father. The powerful man who once controlled our lives was humiliated, his empire crumbled, and in a final tragic act, he killed Debra and himself. Now, holding my newborn nephew, Leo, baptized in the sunlight of a peaceful new chapter, I finally understood: the nightmare was over, and we were truly free.

Michael Peterson had it all – a thriving architecture firm, a beautiful wife Sarah, and their miracle baby, Hope, due in months after years of IVF. His life was perfect. Then a single text shattered it: Sarah had terminated their much-longed-for pregnancy. Not for medical reasons, but for Jules, her toxic college ex, who supposedly needed her after a minor motorcycle accident. Michael raced to the hospital, finding Sarah caring for Jules, who had a mere broken leg. He watched, horrified, as she defended Jules, even emptying their joint accounts to fund his 'comeback.' The facade crumbled further when Michael discovered Jules was a drug addict, and Sarah, manipulated and coerced, had become addicted herself. The abortion, he learned, was a desperate, misguided attempt to protect their baby from a drug-addicted life and Michael from criminal implications. The true cost of this betrayal hit when his fierce, supportive sister, Emily, succumbed to stress-induced aneurysm while fighting to clear his name, leaving Michael utterly alone amidst financial ruin. How could one man's insidious influence, fueled by his wife's twisted loyalty, unravel a life built on love and dreams, dragging everyone through such profound despair and ultimately claiming innocent lives? With everything lost-family, fortune, and the very hope he once cherished-Michael is left facing total annihilation. Now, stripped bare of his past, he wanders the vast, empty landscapes of America, searching for a path forward, or perhaps just a reason to keep driving. His journey has just begun, but where will it lead?

For ten years, I quietly loved Ethan Hayes, pouring my heart into him, always hoping. My vibrant sister, Veronica, lay in a coma, a silent, fragile presence in the hospital. Then, outside her room, I heard Ethan's voice, raw with devotion. He’d marry me, not for love, but only to be closer to Veronica. I was a tool, a mere placeholder. My world, like the coffee cup in my hand, shattered. Forced to save my bankrupt family and fund Veronica’s experimental treatment, I entered a cold pact: marry Marcus Thorne, a powerful, enigmatic billionaire rumored damaged. When Veronica awoke, she relentlessly sabotaged my life—my art, my future—leaving Ethan blindly defending her every cruel act. How could the man I adored betray me so utterly, while the feared "monster" I was forced to marry showed me a startling, unexpected kindness? Was my fate to be forever shadowed, misunderstood, and discarded? Yet, as Veronica’s manipulative facade crumbled and Ethan’s desperate actions turned tragic, I uncovered Marcus Thorne’s true self: a man with a hidden past linked to mine, not broken, but fiercely protective. Could this forced marriage be my unexpected path to reclaiming my life and finding a love beyond anything I’d imagined?

Two estranged lovers met again after five years. When Rita cried out her grievances in front of Ethan, he forgave her and took her back into his arms. But what he didn't know was that he had stepped right into her trap. She pushed him down into an abyss of humiliation, showered him with betrayals, and then left once again. However, as she walked away, a cruel sneer appeared on his face. He would make everyone who cheated him suffer for the rest of their lives. This time, it would be impossible for her to run from him.

The last thing Anna ever expected was to be caught up in a trap that she set herself. She had just placed herself under Vincent's radar—the most influential man in the city, a golden bachelor. He looked at her in the eye, like a hunter aiming for his prey. "Listen carefully," he said snidely, smirking. "You're mine now. The rest of your life serves to pay your price. The best way you could make up to me is to live with me."

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."

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."

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."

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."

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.

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.

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."