Bu Gui
17 Published Stories
Bu Gui's Books and Stories
Betrayed Bride: The CEO's Contract Marriage
Modern Chloe Sinclair was running for her life in a freezing downpour, tearing her custom silk wedding dress just to escape the security guards her own family had sent to hunt her down.
To save their failing company, her father was forcing her to marry Dalton Gray, a notorious junkie from an over-leveraged family.
When she refused, her family framed her in a fake sex scandal. They leaked photos to the press, publicly branding her a spoiled, promiscuous disgrace who had suffered a mental breakdown. While she hid in a dark alley, bleeding and frozen, she discovered their ultimate betrayal. Her stepmother had hired a stand-in bride to wear her heavy veil. They were going to forge Chloe's signature at the altar tonight, legally binding her to Dalton's massive debts and selling her into financial slavery.
Her trust fund was frozen. Her credit cards were blocked. She was entirely alone.
She couldn't understand how her own flesh and blood could be so monstrous. They were willing to bury her alive just to secure a bank loan. The heartbreak and humiliation burned away her tears, leaving nothing but a cold, explosive rage.
"I am going to drag them out into the light and ruin them myself."
Instead of hiding, Chloe struck a dangerous deal with Carlisle Holder, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street. Armed with his resources and wearing a stolen maid's uniform, she hacked the wedding venue's security grid, ready to broadcast her family's filthy secrets to the entire world. From Jilted Assistant To Zillionaire Queen
Romance For ten years, Ran hid in the shadows as Hollywood star Jincheng Lu's secret girlfriend and assistant, starving herself to pay for his acting classes.
On their tenth anniversary, she sat in a cheap apartment with $9.87 in her bank account, watching him slide a massive diamond ring onto a wealthy heiress's finger on live television.
When she called the number she had memorized for a decade, she only heard a cold busy tone. He had blocked her.
Despair swallowed her whole. She forced down a handful of sleeping pills with stale whiskey and died alone on the cold bathroom tiles.
His mother found her rotting body three days later, calling her a "filthy bottom-feeder" before ordering a cleanup crew to dispose of her existence like industrial waste.
Jincheng didn't even ask if she suffered. He just ordered his PR team to digitally erase her ten years of sacrifice from the internet.
"Make sure the press release is airtight. She was an unstable former assistant. She had a history of mental illness. That's it."
Until her heart stopped completely, she didn't understand. She had abandoned her status as the hidden heiress of the wealthy Qin family to build his empire from the ground up.
How could he erase every trace of her without a second thought, using her corpse as a PR shield for his perfect new life?
Opening her eyes again, the sharp smell of hospital antiseptic burned her lungs.
She hadn't just died. She had woken up in the body of a notorious, D-list reality TV influencer who shared her exact name.
Looking at her new face in the mirror, a cold smile spread across her lips. She was going to tear his perfect life apart, piece by bloody piece. Rejected by the Prince, Chosen by the Lycan King
Werewolf I was a modern surgical prodigy who died in an accident, only to wake up in the battered body of a despised, wolfless Omega.
My father, the Alpha, forced me to be a substitute bride for a notoriously cruel, crippled Prince, just so his favorite daughter could be with the Alpha Heir.
To save myself, I publicly refused the marriage, revealing I was completely barren from years of abuse.
The furious Luna Queen didn't kill me directly. Instead, she humiliated me by gifting me—a barren, useless Omega—to her worst enemy, the terrifying Lycan King.
Then, she forced a lethal bowl of Wolfsbane down my throat to permanently destroy my womb and made me crawl out of the palace on my bleeding knees.
My Pack abandoned me to freeze to death outside their iron gates.
"Keep it locked. Let the wolfless trash freeze to death out here," my sister sneered from the warmth of the estate.
I dragged my broken body over the walls, only to find my blind mother beaten half to death just for begging for my life.
I learned my father planned to announce my sudden "illness" in two days to tie up loose ends and protect my sister's reputation.
But they didn't know the crippled Prince's condition was unstable, and his inner wolf would seize again.
And they certainly didn't know that my custom titanium surgical needles had crossed over with my soul.
