Qing Hua
15 Published Stories
Qing Hua's Books and Stories
I Took Half, He Kept His Queen
Mafia For five years, I was the loyal shadow behind Dominic Falcone, the ruthless Don of the Cosa Nostra.
But for the third year in a row, he forgot my birthday.
Instead, I watched him scrape my untouched birthday cake into a thermos.
"This is for Elena. She is having a severe panic attack."
With those cold words, he rushed off to comfort his Consigliere's fragile daughter.
He always claimed Elena was just a ward he was sworn by blood to protect.
Yet, he gave her the custom armored SUV he bought as my compensatory gift.
He shared a drink from her straw in front of his soldiers, letting her publicly mock my place in his life.
During cartel shootouts or when I was burning with a severe fever, his fierce protection was solely reserved for her, leaving me to fend for myself.
I used to think his emotional distance was simply the heavy burden of a Mafia Boss.
I couldn't understand how a man who once claimed me with terrifying devotion could now completely erase my existence for another woman's trivial whims.
Why did I have to bleed out in a one-sided war just to fight for second place?
Sitting in his cold marble penthouse, I finally realized it is not difficult to surrender something that was never truly yours.
So, on the day my security lease expired, I packed a single black canvas bag.
I transferred my exact half of the living expenses to his illicit offshore account.
Then, I blocked the Don's number and vanished without a trace. Too Late For Regret: The Syndicate's Queen
Mafia I was standing at the cathedral altar, ready to sign the sacred mafia marriage pact with Leo, my fiancé of three years.
But right before my pen touched the vellum, the heavy oak doors burst open. A club dancer stumbled in, clutching her stomach.
"I'm carrying the twin heirs of the Falcone Family!"
Leo dropped the pen and abandoned me in front of the entire underworld to coddle his mistress.
Back at our penthouse, he ordered me to wash fruit for her and pack my bags.
When the mistress intentionally threw boiling water and pure alcohol on my skin, Leo held her protectively.
"You stubborn, psychotic bitch! She was only trying to help you!"
He then locked me out on the balcony in a freezing downpour, ultimately leaving me to be cornered by street thugs in a dark underpass.
I had endured his constant coldness and swallowed his endless betrayals for the sake of our families' alliance, only to be discarded like garbage for a cartel corner-girl's fake pregnancy.
My twenty years of absolute loyalty had been nothing but a massive, pathetic joke.
Watching the thugs approach in the dark, I didn't panic or beg for Leo to save me.
Because from the deeper shadows stepped Don Gabriel—the ruthless, terrifying Boss of the ruling Syndicate.
I looked right at the devil himself and accepted his marriage proposal, ready to become his Queen and bury Leo's entire family in rubble. The Broken Wife's Ultimate Revenge
Billionaires I endured three years of a loveless marriage with my billionaire husband, swallowing his constant insults just to afford my mother's life-saving cardiac care.
But everything shattered when Corrin, the woman who framed me with fake scandalous photos in college, returned to New York.
Adelbert immediately moved her into our estate, flaunting her as his VIP guest and taking her to family dinners while treating me like absolute dirt.
When my mother suffered a massive heart attack, I desperately begged Adelbert to use his top-tier medical connections to save her.
He completely ignored my calls, choosing to hold Corrin's hand during her pregnancy ultrasound while my mother flatlined in the ICU.
I later discovered a horrifying truth.
Corrin was the one who anonymously leaked fake financial documents about my family to the press, intentionally triggering my mother's heart failure.
I had sacrificed all my dignity for this marriage, only to be humiliated and watch my mother almost die at the hands of his pregnant mistress.
How could Adelbert be so blindly devoted to a manipulative monster while looking at his own wife with pure disgust?
I taped our torn prenuptial agreement back together, slammed the divorce papers onto his desk, and packed my bags.
"I am throwing away a piece of garbage that has disgusted me for three years."
This time, I was going to make them bleed. Lost Her Forever, Driven Mad by Regret
Modern After four years locked in a high-security mental ward, Adaline's billionaire husband finally came to see her.
But Carter didn't come to save her. He threw the divorce papers at her face, demanding she make way for his engagement to her adopted sister, Elois.
Adaline couldn't even speak to defend herself.
Her tongue had been mangled, her nails pulled out, and her leg shattered by the asylum orderlies-all paid for by Elois's trust fund.
When Adaline desperately handed Carter her terminal lung cancer diagnosis, begging for just enough money to buy painkillers, he tore it to pieces without a second glance.
"Do not use the city's medical resources as props for your pathetic attempts to avoid signing those papers," he sneered.
