Gui Chen
13 Published Stories
Gui Chen's Books and Stories
The Truth Hidden Beneath Our Bed
Modern For ten years, I believed my husband Adrian was a frugal, hardworking man. We lived modestly, saving every penny while he preached about our tight budget.
Then I found the burner phone hidden under our bed. The top contact wasn't me, his wife, but a woman saved as "My Love ."
The phone revealed his eight-year double life.
He had another family in Austin-a "wife" named Jasmine and a son, Angel. He'd bought them a $1.2 million house and a luxury SUV with our marital assets.
All while telling me we couldn't afford a new dress or swimming lessons for our son, Cameron.
His parents knew everything. They even attended his fake wedding to Jasmine while I was at home, pregnant with their first grandchild.
My entire marriage wasn't just a lie; it was a financial shield for his real family.
So when he came home from his latest "business trip" and asked to take control of my salary to "tie up loose ends," I didn't cry. I simply slid the burner phone across the table. "I've already hired a lawyer, Adrian. And I'm taking back every single penny." The Billionaire\'s Regret
Romance I spent six years pouring my heart, my hidden family fortune, and my shelved art dreams into Ethan’s Silicon Valley startup, "Innovatech." It was my birthday, and a velvet ring box in his jacket pocket made my heart race with anticipation. This was it – the culmination of our love, the proposal I’d been waiting for.
But my world shattered with a single Instagram post: Ethan, on one knee, proposing. Not to me, but to Isabella Rossi, his lifelong "what if," at an exclusive Napa restaurant. The diamond on her finger flashed, blinding me with betrayal.
He later breezed in, claiming Isabella had a rare heart condition, making her "dying wish" his priority. He then publicly humiliated me, appointing her to my suppressed dream role and framing me for corporate theft. In front of our colleagues, he slapped me, callously grinding my precious clay sculpture under his heel, dismissing my pain with a casual "sorry about the coffee."
Six years of unwavering loyalty, reduced to a staged corporate scheme, an outright assault. How could the man I loved believe I was a thief and sabotage my entire life? The injustice burned hotter than the scalding coffee on my arm.
With nowhere left to turn, my father offered a lifeline: Liam Hayes, son of the very venture capitalists who funded Innovatech. My path was clear: New York, a new life, and a fight that was just beginning. Flash Marriage To My Ruthless Billionaire Husband
Romance Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn. The Blind Heiress: Trapped By The Billionaire
Romance Eliza, a blind and pregnant woman, was hiding in a rotting motel room.
The door was suddenly kicked in by Clifford Gray, the ruthless billionaire whose child she carried.
He didn't come to rescue her. Instead, he dragged her to an underground clinic, ordering a forced abortion to protect his wealth.
"The bloodline of the Gray family will never be left to rot in the stomach of a blind rat from the slums."
Strapped to a freezing surgical bed with a scalpel pressed against her throat, Eliza was only spared when a sudden phone call ordered Clifford to marry her for inheritance shares.
But the nightmare had just begun. On their wedding day, Clifford abandoned her, forcing her to be publicly humiliated and married off to a trembling stable boy.
Inside the massive Gray estate, she became the ultimate target. His family mocked her, physically assaulted her, and plotted to destroy her, treating her like a worthless incubator.
They all thought she was just a pathetic, helpless victim who would easily break under their cruelty.
They had no idea she was the sole survivor of the Warren family massacre, secretly armed with a neural interface and lethal senses.
Standing alone in the dark bathroom, Eliza dropped her terrified facade, her unseeing eyes burning with a cold, calculating fire.
She was going to use their underestimation of a blind cripple to tear the Gray empire apart, brick by brick. A Billionaire's Boredom, A Wife's Rise
Romance For three years, I was the perfect wife to tech CEO Atticus Monroe, trading my architecture career to become his personal chef and perfect hostess.
My world shattered when I brought him an eight-hour bone broth and overheard him confess to a friend.
"I'm just... bored."
His boredom quickly turned into an affair with his ex-fiancée, Isla. He spent nights at her apartment, then came home to blame me for his unhappiness. At a family gala, when I finally stood up to their public humiliation, Atticus grabbed my arm so hard it left a deep, purple bruise.
He had cheated, humiliated, and hurt me, yet he refused my pleas for a divorce, desperate to maintain his perfect image.
But his grandfather saw the bruise. He saw the video of Atticus and Isla. After punishing his own grandson, he handed me a check.
"Go build the life you deserve."
So I did. I filed for divorce to reclaim the life, and the career, I had sacrificed for him. My Husband, My Enemy
Modern I suspended a five-year-old student named Leo for pushing another child down the stairs. As the head child psychologist at an elite academy, I was used to difficult children, but there was a chilling emptiness in Leo's eyes.
