Shen Xiyan
9 Published Stories
Shen Xiyan's Books and Stories
The Fallen Heiress's Debt to the Billionaire
Modern I was once the princess of the Upper East Side, but now I’m just "debt wrapped in pretty skin." To keep my father alive in a federal penitentiary, I signed a contract I didn't fully understand. I thought it was about restoring my family's name, but producer Barnett Orr treated it like a bill of sale for my soul.
Inside his limousine, the air smelled like gasoline and fear. Barnett didn't want a star; he wanted a victim. He bruised my jaw and ripped my vintage silk gown to shreds, laughing because he knew I couldn't fight back without signing my father's death warrant.
"Don't forget who owns you, Felicity," he whispered.
When he dragged me into Dewitt Knight’s penthouse party, I was a walking disaster. I huddled in Barnett’s oversized jacket, my lip bleeding and my spirit shattered. The elite crowd didn't see a victim; they saw a fallen girl selling herself for a role. A former rival poured red wine over me, and the room erupted in cruel laughter while Barnett told everyone he was just "testing my commitment."
I looked up at the balcony, locking eyes with Dewitt Knight. He was a god in a bespoke suit, looking down at me with cold, lethal disgust. He didn't see the bruises or the desperation. He only saw a transaction he found beneath him.
"So the rumors are true," he said, his voice cutting through the music. "The Aguilars really will do anything for money now. Even this."
I was trapped between a monster who wanted to break me and a man who thought I was trash. No one cared that my father's life depended on my silence. When Barnett cornered me in a guest room later that night, his belt jingling like a death knell, I realized no one was coming to save a girl like me.
I fought back with a crystal vase, shattering it against his shoulder, but I was drowning in my own terror. Just as Barnett lunged for my throat, the door was kicked off its hinges. Dewitt stood there, finally seeing the blood on the carpet and the map of purple bruises on my bare back.
He chased the monster away, but I didn't feel safe. I locked the guest room door, wedged a chair under the handle, and slept with a silver letter opener pressed against my skin. When I crept into the kitchen at midnight and found him waiting in the shadows, I aimed the blade at his heart.
"In this house, no one hurts you," he promised, his voice a low velvet rumble.
But in a world where I had already been sold once, I knew that even protection came with a price I couldn't afford to pay. The Red Queen's Spectacular Rise After Betrayal
Billionaires For five years, I was the woman in the shadows, the secret partner Evander Mathews promised to marry once his company was stable. On our fifth anniversary, I waited in our Manhattan penthouse with chilled wine, only for him to leave abruptly for what he called a "merger emergency."
In his haste, he left his wall safe open. Inside, I found a marriage contract signed three days ago. The groom was Evander, but the bride was my sister, Daneen.
Then came the message that shattered my world—a photo of their hands intertwined and a text from my sister.
"Sister, thank you for borrowing him for five years. But he is home now."
I looked at the rows of white silk dresses in my closet and finally understood the truth. I was never his lover; I was a living memorial, a placeholder he had curated to look and smell exactly like the sister who had spent our childhood abusing me. He knew about the scars on my back, yet he was choosing the woman who gave them to me.
When Evander sent his assistant the next morning to pay me off with a diamond necklace, he expected me to disappear. He thought the girl he had kept hidden for half a decade would never have the courage to step into the light.
He was wrong. I grabbed the fabric scissors, hacked off the long hair he adored, and dialed a number I had kept hidden for years.
"I’m ready to collect that favor," I said to the man on the other end. "Get me into the gala tonight. I’m going to show them exactly what they tried to bury." The Placeholder Wife: His Too Late Regret
Mafia On our fifth anniversary, I didn't get a gift. I got divorce papers.
My husband, Ethan Spencer, the city's most feared Underboss, stood by while his mistress threw red wine over my white gown in front of the entire elite.
"You're just a placeholder, Brooke," she sneered. "A factory rat keeping the seat warm."
I waited for Ethan to defend me. Instead, when she planted a necklace in my bag and accused me of theft, he didn't check the cameras. He didn't look at the blood soaking my dress where he had shoved me aside.
He called the police on his own wife.
"Take her away," he ordered cold-heartedly, stepping over me to comfort the crying woman who was framing me.
I spent the night in a freezing cell, realizing that for five years, he hadn't even opened the anniversary gifts I hid in his closet. He didn't know I wrote the stories for his company's games. He didn't know I was the one keeping his empire afloat.
When I was released, I didn't go back to the penthouse.
I walked straight to the headquarters of his sworn enemy, Dominic Cannon.
"I heard you're looking for a narrative designer," I said, placing my wedding ring on his desk. "And I know exactly how to destroy the Spencer family."
By the time Ethan found out the truth and came crawling back, dying and clutching the steel rose I once made him, it was too late.
