Chang An
17 Published Stories
Chang An's Books and Stories
The Abandoned Daughter's Price
Young Adult The biting Detroit wind cut through my worn coat.
Every day was a fight, cleaning floors, dodging debt collectors, haunted by the memory of my mother, Eleanor, walking out when I was five.
Then, after two decades of silence, her sleek black SUV appeared outside my rundown apartment.
Eleanor, dripping in luxury, had finally resurfaced.
But her return wasn't for me; it was for my bone marrow, to save her "perfect" son, Leo, who had leukemia.
She demanded my "sisterly duty," then offered a pittance for my life-saving donation.
Her lawyer even tried to intimidate me, threatening to expose my difficult past if I didn't comply.
It was a cold, transactional exchange for the body part she needed.
My bitterness festered.
Abandoned, struggled, and now, I was only valuable for my biology, a pawn in her meticulously crafted perfect life.
Was this my purpose?
To be a disposable resource for the woman who casually discarded me?
The injustice burned.
But then a mysterious informant revealed Eleanor's true secret: Leo was adopted, and her entire marriage to the tech mogul Jason was built on a web of deceit she was desperate to conceal.
My bone marrow wasn't just for saving a life; it was to protect her empire of lies.
This wasn't a request; it was a battle.
And I knew exactly how to win. The Unwanted Omega Wife's Final Goodbye
Werewolf As an Omega, I was just a political offering given to the Alpha King to secure an alliance. But today, my powerful, Alpha-blooded sister returned.
While my husband ignored my desperate calls claiming he was busy, he was actually spending the night locked in a hotel penthouse with my sister. When I saw her, his distinct cedar and mint scent was all over her clothes.
Heartbroken and disgusted, I tried to initiate the sacred Rejection ceremony to sever our Mate-bond.
But he didn't feel a shred of guilt. Instead, he used his absolute Alpha Command to crush my soul, forcing me into silence.
"If you dare to mention rejection one more time, I will make your entire Pack disappear from the map."
He threatened me, then carelessly threw a diamond watch at my feet as an apology, treating my shattered heart like a child's tantrum.
I looked at the cold man in front of me, asking if he chose her because she was an Alpha and I was just a worthless substitute. He didn't say a word, his silence a cruel admission to every accusation.
I smashed the diamond watch and walked away, locking myself in the smallest guest room. My heart was completely dead. Since he wouldn't accept my rejection, I would find my own way to escape this gilded cage. He Betrayed Me, I Erased Him
Modern My fiancé Easton proposed with a perfect diamond, whispering about our future, when his phone flashed a $50 million wire transfer to his ex-girlfriend's family. That very night, he abandoned me at my wedding dress fitting for an "emergency" that was really his ex, Catarina Kane. Days later, I lost our baby because he shoved me aside for her, then yelled at me about the mess on his office floor as I bled.
His cat allergy, a five-year lie, dissolved as I saw him stroking a cat in her living room. While I recovered from the miscarriage, Easton publicly smiled with Catarina at a gala. This profound betrayal, the loss of our child, and his utter indifference extinguished all love, leaving only chilling clarity.
At my hospital bedside, as he begged for forgiveness, I pulled out my IV. "It was my child, Easton," I told him. "You were never there." I walked out of his life forever, determined to uncover his deception and rebuild my world. Reborn To Crush My Ruthless Husband
Billionaires Frances survived a horrific car crash, only to return to a suffocating life. Her wealthy husband, Baron, and his domineering mother were now relentlessly pressuring her to adopt a "poor, distant relative" named Jagger as the heir to their billionaire empire.
But on her way to sign the adoption papers, a violent vision flashed in her mind. The crash wasn't an accident. She saw her car in flames, while Baron watched with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him stood an older Jagger, who calmly muttered the chilling truth.
"The problem is solved."
