Diewu Pianpian
11 Published Stories
Diewu Pianpian's Books and Stories
Carrying His Heir After The Divorce
Romance After two years of a cold, loveless marriage, Kara signed the divorce papers without shedding a single tear.
Her only condition to her billionaire husband, Julian, was simple: "After this, we never see each other again."
But fate played a cruel joke. On the exact same day she agreed to the divorce, she found out she was pregnant with his child.
Meanwhile, Julian was at the hospital, tenderly caring for his recently awakened first love, Seraphina, already planning their grand wedding.
When severe morning sickness made Kara vomit outside Seraphina’s hospital room, Julian’s eyes burned with contempt.
"Have you made enough of a scene?" he hissed, comforting his crying mistress.
Later, when he caught Kara violently throwing up at home, he cornered her with a cold, knowing sneer.
"Are you pretending to be pregnant to delay the divorce?" he mocked. "Impossible. We always used protection."
He had completely forgotten the one night he stumbled into her room, blind drunk.
Even her own mother slapped her across the face and threw her luggage into the hallway, disowning her for failing to keep her wealthy husband.
Kara sat alone on the cold floor, her heart pulverized into ash.
The man she had loved for years viewed her as a manipulative liar, and her own family saw her only as a failed business transaction.
Staring into the dark night, a chilling calm washed over her.
She picked up her phone and methodically deleted Julian's number.
On Monday, she would finalize the divorce, protect her baby, and vanish from his world completely. Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir
Modern "She’s just like a sister to me, Eliana. You’re being dramatic."
That was Jax’s excuse every time he chose Catalina over me for three years.
When Catalina staged a fake drowning in three feet of water, he pushed me aside to save her, telling me my life wasn't his problem.
But the breaking point came when she deliberately pushed me down a flight of stairs.
My ankle shattered on the concrete. I was lying there in agony, unable to move.
Yet, Jax didn't check on me.
He stepped over my bleeding body to scoop Catalina up because she had a minor scratch on her elbow.
He screamed at me for "hurting" her.
While I lay in the hospital alone, waiting for surgery, he was spoon-feeding her soup in her dorm, posting photos captioned "My Hero."
He thought I would always be his "Elie Bear," the doormat waiting at home to clean up his messes.
He was convinced that no matter how much he hurt me, I would never actually leave.
But he was wrong.
I didn't scream. I didn't fight.
I simply signed the withdrawal papers, blocked his number, and boarded a one-way flight to New York without saying goodbye.
Three months later, when Jax finally realized his "sister" was a nightmare and came crawling back to beg for forgiveness, he found me.
But I wasn't alone.
I was holding the hand of a billionaire heir who looked at Jax with cold, deadly eyes.
"Touch her again," my new fiancé whispered, "and I will destroy your entire family by morning." A Birkin For Every Lie
Romance There are ninety-nine Hermès Birkins sitting in my walk-in closet.
To the world, it' s a collection worth millions. To me, it' s a tally of ninety-nine times my husband, Harris, betrayed me.
Each bag was a silent apology I accepted to keep our hollow marriage alive.
But the hundredth betrayal wasn't fixed with crocodile leather.
On the anniversary of my mother's death, I tracked Harris to my family' s private cemetery.
He wasn't alone. Jessica, his "first love," was there, standing over the empty plot reserved for my living father, right next to my mother' s grave.
They were digging a hole.
Jessica smirked, holding a velvet box containing her dead cat and a plaque that read To Arvel, my eternal companion.
"It' s just a cat, Cecily," she laughed, tossing her hair.
"Don't be so dramatic. Your father won't mind the company. Besides, it shows who Harris really listens to."
For years, I accepted the bags and the lies. But desecrating my family's sacred ground?
The submissive wife died in that moment.
I walked toward them, clutching the evidence that would destroy Jessica' s life and shatter Harris' s world.
"Dig it up," I commanded, my voice colder than the grave.
"Or I will bury you both right here." Reborn Wife: A Mother's Fury
Modern The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile operating room.
A sharp pain tore through my abdomen, and my husband Ethan's chilling indifference burned into me.
"Sign it, Ethan! The doctor says she's bleeding out. They need to perform the surgery to save her!" I screamed, my voice distant and desperate.
But he wouldn't. He stood there, arms crossed, saying, "The doctor said there's a risk to the baby. I can't risk my daughter's life."
"There won't be a daughter if I die!" I countered, agony blurring my vision. "The baby can't survive if I don't!"
Then, my six-year-old stepson, Liam, holding Ethan's hand, pointed at me.
"Dad, Sophia said this woman is just faking it. She said if she dies, Sophia can be my new mom and take care of you and the baby."
His words hit harder than any physical pain. My own stepson, a child I'd raised since he was two, was wishing for my death.
Ethan didn't scold him. He squeezed Liam' s shoulder in silent agreement as Sophia Davis, Liam's beautiful young tutor, stepped into view with a triumphant smirk.
They never signed the papers.
