Ai Chi
6 Published Stories
Ai Chi's Books and Stories
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. 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. 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
He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
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