Luoye Fenfei
10 Published Stories
Luoye Fenfei's Books and Stories
Burned Alive, Reborn Anew
Mafia The smell of gasoline and burning flesh clung to my last breath, a horrific perfume of my own end.
My wife, Olivia, and her grandmother, the woman I' d sacrificed everything to save, celebrated my agonizing death.
"You staged the kidnapping, you killed my lover and my son, how dare you still be alive!" Olivia shrieked, as flames licked at the cage they' d locked me in.
Her grandmother, my supposed savior, added, "You couldn' t give me a child, so you targeted my grandson, I' ll teach you a lesson you\'ll never forget!"
I died watching them smile, consumed by fire, bewildered by their monstrous accusations.
I had given my family' s entire fortune to rescue her grandmother, even taken multiple stab wounds in the process.
The media had hailed me as a hero, "the ultimate proof of our love," but it meant nothing to them.
Olivia' s lover, Ethan Hayes, jealous of the attention, had tragically drowned with their son, Lucas, and they blamed me.
They smiled as I burned alive, a fool who gave everything and received only contempt.
Then, a frantic, insistent ringing pierced the fiery memory.
My eyes snapped open.
I wasn't in a burning cage; I was in my bed, the one I shared with Olivia.
The calendar on my phone screamed a terrifying truth: it was the fifth anniversary of my marriage, the very day her grandmother was kidnapped.
I was back, forced to relive the nightmare.
But this time, I wouldn't be the fuel for their fire.
I silenced the phone, the urgent ringing of the kidnappers cut short.
This time, their fate was their own. Eight Years Lost, Now Truly Free
Modern I gave my boyfriend, Blake, eight years of my life. I was his loyal paralegal and devoted partner, sacrificing a promotion and even a child for the future he promised us.
Then I overheard the truth from outside his office. He called me "damaged goods," laughing with the woman he gave my job to.
His cruelty escalated. He publicly humiliated me, then banished me to the firm's basement archives. When intruders attacked me there, I called him, bleeding and begging for help.
"You're being dramatic," he said, and hung up.
He left me to die. The trauma caused me to miscarry the baby I never knew I was carrying.
Lying in a hospital bed, I saw his social media post: a smiling selfie with her, captioned #Blessed.
That was the moment I decided to disappear. He thought he had broken me. He was wrong. He had just set me free. The Tainted Lover's Cold Comeback
Mafia I was Grayson Deleon' s secret weapon and his lover. I took a bullet for him, saved him from a cartel, and in return, he promised me a secret marriage, a life where it would always be us.
But on the night of my secret Juilliard graduation, I watched from the wings as he got down on one knee for my best friend, Camilla.
He called her "pure," a word he used to contrast with my "taint" from the cartel rescue. A leaked video later proved this wasn't just a betrayal; it was a conspiracy. I heard them laughing about their "perfectly executed plan" to get rid of me, the "distraction."
The man whose life I had saved had orchestrated my public humiliation, discarding me because of the very scars I earned for him.
My world was ashes, but from them, something cold and hard formed. I made a single call to a heritage network I'd been using to find my lost family. It was time to disappear and never be his secret again. His Obsession, Her Freedom
Modern Three years of marriage, three years of silent fury with Blake Harrison.
Then, a nightmare: kidnapped, tortured, and brutally murdered by thugs.
But instead of the afterlife, I woke up to my own funeral party, where my loving husband was celebrating his freedom with my sister, Amelia, accusing me of faking my own death.
My family, the Millers, the very people who had once claimed to love me, stood by, silent witnesses to my humiliation, only to later join Blake in discrediting me, sending me to a mental institution.
It broke me, but in that shattering, a new strength forged; I embraced my "death," watching my essence vanish in a golden glow, ready to finally be free.
Three years later, I returned, a princess with no memory, only to be dragged back into his twisted obsession, discovering he had preserved my supposed corpse and turned my suffering into a perverse play.
He confessed his sick love, his manipulations, even admitting he' d let me be tortured to "test" my affection.
I tried to fight, to turn his own dagger against him, but he only reveled in the pain, until General Alex Vance, a man connected to my forgotten past, burst in and rescued me.
Now, between Blake's renewed tyranny and Alex's baffling devotion, I'm finding pieces of a life I never knew, a history of longing and betrayal that demands to be explored and avenged. From Heartbreak To Heroine: My New Boss
Romance I drew a thick red circle around the date, marking my escape from eight years of crushing dedication to an architectural firm-and to David Chen, the untouchable senior partner I' d foolishly adored since day one.
But my whispered plans for freedom were abruptly shattered when David, in a bizarre twist of fate, started showing a new intern, Emily White, the unguarded warmth I'd always yearned for, culminating in the gut-wrenching discovery that he was buying her an engagement ring.
Reeling from this brutal blow, I gave my notice only to be immediately thrust into a crisis at a flooding construction site-one where David, the project lead, was inexplicably unreachable and then, upon his sudden arrival, inexplicably threw me under the bus, suspending me for my "recklessness."
