Gu Chen
11 Published Stories
Gu Chen's Books and Stories
The Surgeon's Revenge: My Ex-Husband's Regret
Modern The view from our twenty-million-dollar penthouse was stunning, but all I could see was the cracked screen of my phone. A single message from a contact named Sienna had just appeared: "Game On." For four years, I had worn the shapeless beige cardigans and played the quiet, submissive wife the elite Rutledge family demanded.
"Dorothea is back in the city," my husband Hunter said, refusing to meet my eyes as he pushed the divorce papers toward me.
He offered a "generous" settlement, patronizingly claiming that with my felony record and "creative resume," I’d be living on the streets without his charity. He had no idea that while he was rehearsing his breakup speech, I was already zipping up a duffel bag filled with cash and a passport in a name he didn't recognize.
His sister Kamala didn't even wait for me to pack before she was in our bedroom, calling me a leech and trying to destroy the only photo I had of my mother. I didn't cry or beg; I simply dropped Hunter’s favorite three-million-dollar Ming vase, watched it shatter, and walked out the door with a cold smile.
That night, I traded my sensible flats for a crimson silk dress and lethal heels, leaving Hunter’s jaw on the floor when he saw me at an exclusive club. He watched in horror as I smashed a vodka bottle over a harasser's head, still believing I was a broken woman who needed his protection.
He didn't know the truth until his grandmother finally revealed that I was the anonymous investor who had rescued their company from bankruptcy. I had gone to prison to protect his father's reputation, wearing the shame for years so their family name wouldn't implode.
Hunter fell to his knees in the driveway, begging for a second chance and promising to dump his mistress, but the anger in my heart had already turned to ice. The man I had sacrificed my life for was now just a stranger I used to know.
"The opposite of love isn't hate, Hunter. It's indifference."
I climbed into a purple supercar as my phone buzzed with a call from Mount Sinai Hospital. My medical license was reinstated, and a high-profile trauma case was waiting for my hands. Iris the housewife was dead, and Dr. Gutierrez was finally back in play. His Mafia Queen, My Substitute Heart
Mafia My perfect marriage to Don Dante Moretti, the most powerful man in the New York mob, ended the moment my father died. I was twenty-four, pregnant with his heir, and I believed I was his queen.
But for two days, while I planned a funeral alone, my husband was unreachable. Then a friend sent me a photo. Dante in London, his hand tangled in the hair of the woman beside him.
It was my cousin, Valentina.
He came home with lies about a dead phone and a difficult summit. That night, I found his private journal, and my world disintegrated.
He had married me because I had "Valentina’s eyes." I was a substitute.
Our unborn child wasn't a product of love. It was a project. A girl he planned to name Elena, after Valentina, calling her a "perfect, tiny piece of the woman I can never truly possess."
I wasn't his wife. I was a stand-in. The love I felt for him didn't just die. It was murdered.
The next morning, I slid a folder across the kitchen island. "Donation forms," I said. He didn't even look before scrawling his signature on what were actually our finalized divorce papers.
His arrogance was my weapon. As he slept beside me that night, smelling of lies and my cousin, I made an appointment at a private clinic. He wanted a legacy?
I would give him nothing. Betrayed By The Don: Rising From Ashes
Mafia I was guiding the blade through a slab of A5 Wagyu for our seven-year anniversary when a burner phone vibrated against my knee.
It was a photo of a manicured hand resting on the tuxedo I had bought for Dante three weeks ago. On the finger sat a massive diamond ring.
The caption read: Mrs. Isabella Gallo. Finally legal.
For seven years, I wasn't just his lover. I was the architect of his legitimacy, the woman who wrote the code that cleaned his dirty money. Yet, while I was here cooking his favorite steak, he had married a mob princess to secure her father's territory.
When Dante walked in smelling of expensive scotch and another woman's perfume, he didn't apologize.
"It's just politics," he said, loosening his tie. "You keep your allowance, your position. You just stay in the shadows a little longer."
He looked at me like I was a piece of high-end furniture. When I told him I was leaving, his face darkened.
"You can't resign from the Mafia, Seraphina," he sneered, blocking the door. "If you leave, I will burn everything you have."
He truly believed he was the King on the chessboard. He forgot that I was the one who built the board.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
I simply walked out, opened my encrypted laptop, and dialed the number of the one man Dante feared most.
