Ai Chi
7 Published Stories
Ai Chi's Books and Stories
Reborn: The Mafia Heiress They Abandoned
Mafia In my past life, the bullet chambered in the gun on the desk was less lethal than the indifference of the two men standing beside me.
Dante and Matteo were supposed to be the future kings of Chicago, and I was their queen.
But they threw it all away for Sofia—a liar with a pretty face and a fake sob story about a gambling father.
They forced me into a gilded cage, making me serve Sofia like a maid while they played her saviors.
They let me rot in isolation until I swallowed a bottle of pills just to escape the coldness of their neglect.
They didn't even mourn me; they were too busy comforting the girl who would eventually destroy them.
I died realizing that my loyalty was my fatal flaw.
I had worshipped men who saw me as nothing more than an accessory, while they sacrificed their empire for a woman who played them for fools.
But the universe has a sick sense of humor.
It sent me back.
Back to the day that sealed my fate.
The Consigliere pushed the assignment papers toward us—the path to becoming Bosses.
"We are not going," Dante said, looking at me with cold eyes. "Sofia needs us. She is fragile."
In my past life, I begged them to stay.
This time, I stepped forward and picked up the pen.
"I will go," I said, signing my name in sharp black ink.
"I don't need your protection anymore." Not For Sale: The Debt Is Paid
Mafia Seven years. That was the price tag attached to my father's life.
When my father gambled away money he didn't have, Michael Vance paid the debt.
He bought my father's safety, and in return, he bought me.
I was nineteen then. A peasant girl he polished up to look like a mob wife.
I was reapplying my lipstick in the vanity mirror of his armored SUV when I found a diamond choker tucked behind the sunshade.
It was a million-dollar piece of jewelry that wasn't mine, engraved with a date that wasn't my birthday.
That night at the gala, Michael threw his mistress's heavy fur coat at me.
"Hold this, Sarah. Jessica gets hot easily."
I stood there like a servant, buried under the scent of another woman’s perfume, watching my fiancé hold her on the dance floor with a tenderness he never showed me.
When I stumbled from hunger, he called me a liability to his image.
But when Jessica faked a crisis, he abandoned me at the venue to rush her home.
I walked to the nearest trash can and shoved the expensive fur down past the half-eaten caviar.
As the sugar from a cheap candy bar hit my bloodstream, the fog lifted.
I realized I wasn't a wife-in-training. I was a debt that had been paid in full.
I left the penthouse, the ring, and the life.
But Michael wouldn't let his property go.
He cornered me in a parking garage, screaming that I belonged to him, threatening to start a war.
He didn't expect me to be standing next to David Chen, the Underboss of the rival Triad faction.
And he certainly didn't expect me to take off my Louboutin stiletto and use it as a weapon.
"I don't love you, Michael," I said, looking him in the eye as he knelt on the concrete.
"And I'm not for sale anymore." The Pregnant Luna He Chose To Ignore
Werewolf I carried our child for eight months, yet to my husband, Alpha Damien, I was invisible.
When I placed the divorce agreement on his desk, he didn't even look up. He was too busy discussing nursery colors with Victoria, the woman who had taken my place in everything but title.
That night, agony ripped through me. I went into premature labor right in the hallway.
I grabbed Damien’s arm, begging him to save our child.
But he shook me off.
He turned his back on his bleeding wife to comfort Victoria, who was faking a panic attack about paint swatches.
"Get the best doctors for Victoria!" he bellowed, leaving me to be wheeled into a cold storage room by a terrified intern.
While he held her hand, I lay alone in the dark, my body failing.
I didn't just lose the baby that night. I found out why I had been so weak.
My blood was full of silver nitrate. Victoria had been poisoning me for months, and Damien had been too blind to notice.
I signed the divorce papers on my deathbed and vanished into the storm.
Three years later, I returned. Not as a rejected Luna, but as the owner of the empire that was buying him out.
Damien stood before me at the Alpha Summit, gaunt and broken, holding the deed to his entire territory.
"I signed it all over to you," he whispered, falling to his knees. "Please, Elena. I know the truth now. I’ll be your guard dog. Just let me make it right."
I looked down at the man who had let our child die.
