Bing Xialuo
8 Published Stories
Bing Xialuo's Books and Stories
Too Late For Regret, Mr. Underboss
Mafia I caught the white roses at my best friend’s wedding.
Everyone expected Nero, the Mafia Underboss I’d loved for eight years, to drop to one knee and propose.
Instead, he ripped the bouquet from my hands and gave it to his secretary.
“Next time, Siena,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Let Valentina have her moment in the spotlight.”
In front of every Capo and soldier in the city, he stripped me of my dignity just to please a girl who played at being a mobster’s muse.
To him, I was merely an entry in a ledger—forever pending, never prioritized.
I quietly sold our penthouse, packed my bags, and walked away.
In seven days, I would no longer be his shadow.
I planned to marry his rival Don. Married to the Coldest Media King
Modern My father was the King of Wall Street until he was branded a fraud, turning the Maxwell name into a lead weight dragging me to the bottom of the Hudson. I walked into the Brennan Media Tower with blood-red lipstick and a desperate proposal, offering myself as a "paper wife" to Garland Brennan, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan.
Garland didn’t even look at me as a human being; he tore my term sheet in half and called me "radioactive" before having security toss me out like trash. I returned to my rotting apartment in Bushwick only to find my roommate’s cousin, a debt collector named Jax, waiting to break my bones.
He pinned me against the wall, his hand heavy on my throat as he sneered about selling me to a club to pay off my father's debts. With my ribs aching and my back against the radiator, I had to leak corporate secrets on Twitter just to summon Garland’s private mercenaries to stop a predator.
The humiliation didn't stop there. At the Met Gala, the elite mocked my dress made of construction tarp, and my father’s creditors began harassing my senile grandmother in her nursing home. I was a cornered animal, and Garland Brennan was the only hunter offering a cage instead of a grave.
I realized then that in this zip code, you are either the predator or the prey, and I was tired of being hunted.
Garland offered me a marriage contract that demanded total submission—no equity, no voting rights, just an employee with a wedding ring. I signed the four-hundred-page document with a steady hand, but not before hiding a legal poison pill in the fine print. He thinks he bought a silent asset, but I just secured a front-row seat to his downfall. A Mother's Vengeance: Love Lost
Horror The sharp pain in my son Timmy's leg was the start of it all. A snakebite.
I rushed him to Mercy General, where my older son David worked as an ER doctor. He would save his little brother.
But the moment I burst into the emergency room, collapsing with Timmy limp in my arms, a blonde nurse named Ashley Jones, David' s girlfriend, turned on me. She met my desperate plea for help with a cold refusal, demanding I fill out forms.
When I begged her to get David, her eyes hardened. She shoved me, snarling, "Get in line like everyone else." She scoffed at my claims of being David' s mother, dismissing Timmy as a "little brat," even threatening to let him die. She stole my phone, smashing it when she saw the silver sparrow charm-identical to hers-on my keychain, screaming about David being a "cheating bastard."
Ashley even called her brother Kevin, a brute, to deal with me. Other nurses and patients stared but did nothing as Ashley, ignoring Timmy' s fading breath, reveled in my anguish. She kicked my spilled purse, scattering my ID, and mocked my desperate pleas for help.
She demanded I kowtow, to bow my head, begging for her mercy, while filming my humiliation on her phone. As Timmy' s lips turned blue, I swallowed my pride, head pressed against the cold floor, whispering, "I'm sorry. Please… help my son."
But even that wasn't enough for the monster. She demanded I slap myself, ten times. It was then, as I raised my hand, that I saw Timmy.
Still. Silent. He was gone.
My son was dead. And in that moment, all my humiliation, all my fear, was burned away, replaced by a volcanic, white-hot rage. Art of Deception
Modern The sterile white walls of the restoration studio, once my sanctuary, felt like a cage closing in.
My former mentor, Mark, stood in the doorway, his face a mask of disappointment, while my ambitious intern, Chloe, watched with a smirk of triumph.
I was quitting, giving up the career I had painstakingly built, a decade\'s worth of meticulous work and groundbreaking techniques, all because of a fabricated scandal that destroyed my reputation overnight.
They blamed me, the "disgraced restorer," for vandalizing a priceless Degas sculpture, a heinous act I didn' t commit but one Chloe expertly pinned on me, while her "artistic intuition" - my stolen methods - catapulted her to fame.
The public humiliation was immediate, a cup of coffee thrown at me on the sidewalk, my name dragged through the mud, while Chloe and Mark reveled in their newfound prestige.
I couldn' t comprehend how quickly my life unraveled, why Mark, the man I loved and trusted, so easily believed her lies, or how Chloe consistently knew my most private thoughts and theories.
But as I packed my grandfather's tools, leaving behind the life they had ruined, a cold, hard resolve replaced the shame; I wouldn\'t be a victim any longer, and I would uncover the truth behind Chloe\'s "gift" and the full extent of their betrayal. The Texas Heiress: A Reckoning
Romance For years, I was Mrs. Matthew Scott, a Dallas socialite living in a penthouse overlooking the city, my life a polished, perfect façade.
Then a phone call from the ranch shattered everything, telling me my indomitable grandmother, Maria, had been assaulted and was clinging to life.
