A Li
14 Published Stories
A Li's Books and Stories
Too Late For My CEO's Regret
Modern I was just another invisible marketing clerk at the Jennings Group, a single mother counting pennies to pay for my daughter’s medical bills. Then the glass doors of the executive elevator opened, and the new CEO walked in.
It was Bridger Jennings, the man who had shattered my world five years ago and left me to pick up the pieces alone. He wasn't the boy I once loved; he was a ruthless tycoon who looked through me with a gaze of total, crushing indifference.
The torment started immediately. Bridger targeted me in front of the department, cutting the late-night transportation I relied on and mocking my "supportive husband"—a man who didn't even exist. When he spotted a red smudge of paint on my neck, he mistook it for a love bite from a rival. His jealousy turned into a weapon, and he buried me under a mountain of impossible work, sneering that I should let my husband provide for me instead.
I stayed up until dawn to finish the task, only to realize someone had sabotaged my files to ensure my termination. My manager threatened to fire me on the spot, and Bridger stood by with a cold smile, waiting for me to crawl and beg for mercy.
I couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with destroying the life I had built from the ashes of our breakup. Did he still care enough to hate me, or was he just trying to prove I was nothing more than a smudge on the glass of his empire?
Slumping against my desk, I finally found the digital footprint of the person who tampered with my work. Bridger thinks he has me cornered, but he doesn't know I'm the secret artist he's been desperately trying to hire—or that he's the father of the child he's punishing me for. The war has just begun. He Never Saw Me
Mafia For ten years, I labored in the shadows to build a massive underworld empire for Cassius, the mafia Underboss I secretly loved.
He promised me marriage and the title of Capo over the smuggling network I created with my own blood. But at the syndicate banquet, he handed my throne to Serena, a sheltered mafia princess who had never touched a gun.
I was publicly shoved to the bottom of the structure I built, named a mere soldier under her command.
Cassius warned me not to make a scene, telling me the family needed a bloodline representative.
He offered me a hidden payoff and a secret wedding, expecting me to keep cleaning up Serena's bloody messes in the dark.
Serena looked at me with innocent eyes, claiming my life's work as her own territory.
I looked at the man I had taken three bullets for.
I remembered biting down on a leather strap in an underground clinic to protect his secrets, while he stood there reducing a decade of my devotion to a dirty little secret.
I didn't cry or beg. I simply unclasped my family crest and dropped it onto the marble floor.
Then, I pulled out my phone and accepted the absolute autonomy offered by the rival Sicilian syndicate.
"I am permanently severing all ties."
This time, I would build an empire that belonged solely to me. The Jilted Wife's Billionaire Heiress Comeback
Modern I woke up alone in a cold hospital room after a near-fatal car crash.
My husband of three years, Bryant, claimed he was too busy with back-to-back meetings to visit me.
But when I dragged my bruised body into the hallway, I caught him pinning his pregnant mistress against a vending machine.
"As soon as my company IPOs next month, I'm dumping my useless wife."
"She's so pathetic. She'd be living on the streets if it wasn't for my charity."
For three years, Bryant and his mother had humiliated me for being an orphan, treating me like a penniless burden while he secretly bought a multi-million-dollar townhouse for his new family.
A cold knot formed in my stomach. I had almost died in that wreckage, yet my husband was disgusted by my very existence, eagerly waiting to throw me away.
But Bryant didn't know about the damp, sealed envelope the paramedics had recovered from my wrecked car.
The DNA report inside proved I wasn't a nobody from the gutter.
I was the biological daughter of the Beaumonts—New York's wealthiest, most ruthless billionaire dynasty.
I didn't scream or confront them.
Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone, recorded their affair in high definition, and dialed a Wall Street financier I hadn't spoken to in years.
"I'm done playing the happy housewife. Pull his algorithmic backdoors and drain the accounts." The Wall Street Tyrant's Fake Wife
Romance To save her father's dying company from her treacherous uncle and cheating ex-boyfriend, Jalynn sold her life to a Wall Street tyrant.
