He Shuyao
11 Published Stories
He Shuyao's Books and Stories
Goodbye Ex, Hello Billionaire Husband
Modern After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court.
He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine.
"Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust.
I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning.
To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar.
When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate.
Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground.
"You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel.
Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline.
Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair.
I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family.
Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates.
My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror. The Genius Heiress' Ruthless Divorce Revenge
Modern Harlow had endured three years of a loveless marriage, funding her husband Beck's life and secretly writing the AI code that saved his failing company.
But when she walked into her family's private memorial library, she found Beck having sex with his mistress, Fallon, right on top of her late father's antique desk.
Instead of showing guilt, Beck proudly announced that Fallon had given him a son and heir.
He demanded Harlow accept the bastard child and stay married just to maintain his perfect public image.
To make matters worse, Fallon was actually a corporate spy from a rival company, actively stealing Harlow's family legacy while Beck willingly handed over the company secrets.
When Harlow demanded an immediate divorce, Beck laughed in her face.
"I will never sign the divorce papers! I will drag this out in court until you bleed dry!"
Looking at her father's crushed pocket watch and the two parasites desecrating her sacred home, Harlow's shock turned into a freezing, absolute clarity.
How could she have spent three years supporting a selfish hypocrite who would so ruthlessly destroy her parents' legacy?
Harlow calmly packed her bags, threw his bespoke suits in the trash, and walked out the door.
She went straight to Fitzgerald Monroe, the most ruthless billionaire corporate lawyer in New York, ready to use her secret identity to make Beck lose everything. Reborn From Fire: The Billionaire's Obsession
Billionaires The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand. Reborn From Ashes: The Vengeful Heiress
Billionaires I was the heiress to a real estate empire, celebrating my engagement to Douglas at our Manhattan penthouse.
But when I stepped into the master bedroom, I caught him sleeping with my best friend, Krystle.
Before I could even react, Douglas forced me to sign away my family's entire trust fund.
He held up a tablet and forced me to watch a live feed of my parents being burned alive in our Hamptons estate.
"The fire hasn't reached the main house yet, sign it and I'll call them off," he lied.
As soon as the ink dried, he beat me to the ground and locked me in the soundproof study.
He poured twenty-three-year-old whiskey on the carpet and dropped a lit cigar.
"You could have walked away with nothing, but alive," he sneered.
He left me to burn to death while he and Krystle went back to our engagement party to drink champagne.
As the flames melted my skin and my bones shattered against the bulletproof glass, I couldn't understand it.
How could the man who promised me forever brutally exterminate my entire family just for money?
But I didn't die in that fire.
Three years later, with a reconstructed face and a new identity as the mysterious global designer Alice Moreau, I returned to New York.
Watching Douglas and Krystle flaunt the wealth they stole from my family's ashes, I smiled behind my black veil.
It was time to make them pay with everything they had. His Wife, His Death Sentence
Romance Today was my fifth wedding anniversary. It was also the day a doctor told me I had, at most, three months left to live.
My single remaining kidney was failing, a complication from the surgery where I gave my other kidney to my wife, Senator Eleanor Horton.
Then I saw her, walking out of the Capitol building, not alone. She was with Hudson Stewart, her college sweetheart, and he kissed her, a long, deep kiss, right there on the steps.
Later, Hudson found me, offering five million dollars to disappear. He looked at me with contempt, like I was something he' d scraped off his shoe.
I remembered overhearing Eleanor tell Hudson, "It's not love. It's... gratitude. A responsibility." My love was a commodity, my sacrifice a transaction.
A sharp pain shot through my side. My phone buzzed. A text from Hudson: a picture of him and Eleanor in my bed, captioned, She's mine now. Always was.
I was Jefferson Byrd, a kid from foster care, who had loved her for ten years, since I saved her life with my kidney. I thought her gratitude had turned into love. I was a fool.
My phone rang. It was Eleanor, her voice fake, promising a surprise.
Then I heard Hudson's voice, and a kiss. The line went dead.
Any last, stupid flicker of hope I had died with it. The Price of a Lie
Romance The dull ache in my side was a souvenir from the back-alley clinic, but the briefcase in my hand, filled with $500,000, promised a future. It was my life savings, the sale of everything I owned, and even a kidney sold on the black market. All for Ethan, all to save the man I loved from experimental cancer.