I gripped the cold metal in my pocket, wiping the blood from my chin.
I will use the Prince's life to force the Royal Pack to become my absolute shield, and dissect my abusers piece by piece. Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable
Modern Seven years ago, I gave up a Supreme Court clerkship to marry the billionaire CEO, Jaret Burns. Today, he dragged me into a Manhattan courtroom by my wrist.
He accused me of hiding cocaine in the trunk of my car. He stood protectively near Chelsie, the woman crying fake tears in the gallery, and hissed that I was a jealous disgrace dragging his family name through the mud.
Dozens of eyes stabbed into my back as the prosecutor loudly read the felony charges. Jaret took a deliberate step away from my chair, crossing his arms to distance himself from a criminal. He looked at me with blind arrogance, completely trusting the woman who had actually framed me. He had no idea my defense attorney was holding a USB drive with time-stamped security footage of Chelsie planting the drugs.
As the chilling realization wrapped around my heart, the ashes of my seven-year sacrifice blew away into nothingness. I had buried my brilliant legal mind to be his unpaid maid and trophy wife, only to be thrown away for a pathetic lie.
When the judge saw the video, dismissed my charges, and had the bailiffs drag a screaming Chelsie away, Jaret finally panicked.
"Nora, wait, I didn't know!"
I didn't even look at his regretful face. I went home, left my three-carat diamond ring on top of the signed divorce papers, and scheduled an interview with the most ruthless litigator in New York. Bound By Blood To The Mafia King
Romance Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power. The Billionaire's Cruel Secret Contract Marriage Deal
Modern Imogen lived her life as a servant in her own home, scrubbing floors for foster parents who treated her existence like a bad debt. Her only escape was a hidden sketchbook filled with architectural designs, a secret world she kept tucked away in a utility closet.
The nightmare peaked when her foster father tried to sell her to her abusive ex-boyfriend for five thousand dollars. When she refused, he drew blood with a slap and threw her into a midnight storm, threatening to burn her passport and birth certificate if she ever returned.
Drenched and terrified, she accidentally dove into a luxury sedan instead of her Uber. She fled the mysterious, cold-eyed passenger in a panic, but she left her suitcase behind—taking her clothes, her ID, and her life's work with it.
The next morning, she went to meet a "dentist" for a forced marriage arrangement, only to find the man from the car waiting for her. He claimed he was just a low-level IT guy, offering her a marriage contract to help her recover her documents and escape her family's reach.
She didn't understand why a simple coder handled her violent ex with such brutal, practiced efficiency. She didn't know why he looked at her sketches like they were worth millions, but with forty dollars in her pocket and a bruised face, she agreed to be his "business partner" wife.
The lie collapsed during a nursing shift at a VIP hospital wing. She walked into a room to find her "IT guy" standing there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking every bit the billionaire heir he’d sworn he wasn't.
"Grandma," Gael said, pulling Imogen against him as he faced the matriarch of the Fuller empire. "This isn't just the nurse. This is Imogen, my fiancée."
Trapped in his arms, Imogen realized she hadn't found a way out. She had just traded her foster family’s basement for a billionaire’s golden cage. The Gamma's Betrayal, The Alpha's Vengeful Mate
Werewolf For five years, I loved my fated mate, Lucian. As the Alpha's daughter, I used my influence to raise him from a low-status warrior to our pack's third-in-command. I believed our bond was a gift from the Moon Goddess.
That belief shattered when Rogues ambushed me on patrol. I screamed for him through our mind-link as they held a silver knife to my throat, but he never answered. I later learned he ignored my pleas while he was in bed with my half-sister.
When I confronted him at a pack ball, he publicly humiliated me before slapping me across the face. After I uttered the words to reject him, he had me arrested and thrown into the dungeons.
On his orders, the prisoners tortured me for days. They starved me, cut me with silver, and left me tied to a stone pillar in the cold. The man I had given my soul to wanted me utterly broken.
Lying on that filthy floor, I finally understood. He never loved me; he only loved the power I gave him.