A private investigator soon confirmed her worst nightmares. Jagger wasn't a charity case; he was Baron's illegitimate son. The family had been illegally funneling offshore money to fund his elite lifestyle. Worse, Baron's ultimate plan was to label Frances mentally unstable, lock her away in a Swiss sanatorium for life, and bring in Jagger's biological mother to take her place.
For years, Frances had played the perfect, obedient wife in their corporate marriage contract. How could they be so ruthlessly evil, plotting her agonizing death just to legitimize their dirty bloodline and steal her trust fund?
But she was no longer the fragile puppet they thought she was. At the high-stakes board meeting, with all eyes expecting her to submit, she put the expensive pen down.
"I refuse."
Instead of adopting their bastard son, she slammed down an SEC whistleblower threat, forced a new will, and introduced her own handpicked heir. The war had just begun. Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband
Modern I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, sitting on a cracked plastic chair at the hospital, when my billionaire husband looked me right in the eye and called me "it."
Ellsworth didn't recognize his own wife in my tight coat and swollen ankles; he was too busy shielding his mistress, Jolie, from the "messy cleaning lady" in the hallway.
"Just ignore it," he told his assistant as I struggled to stand. "Close the doors. We’re running late for the gala."
He left me there with a high-risk pregnancy diagnosis and a prescription I couldn't afford, while he drove off in a Maybach with a woman who had meticulously stolen my entire identity.
When I returned to our cold mansion, the nightmare continued. His grandmother treated me like a breeding animal, and the housekeeper tried to starve me because Ellsworth said my weight gain was "embarrassing" to the family name.
I soon realized the sick truth: Jolie wasn't just his lover; she was a mimic, wearing my old clothes and using my old hair tutorials to play the role of the woman I was before the Banks family broke me.
How could a man who once promised to love me now treat me like a stain on his perfect life? Why was he keeping me trapped in a guest room while parading a fake version of me around the city?
They thought I was a broken, penniless ghost with nowhere to go, but they forgot I was once the sharpest financial mind of my generation.
While Ellsworth was busy playing house with a replica, I was secretly accepting a fully funded PhD and auditing his illegal shell companies from the shadows of his own home.
He thinks he can keep me trapped in this marriage just to secure his trust fund. He has no idea that I’m not just leaving—I’m going to burn his empire to the ground before the baby is even born. His Amnesiac Lie: My Stolen Life
Horror I learned my three-year relationship was a lie from a conversation I was never supposed to hear.
My boyfriend, Hardin, the man I'd saved from a car wreck that ended my career, hadn't lost his memory. It was all a long con to steal my life's work-a revolutionary game engine-for his mistress, my old college rival.
The man who promised to protect me stood by as she publicly humiliated me, burned my arm with a cigarette, and had me tasered in an alley.
He dragged me into an icy shower when I fought back.
When I tried to leave, he had me held down while doctors drew my blood and stole my kidney for his mistress's aunt.
He called the injury that destroyed my career "unfortunate."
He thought he had broken me, turning me into a prisoner in his mansion, a source of spare parts.
But he forgot who I was.
With the help of my old mentor, I reclaimed my secret identity as the legendary developer "PixelVixen."
And I sent the two words that would bring their empire crashing down: "I'm back." Five Million Dollar Goodbye Kiss
Modern I gave up my acceptance to MIT to support my boyfriend, Brayden Berg. After his family's tech empire collapsed and his parents died, I worked double shifts as a line cook, using my tuition money to help him get back on his feet.
But the day he announced his new company's success, he stood on stage, kissed a high-society lawyer named Jesse Collins, and introduced her to the world as his partner.
The humiliation was just beginning. At a party, Jesse deliberately spilled champagne all over me. Later, trapped in an elevator together, she hissed that I was a "charity case" just moments before the cables snapped.
The crash shattered my leg. When a rescuer peered down from the emergency hatch, able to save only one of us at a time, I heard Brayden's frantic voice from above.