He thought her coughing up dark blood was just a cheap trick.
He threw a stack of cash at her face and told her to kiss his bodyguard's muddy boot if she wanted the money to survive.
Her adoptive parents froze all her assets, calling her a violent psychopath, while Elois poured boiling tea on her broken leg and smiled.
Elois had stolen her violin career, her compositions, and her husband, yet everyone treated the monster like a fragile angel.
Why did the man who once loved her turn a blind eye to her deformed hands and bleeding throat?
Why did her own family want her dead so badly?
Lying in the dark, burning with a terminal fever, Adaline knew she only had two months left to live.
Since she was going to die anyway, she would make sure to drag them all to hell with her. From Prison To My Billionaire's Embrace
Modern On the anniversary of my mother's death, I found my husband in our bed with my best friend.
The betrayal shattered me, just as a similar affair had driven my mother to suicide years before.
Consumed by a blinding rage, I exposed their secrets to the world and destroyed her career. My vengeance was swift and brutal, but it was I who ended up behind bars for a year and a half. They watched as I was dragged away, their faces a mask of disgust.
They built a life on the ruins of mine, while I was left with nothing but the four walls of a prison cell.
But in that desolate place, my anger finally burned out, replaced by a quiet resolve to rebuild.
Five years later, I walked out a new woman. I had found peace, a new family, and a love I never thought possible.
I thought the past was buried, until I ran into him again. He looked at my simple dress with pity, offering me money and a ride home, completely unaware that the man waiting for me there could buy and sell him a thousand times over. His Rejected Mate, The Rival Alpha's Gamma
Werewolf My five-year contract as his placeholder Luna ended when he left me bleeding in his car to comfort the woman who attacked me.
He publicly announced my abandonment through the pack's mind-link, then stormed back to the house to accuse me of stealing a priceless necklace from her.
He felt the fated mate bond spark between us, called it a cheap trick, and threw me in a silver-lined cell when the necklace was "found" in my bag.
My mother had to trade the last relic of our fallen pack just for my freedom, and we were exiled with nothing.
His final command to me, his true mate, was to go kneel and apologize to the woman who framed me.
Instead, I severed our sacred bond. And as I stepped into exile, a rival Alpha was waiting, offering me the power to burn his entire world to the ground. His Betrayal, Her Unveiling Power
Romance Three years into the apocalypse, I thought Caleb and I were a team, a family.
Then I watched his hand stroke my younger sister Chloe' s knee, his thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles.
He' d always protected me… or so I thought, until he publicly discarded me, allowing his men to hurt and humiliate me, all while my sister pretended to be ill, framing me with a raw egg and reveling in my pain.
How could he betray me like this? How could my own sister hate me so much?
As I lay broken and humiliated, a memory flashed: Liam, the kind-faced man from another life who had always tried to save me. This time, I' d take matters into my own hands. Reborn for Her Downfall
Billionaires My wife, Chloe, swept into our grand foyer, her familiar bright smile in place, another "soulmate" in tow-a fresh-faced influencer named Daniel.
I was in my studio, painting a serene landscape, the antithesis of the chaos she embodied.
She had a new project: Daniel needed my art studio, the only sanctuary I had left in our gilded cage, for his "content hub."
"You said you wanted a clean slate for Daniel," I told her, my heart a hollow ache, as she beamed, thinking I was finally being "reasonable."
In my last life, I had fought, pleaded, and eventually broken, losing my studio, my art, and then everything.
Chloe, oblivious, wired me a fortune-pocket change to her, but to me, seed money for her demise.
I saw the number on the screen, a grim smile touching my lips.
Little did she know, this wasn' t payment; it was her first installment on her own ruin.
I was reborn, and this time, the canvas of my life would be painted with her downfall. No More Mr. Nice Guy
Romance For eight years, I loved Olivia, a silent battle against her family's disdain for the "poor scholar" who married their heiress, especially since we remained childless.
Then, Brandon arrived-a country boy her grandfather handpicked to be the family's heir, meant to replace me. Olivia, drunk after a fight, had my replacement's child. I forgave her, blinded by love, only to find her secretly still seeing him.
The final betrayal shattered everything: Olivia sold me out to kidnappers, begging me to die in Brandon' s place to save her family's "future." Dumped in a brutal jail cell, I endured a horrific beating. The call Brandon made to my father, describing my torture, triggered his fatal heart attack.
How could the woman who once shielded me with her own body become this monster? How could she sacrifice everything for a man she claimed was a mistake? What depths of manipulation had I fallen prey to?