Three months later, I invited him to my Mating Ceremony. He arrived beaming, believing this was his grand reconciliation. He watched from the front row as I walked down the aisle, turned my back on him, and placed my hand in that of a powerful rival Alpha—my true, Second Chance Mate. This wasn't forgiveness. This was revenge. Her Death, Their Sinful Secret
Young Adult The first time Chloe died, I wasn't there.
I was in the library, trying to finish a paper, when a text from our friend Emily shattered my world: "Something happened at the dorm. Come back. Now."
I ran, only to find flashing lights and yellow tape around our building. Emily, pale and shaking, whispered the horror: "It' s Chloe. She… she fell."
The university moved with chilling speed, declaring it a tragic suicide, scrubbing every trace of her from our room as if she never existed. My best friend, gone.
But I knew Chloe. She wouldn't just jump. The bruises, the whispered phone calls to a blocked number that made her face tighten with fear-they screamed something else.
I tried to tell the police, but they dismissed it, already closing the case. The university wanted me quiet, gone, just like Chloe' s memory.
In a haze of grief and rage, I remembered her hidden burner phone and secret journal. I knew they held the truth. That night, I snuck back into our room, found them, and a terrifyingly large man in a dark suit appeared, attacking me.
I woke up with a throbbing head, confused, but the buzzing alarm clock confirmed it: Wednesday, 7:00 AM. May 18th.
Then I saw her. Chloe, alive, humming at her desk. I had woken up three days in the past.
This was my second chance. I could save her.
But I failed. Even knowing, even running, I was too late. I watched her fall again, this time on a Wednesday.
Despair threatened to swallow me whole, but then a cold, hard determination set in. They had taken everything the first time, covered it up. Not this time.
I couldn't save her life, but I could get justice. And the key was the phone and the journal-still hidden where I' d left them in the original timeline.
When university officials, including Dean Peterson and the terrifying man who attacked me, burst into my room to silence me, I had a choice. Beg for help? Or fight back?
I dialed 911, then deliberately smashed the window, screaming for real police attention.
When they finally arrived, I knew my physical evidence was gone. Dean Peterson's smug face confirmed it.
So, I played my last card. I looked the officer dead in the eye and said, "I pushed her. I killed my best friend."
It was a monstrous lie, a suicide bomb of a confession, but it forced their hand. A suicide they could bury; a murder, they had to investigate.
Sitting in the interrogation room, recounting the nightmare to Detective Anderson, the impossible truth started to break through. He listened, he saw the inconsistencies, and for the first time, someone believed me.
Chloe's journal and the burner phone, retrieved by my bewildered friend Emily, laid bare the horrifying truth: Dean Peterson was pimping out vulnerable female students, including Chloe, to powerful, wealthy university trustees like the HIV-positive Mr. Thompson.
Chloe's death wasn't suicide; it was murder, a desperate escape from a web of abuse and control.
My false confession cost me my freedom, my reputation, my sanity, but it ignited a firestorm. The corrupt system crumbled, Thompson and Peterson jailed for life.
Standing at Chloe' s grave, the fight over, I knew for the first time: we did it. We changed her story. And no one else would suffer like her again. My Wedding Night, Her Vengeance
Horror My wedding night was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
Instead, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, brought a dead man to our bed – Liam, her adored junior developer.
"Kneel," she commanded, her voice chillingly devoid of the warmth I had once foolishly sought.
I knelt on a bed of broken circuits and shattered motherboards, agonizingly sharp against my skin.
She forced me to apologize ten thousand times to a corpse, accusing me of stealing Liam's success and driving him to his death.
But it was all a lie; I had simply won the AI competition, a prize that was meant to be hers and Liam's.
She injected me with a toxic performance-enhancer, amplifying every sensation into agony.
Then, she unleashed a torrent of anonymous hackers, forcing me to watch as they systematically cyber-assaulted and dismantled my entire digital life.
She recorded it all, crafting a narrative of me as a cheating scumbag, a monster who had destroyed an innocent man.
The world believed her, and the public shame, coupled with vicious online attacks, tragically killed my parents.