"Save Jesse!" he screamed without a moment's hesitation. "Save her first!"
In the hospital, he explained his choice by saying Jesse was "delicate," while I was "strong" and could handle it. Then, he had the audacity to beg me, his childhood friend, to donate my rare blood type to save her.
He carried me to the donation room, and the moment the bag was full, he ran off with my blood to Jesse's side without a backward glance.
Staring at the fresh needle mark on my bruised arm, I finally realized the boy I had saved was gone. It was time to save myself. The Cage She Built For Us
Sci-fi I poured years of my life into "The Gilded Cage," a virtual world where I became Noah, determined to save Chloe, its tragic villainess. I guided her, taught her, helped her build a tech empire, thinking I' d rewritten her destiny.
But when she finally stood on top of the world, she looked at me, her eyes cold. "You didn't save me, Noah. You just built me a different cage." Then, she brutally threw me from her penthouse balcony.
Ejected from the simulation, I thought I was free. But a system malfunction tethered my consciousness to Chloe's. I was dragged through her past, a ghost watching her childhood trauma and Liam Hayes's betrayal unfold, forced to relive every painful step of her original story. Each memory, a cruel reminder of my failure, of the monster I inadvertently helped create.
Why was I condemned to witness the very pain I' d tried so hard to prevent again? The system said it was a recursive feedback loop, a side effect of her emergent sentience. But it felt more like a calculated torment.
When my consciousness was finally about to dematerialize, Chloe, tear-streaked and broken, reached for me, pleading, "Please. You have to save me." But the phantom pains of her betrayal surged, and I recoiled, spitting out the words that echoed her own cruelty: "My life doesn't need a monster in it." I thought it was over. Then, weeks later, the real Chloe, corporeal and lost, appeared on my doorstep. "I found a way out... You have to help me. You have to save me." The Pet Dog and the Plot
Modern The silence of my house hit me first.
My sweet, goofy rescue dog, Buster, wasn't there to greet me.
He was just gone.
My estranged husband, Mark, and his new girlfriend, Lisa, spread a narrative that ruined me: Sarah Miller, the animal shelter manager, was so negligent she lost her own dog.
My work suffered, volunteers pitied me, and online comments shamed me publicly, painting me as an irresponsible fraud.
They paraded around town with a new, expensive designer puppy, while the loss of Buster became a hole in my life that never closed.
I became a shell, until I overheard them at a charity gala, hidden in a secluded alcove, laughing.
"She still probably thinks he just ran away," Lisa snickered.
"It was for the best," Mark replied smoothly.
"Getting rid of Buster was the only way to make room for Muffin."
"And to knock Sarah down a peg," Lisa added.
The world tilted; they didn't just let Buster get lost, they orchestrated it.
They destroyed my reputation and my heart for a designer puppy and cruel sport.
The shock was a physical blow, and the world went black.
I died of a broken heart.
Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open to the familiar morning sun.
It was the day Buster disappeared.
This was a second chance, a miracle.
I wasn't going to waste it. My Family, Their Sinister Game
Modern For ten years, I built a wall of mediocrity around myself.
After my sister Sarah vanished, an alleged suicide linked to the sinister "Blackwood Tech Curse," my parents pulled me from advanced STEM, scrubbed my online presence, and moved two states over.
"Just be average, Ashley," my father pleaded, "Average is safe."
I became an insurance analyst, safe and boring, believing I had outsmarted fate, that Sarah was a random tragedy.
Until today, when an encrypted email landed in my inbox: "Congratulations, Ashley Miller. You've been accepted."
The Blackwood curse, a digital ghost from a defunct institute, promised death wrapped in an acceptance letter, just like Sarah's.
When I tried to expose it, the FBI agent who' d dismissed my fears showed me security footage-me, at the scene of a Blackwood victim's death, then a fabricated psych evaluation painting me as delusional.
My own laptop was framed as the source of a federal hack, isolating me further.