"I'm cashing out," I said. "And I'm bringing the entire Gallo empire with me." The Ruthless Don's Obsession: You Can't Run
Mafia I walked into the Thorn estate with another man's diamond on my finger, naive enough to think it could shield me from Marcus.
But the Don of the city’s underworld didn't even blink.
He called my engagement ring a "cute trinket" and introduced me to his own fiancée, Chloe, right then and there.
"Love is a fairy tale for children, Ellie," he sneered. "And you are far too old for fairy tales."
I tried to leave with dignity, but the knife twisted deeper. I found my mother’s silver locket—the one he swore to protect with his life—buried in the mud like trash.
He hadn't just rejected me; he had erased me.
Broken, I fled to Florence to marry a man I didn't love, just to escape the suffocation of the estate.
But I couldn't outrun the heartbreak. I collapsed in a foreign apartment, burning with fever, while my fiancé worried more about wedding seating charts than my life.
I thought I was going to die alone.
Until I woke up in a sterile clinic room.
My fiancé was gone.
Standing by my bed, looking like a vengeful god who had just burned down a city to get to me, was Marcus.
He trapped me against the mattress, his eyes dark with a terrifying mix of rage and possession.
"Did you really think you could run from me?" he growled.
"I returned the locket," I whispered, trembling. "We are even."
"Fuck the locket," he said. "You belong to me, Ellie. And I am not leaving without you." The Wife I Refused to Save
Modern My wife was dying, and I refused to save her. That's what everyone in the hospital believed, and what the headlines would scream. The hospital called; Sarah, my wife, was in critical condition after a severe car accident, needing a specialized, uninsured procedure costing half a million dollars.
I said no. The word hung heavy in the air. This wasn't just Sarah's life; it was a choice between her, and the future of my company and hundreds of employees. My terrified in-laws pleaded, "You're comparing your company to your wife's life? To the mother of your child?"
My six-year-old daughter, Lily, tugged at my pants, her innocent eyes filled with tears. "Daddy? Is Mommy going to die?" I told her I had to protect the company for our future, a necessary cruelty. My mother-in-law shrieked accusations, calling me a monster, flinging accusations of how Sarah sacrificed everything for me.
The crowd gathered, their judgment a palpable weight. They whispered, "He won't pay to save his own wife. What a scumbag." A part of me smiled behind my mask of indifference. Let them judge. They were watching the wrong movie, completely unaware of the real plot.
Then, my daughter held out her pink piggy bank, offering all she had. "Daddy, I have money. You can use my money to save Mommy." I knew this was the part I dreaded most, the collateral damage of a wicked plan. This entire tragic drama was meticulously orchestrated, but not by me. And I was about to expose every single one of them. From Appalachian Dirt To Tech Heiress
Modern My first life ended abruptly, with the screech of tires and the brutal impact of a car driven by my younger sister, Stella.
I had always been the compliant one, funding her endless "mistakes" and even giving her the man I loved, Matthew.
As I lay dying, the last thing I heard wasn't an apology, but my parents' voices telling the police, "She was the older sister; she should have been more understanding."
Their words, not the collision, were the ultimate betrayal.
Then, darkness. But not oblivion.
I woke up, seventeen again, surrounded by the familiar scent of pine and damp earth in our Appalachian home.
The horrifying map of my future, burned into my memory, was now a chance for a different path.
This time, I would never again seek their love. This time, I would live only for myself. The Pentagon's Fury
Billionaires My life was perfect. I had a loving husband, Andrew, and our bright, energetic five-year-old son, Caleb. We lived happily in Chicago, a normal American family.
Then, in a screech of tires and a thunderous crash, a low-slung, obscenely yellow Lamborghini, driven by rich kid Barney Hughes, stole them from me. One moment they were alive, the next, crumpled on the asphalt.
But the nightmare didn' t end there. Barney' s father, a powerful real estate magnate, bought off the police, made surveillance footage vanish, and had my family' s bodies illegally cremated.
Every lawyer I approached laughed me out of their office, warning of "professional suicide" against the Hughes empire.
I lost my job, and then Barney sued me for harassment. My world crumbled.
One night, Barney and his thugs broke into my home, beat me mercilessly, shattered every photo of my family, then committed the ultimate desecration: they opened the box of ashes, the stolen remains of my husband and son, and dumped them over my head. "Buy yourself a new kid or something. Get over it," he sneered, before urinating on the floor beside me.
How could this happen in America?
How could a family of heroes, dedicated to service, be murdered and then have their memory so brutally insulted by a corrupt system?