My husband, Matthew, the man I married, coldly refused to help, instead freezing every penny I had, stealing my grandmother' s priceless family heirlooms, and giving them to his executive assistant, Sabrina, whose own grandfather was Maria' s attacker.
He set me up for public humiliation, making me believe an old friend would offer me a lifeline, only for Matthew and Sabrina to burst in, expose me, and announce their engagement right there.
I was left broke, shamed, and utterly desperate, facing a hospital ultimatum to pull the plug on my grandmother within 24 hours.
But just when I thought I had nothing left, I received a call informing me that the vast West Texas ranch, the very land Matthew built his empire on, was never sold to him at all; it was mine.
Now, with a childhood friend and Matthew's biggest rival by my side, that land, and a furious, broken woman, are about to become his absolute undoing. A Mother's Lost Decade
Horror The oppressive silence of my home was a constant reminder of my twelve lost children.
My husband, Michael, the man I loved, transformed into a monster, ripping each newborn from my arms with cold, absurd justifications.
Every desperate plea for help I made-to family, friends, even strangers-was met with the same chilling betrayal.
Michael merely showed them a mysterious photograph, and instantly, their sympathy vanished, replaced by a cruel consensus that I was the one who was mad, leaving me utterly abandoned in a ceaseless loop of pregnancy and loss.
What dark secret did this single image hold that could turn every loving face against me, convincing them my babies' deaths were a delusion and not a horrifying reality?
I was trapped, heartbroken, and consumed by the desperate need to understand why everyone believed his monstrous lies over my truth.
Just as I plummeted into a final, desperate act to escape this unending torment, the 'nightmare' shattered, awakening me not to death, but to a shocking truth: my decade of anguish was a high-tech medical simulation, and the reality that awaited was stranger, and more hopeful, than anything I could have imagined. Stolen Life, Stolen Style
Young Adult My eyes snapped open.
The dorm room ceiling, with its familiar water stain shaped like a crooked smile, loomed above.
Across the room, Brianna Jones hummed softly, applying makeup.
She wore a cheap copy of my cashmere sweater.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
This wasn' t right.
This was weeks ago.
The memories crashed down: the Paris program acceptance, the "going away" party, the sickening taste, then absolute darkness.
Brianna had poisoned me.
I saw her smirk, remembered collapsing.
Yet here she was, her reflection smiling sweetly in her compact mirror, her voice falsely cheerful.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she chirped.
This was the ambitious girl from a small town.
My roommate.
The one who wanted my life.
I stared at her, the image of her malicious triumph at my party seared into my brain.
The subtle digs, the way she' d implied I was the copycat, her constant imitation of my style, my social media.
She' d meticulously cataloged me, then painstakingly isolated me, even turning away Liam, the hockey captain I genuinely liked.
All my kindness burned away in the hospital bed I now only remembered.
"You okay, Ava?" she asked, a tilt to her head.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
My parents always told me I was too trusting, too eager to see the good in people.
They were right.
This inexplicable situation felt like a cruel joke, yet it was real.
The date on my phone confirmed it.
Several weeks before the party.
Before she tried to kill me.
I had a second chance.
And this time, I wouldn' t be naive.
I wouldn' t be kind to the snake in my room.
This time, Ava Miller wouldn't be a doormat.
This time, I would fight. Dark Obsession: Too Fancy To Be True
Romance Not only did her sister stole her man, but she also took away her money, her assets—everything.
Left empty-handed, she lived her life in hiding, escaping her debts.
Just when she thought all hope was lost, he suddenly came into her life like a knight in shining armor.
He loved her, cared for her, and gave her everything she needed. She had everything she could have and more.
However, when she got pregnant, things went downhill.
He started cheating and mistreating her. "I have never loved you and I never will!" he spat.
With pure disdain in his eyes, he told her that she was merely a substitute.
With fate reversed once again, she taught herself to rely only on herself.
She built herself up from the ground and promised never to let anyone hurt her—never again. 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." Reborn, I Wed the Untamed Playboy
Bone Possolo On my wedding day to Julian Moretti, the future Mafia Don, I was deliberately sent to the wrong penthouse.
My half-sister Sofia had crawled into my fiancé's bed, leaving me to be discovered by the family's exiled, alcoholic cousin.
In my past life, I was shattered by this orchestrated betrayal. I cried and begged when Julian publicly humiliated me, choosing his illegitimate mistress over his rightful bride.
I played the perfect, dignified Mafia wife for years. I swallowed his insults, ignored his infidelities, and accepted my ruined reputation to keep the peace.
But my blind obedience only paved the way for my murder. Julian discarded me, and I was poisoned to death so Sofia could steal my crown as the Mafia Queen.
Until my agonizing last breath, I didn't understand. I had honored our families' blood alliance flawlessly.
Why was I the sacrificial lamb while they were rewarded for their treason?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the dark leather sofa, suffocating in my heavy silk wedding dress.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I grabbed a heavy brass letter opener, marched straight into the Don's main study, and slapped the Underboss across the face in front of the entire family.
"A Valdez woman does not share her husband," I declared coldly. "To honor the alliance, I will marry Dante."
If they wanted to make my humiliation a fact, I was going to make it a funeral. When Love Rebuilds From Frozen Hearts
Landslide On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies. 
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