Even my parents, panicked by the lies, asked, "Ashley, honey… Did you… have you been seeing someone?"
The one person I thought I could trust, Davies, believed the frame job.
"The hack came from your laptop," he said, his voice flat.
But then, my own hand clenched, tried to strike me, until Davies, who' d burst in, saw it wasn' t me.
"You' re not suicidal," he whispered. "Something else was controlling you."
He set up a livestream, making my forced stay at a "safe house" public, only for a chilling message to appear on my screen, "WE CAN GET TO YOU ANYWHERE."
Then, a porcelain doll-Sarah' s childhood doll, supposedly lost for years-appeared at my window, its face frozen in a scream.
The lights went out, and in the darkness, my mother, her eyes wide and blank, attacked me with a shard of glass, whispering, "The signal is the vessel."
The next morning, the doctors diagnosed me with "severe schizoaffective disorder, with acute paranoid delusions."
My parents finally broke, signing the commitment papers when a psychiatrist presented a photo altered to show me with a different sister, Eva, claiming Sarah was just my cousin, that their decade of lies was to "protect" me.
I realized then, in the sterile silence of the psychiatric facility, that this wasn' t a ghost story, but a controlled experiment.
And I heard a name whispered in the halls: Marcus Thorne, the vanished founder of Blackwood Tech, now a VIP patient on the top floor.
They thought they had trapped me, broken me.
But they had just given me a new purpose, a new identity, and a clear target. The Doctor's Redemption
Romance The grand hall was silent, a suffocating blanket. I stared at the engagement photo, a smiling lie from a life that was now a ghost story.
Just back from a humanitarian mission, I expected wedding bells, but David Hayes, the man I was supposed to marry, had moved another woman into our home, my clothes gone, my future surgically removed.
He introduced her, Seraphina Thorne, a social media star, her smile as artificial as the diamonds on her wrist, while he couldn' t even meet my eyes.
When I demanded to speak to him alone, he coolly replied, "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Seraphina." The public humiliation stung like a physical blow.
His gaze was that of a stranger. My year away, he claimed, showed him what he truly wanted: a "partner" who strengthened his position, not a "distraction" like me, the doctor who saved lives.
Then came the final cut: he wouldn't let me leave. I was to stay, wear his gifts, and smile at their engagement party, or he would destroy my brother Michael's journalistic career.
Trapped, humiliated, and reduced to a pawn in his cruel game, I felt the walls of the gilded cage close in. Was this the price of love, or was I merely an asset to be discarded and then reclaimed?
That night, as David, my former fiancé and now my captor, forced a sapphire necklace around my neck saying, "You' re still mine," I knew I had to find a way out. I needed to break free from the ashes of my past and reclaim the life I had lost. The Con and the CEO
Billionaires My life was a carefully constructed empire – a tech CEO with a groundbreaking project, wealth, and the perfect fiancée, Chloe.
Then, a ghost from my past shattered it all: my estranged brother, Ethan, weak and dying, called claiming to have pancreatic cancer.
I brought him into my home, sacrificing everything – Chloe' s trust, my company, my reputation – to care for him, only to discover it was all a monstrous lie, a calculated plot to strip me bare.
Caught in a web of deceit, publicly humiliated, and facing utter ruin, an unimaginable horror unfolded: Ethan wasn't just a conman; he was responsible for our mother's death.
Stripped of all illusions, I had to choose: succumb to the darkness or fight back with every fiber of my being. The Impostor Heiress
Young Adult My eighteenth birthday was supposed to be the culmination of a perfect life, the grand debutante ball cementing my place in Dallas society.
I was Gabrielle Johns, poised, confident, and ready to claim the life I' d meticulously prepared for, always mindful of the recurring nightmare of a girl screaming I was a fake.
Then, just as my father was about to speak, the ballroom doors burst open.
A girl, Maria Chavez, a wild, aggressive stranger, stood there.