That evening, I was abducted in the faculty parking lot, dragged into a van, and beaten unconscious.
I woke up in a hospital, every inch of my body aching. A kind nurse let me use her phone to call my husband, Franco. When he didn't answer, I opened his social media page, my heart pounding with fear for him.
But he was fine. A new video, posted just thirty minutes ago, showed him in a hospital room, gently peeling an apple for the little boy I had suspended.
"Daddy," Leo whined. "That teacher was mean to me."
My husband's voice, the voice I had loved for a decade, was a soothing murmur. "I know, buddy. Daddy already took care of it. She won't ever bother you again."
The world tilted on its axis. The attack wasn't random. The man who had vowed to protect me forever, my loving husband, had tried to have me killed. For another woman's child. Our entire life was a lie.
Then the police delivered the final blow: our five-year marriage had never been legally registered. As I lay there, broken, I remembered the wedding gift he'd given me—40% of his company. He thought it was a symbol of his ownership.
He was about to find out it was his death sentence. The CEO's Cruel Comeback
Romance Seven years ago, I was Jocelyn Fuller, a girl desperate for love, standing in front of Ethan Lester' s apartment, begging him not to leave.
He looked down at me, his face cold, and uttered words that shattered my world: "Don't be naive, Jocelyn. We're from different worlds."
He took the money my father offered and vanished, leaving me so broken I tried to end my life twice.
The devastation didn't just fade; it festered, hardening me into the CEO of Fuller Properties, a name synonymous with power in New York real estate.
Now, Ethan Lester stands outside my skyscraper, looking up with desperate hope, roles agonizingly reversed.
I made him wait for five hours in the freezing wind, just as I had waited for him, relishing the chilling echo of my past pain.
I wanted to know why he had abandoned me, why he chose money over our love, and why he looked so utterly defeated now.
This time, the game was on my terms, and his payment was just beginning in a meticulously cruel revenge. The Woman Who Saved Him Twice
Romance The poison in my veins had two years left, just like me.
Two years I' d spent trapped in a gilded cage by Ethan Lester, the man I once loved.
He believed I betrayed him, orchestrated his family' s slaughter, a lie I carried to protect him from a truth that would have led him to self-destruction.
I endured his hatred, the scars, the daily degradations, all while my life slowly ebbed away.
Then came the night Sabrina, his new woman, a viper wearing a sweetheart's smile, orchestrated the unspeakable.
She lured my little brother, Andrew, the only innocent left in my world, to the compound.
She planned to drain his blood for a twisted art project.
I found him, strapped down, and I screamed for her to take me instead.
But Ethan, blind with rage and manipulated by Sabrina' s lies, saw my reaction as defiance.
He threatened Andrew, trying to extract a "confession" from me.
My truth would kill him; my silence guaranteed my brother's fate.
He offered me everything I' d ever wanted – a future, marriage – if I just confessed.
I couldn't.
Sabrina, with a subtle push, guided his hand, and the blade sliced across Andrew' s throat right before my eyes.
My world shattered as I watched him die, Ethan' s hand, bloodied, still on the knife.
As I lay dying beside my brother's cooling body, my last words shattered Ethan' s delusions, revealing the true traitors.
Now that it' s all over, all I want to know is: Can a man who destroyed everything he claimed to love ever atone for the irreparable damage he caused? Too Late For Regret, Mr. Hayes
Romance The screech of tires was my familiar lullaby, echoing another broken bone, another shattered illusion.
I was Sarah, the trophy wife, trapped in a gilded cage, enduring a curse of endless resurrections.
My husband, Ethan, always attentive to his perfect Ashley, had just shoved me into the path of a speeding sedan.
For her, of course.
He didn't care that I lay mangled on the asphalt, only annoyed by the inconvenience, the mess.
Ashley, his scheming mistress, later set a trap: a near-fatal allergic reaction, and then framed me to ensure my "dissection" at a remote research facility.
They believed they were finally ridding themselves of me, sending me to a permanent end.
But what they didn't know was my secret, my bitter hope: 99 deaths down, one to go.
Each resurrection had chipped away at my soul, leaving only a hollow anticipation for the final, permanent end.
This was it. The hundredth.
The profound relief of true oblivion, of peace, washed over me as they led me away.
I was finally free, not knowing that my truest liberation would come not from the permanent death I craved, but from a rebirth I never expected. His Wife's Other Life
Modern Michael thought he had built a good life. His son, Leo, a brilliant debate champion, was headed to Yale on a full scholarship, a testament to hard work. Michael, a humble handyman, had willingly sacrificed his own dreams for his wife Jessica' s demanding, "modestly paid" corporate career.
Then the phone rang. A multi-car pile-up. Leo, critical.