I couldn't fathom his sudden, public betrayal, leaving me utterly bewildered and heartbroken; why, after my desperate attempt to save his project, would he punish me so severely, especially when he'd hugged me moments before, a gesture that defied his usual coldness?
With no other choice, and my career destroyed, I found myself accepting a forced transfer to a new city, unwittingly walking into the dangerous heart of a DEA task force, where the only thing more shocking than my unexpected new life was discovering David Chen standing there, my new boss, ready to lead the charge. A System's Cruel Joke
Sci-fi My body was a battlefield of pain, every nerve screaming as I grasped for control. A chilling, mechanical voice echoed in my mind, a death sentence: "Mission failed. Countdown initiated: 30 days."
I was Olivia, or rather, the soul inhabiting her body, given a second chance by a mysterious System to mend fractured relationships with Daniel and Ethan. I' d poured my heart into earning their affection, and for a time, I succeeded. We laughed, we shared meals, we were a family once more. My life extended, filled with a joy I' d never known. But then Clara arrived.
Introduced as a long-lost cousin, she systematically dismantled everything. Charming, fragile, and a master manipulator, she twisted their love, turning their protective instincts to her, casting me as the jealous villain. My carefully earned affection points plummeted, and with them, my health. The pain began, a constant, gnawing reminder of their betrayal. Every attempt to remind them of our bond was met with accusation, and every tear from Clara sealed my fate.
How could they be so blind? So utterly consumed by her act that they couldn' t see the real me, dying before their eyes? Was the past we shared, the love we'd built, truly so easily erased?
As the countdown relentlessly ticked, a grim acceptance settled upon me. I was losing everything, abandoned by the very people I was fighting to live for. The fight was gone. But then, a cruel knock at the door – Daniel' s voice, impatient and cold. It was time for my final act. My Grave, His Madness
Fantasy My funeral was just weeks ago, but as a ghost, I, Elara, the Governor's wife, was forced to watch the wake from the corner of my own grand ballroom.
My husband, Governor Marcus Thorne, a man whose entire career was built on my family's name and money, wasn't grieving; he was seething, convinced I had faked my death.
He believed I was hiding somewhere in our sprawling estate, playing a cruel game to deny his trusted chief of staff, Izzy, a life-saving bone marrow transplant.
But Izzy, a woman I had once taken under my wing, was lying.
Her supposed illness was a meticulously orchestrated ruse designed to deceive Marcus, fueling his obsession to find me.
As an invisible spirit, I agonizingly witnessed Marcus' s escalating madness: he systematically destroyed my family' s legacy, fired loyal staff, and brutally tormented my ten-year-old brother, Leo, all to force me out of a hiding place that didn't exist.
His depravity culminated in the desecration of my grave, only for my true, decomposing body to be dismissed by his paid medical examiner as a "random corpse."
How could my brilliant, ambitious husband be so utterly blind, a puppet in a macabre performance designed to destroy everything I held dear?
What sinister motive drove Izzy to such extreme lengths, and why was I, even in death, still the target of this malicious charade?
It wasn't until Leo, with a final, heartbreaking act of defiance, revealed the unique surgical pin embedded in my desecrated remains that Marcus's world shattered, finally exposing the horrifying truth of his own monstrous actions and setting the stage for Izzy' s chilling, triumphant reveal of her decades-long revenge and the complete collapse of his empire. His Betrayal, Her Bloom
Fantasy For centuries, I, Elara, the ancient Guardian of Redwood Creek, tied my very soul to the immense Patriarch redwood, silently protecting the Harrison family through a pact they barely understood.
James Harrison, the family heir, once seemed to respect my beloved tree and me, showing a youthful kindness that warmed my ancient heart.
But when his fiancée, Brenda Van Doren, saw nothing but lumber and obstacles in the ancient redwoods, James, once reverent, coldly ordered my life tree cut down.
Each scream of the chainsaw ripped through my essence, forcing me to watch as my centuries of life and power drained away with the felled Patriarch.
James, with Brenda by his side, mocked my agonizing pain, then further humiliated me, treating me as a mere servant and even trying to extract my very life force for Brenda' s fleeting vanity.
The centuries of silent devotion and sacrifice I'd poured into his family felt utterly wasted, reduced to a performance for their twisted entertainment.
How could the boy I had subtly guided, whose prosperity I had secretly ensured, turn to such heartless cruelty, dismissing my existence as mere superstition?
The betrayal didn't just break my pact; it shattered my being, leaving me on the brink of utter dissolution, wondering if any of his supposed care was ever real.
However, just as my fragile form began to dissipate, an ancient call from the true heart of the forest beckoned, igniting a powerful transformation within me as I ascended into a true Forest Guardian.
Now reborn, I will reclaim what was stolen and bring a reckoning to those who dared to desecrate the sacred. The Billionaire's Proxy Bride
Billionaires My life was a picture-perfect dream.
At 21, married to the successful real estate titan Marcus Thorne, I lived in a Manhattan penthouse fit for royalty.