She pointed directly at me, yelling, "She' s a fraud! I am the real Blakely daughter!"
The room plunged into shocked silence, all eyes on me as I registered her worn clothes against my designer gown.
My heart pounded, but a single, calculated tear traced a path down my cheek as I whispered, "Daddy?"
Maria lunged, splashing wine on my white dress, a violent stain shattering the perfect image.
My own brother, Andrew, my closest confidant, then shockingly defended her, presenting a 'DNA report' from a shady lab and claiming her story was true.
He chose her over me, leading this sobbing stranger further into my home, while my fiancé, Wesley, quickly abandoned me for her.
How could my family, my brother, be so easily manipulated, so quick to doubt the daughter they raised, over a desperate plea and a flimsy lie?
Even as the world tilted, a cold resolve settled in my bones.
The dream wasn't a nightmare; it was a warning.
They expected me to break, to crumble.
But I was a strategist, and this was only the first battle.
I would fight for my life, expose the impostor, and reclaim everything that was rightfully mine. Soul Survivor: Building Hope From Hell
Modern The air around me reeked of gasoline, a sharp tang that somehow mixed with the familiar scent of ancient leather from my family' s priceless library. My phone buzzed, Maria's name flashing on the screen, but I ignored it, focused on the tiny, dancing flame of the lighter in my hand.
Then came her text: "Jocelyn, what the HELL are you doing?! The staff is freaking out! They said you have gasoline! Are you insane? I'm calling the police to have you committed!"
Insane. That' s what they' d label me. A cold smile touched my lips. Let them. They had no idea what was coming.
Seven days from now, "The Veiling" would tear our world apart, merging it with a nightmarish spirit realm. I knew this because I had already lived through it. And died in it.
The last time, I was naive, trusting my best friend, Maria, and my boyfriend, Ethan. I shared my meticulously prepared sanctuary, gave them everything. They rewarded me by pushing me outside to a monster. They feasted on my supplies, while I, disfigured and broken, became their pet. Then, they tortured me, sacrificing my very life force to empower their stolen haven, watching with triumphant glee as my world went dark.
I died believing I was utterly alone, used, and discarded. I died wondering how those I trusted most could become such monsters.
But I came back. Reborn. And this time, I remembered everything. This time, their twisted game was just the first step in my ultimate revenge. The Husband She Tried To Bury
Modern My life as a successful game developer was comfortable, despite the slow drift from my wife, Chloe.
Then, an anonymous link shattered my world: vile, digitally altered photos of my parents, smeared as "hicks" living off my "dirty money." When they bravely decided to confront these lies, a devastating car accident left them critically injured.
At the hospital, Chloe and her childhood friend, Liam, chillingly delayed my parents' critical surgeries, worsening their fragile condition. Chloe then trapped me in a suffocating marriage, siphoning my fortune for three years under the guise of "care" for my parents, even as they languished.
I was a tortured prisoner, constantly reminded of "crimes" I never committed. The sickening truth hit when I overheard Chloe confess everything: the deepfakes, the smear, even orchestrating the accident-all fueled by Liam' s lie that I caused her parents' death.
But she was wrong. So terribly wrong. Her parents were alive, well, and thriving in Italy, because I saved them years ago. That explosive secret ignited a cold fury. My torment was about to turn into a meticulously planned counterattack. The Millionaire Wife's Cruel Lie
Billionaires My life revolved around two jobs, every penny for Lily, my daughter' s critical heart surgery.
$50,000 was a fortune for our "struggling" family, a sum my wife, Sarah, supposedly understood.
Then, delivering to a gala one rainy night, I saw her.
Sarah, my wife, shimmering in designer finery, bidding millions for a diamond necklace.
"CEO Sarah Thompson is so generous!" the auctioneer boomed, shattering my world.
My "struggling" wife was a millionaire, lavishing gifts on her ex-husband' s child while ours faced death.