Michael frantically tried to reach Jessica, but she was unreachable. He tracked her phone across the country to a lavish Miami yacht party, where she was cheering on her "nephew" Ryan with extravagant gifts. When she finally did answer, her voice was sharp, dismissing him because she was in a "very important business meeting."
Leo died.
How could the woman he loved, the one he sacrificed everything for, be so cold? He overheard her casually refer to their shared life as "slumming it," a revelation that shattered his world. Weeks later, he learned that Ryan, the spoiled relative Jessica adored, was responsible for the accident that killed Leo. Yet, Jessica protected him, openly preferring him over their dead son.
His entire existence with Jessica, a profound, agonizing lie. Who was this woman? And why had she hidden immense wealth while he struggled?
Michael found a hidden bank statement, zeros stretching endlessly, confirming decades of deception. He had lost his son, his wife, and his life as he knew it. With his body failing from stress-induced illness, Michael chose to leave, walking away from the ruins of his past, seeking a different kind of peace. The Monster in My Sleep
Horror Our wedding invitations were chosen, promising a beautiful future with Mike, my college sweetheart of eight years.
Then, Mike arrived, face ashen, eyes haunted.
He thrust an envelope at me: "I can't do this, Sarah."
Pure terror consumed his face as he fled.
That was just the first loop.
Friends whispered about "what they saw" and abandoned me.
I lost my job to "disturbing incidents."
My beloved cat mysteriously died, then my mother collapsed, eyes wide with paralyzing fear.
My father, seeing something monstrous in me, whispered, "It's better this way," as he smothered me.
Each time, I woke on "breakup day" again, trapped in a horrifying cycle.
Everyone I loved vanished, terrified of *me*, yet I had no idea why.
What was I?
What was happening when I slept that drove them to such profound fear?
Desperate, I wired my apartment with hidden cameras.
The footage I played back shattered my world: *I* was the monster.
Crawling on all fours, vacant eyes, unnatural speed, guttural sounds – it was utterly terrifying. 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. 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?" 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. 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." 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!" The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. Zero Alimony: The CEO's Runaway Wife
Yue Manshuang I was hemorrhaging severely on the operating table, risking my life to deliver the billionaire Carlisle heir.
Through the unsealed door, I heard my husband Axel's cold, mechanical voice giving a ruthless order to the panicked doctors.
"Prioritize the heir. Above all else."
The ice spread through my veins as he reduced my entire existence to a mere vessel. After I barely survived the emergency delivery, his mother marched into my room, telling me I should be on my knees thanking God they kept me alive long enough to fulfill my only purpose. His sister barged in just to scream at me, calling me a manipulative gold-digger. And Axel? He didn't ask about my pain. He simply stared at me like a CEO evaluating a damaged asset, eventually kidnapping me from the hospital and threatening to use his Wall Street power to ensure I would never see my newborn son again.
I had secretly loved this man for years, swallowing my pride and enduring his toxic family's abuse, only to realize that in my most vulnerable moment, my life meant absolutely nothing to him. Why did I ever think I could melt his icy heart?
My heart simply stopped breaking and turned to solid stone. I bypassed his billions, called a top-tier litigator, and handed Axel a zero-alimony divorce agreement, waiving every single cent of his fortune just to make a clean break. The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife
Meng Xinyu I stood in the darkest corner of the Pierre Hotel’s ballroom, my cheap polyester dress itching against my skin while my wristband buzzed with a DARPA Priority Red alert.
In front of the city’s elite, my fiancé Bryce Calloway took the stage, not to toast our future, but to publicly end our engagement and announce he was with my sister, Chloe.
The room turned on me instantly, a hundred pairs of eyes pinning me down with pity and disgust as they physically backed away like I was contagious.
When I returned home, my mother shattered a crystal vase at my feet, screaming that I was a humiliation and a "dropout" who didn't deserve a cent of the family fortune.
Chloe and Bryce mocked me, laughing when I told them I had a mission with the National Security Agency, convinced I was either a pathological liar or a low-level criminal.
They watched in horror as a black, unmarked military helicopter descended on our backyard to extract me, yet they still chose to believe I was being arrested for drug trafficking.
They saw a pathetic girl who couldn't even parallel park, never realizing I was Dr. Nova Vance, the lead physicist behind the world's first successful fusion reactor.
To secure funding for my research and gain a "fortress" of a name, I signed a thirty-day marriage contract with the arrogant billionaire Roman Knight.
He treats me like a fraud, convinced I’m a gold-digger who failed out of college, while I quietly run global energy simulations from his guest bedroom.
He has no idea that the "loser" he’s forced to live with is the same anonymous grandmaster who has been ruthlessly crushing him in online strategy games for months.
"The contract is active," I told him, looking past his expensive suit.
"But don't expect me to be your maid." 
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