As I reached his luxury apartment, number 1208, I heard his laugh from inside. It wasn't the gentle laugh I knew. It was loud, arrogant, and cruel. "She sold a kidney! Can you believe the gullibility?" Ethan boomed, followed by laughter. "She handed over every penny she had, just like that."
My blood ran cold. The heavy briefcase felt like it was filled with stones. Then Olivia Hayes' slick voice chimed in: "I told you she was the perfect target. That little orphan girl, so desperate for a family she' d do anything." Another voice slurred, "Heir to the entire Miller Tech fortune, and you' ve got this chick selling her organs for you. That' s next-level." I peeked through the cracked door. Ethan, vibrant and healthy, smirked, sipping whiskey. "It was Olivia' s idea, really. A way to get back at her for winning that art scholarship she wanted. A little punishment."
My knees buckled. The briefcase slipped from my numb fingers, crashing to the marble floor. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills, my life' s savings and the price of my flesh, spilled out like a sick joke.
Every word was a hammer blow to my reality. The love, the late-night talks, the shared dreams-all a meticulously crafted performance. My entire two-year relationship, the one solid thing in my life, was a lie. A game.
But then, a cold, hard anger began to burn through the devastation. I would not be a victim. In that grimy restroom, I made a decision: I would reclaim my life. I called my art professor. And when Ethan called, I answered, my voice terrifyingly calm. "I' m on my way," I said. "Just got held up." I was about to show him just how much I had learned. The Fire That Wasn't An Accident
Romance The smell of fresh paint and new beginnings once filled my home, a modern marvel I'd designed myself.
Eight months pregnant, every kick from my baby boy was a promise of the future Ethan and I were building, a future meant to erase the rubble of a past fire that had stolen my family and left me scarred.
Then, my husband, Ethan, appeared on national television, not with the triumph of overcoming tragedy, but with a confession: he had been wrong, and my loyalty in defending him all those years ago was "misplaced."
His words painted me as a liar who had protected a guilty man, shattering my hard-won peace and leading to the immediate, terrifying loss of my child.
Left heartbroken and drugged in the hospital, a hushed conversation revealed an unthinkable betrayal: my deceased baby had been conceived with the eggs of Leah Chen, the very woman Ethan had just publicly wronged, and she spoke of "our daughter" with Ethan, confirming a monstrous deceit.
Was my son-my real son-truly gone, or was this yet another layer to the lies woven by the man who claimed to love me?
Forced into therapy by Ethan with Leah' s husband, Dr. Ben Carter, I stumbled upon a recording of Ethan confessing his hatred for me, seeing our marriage as punishment, and learned with chilling certainty that the fire that killed my family was no accident, but a consequence of a truth I unknowingly distorted.
Publicly shamed and professionally destroyed, I was left discarded, labeled "Crazy Ava," but from the ashes of my broken life, a ferocious determination was born: I would uncover the full extent of their deception and make them burn for what they had done. His Lies, Her New Life
Modern For ten years, I sacrificed everything, working night shifts at a greasy diner to put my adopted son, Kevin, through college.
It was all for his future, a life I never had.
But on his graduation day, standing proudly on stage, he publicly denounced me, calling me a "disgrace" and claiming his real mother was a wealthy socialite.
He then had me arrested for kidnapping, twisting my years of love into a story of obsession and greed.
I watched him embrace her, leaving me to face accusations of being a "crazy woman" and "kidnapper" as security dragged me away.
The trial was a sham, fueled by his lies and his birth mother' s accusations.
I was convicted and sentenced to prison.
The years there were hell, filled with beatings and torment from other inmates.
I died alone on a cold concrete floor, my last breath a whisper of his name.
Then, with a sharp jolt, my eyes flew open.
I wasn' t in that filthy cell.
I was back in my old, cramped apartment.
And there he was, fifteen-year-old Kevin, his face a mask of practiced desperation.
"Please, Mom? Please take me to the city? I can' t stay here anymore. I' ll do anything."
It was the exact day I had sealed my fate in my first life.