She signed an ironclad contract to be Deryl Atkins's submissive, timid placeholder wife, perfectly mimicking his dead fiancée. In exchange, he wired tens of millions to keep her family out of bankruptcy.
Playing the pathetic, obedient virgin all day made her physically sick. So that night, she sneaked out to a gritty underground club in a tight black slip dress and an ash-blonde wig to drink the nausea away.
She completely let loose, winning a tequila-chugging contest against a massive biker and ripping off her wig in arrogant triumph under the flashing strobe lights. She thought she was anonymous, completely unaware that the ruthless monster she had just married was watching her every move from the soundproof VIP lounge upstairs.
When her phone vibrated at 1 AM, his flat, terrifying voice felt like a physical blow.
"Are you awake?"
Jalynn lied smoothly, pitching her voice to sound gentle and innocent, claiming she was reading Renaissance art. But a terrifying dread settled in her stomach. Why did he suddenly force her to move into his fortress-like estate the very next morning, deliberately filling the halls with his dead fiancée's pristine white roses just to suffocate her?
She thought she could use his money and his name to crush her enemies while keeping her true self hidden. But when he publicly dragged her onto his lap at a high-stakes business lunch, his fingers digging into her waist with a dark, predatory smile, Jalynn realized the terrifying truth. The fake marriage wasn't her shield; it was his hunting ground, and he was going to play with her until she broke. His Uncle, My Sweetest Revenge
Modern My fiancé, Freddie, signed the papers to have me committed to a mental asylum. He told everyone my "episodes" were becoming a liability to his family's pristine reputation.
The truth was, he and his mistress, Jessie, wanted me out of the way. They painted me as a hysterical, unstable psycho so their affair could continue without a single complication.
I spent my last days in a chemical haze, trapped and forgotten. My final memory wasn't of love or compassion, but of orderlies forcing my head under the stagnant, drugged water of an asylum bathtub. Freddie just watched, his face cold and indifferent as I drowned.
He stole my life, my sanity, and my future. He got away with murder while playing the part of the devoted, heartbroken fiancé to a world that believed his every lie.
Until I opened my eyes again.
The blinding Hampton sun stabbed my retinas, and the smell of chlorine filled my lungs. I wasn't in the asylum. I was back at the Madden family's annual summer party, three years before my death.
Across the pool, I saw Freddie laughing with Jessie. They thought they had won.
They had no idea I was back from the dead to burn their entire world to the ground. You Chose Her: Now Watch Me Leave
Modern I was the Hayes heiress, the silent engine behind my husband’s startup, and the woman carrying his child.
But while I sat in the waiting room, rubbing my six-month-pregnant belly, Michael was on Instagram posting a photo of his "friend" Selena’s baby with the caption: *My little Prince, Michael II.*
He claimed it was a joke. He claimed I was hormonal.
But when Selena fell ill with leukemia, the mask finally slipped.
He didn't just ask me to get tested for a bone marrow transplant; he begged me to cut myself open for the woman who treated me like an intruder in my own marriage.
I asked him the only question that mattered: "If we were both dying, who would you save?"
He didn't hesitate. "Selena."
He lied to me about a business trip to Singapore so he could donate his kidney to her. He wanted to be her hero.
He didn't know that while he was under anesthesia saving her, I was alone in a cold hospital room, losing our baby.
When he finally woke up, expecting my devotion, he found the villa stripped bare.
On his desk sat a signed divorce decree and a medical report: *Fetal Demise.*
Underneath, I left one final note: *He would have had your eyes. But you were too busy looking at her.*
I didn't just leave him. I took my money, erased my existence, and vanished into thin air. The Price of His Nineteen-Year-Old Mistress
Romance My husband, Christopher Kramer, was Manhattan's most notorious playboy, famous for his seasonal affairs with nineteen-year-old girls. For five years, I believed I was the exception who had finally tamed him.