Lying broken on the floor, covered in dust and urine, I suddenly remembered two Medal of Honor recipients and an old promise: "The United States Army does not forget its own." I packed the medals and made a silent vow. My fight had just begun. The 99th Time We Fell Apart
Romance My first life ended alone in a hospital room, not with a bang, but with the quiet hum of an IV.
My husband, Ethan Lester, had spent months tearing me down, flaunting an affair, and relentlessly pursuing a divorce.
It was only after death, in an empty void, that the shattering truth unfolded: Ethan had pancreatic cancer, a secret burden he bore alone.
His cruelty was a desperate, twisted act of love, a brutal attempt to push me away so I wouldn't witness his agonizing decline.
He even took his own life after my funeral, convinced I'd find happiness with my ex.
Then I woke up, alive, the familiar scent of our apartment filling my lungs.
Across from me sat Ethan, divorce papers clutched in his hand, his eyes a mask of indifference.
"This is the 99th time, Jocelyn," he said, "Sign them. My girlfriend is pregnant."
In my past life, those words broke me.
But this time, seeing the subtle tremor in his hand, the deep circles under his eyes, I knew I was facing the same painful charade.
Why would he go to such lengths to push me away?
What kind of love forces such a cruel deception?
I picked up the papers, slowly, deliberately, and tore them in half.
I knew his secret.
And this time, I wouldn't let him die. Don't Mess With The MIT Heiress
Young Adult The car horn blared, a familiar sound mirroring a day that once ended my world. My eyes snapped open to the rain-streaked window – SATs morning, a date etched in my memory, not for the test, but for the beginning of my ruin.
Last time, it began with my 'friend' Jessica' s sweet smile, offering food after the exam. Then, the peanuts. My throat closed. My boyfriend, Liam, sided with her, dismissing it as 'an accident.'
That 'accident' spiraled. Online posts branded me a monster, my tech CEO mother' s reputation shredded, her company attacked by Jessica' s followers. The worst? Dying, isolated and vilified, knowing Jessica orchestrated it all for revenge-her father fired for embezzlement-and for social media clout.
The bitter betrayal still burned. How could I have been so easily destroyed by a calculated lie? I died a villain while she won. But this time, the script was about to flip. I wouldn't be a victim.
An MIT early admission letter, a full scholarship, sat on my desk, secured weeks ago. The SATs, once my undoing, now meant nothing to me. But they meant everything to them. The past was a horrifying ghost, but its lessons were concrete. I was ready to make them pay. My Hand, My Song, My Freedom
Modern The smell hit me first, thick, choking smoke, then Lila' s terrified scream ripped through the festival noise.
Jax, my fiancé, was a blur beside me, his face tight with a desperate need to save her.
He started towards The Swamp Shack, towards the hungry flames devouring the old wooden walls.
My body wanted to lunge, to grab his arm, to scream, "No, Jax, don't!"
But this time, I didn't.
Because I remembered.
I remembered the searing pain as burning wood crashed down, crushing my left hand, destroying my music, obliterating my future, in another life.
I remembered Jax' s face, twisted not with concern for me, but with fury, after Lila was dead and my hand a useless, mangled thing.
"It's your fault, Scarlett! You should have saved her, not me!" his words, a brand on my soul.
His family' s money, a weapon that bled me dry, blackballing me from every gig, every chance I had.
I remembered the suffocating silence of his plantation, the cold dismissal in his eyes every day of our sham marriage.
Oh God, and the smokehouse.
Locked in, the Louisiana summer sun beating down, the air so thick I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, utterly alone.
I gasped, the memory so real I could taste the ash and the terror.
Now, in this life, Jax was yelling Lila' s name again, ready to play the hero, just like before.
But this time the script was mine.
This time, I stepped aside.
I just watched him charge into the inferno, pure indifference a cold comfort.
My hand, my precious hand, was safe.
My music was still mine. CEO's Absurd Love: Limitless Passion
Romance Claire, a pharmacy clerk, was framed for making a mistake, which brought her into Henry’s world. She even ended up having to marry him to compensate for his loss.
Regardless of how hard she tried to explain herself, he just took her words as more trickery, or a part of her evil plan to marry into a rich family.
However, before he knew it, he had already occupied her heart.
Finally, as the misunderstandings are cleared up, and all the hurt became sorrowful echoes of love, where should her love turn? You might like
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." 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!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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