But this time, it would be different. The Betrayal of My Childhood Sweetheart
Romance Liam was my world for twelve years, my best friend, my boyfriend, the constant, warm presence who knew my every preference and always had my back. Every thoughtful gesture, every patient explanation, affirmed my trust in him.
Then, a whispered conversation behind a slightly ajar door shattered everything. "Only when Chloe falls will everyone truly see you," he murmured, his voice laced with the tenderness I thought was reserved for me, but directed at Emily. "You' re the one who deserves everything."
The kindness, the attention, the love-it was all a calculated performance. I was a pawn in his cruel game, a stepping stone to elevate Emily. The truth hit me with physical force, the air in the hallway thick and unbreathable. Every affectionate "Oh, Chloe" for my clumsiness twisted into contempt.
How could twelve years of shared life be a lie? How could the boy who painted tiny moon craters for my science project, who found a first-edition of my favorite book, orchestrate my public humiliation and downfall? The betrayal was too deep, too vast, to comprehend.
I stumbled back, grief and fury battling for dominance. But as the tears streamed down my face, a cold, clear certainty solidified: I wouldn't fall. I wouldn't be his pawn. My life with him was over, and I would escape, no matter the cost. Too Late, My Prince: Her Choice, His Ruin
Romance I stood by the French doors, the coolness barely a comfort.
Tonight, at the Kensington gala, my fate was to be sealed.
As the heir to the discreetly powerful principality of Eldoria, my choice of husband would secure a powerful alliance.
Just like before.
A wave of dizzying clarity hit me, a memory so sharp it tasted like ash.
My past life.
I had poured everything into Ethan Kensington, my cousin, my first love.
My Eldorian influence, my vast fortune – all to make him governor.
He won.
Then he found Chloe Hayes.
He changed.
He became obsessed with her, twisting every slight she felt into a weapon against me.
He blamed me, the "cold princess," for her career struggles, her insecurities.
So, he orchestrated my ruin.
A public smear campaign, vicious and relentless.
Economic attacks that bled Eldoria dry.
He watched, smiling, as my life ended in disgrace, alone.
His voice, cold as ice, echoed: "punishment for meddling with his love for Chloe."
How could someone I loved and sacrificed everything for turn so utterly, maliciously against me?
How could my own resources be weaponized to destroy me and my country?
The injustice burned, a brand on my soul.
But then, I opened my eyes.
I was back.
Reborn at this very gala, the precise moment where my destruction began.
This time, I knew the game.
This time, I would rewrite my destiny.
Liam, his mournful face a beacon in my memory, would be my anchor.
My retribution starts now. 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. 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!" Bound To The Disabled Apocalyptic Tycoon
Star Cruiser Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire.
Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses.
As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw.
Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension.
When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back.
"Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!"
Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland.
Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood.
Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything?
Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas.
She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off.
This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse. 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!" Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon
Piao Guo Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone.
Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat.
"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."
"You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are."
When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice.
Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters.
They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff.
To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance.
Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie.
The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage.
Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family.
But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil. The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Zillionaire
Felix Turner Isabel returned to her penthouse after a grueling seventeen-hour flight, only to be greeted by the cloying scent of another woman's perfume.
Her husband of three years, Darius, sat waiting with divorce papers. He wanted to marry his mistress, Dove, and offered Isabel a measly one million dollars, treating her like a greedy charity case from the Rust Belt who should just take the payout and vanish.
But Isabel didn't want his pity. She demanded the four percent equity stake in his family's company that she rightfully owned—a stake worth 1.5 billion dollars. When she revealed this, the wealthy family turned vicious. They refused to acknowledge that she had secretly saved their empire from bankruptcy years ago. Instead, Darius and Dove orchestrated a brutal public execution. They ambushed her at a top law firm, spreading malicious lies that her investment money was stolen from a Ponzi scheme. They even hired a fake victim to scream at her in the lobby, successfully terrifying Isabel's lawyer into dropping her case on the spot.
She had quietly rescued their entire legacy, yet they were willing to frame her as a criminal and destroy her life just to keep her rightful billions.
As Darius and his mistress gloated over her absolute ruin, the most ruthless and feared lawyer in New York suddenly stepped in front of Isabel, his voice cutting through the dead silence.
"Your case, I'll take it." Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
王舒 When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." 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. 
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