That illusion shattered when my father needed a bone marrow transplant. The perfect donor was a nineteen-year-old named Iris. On the day of the surgery, my father died because Christopher chose to stay in bed with her instead of taking her to the hospital.
His betrayal didn't stop there. When an elevator plunged, he pulled her out first and left me to fall. When a chandelier crashed, he shielded her body with his and stepped over me as I lay bleeding. He even stole my dead father's last gift to me and gave it to her.
Through it all, he called me selfish and ungrateful, completely oblivious to the fact that my father was already gone.
So I quietly signed the divorce papers and vanished. The day I left, he texted me.
"Good news, I found another donor for your dad. Let's go schedule the surgery." The Wife Who Escaped Cruelty
Modern My sister Lily wanted to swap her life with a dog just to get into Harvard.
I tried to stop her, to talk sense into her, because who in their right mind would do something so insane?
But instead, I found myself on a rooftop, my hands tied, Lily' s wild eyes screaming.
"Jump, Sarah! Jump!"
She pushed me, and as we plunged towards the city lights, my last thought was of the bitter irony – I tried to save her, and she killed us both.
Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open.
I was back in Lily's bedroom, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and desperation.
She was standing there, holding that familiar, ugly flyer, saying the exact same words: "The college entrance exams are in three days. This is my only chance."
My mother walked in, two glasses of juice in hand, and smiled at the flyer. "Oh, are you two finally discussing the plan?"
They were a team, and I was the enemy, again.
But this time, looking at their cruel and delusional faces, a cold calm settled over me.
My kindness had been their weapon. This time, it would be different.
"No, I' m not jealous," I said, my voice steady, eyes locked on Lily. "I think it' s a brilliant idea. I' ll even help you."
Because this time, I knew the truth. I remembered the cold satisfaction on Ethan Blackwood' s face as we fell.
He wanted this to happen. The dog, the ritual, all of it.
And this time, I was going to let him have his show. The Heiress They Tried to Erase
Modern I gave up three years of my life, caring for a powerful U.S. Senator in a remote Wyoming retreat because my mother, Maria, begged me. She said my cousin, Gabby, was too fragile for such a harsh duty, while I was strong enough to do it for "my sister."
But when I returned to Texas, travel-worn and exhausted, I found my mother beaming at a lavish party, announcing Gabby' s engagement to my fiancé, Ethan Scott, and gifting her my birthright – the Black Creek parcel. My heart shattered. Maria and Gabby weren't just stealing my man; they were stealing my entire identity, my future as the Fuller heiress.
I snatched the deed, demanding they stop. Maria, a woman I thought was my mother, flew into a rage, disowning me instantly. "This girl is just a troubled niece!" she shrieked, ordering the ranch foreman to whip me in front of hundreds of people. My cowboy mentor, Old Man Hemlock, threw himself in front of me, taking the blow.
How could the woman who raised me deny my existence, then order me beaten like an animal, all for a lie? What else had she hidden from me my entire life? Just as the whip was raised again, a convoy of black SUVs pulled into the driveway. My true allies were arriving, and this sham was about to unravel – brutally. Not Your Pathetic Ex Anymore
Romance I spent seven years loving Nicole, putting her dreams before my own.
I promised her the world, believed she was my future.
Then, she chose him – Ryan, her volatile artist ex, the one who' d already broken her heart.
I died for that betrayal, a quiet overdose, a final pathetic act of devotion.
But then, I woke up.
Twenty-one again, sitting across from Nicole in a coffee shop, just before she was supposed to choose me.
The hesitation in her eyes, the yearning for him, it was all still there.
This time, I didn't beg.
I told her, "Go to him."
I walked out into the rain, leaving our painful past behind.