Her ex, Kevin, engineered my firing; Sarah, oblivious, simply dismissed the "incompetent delivery guy."
She continued her cruel charade, denying Lily a simple cake, then abandoning her for Kevin's daughter.
Lily's fragile heart worsened, and we were even ejected from the mall, Sarah silent.
How could she live such a calculating lie for five years, faking poverty and neglecting her own child?
Why sacrifice Lily' s survival for millions spent on another' s?
The raw betrayal left my little girl whispering: "Daddy, did Mommy ever love us?"
I walked away, taking only Lily and our broken trust.
Sarah's desperate pleas were hollow, but Lily' s raw cry, "Mommy, I hate you," forced my decision.
I' d take her money, not for me, but to save my daughter, transforming her deceptive wealth into Lily's only hope. You might like
Beauty In The Boy's Dorm
Author Lightwriter "What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
The Price of Unrequited Love
Shearwater Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley.
Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him.
That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!"
He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law."
Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart. Invisible To Her Bully
Dea B Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible.
Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully.
During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin.
As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah.
Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies?
Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside. The Abandoned Daughter's Price
Chang An The biting Detroit wind cut through my worn coat.
Every day was a fight, cleaning floors, dodging debt collectors, haunted by the memory of my mother, Eleanor, walking out when I was five.
Then, after two decades of silence, her sleek black SUV appeared outside my rundown apartment.
Eleanor, dripping in luxury, had finally resurfaced.
But her return wasn't for me; it was for my bone marrow, to save her "perfect" son, Leo, who had leukemia.
She demanded my "sisterly duty," then offered a pittance for my life-saving donation.
Her lawyer even tried to intimidate me, threatening to expose my difficult past if I didn't comply.
It was a cold, transactional exchange for the body part she needed.
My bitterness festered.
Abandoned, struggled, and now, I was only valuable for my biology, a pawn in her meticulously crafted perfect life.
Was this my purpose?
To be a disposable resource for the woman who casually discarded me?
The injustice burned.
But then a mysterious informant revealed Eleanor's true secret: Leo was adopted, and her entire marriage to the tech mogul Jason was built on a web of deceit she was desperate to conceal.
My bone marrow wasn't just for saving a life; it was to protect her empire of lies.
This wasn't a request; it was a battle.
And I knew exactly how to win. My Best Friends, My Worst Enemies
Ming Yue The last thing I remembered was Chloe's voice, sharp and gleeful, slicing through the haze of my headache: "They never loved you, Ava. Not Liam, not Noah. It was always me."
Her words were a hammer blow, each one a nail in the coffin of my life, a searing supernova of agony that exploded behind my eyes before everything faded to black.
I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my childhood bed, my unlined hands proof of a terrifying truth: I was back, the calendar on my desk screaming September 5th, senior year, before the nightmare truly began.
The reel of my first life rewound in fast-forward: Stanford, the calculated betrayals by Liam and Noah, Chloe's venomous strings, the engineered vasectomies, my promising career systematically destroyed, and the aneurysm that ended it all.
This was impossible, a future I'd already lived, a death I'd already died, yet the worn duvet felt real, the scent of my mother's pancakes too vibrant—a second chance, if I dared to seize it, to change everything.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, deleting Stanford from my early college applications and replacing it with MIT—my true dream, the one they had ruthlessly crushed.
Just then, the doorbell rang, and through the frosted glass, I saw them: Liam Walker, Noah Chen, and Chloe Jenkins, the architects of my past ruin, their bright smiles and feigned innocence an instant surge of cold dread. My Sweet Revenge: A Second Life
ELEANOR HORTON I used to think my life was a gilded cage, trapped by the family who adopted me, the Blakelys.
They showered me with privilege, but it was just a facade.
Then, everything changed. I' m on my knees, a throbbing pain in my cheek, accused by my adoptive mother, Elizabeth, of assaulting my "sister," Nicole.