Chloe moved swiftly, seizing my family's tech empire, the company my father had built from nothing.
I died in that room, a broken man, humiliated to death.
But then, I woke up.
I was back at the beginning, a year before the competition's end, the AI prototype humming softly on my desk.
This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice for their twisted love.
I would not win; I would let Liam have the victory, and Chloe.
All I wanted was to live. His Golden Ambition, Her Ruin
Fantasy My name is Ava Green, and I have a secret.
Anything I touch with intense emotion turns to solid gold, a strange Midas Touch responsive not to greed, but to love, fear, and passion.
Mark Sterling, my brilliant and ambitious husband, was the recipient of my deepest love, and our penthouse glowed with five hundred shimmering testimonies to our shared intimacy.
Then the five-hundredth transformation happened, a golden lace tear on a pillowcase, signifying I could make one powerful wish.
Mark begged me to wish for his ultimate ambition: to be the CEO of Innovate Global, hailed as a visionary.
My heart broke for him, seeing his vulnerability, and I closed my eyes, making the wish for the man I loved.
The next night, the world changed. Mark became CEO, a savior to the media, but at his first press conference, he announced his engagement to Dr. Emily Hayes, his "childhood friend."
He destroyed me.
When he came home, surrounded by our golden memories, he revealed his cruel plan: Emily was his path to power, and I, merely "convenient," was to remain his wife, in name only, lest my prominent family's shares suffer.
He needed my family' s influence-and my power-but I was just a piece on his board.
I was trapped, my love, my magic, my soul, all sacrificed for his kingdom.
Then, a text from Leo Vance, my childhood friend and a cybersecurity genius, offered a glimmer of hope: "The library. Midnight. Don't be followed."
He revealed Mark' s orchestrations, how he' d ruined a man' s life, and then, a passage from my family's archives: a forbidden technique, a reverse Midas Touch, fueled by profound pain, where malicious wishes come true.
"He thinks he broke you, Ava," Leo said. "Let him think that. We can use this."
And so, my plan began, sharper and clearer than any gold. A Father's Vengeance
Horror The smoke burned my eyes, thick and acrid, as my three-year-old son, Caleb, coughed weakly beside me.
My wife, Jennifer, stood at the wine cellar door, her gaze fixed on her brother-in-law, Ryan.
"It's for Molly's sake," she said, her voice chillingly devoid of warmth.
"The guru said Caleb's energy caused her asthma attack. We have to cleanse it."
She slammed the heavy oak door shut, the bolt thudding into place, trapping us.
My son, who had a severe peanut allergy and sensitive lungs, was left to suffocate in the toxic smoke.
Days bled into a hazy nightmare until Jennifer' s brother, Wesley, appeared, revealing Jennifer never loved me; I was just a rebound.
He then callously threw more sage onto the embers, sealing our tomb deeper.
I clawed our way out, just barely, carrying Caleb' s limp, blue body to a hospital, clinging to a desperate thread of hope.
But Jennifer arrived, not for us, but demanding Caleb's O-negative blood for Molly' s minor fender bender injury, ignoring doctors' pleas.
"He's my son. Do it," she commanded, her eyes cold.
Then, with a casual glance at Caleb, a nurse, obviously bribed, fed him a peanut granola bar.
The flatline screamed, and Caleb arched, his tiny chest still.
Jennifer, with Ryan' s arm around her, turned her back on our dying son to comfort Molly' s fake tears.
My world shattered.
Ryan' s venomous whisper echoed: "You and your son, you were always in the way."
How could a mother abandon her child to such a horrifying death?
How could she choose a niece over her own son, then murder him without a second thought?
Something inside me didn't just break; it turned to dust, then reformed into steel.
Andrew Wright had to die, so the man who would take everything from them could be born. The Day I Came Back to Life
Modern The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, each breath a searing pain.
Ryan Todd' s rage-contorted face was inches from mine, his spittle hitting my cheek as he screamed, "This is for Ashley! You owe us!"
His fist connected with my ribs again, and a sickening crack echoed through the co-working space.
The social media mob, whipped up by his sister Karen, cheered him on as they dragged me from my desk, beating me to death.