I bled out on that operating table, my last sight the three of them-Ethan, Liam, and Sophia-already looking like a happy family.
A sharp gasp snapped me awake.
My eyes flew open. I was in my own bed, morning sun streaming through the silk curtains. My hand went to my stomach. It was still there, a gentle, rounded swell. My baby girl was safe.
I grabbed my phone. The date confirmed it: today was the day my life unraveled. The day Liam brought Sophia home.
I hadn't died. I was back.
The memory of my death wasn't a dream. It was a searing brand, a horrifying premonition. The betrayal, the pain, the cold finality-all of it clear as day.
A wave of nausea washed over me, not from pregnancy, but from cold, hard fury. They would not kill me this time. They would not harm my daughter. This time, I would make them pay for a crime they hadn't committed yet.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
I heard the housekeeper, then Liam's excited chatter. My heart turned to ice. It was starting. Her Betrayal, His Rebirth
Modern The memory was a ghost that never left my apartment.
It played on a loop: Sarah, glowing on screen, cheering fans, my game "Aetheria" about to launch.
"Five more minutes, baby," she' d whispered, "And the world will see what a genius you are. I' ll make sure of it."
I believed her. I poured everything into "Aetheria," my masterpiece. Sarah, the biggest streamer, was my partner, promising a massive launch.
But when her stream hit zero, not "Aetheria," but "Chrono Rift," a cheap clone, filled the screen.
Then her voice, slick and commercial, declared, "THIS is the game of the year. 'Chrono Rift' is here!"
The betrayal was immediate. She savaged my game: "A little birdie told me 'Aetheria' is a buggy, unplayable mess. Don' t waste your money. The developer is in way over his head."
The world broke.
Months later, surrounded by final notice bills, I heard her on the news. "Chrono Rift" sold ten million units. Mark, its developer, wrapped an arm around her, speaking of their "stable future."
I later learned of their affair, their secret deal. My ruin was their business expense.
Why? How could she? The woman I loved, my partner, had systematically destroyed me for profit.
Clicking off the TV, I saw an old hard drive labeled "Nexus," my abandoned first project. Plugging it in, I saw a strange line of code, a "developer' s blessing," reminding me of boundless creativity.
A jolt. I would rebuild. I started "Aetheria 2.0." Their castle of glass stood, but I was gathering stones. When Prophecies Kill: A Fortune Reclaimed
Billionaires The last thing I remember from my first life is the roar of flames and the ceiling crushing me in my family' s manor.
My fiancée, Nicole, and my supposed long-lost brother, Wesley, watched from outside, their faces twisted not in grief, but in triumph.
I died alone, framed, betrayed, and erased from existence.
Now, I'm back, reborn into the very moment their insidious plan unfolded.
Wesley, the charming newcomer who miraculously appeared after my parents' funeral with a "prophecy" of our housekeeper Maria's death, was setting the stage.
Then came the "vision" of an earthquake, threatening to destroy our ancestral home, driving my sisters Jennifer and Gabby into a panicked retreat.
In my past life, I believed their lies, fled the house, and it exploded with me inside, solidifying Wesley's prophetic credibility.
But this time, I saw it all: Nicole's subtle glances with Wesley, her calculated suggestions leading to Maria's peril, the same conniving smiles they wore as I perished.
How could I have been so blind? So trusting of the very people who plotted my agonizing demise, all for the fortune my family built?
My body may have died once, but my spirit refused to be extinguished.
Now, with fire in my veins and memories sharp as steel, I am ready to rewrite our destiny and turn their perfect scheme into their worst nightmare. Mistress's Second Life Revenge
Romance I woke up in my New York penthouse bedroom, sunlight harsh in my eyes.
The date on my phone read five years ago, before the fire, before I died.
My breath hitched in my throat as I understood: I was reborn.
My husband, Ethan, walked in, his voice flat, demanding I authorize a quarter-million dollar transfer from my trust fund.
In my first life, that money went to Chloe Sanders, his intern, his mistress.
Every painful memory came flooding back: his coldness, his brazen affairs, and finally, him locking me in a remote ski lodge wing as smoke filled the air.
He drove away, leaving me to die in the flames.
I whispered that I didn't feel well, but he only scoffed, telling me to sign the papers and stop being dramatic.
Later, I saw him with Chloe, his tenderness and warm smile solely for her, confirming his betrayal was still ongoing.
When I finally confronted him, his hand swung, cracking across my cheek, leaving me stunned and bleeding.
He then slammed the door to our bedroom shut, locking me inside, threatening a private care facility, calling me "unhinged."
The injustice burned, fueling a cold fury deeper than fear.
Was this my cruel fate, to relive the same nightmare with the same monster?
Why had I been given a second chance, only to face his baseless accusations and violence once more?
This time, I wouldn't just endure his cruelty; I would break free.
As I sent a coded message to my parents, my escape plan was in motion, and my fight for freedom had truly begun. From Scholarship Kid to Capital King
Modern My heart pounded.
This was it – the final presentation for the American Innovators Architectural Prize.