Lying broken and battered, with my father dead because of her choices, I finally understood. The naive husband died in that cell. And a promise was forged in fire: I would burn her world to the ground. The Mother's War
Modern My son, Caleb, lived for music. Every strum, every hum, filled our small Rust Belt home with joy. When legendary producer Anthony Lester swooped him off to Nashville, it felt like his dream was finally coming true.
Then the music stopped.
For two months, all I got were slick, pre-recorded messages and B-roll videos, until a shaky clip revealed a raw, red burn on his hand, and a terrified flicker in his eyes before he yanked it away.
I flew to Nashville, only to be branded a crazy mother and turned away from the studio by a condescending assistant. Then, a new music video teaser dropped, supposedly showcasing "authentic art," but it was my son, Caleb, being brutally beaten on camera, his genuine terror dismissed as "method acting."
The local sheriff, bought and paid for by the studio, merely smirked, telling me to take the "signing bonus" money and go home. How could this be happening? How could a mother watch her child being tortured and find every door slammed in her face, the world calling his torment "art"?
Watching his gaunt face on a live stream, pumped full of drugs, unable to remember the name of his own childhood dog, I knew the system had failed him. But they forgot one thing: I wasn' t just a cleaning lady from a forgotten town. I was the widow of Sergeant David Johns, a Medal of Honor recipient, and the Army does not forget its own. Sweet Poison, Cold Revenge
Modern My sorority sister, Brittany, always seemed like the perfect friend – sweet, glamorous, always ready with a helpful suggestion.
But that sweetness was a lie, a poison.
It started with a phony survey, then quickly escalated.
My SSN, my bank details, all stolen overnight for a "$3,000 loan" I never truly asked for.
That loan spiraled to $9,000, and soon, Brittany' s "help" forced me into something far darker – an "escort service" tied to her family's hidden cruelties.
The fabricated photos, the rumors, the shame – it all broke my parents.
Their car crash, the one that erased them from my life, was no accident.
It was the crushing weight of their daughter' s fabricated ruin, orchestrated by the girl who smiled in my face.
My rage burned even hotter than the fire in my gut when I finally collapsed, only to realize, in that fleeting moment between life and oblivion, the bitter truth: their entire scheme was illegal. Unenforceable. A sham.
Knowledge that came too late. They stole everything: my future, my family, even my last breath.
But then, my eyes snapped open. I was back. September 14th.
The day it all began, the day Brittany first whispered about that loan.
And this time, she wouldn' t just trick me. This time, I knew her game. Every single move.
My blood ran cold as her sugary voice called from the door. "Kayla? You in there?"
The nightmare was vivid, but so was my resolve.
She thought I was an easy mark. She thought wrong.
This time, I' m the one setting the trap. Disowned Heir: A Path to Vengeance
Modern My adoptive family always treated me as their golden child, until I stumbled into a dusty storage room at Grandfather Harrison's 90th birthday celebration.
There, I found it: my deceased sister Chloe' s SAT score report, showing near-perfect scores that shattered everything our wealthy New England family had ever told me about her "instability."
I innocently showed it to my father, expecting pride or explanation.
Instead, his face turned a mottled red, my mother's teacup rattled, and Grandfather dramatically collapsed right before my eyes.
Within hours, I was disowned, my entire life-my job, my funds, my home-ripped away, leaving me bewildered and clutching the damning piece of paper.
The family called me "disrespectful," my uncle called me "ungrateful," and my own mother, without a flicker of warmth, commanded security to "pack Mr. Ethan' s bags immediately."
I was thrown out, abandoned, and even brutally assaulted by my father and uncles when I tried to visit my "dying" grandfather in the hospital.
Why?
Why would a dead girl's academic scores trigger such a violent, absolute betrayal from the people who raised me?
My memories of Chloe, fragmented and disturbing, hint at a darker truth.
Then, my mother's voice, strained and chilling, revealed the real reason for my grandfather's "stroke": "He was already gone, Ethan. Two weeks ago. It was all a lie."
A cold certainty settled in my gut: Chloe's death, my family's obsession with secrecy, and my sudden banishment are all connected to a truth too monstrous to contain.
And I, the discarded son, will unearth every single buried secret at my grandfather's sham funeral. Four Years of Lies, One Life Rewound
Horror I sacrificed everything for him.
I moved from my privileged New England life to a forgotten Appalachian town, funding my fiancé Ethan Vance's dream of rebuilding his family's home.
For four years, I poured my heart into Havenwood, oblivious to the darkness brewing.