My crime? Lending Karen my Lucid Air, which then became a death trap for her daughter, Ashley, in a multi-car pile-up on the I-35.
Karen, a master of twisting reality, claimed I' d sabotaged my own car, jealous of Ashley' s athletic scholarship.
It was a lie so absurd it became believable to the grief-stricken and the gullible.
The final blow sent me sprawling, my head hitting the polished concrete floor with a dull thud, and darkness swallowed me.
I had been hunted, blamed, destroyed, and murdered for a crime I didn' t commit, a tragedy built on a lie.
Then, I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my bed, my heart hammering but my ribs unbroken.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand: Good luck with your neighbor today!
My blood ran cold.
It was the morning Karen Todd would ask to borrow my car.
I wasn' t dead. I was back.
And this time, not only would the car stay with me, but Karen would pay for what she did. Desert Bloom: A Song of Vengeance
Fantasy I opened my eyes to the familiar crack in my Austin apartment ceiling.
My phone buzzed: "Desert Bloom" Release Day.
This was it: the day my life ended in a nightmare I'd already lived.
Caleb, the Nashville star, would steal my song, ruin my reputation, and trigger a cascading tragedy that led to my parents' death and my own fall from Pennybacker Bridge.
But I was here, alive, on that same morning.
Panicked, I called my manager, Marcus, and demanded he pull my song immediately.
It was too late.
Two hours later, a news alert confirmed my horror: Caleb had released "Desert Bloom."
It was my song, note for note.
Desperate, I wrote an entirely new song offline, recording it on an old 4-track, a raw anthem of rage.
Five days later, the headlines screamed: Caleb had released that song too.
He wasn't just stealing my music; he was stealing my thoughts, pulling them directly from my mind.
The despair was crushing, the violation absolute.
How was this possible?
My ex-girlfriend, Chloe, then called, inviting me to Caleb's victory party, feigning concern.
This wasn't about saving face; it was a trap.
But I agreed, for this time, I wasn't just surviving; I was going to Nashville not to beg, but to fight, to find out how deep this impossible betrayal ran, and unleash a force that could make them pay. The Unwanted Blessing
Billionaires I was eight, maybe nine, when my father branded me "bad luck."
Exiled from the Miller empire, I grew up with Elara in the quiet Ozarks, who saw a light in me, saying "things grow better in the sunshine."
Ten years later, a thick, gold-embossed envelope arrived, pulling Sadie back.
It was a summons to my younger brother Ethan's 21st birthday gala, the favored heir.
"Your father expects your attendance," the note commanded, offering no welcome.
Richard Miller met me with arctic eyes, scanning my simple clothes.
Ethan, the spoiled golden child, sneered, "Look what the cat dragged in from the sticks."
The chilling truth emerged: this wasn't a reunion, but a formal disinheritance.
At the glittering country club, I was publicly mocked as a "charity case," old wounds tearing open.
Ethan grinned, shoving legal documents at me: "We' re making it official."
My father, via phone, clipped: "Sign the papers and be done with it."
The familiar weight of being blamed, of inherent flaw, pressed down heavily.
For years, I' d believed I was the source of Miller's "bad luck"-fender benders, fires-all starting, Dad said, at my birth.
This cruel dismissal felt final, confirming every unwanted memory.
But clutching Elara' s smooth river stone, a different truth settled.
"Luck runs in funny streams," I told Ethan, "You might be diverting more than you think."
With a strange calm, I signed "Sarah Miller" for the last time.
The moment my pen lifted, a speaker crackled and died, and chaos rippled instantly.
Ethan' s prized car smashed, company scandals erupted, credit lines froze.
The Miller empire, built on sand and shortcuts, was finally crumbling.
Some ties, once broken, unleash far more than just freedom. When Love Became A Larceny
Romance My tech company was at its peak – celebrated, successful. For twenty years, I believed my marriage to Bella was just the same: perfect.
We had two sons, Mark and Alex, my pride and joy, the heirs to everything I had built.
Then, at fifty, Bella lay dying in a sterile hospital bed.