He adored me, called me his "Muse," showering me with exquisite art and personal gestures.
I was pregnant, and our future, with its "little masterpiece" on the way, felt utterly secure.
Then I found a hidden compartment in Marcus’s antique desk, revealing a chilling secret.
Inside, a leather-bound scrapbook held dozens of photos of a woman strikingly similar to me—Isabelle Vance.
A faded concert ticket, inscribed "For Izzy, my only dream, my eternal muse," confirmed my worst fear.
My entire relationship, every tender word, every grand gesture, was a meticulously crafted lie, a painful echo of his past love.
Humiliation and devastation washed over me, a physical blow to my gut.
I, his beloved "Muse," was merely a stand-in.
Our unborn child, conceived in this grand deception, twisted my insides.
Brad, Marcus’s best friend, accidentally revealed the truth: "Izzy’s back! Thorne’s already ditching the pregnant kid-bride!"
Isabelle herself then flooded my phone with gloating photos and videos of her and Marcus, reliving their old haunts.
Every cherished gift, every thoughtful act, was revealed to be a cruel mimicry of his love for her.
I was trapped in a gilded cage built on a lie.
How could I possibly live with this soul-crushing betrayal?
Who was I, truly, if my entire existence within this marriage had been a substitute?
The raw despair was unbearable, eclipsing everything.
My resolve hardened, brutal and swift.
I walked out of my illusionary life, leaving New York and Marcus Thorne, and began the painful process of reclaiming my own future. You might like
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Fonz Nadherny I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." Marrying His Rival: The Ex-Fiancé's Nightmare
Moria Anninger I was the "Caged Canary" of the underworld, a biological asset designed to merge two crime families. My fiancé, Bryant Barnes, didn't love me. He loved the power I brought, and he loved his mistress, Kalia.
The night Kalia broke into my penthouse and stomped on my hand, crushing the bones and my fashion career, Bryant didn't help me. He told the police she was my guest and warned me not to embarrass him with a cast.
That was just the beginning. When Kalia lied about feeling unsafe, Bryant dangled me off a balcony. When she faked a kidnapping, he locked me in an industrial freezer for six hours until I turned blue. And when I fell into the marina, he swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown in the freezing water.
He destroyed my body and my dignity for a woman who was stealing my designs and faking a pregnancy. He thought I was just a broken obligation he could discard.
But he made a fatal mistake. He didn't make sure I was dead.
I dragged myself out of the water and made a call to his greatest rival.
On the night of our grand merger, I walked onto the stage wearing royal blue instead of white. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal the scars he gave me, looked him dead in the eye, and grabbed the microphone.
"I hereby terminate my engagement to Bryant Barnes. And I am proud to announce my betrothal to the true King of this city." His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Artist Returns
Zaccaria Linn On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table.
Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen.
"Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over."
I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward.
Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant.
She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest.
As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me.
He hugged her.
"It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you."
The betrayal didn't stop there.
When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police.
When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations.
He declined the call.
He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife.
That was the moment the chain broke.
As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come.
I opened the door and jumped into the dark.
Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement.
Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one. Revenge Is Sweet: Marrying His Worst Enemy
CHRISTINE ROBINSON I was staring at the two pink lines on the plastic stick, trembling with the terrifying joy of carrying the heir to the New York underworld’s most ruthless faction.
Then the intercom buzzed, and a voice splintered my world.
"The little art student actually thinks I'm going to marry her? It was just a game to pass the time while you were in Europe, Estella."
I froze.
My boyfriend, Holden, was in the next room, laughing with the daughter of his rival.
He explained that I was just a "clean civilian image" he needed to secure a business deal. Now that the deal was signed, he was dumping the "stray" to marry the "Queen."
I tried to run, but freedom only lasted forty-eight hours.
Holden didn't just break my heart; he turned my terror into content.
He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair at the edge of a cliff, and forced me to choose between my life and his new fiancée's.
Then, he pushed me off the edge.
As gravity snatched me, I heard him laughing.
I landed on a stunt airbag. It was just a "social experiment." A sick prank for his amusement.
"Don't be so dramatic, Kenia," he called down. "It's just a game."
He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a prop in his life.
But he forgot that I knew his secrets.
I dragged my injured body to a payphone and dialed the one number Holden told me to fear—the rival Don, Gael Simpson.
"It's Kenia," I whispered, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "I'm calling in the debt." Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse
Hu Minxue For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York.
I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him.
But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash.
In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress.
He forced me to watch him court her.
At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her.
He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain.
He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life.
I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god.
I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole.
He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps.
So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother.
I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars.
I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia.
By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost. Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him
SHANA GRAY I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father.
I was twenty years old.
He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant.
He chose her. He always chose her.
And then, I woke up.
Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for.
This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice.
He didn't know he was talking to a ghost.
He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal.
He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder.
That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry.
She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts.
So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie.
I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane.
But I will not be a victim.
This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter.
This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain. 
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