This time, I would live for myself. When Truth Unravels
Modern At Arlington National Cemetery, I, Chloe, stood beside my mother, Helen, burying my father, Colonel Marcus Evans. A hero to the world, but I knew his secret.
Then, a pregnant woman, Tiffany, appeared, loudly claiming to be his mistress. "He loved me!" she cried, "He was going to leave her for us. This is his son." The funeral erupted.
Overnight, Tiffany's face monopolized the tabloids: "WAR HERO' S SECRET LOVE!" She branded my mother a "cold, barren wife" and brandished my father's prized, custom-made watch as proof. Reporters besieged our home, and Helen retreated, shattered. Then came the ultimate affront: a demand to exhume my father' s body for a DNA test.
It felt impossible, a calculated lie. Yet that watch, his most cherished possession, fueled my confusion. I knew his truth: my father was gay. This secret made her claim absurd, but it was also a weapon they could twist.
When Helen, utterly broken by the exhumation threat, finally whispered that truth in a sterile conference room, the real battle began. We wouldn't just defend his honor; we'd expose the shadowy architects behind this vicious attack. You might like
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. 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?" 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. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. 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!" The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife
Meng Xinyu I stood in the darkest corner of the Pierre Hotel’s ballroom, my cheap polyester dress itching against my skin while my wristband buzzed with a DARPA Priority Red alert.
In front of the city’s elite, my fiancé Bryce Calloway took the stage, not to toast our future, but to publicly end our engagement and announce he was with my sister, Chloe.
The room turned on me instantly, a hundred pairs of eyes pinning me down with pity and disgust as they physically backed away like I was contagious.
When I returned home, my mother shattered a crystal vase at my feet, screaming that I was a humiliation and a "dropout" who didn't deserve a cent of the family fortune.
Chloe and Bryce mocked me, laughing when I told them I had a mission with the National Security Agency, convinced I was either a pathological liar or a low-level criminal.
They watched in horror as a black, unmarked military helicopter descended on our backyard to extract me, yet they still chose to believe I was being arrested for drug trafficking.
They saw a pathetic girl who couldn't even parallel park, never realizing I was Dr. Nova Vance, the lead physicist behind the world's first successful fusion reactor.
To secure funding for my research and gain a "fortress" of a name, I signed a thirty-day marriage contract with the arrogant billionaire Roman Knight.
He treats me like a fraud, convinced I’m a gold-digger who failed out of college, while I quietly run global energy simulations from his guest bedroom.
He has no idea that the "loser" he’s forced to live with is the same anonymous grandmaster who has been ruthlessly crushing him in online strategy games for months.
"The contract is active," I told him, looking past his expensive suit.
"But don't expect me to be your maid." Zero Alimony: The CEO's Runaway Wife
Yue Manshuang I was hemorrhaging severely on the operating table, risking my life to deliver the billionaire Carlisle heir.
Through the unsealed door, I heard my husband Axel's cold, mechanical voice giving a ruthless order to the panicked doctors.
"Prioritize the heir. Above all else."
The ice spread through my veins as he reduced my entire existence to a mere vessel. After I barely survived the emergency delivery, his mother marched into my room, telling me I should be on my knees thanking God they kept me alive long enough to fulfill my only purpose. His sister barged in just to scream at me, calling me a manipulative gold-digger. And Axel? He didn't ask about my pain. He simply stared at me like a CEO evaluating a damaged asset, eventually kidnapping me from the hospital and threatening to use his Wall Street power to ensure I would never see my newborn son again.
I had secretly loved this man for years, swallowing my pride and enduring his toxic family's abuse, only to realize that in my most vulnerable moment, my life meant absolutely nothing to him. Why did I ever think I could melt his icy heart?
My heart simply stopped breaking and turned to solid stone. I bypassed his billions, called a top-tier litigator, and handed Axel a zero-alimony divorce agreement, waiving every single cent of his fortune just to make a clean break. Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." 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!" 
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