My design, "The Phoenix Initiative," was my masterpiece, my future.
Then, Blake Sterling, my rival, strode onto the stage and began presenting my project.
Every line, every concept, every innovative detail.
Mine.
My blood ran cold, but the nightmare deepened when he publicly accused me of plagiarism.
Gasps filled the room, and all eyes turned to me.
Then Tiffany, my fiancée of seven years, stood up beside him.
Her voice trembling, she voiced her "disappointment," her tears sealing my public disgrace.
I was abandoned, my life's work stolen, my reputation ruined, and my academic future jeopardized by a powerful family and a corrupt dean.
The woman I loved had just publicly thrown me under the bus, dismissing seven years of history for a man she barely knew.
My mind reeled from the sheer audacity, the cold betrayal.
How could they do this?
How could she?
I felt utterly crushed, yet a chilling clarity solidified within me.
They saw me as a mere scholarship kid, easily crushed, and now they demanded I apologize and help Blake refine the very project they stole, threatening to blacklist me permanently if I refused.
So I agreed.
But as I worked days under their watch, I wasn' t fixing his project; I was subtly implanting a fatal, hidden flaw – a ticking time bomb only designed for catastrophic failure.
Then, feigning a sudden, excruciating illness, I walked out, leaving them scrambling, speeding towards a new life.
They thought they had cornered me, little did they know they had just woken up the heir to Cole Capital Development. Beyond the Bell: A Bias Exposed
Young Adult Ashley, a diligent high school student, usually focused intently on Ms. Davison's history lectures, diligently preparing for her big exam.
But one ordinary day, a sudden, brutal pain, deeper and more sinister than any muscle cramp, surged through her right side, accompanied by an unsettling wave of feverish heat.
Despite Ashley's desperate plea to see the nurse, Ms. Davison, with icy contempt, casually dismissed her suffering as "dramatic theatrics" designed to skip class, even offering her questionable, unlabeled pills from a dusty drawer before physically blocking Ashley from leaving the classroom, threatening severe detention as Ashley swayed, on the verge of collapse.
The raw, infuriating injustice burned through Ashley and later, her distraught nurse mother, Sarah, who had overheard the chaos of her daughter’s collapse over a disconnected phone call, only to receive the terrifying ER diagnosis of a severe, life-threatening kidney infection that, hours earlier, could have claimed Ashley’s life, all because Ms. Davison prioritized her arbitrary biases over a child's urgent medical need.
Fueled by an unshakeable resolve to ensure no other child endures such callous neglect, Ashley’s parents, Sarah and Mark, begin their meticulously planned public reckoning, deciding to expose Ms. Davison’s alarming negligence and deeply ingrained prejudices, not with a lawsuit, but with a scathing, sarcastically-worded "award" and a pointed "care package" at the school's widely attended PTA meeting, setting the stage for a dramatic showdown. You might like
Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy—The Nightingale Ranch—as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. The Billionaire I Slept With Became My Husband
Apache I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce.
Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence.
When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway.
They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher.
"And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop."
The revelation chilled me to the bone.
My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault.
It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted.
I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city.
One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged.
But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man.
It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. The Ex-Wife's Return: His Child, Her Reckoning
A. N. Cruz Ivanna had everything: a stable marriage, a promising career, and the love of the man she had fought for, even against his own family.
But when she finally managed to conceive, fate tore her happiness away in the most heart-wrenching way imaginable. Her husband had wanted a child... just not with her.
She made the hardest decision of her life: signing a divorce agreement that left her with nothing. She left without looking back, her heart shattered, carrying a silent promise never to return.
Until now.
Four years have passed, and she's back in Boston, the city where her dreams were once shattered-with a new life, newfound strength... and a secret that will change everything.
She is no longer the same woman who left in silence. And her ex-husband isn't prepared to uncover what she's been hiding.
What will happen when the ex-wife returns with the one secret that might ruin him... or redeem him? Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
Hei Baidong I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up.
When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience.
"Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff."
Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me.
I gave birth to twins all by myself.
The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped.
They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child.
I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister.
I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies.
But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test.
It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years.
Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband.
This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing. The Ice CEO's Contracted Nanny
Priscila Ozilio Two years ago, a tragic accident shattered two families.
Emma was behind the wheel the day fate upended Damien's world. She lost her parents; he lost his wife. And little Luca, Damien's son, lost something irreplaceable: his voice.
Since that fateful day, Damien had built a fortress of cold indifference, vowing to never forgive the people he held responsible.
What he didn't anticipate was that fate would place one of them directly under his roof.
Driven by desperation to save her sister, who was gravely ill, Emma was forced to accept an exploitative employment contract. As Luca's nanny, she must live in the mansion of the man who had every reason to despise her.
What began as a contract signed under duress quickly morphed into a dangerous web.
Damien desired Emma with an intensity that defied reason, unaware that she was the cause of the past tragedy.
And when the truth came to light, Damien must make a choice: cling to the hatred that fueled him... or accept that love might rise from the ruins of devastation. 
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