Nicole plays the perfect victim, her eyes brimming with fake tears as Elizabeth tells me, "You are not our daughter, Stella. Nicole is. You owe her everything."
They stripped me of my identity, making me feel like a replacement, a charity case who had stolen another's life.
In my last life, their words shattered me. I was a naive girl, easily manipulated, unknowingly prepped for sacrifice. I died at twenty-one, my "Golden Aura"-my very life force-drained to fuel their real daughter's ascent, sealing my real parents' gruesome fate.
But the joke's on them. I'm back. Reborn at eighteen, with every chilling memory of my past life and the decade I spent as a wandering spirit.
This time, I' ll play their twisted game, but with one crucial difference: I make the rules. And I will burn their world to the ground. Secret Crush
Harry Serena When Chloe came to Leighton High for the first time, in a small town, she didn't expect to come into a bully's radar. All her life, she had always stayed out of people's way, and was never really noticed. She had also always had to make an effort to make friends, but never enemies.
Not that she didn't think she was way past getting one, but she didn't think it would be someone as Handsome as Zach was.
The first time they met was a disaster, and she tried her best to stay away from him, the only problem was, he wasn't letting her, and soon, the hate he showed her, soon turned into something she had never experienced before.
Would she be able to get rid of the unwanted feeling she was getting for him, or the unwanted attention he was showing her?
Find out in the intriguing story. Stolen Life, Stolen Style
Bing Xialuo 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. Works, V1
Lucian of Samosata It is not to be understood that all statements here made are either ascertained facts or universally admitted conjectures. The introduction is intended merely to put those who are not scholars, and probably have not books of reference at hand, in a position to approach the translation at as little disadvantage as may be. Accordingly, we give the account that commends itself to us, without discussion or reference to authorities. Those who would like a more complete idea of Lucian should read Croiset's Essai sur la vie et les oeuvres de Lucien, on which the first two sections of this introduction are very largely based. The only objections to the book (if they are objections) are that it is in French, and of 400 octavo pages. It is eminently readable. With the exception of a very small number of statements, of which the truth is by no means certain, all that we know of Lucian is derived from his own writings. And any reader who prefers to have his facts at first rather than at second hand can consequently get them by reading certain of his pieces, and making the natural deductions from them. Those that contain biographical matter are, in the order corresponding to the periods of his life on which they throw light, The Vision, Demosthenes, Nigrinus, The Portrait-study and Defence (in which Lucian is Lycinus), The Way to write History, The double ndictment (in which he is The Syrian), The Fisher (Parrhesiades), Swans and Amber, Alexander, Hermotimus_ (Lycinus), Menippus and Icaromenippus (in which Menippus represents him), A literary Prometheus, Herodotus, Zeuxis, Harmonides, The Scythian, The Death of Peregrine, The Book-fancier, Demonax, The Rhetorician's Vade mecum, Dionysus, Heracles, A Slip of the Tongue, Apology for 'The dependent Scholar.'_ Of these The Vision is a direct piece of autobiography; there is intentional but veiled autobiography in several of the other pieces; in others again conclusions can be drawn from comparison of his statements with facts known from external sources. Lucian lived from about 125 to about 200 A.D., under the Roman Emperors Antoninus Pius, M. Aurelius and Lucius Verus, Commodus, and perhaps Pertinax. He was a Syrian, born at Samosata on the Euphrates, of parents to whom it was of importance that he should earn his living without spending much time or money on education. His maternal uncle being a statuary, he was apprenticed to him, having shown an aptitude for modelling in the wax that he surreptitiously scraped from his school writing-tablets. The apprenticeship lasted one day. It is clear that he was impulsive all through life; and when his uncle corrected him with a stick for breaking a piece of marble, he ran off home, disposed already to think he had had enough of statuary. His mother took his part, and he made up his mind by the aid of a vision that came to him the same night. 
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