Then, with our baby growing inside me, I overheard his chilling plan: a dark ritual, the "Founders' Pact," to transfer another woman's grotesque sickness to me, securing his power through my sacrifice.
At the town festival, he revealed his true monstrosity, kicking me until I miscarried, then forcing a vile, disease-ridden draught down my throat.
My beauty faded, replaced by festering sores, and I was cast out, "The Witch," forced into isolation, realizing how every manipulation and every abuse-from servitude to branding-had been expertly designed.
Lost and dying, my grandmother's locket, my last link to my old life, burned intensely in my hand.
As Ethan celebrated his ultimate triumph, the locket sent me back: to my opulent engagement party, the pivotal day he vanished four years ago.
Now, fully aware of his vile scheme and backed by my powerful family, I will meticulously dismantle his life, brick by agonizing brick. The Heiress They Tried to Bury Alive
Modern At 19, my life was a grinding loop of diner shifts and supporting my "struggling" family for their poverty-porn YouTube channel.
Mom's cough, Dad's despair, Ethan's gambling debts – it was all grist for their online mill.
A desperate five-dollar Powerball ticket was my only sliver of hope.
I won. Five million dollars. It was our salvation.
But when I told them, expecting cheers, I got cold terror.
My 'family' didn't celebrate; they attacked me, trying to destroy the ticket and then me.
I escaped, only for them to launch a vicious online smear campaign, painting me as an ungrateful thief.
They found me at a shelter, paraded me as "troubled" for their loyal fans, and dragged me back to their nightmare.
The verbal abuse was relentless, followed by a brutal physical assault that left me broken.
"Five million?" Ethan sneered. "That's pocket change compared to what you're *really* worth to us, dead or alive."
His chilling words echoed a terrifying truth: this wasn't just about money.
Their horrific reaction, the decades of quiet cruelty – it clicked.
Why did they want me dead for a lottery win?
What deeper, darker secret was I threatening?
I knew, with a sickening certainty, they weren't my real family.
I had to uncover the truth, starting with a hidden box.
I would expose their lies and reclaim the life they stole. You might like
The Discarded Wife Is A Mafia Queen
Shore Tour I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire.
On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own.
"Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy."
My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry.
He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance.
I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever.
Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network.
The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. 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. Jilted Wife? I Am The Underworld Boss
WILONA COOK I am the head of the Bianco syndicate. I trusted my quiet, civilian husband, Simon, to guard my ancestral estate while I expanded our legitimate empire out of state.
I rushed home after receiving an alert that my five-million-dollar property was sold, only to find Simon cradling a newborn baby with his mistress in my desecrated courtyard.
The mistress, Rachel, smugly declared she now owned my house and my husband, using a forged divorce agreement and IDs Simon had secretly stolen from my private safe.
"Simon divorcing you was an escape from misery, because no real man wants a cold machine in his bed."
They played the victims for the live-streaming neighbors, and Rachel tossed my late father's sacred mafia relics into the mud, stomping on his photograph and laughing about melting his legacy for scrap metal.
I stared at the pathetic coward I had married, sickened and bewildered that the man who once vowed to protect my home could steal my inheritance and casually destroy my bloodline's honor for a cheap affair.
As the local police tried to arrest me for defending my father's memory, my syndicate's armored convoy suddenly barricaded the street, and I prepared to leave the traitors nothing but ashes. You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. The Divorced Wife He Could Never Afford
Herculie Dipietro I spent ten years building a mafia empire with my husband, Julian, taking bullets and laundering millions to make him the untouchable Don.
But today, he slid a fifty million dollar divorce settlement across the boardroom table, demanding I step down to make room for his naive new mistress.
He stripped me of my titles and gave her my Underboss pendant. He fabricated rumors of my infidelity to ruin my reputation in the Underworld, just to build a spotless pedestal for her.
When I was bleeding out in a turf war, he let her hang up my desperate call for backup.
"Julian had a stressful day, please do not bother him with your gang drama."
He didn't even apologize. Instead, he threatened to feed me to rival families if I didn't disappear, leaving me completely isolated and hunted by assassins.
Ten years of hiding bodies and surviving for his sake were reduced to a severance package. I stared at the man who once slaughtered an entire syndicate just to crown me his Queen, feeling nothing but a suffocating betrayal. How could he abandon our blood-soaked vows for a cheap replica playing a dangerous game?
I didn't cry or beg him to remember us.
I calmly signed the papers, stepped out of his fortress, and initiated a live broadcast to the highest judges of the Commission, leaking the corrupt ledgers that would burn his empire to the ground. 
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