"You can't buy me back, Damien," I said, stepping over him. "I'm not for sale anymore." His Betrayal, Her Liberation
Romance Our marriage was a battlefield, and the whole city had front-row seats.
For five years, Chloe Davis and Mark Stone were New York City' s most famous train wreck, a story of pure animosity that sold magazines and fueled gossip columns.
They said we hated each other. They were right.
I had married Mark on my twenty-second birthday, a calculated decision, fueled by a decade-long desire for revenge. He was my older brother Liam' s biggest rival, a man who represented everything my family stood against. But he had Ethan' s eyes. That was enough for me back then.
On our wedding night, instead of consummating our marriage, I set the penthouse on fire. That set the tone for the next five years.
I paraded college students to charity auctions, smashed priceless vases, and weaponized his own humiliating betrayal against him in front of his board.
Each calculated move, each public spectacle, was designed for one purpose: to push Mark Stone to his breaking point, to make him the one to initiate our divorce and set me free.
And it worked.
He finally served me the papers, citing his new love, Bella, as the reason.
But then, the carefully constructed walls between us crumbled into something raw and ugly.
In the heat of our final, desperate clash, he gasped out a name. "Bella."
A sharp, searing pain shot through me, and my first instinct was to hurt him back. I bit down hard on his shoulder, tasting blood.
He recoiled, his eyes wide with shock, then narrowed with fury.
He left, leaving me crumpled on the floor, the pain in my abdomen intensifying. My vision blurred. "Mark," I choked out, "Something's wrong."
He walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone on the cold floor, convinced it was just another trick.
In the sterile white of the hospital room, the truth was delivered with clinical detachment: severe internal bruising and a hairline fracture on my lower rib. These were not self-inflicted wounds; they were the physical toll of five years of "intimacy."
But the real blow came, not from him, but from Bella. She orchestrated a fall in the stairwell, falsely accusing me of pushing her. Mark, blinded by her cunning, believed every word, unleashing a torrent of my past sins against me, shattering any remaining dignity.
"You're just like you always do," he spat, his grip like a vise on my hair. "You set fire to our apartment. You trashed a charity event. You think I'd believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?"
His face, once so familiar, was now a stranger's-blinded by a pretty face and a well-told lie. He saw Ethan's face in her, the same way I once saw it in him. The realization was so absurd it was almost funny.
I had built my own cage. And now, I was trapped, exiled to a desolate seaside villa, no phone, no internet, no contact with the outside world. A punishment. A banishment.
But Mark had no idea that his prison was actually my path to liberation. He thought he was breaking me. He had no idea I was just getting started. Her Husband's Secret Family
Romance My life was a perfectly curated dream, every detail screaming success, happiness, and partnership, especially my charismatic, devoted husband, David.
Then came the call – an unsaved number, a persistent ring, and a small, hesitant voice whispering, "Daddy?"
The word hit me like a physical blow, shattering the polished surface of our perfect life as I overheard the chilling truth: David had another family, a secret wife, and two young sons, hidden just miles away, all with my mother-in-law's full knowledge and complicity.
How could I have been so blind, so foolish, to believe in this lie, while he built a parallel life, celebrating birthdays while I celebrated anniversaries, and she, Sarah Jenkins, his former mousy assistant, played the triumphant other woman?
Knowing he would never truly let me go, that he' d use his charm and power to drag me back into his elaborate deception, I made a terrifying choice: I would orchestrate my own disappearance, faking my death out on the open water to finally reclaim my freedom. Unmade By Love, Remade By Self
Modern My life for the last decade has been an endless parent-teacher conference, a special kind of hell where I was the main exhibit.
It all shattered when my nine-year-old stepdaughter, Madisyn, hurled a weighted beanbag at my head, then publicly denounced me as a "kept man" and a "gold-digging loser."
The humiliation spiraled, culminating in a doctored photo circulating, reviving an old, devastating lie that branded me a pervert, while my wife and her ex-boyfriend flaunted their affair and my stepdaughter called him "Dad" with a loving smile.
But the real horror struck when my wife confessed: her mother had been secretly drugging me for years, suppressing my hormones, to make me "docile," to "keep me calm."
That' s when the familiar ache of humiliation hardened into a single, cold thought: I'm done. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. 
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