Her rasping voice delivered the blow that pulverized my world: "Ethan," she whispered, "the boys… they' re not yours. They' re Ryan' s."
My heart squeezed, then shattered.
My own sons, whom I loved more than life, turned on me instantly, their eyes cold and calculating.
They saw Ryan, their biological father, not as a long-lost parent, but as a direct route to my wealth, reducing me to nothing but a disposable obstacle.
In the brutal inheritance struggle that followed, the very boys I' d raised beat me to death. I gasped for air, my heart giving out under the crushing weight of their betrayal, my world built on a twenty-year lie crumbling to dust.
How could I have been so utterly blind? My final thought was of profound regret, a desperate, yearning wish for another chance to live life differently, to choose another path.
Then, darkness. But instead of an afterlife, I jolted awake, alive, younger, surrounded by the pulsing chaos of an SXSW party.
Standing before me, vibrant and deceptively innocent, was Bella, dropping to one knee, a champagne flute raised, asking me to marry her.
This was my impossible second chance. And this time, with the bitter truth of twenty years flooding my mind, I knew exactly what to say. The Curse Of The Vanderbilt Name
Romance I’m Willow Hayes, a girl from the Appalachians, chosen by the wealthy Vanderbilt family for my unique "life blessing."
They wanted me to marry their dying son, Ethan, hoping I could save him and secure their lineage.
I bore him twins—a boy and a girl.
Ethan miraculously began to heal.
But then, his supposed first love, Clara Beaumont, fed him vicious lies, claiming I'd ruined her life.
Consumed by vengeance, Ethan brutally ripped my newborns from me right in the delivery room, before I even heard their first cries.
He sneered my "blessing" was a curse, then abandoned me to bleed to death, faking a tragic childbirth accident.
My entire Appalachian community was slandered, their homes and pride lost, all because of his baseless rage.
How could the man I saved, the future father of my children, turn into such a monster based solely on a jealous woman's lies?
How could a family that sought my gift allow such horrific cruelty to befall me and my people?
The searing injustice of having my babies torn from me, combined with my agonizing death, burned a hole in my soul.
But now, I’m back.
Reborn.
The Vanderbilts are knocking again, their matriarch’s sharp eyes desperate for my "blessing" to save Ethan.
They think they can use me as a pawn a second time, but they have no idea what's coming.
This time, I'm not here for their salvation; I'm here for a twisted justice only I can deliver, one that will make them wish I had never returned. 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. 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. 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?" 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!" 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." Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. 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!" Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio 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." Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!
Zhen Xiang For seventeen years, I was the crown jewel of the Kensington empire, the perfect daughter groomed for a royal future. Then, a cream-colored envelope landed in my lap, bearing a gold crest and a truth that turned my world into ice.
The DNA test result was a cold, hard zero percent-I wasn't a Kensington. Before the ink could even dry, my parents invited my replacement, a girl named Alleen, into the drawing room and treated me like a trespasser in my own home.
My mother, who once hosted galas in my honor, wouldn't even look me in the eye as she stroked Alleen's arm, whispering that she was finally "safe." My father handed me a one-million-dollar check-a mere tip for a billionaire-and told me to leave immediately to avoid tanking the company's stock price.
"You're a thief! You lived my life, you spent my money, and you don't get to keep the loot!" Alleen shrieked, trying to claw the designer jacket off my shoulders while my "parents" watched with clinical detachment.
I was dumped on a gritty sidewalk in Queens with nothing but three trunks and the address of a struggling laborer I was now supposed to call "Dad." I traded a marble mansion for a crumbling walk-up where the air smelled of exhaust and my new bedroom was a literal storage closet.
My biological family thought I was a broken princess, and the Kensingtons thought they had successfully erased me with a payoff and a non-disclosure agreement. They had no idea that while I was hauling trunks up four flights of stairs, my secret media empire was already preparing to move against them.
As I sat on a thin mattress in the dark, I opened my encrypted laptop and sent a single command that would cost my former father ten million dollars by breakfast. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves, but they forgot one thing: I'm the one who leads the pack. 
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