I was already wearing someone else's ring. Four Years Built On Deceit
Modern For four years, I believed my fiancé, Damari, was fighting for us. I watched him endure his grandfather' s cruel punishments-exile, financial ruin, public humiliation-all because the old man supposedly refused to approve our marriage. I waited, believing his sacrifice was the ultimate proof of his love.
Then I found the real document hidden in his office. It wasn't a rejection. It was an approval, stamped and dated, with a tiny, forged "not" scrawled in different ink.
The entire four-year struggle was a lie.
When I confronted him, he crumbled. He did it for his obsessive assistant, Cydney.
"She can't live without me, Augusta," he pleaded. "She needs me."
My world collapsed. His devotion wasn't for me; it was a performance to appease another woman. All his "sacrifices" were just a cruel way to keep me waiting while he played the hero for someone else.
So when he abandoned me one last time to run to Cydney's side, I made my choice. I packed my bags, left New York, and started a new life, determined to never be anyone's second choice again. Caged Love
Romance The camera flashes were blinding, a storm of light. My fiancé, Ethan, stood at the podium, his hand clutching mine, whispering sweet nothings for the reporters. He declared his eternal love, sacrificing his ambitions for my "crippled" self, the pianist whose dream was tragically cut short.
But an hour earlier, I'd overheard him and my best friend, Bella. "Her hands… are they permanently damaged?" Bella whispered. "Completely," Ethan confirmed, his voice chillingly cold. "The 'accident' was flawless. She\'s a cripple, Bella. You have nothing to worry about."
My world shattered.
The car crash, the botched surgery-all a meticulously planned lie. My supposed recovery was overseen by Dr. Ben, who had helped Ethan ensure I would never play again. I lay in a hospital bed, my bandaged hands a testament to their cruelty, left to grapple with the shocking betrayal.
How could the man who promised me forever, the one I loved, orchestrated such a heinous plot?
The deeper I looked, the more horrifying truths unravelled: I was drugged for months to appear unstable, and the tragic miscarriage I suffered wasn\'t natural-he had murdered our unborn child. The love I thought was real was a delusion, a carefully constructed cage.
With nothing left to lose, and fueled by a cold, searing rage, I stopped merely existing.
I was no longer a victim. I was a survivor, and I would make them pay. My escape wasn't just about leaving; it was about orchestrating their downfall, piece by agonizing piece. My Love, Her Leverage
Romance My ribeye was getting cold as I sat alone at Vince's Steakhouse, waiting for Nicole on our one-year anniversary.
I' d booked her favorite corner booth, even checking myself out of the hospital despite cracked ribs, all for her.
Then her text came: "Stuck in chem lab. Won't make it. Raincheck?" My heart sank.
But just as I was about to signal for the check, a group was led past my table.
My world stopped.
It was Nicole, in the dress I bought her, laughing with her college roommate and her high school sweetheart, Luis-the one who' d ghosted her when her life fell apart.
I watched, frozen, as her roommate quipped about me being "a sweet, dumb rich kid" wrapped around Nicole's finger.
Nicole just shrugged, saying, "Can we not talk about him? He's ruining my mood."
The woman I loved called me an inconvenience, while celebrating "new beginnings" with the man who' d abandoned her.
I swallowed the bitter truth: I wasn't her boyfriend; I was a transaction.
A debt repaid with her time. The pain was worse than any broken bone.
Why was I always the fallback, the savior, never the choice?
The next morning, her call came, a soft apology, promising to meet.
A foolish part of me hoped, until Luis sat beside her at the coffee shop.
This wasn't an apology; it was a shakedown for half a million dollars. And that' s when I finally said, "No." From Broken Heart to Billboard Queen
Romance My wedding day was supposed to be the moment my love story with Liam played out on giant screens for all of Nashville to see.
Instead, those screens showed something very different: my fiancé, Liam, shamelessly hooking up with my own cousin, Savannah, at his bachelor party.
The chapel descended into shocked silence. Liam grabbed my arm, whispering denials, while Savannah sat sobbing in the front row, a pathetic mess.
But the hickeys on their necks told the whole brutal truth. I calmly walked to the microphone, called off the wedding, and left them to face the circus they created.
He tried to play the remorseful fiancé, showing up with flowers I was allergic to and Savannah's favorite BBQ, not mine. He stalked me, pleading for "one more chance," even using me as a bet to impress Savannah.
Every interaction twisted the knife, confirming years of quiet betrayals I'd ignored.
Why did I believe his lies for so long? Why did I allow myself to be a third wheel at my own anniversary dinner, or cook for him only to be met with his and Savannah's mockery?
The humiliation was suffocating, the anger a fire in my gut. But then, a new thought ignited within me.
I picked up my guitar not to write a sad song, but a war declaration. This wasn't heartbreak; it was a reckoning. And I was just getting started. You might like
The Unwanted Wife's Genius Comeback
Gertrude I flew cross-country for my birthday, hoping for just one night of warmth with my husband and five-year-old daughter.
But when I opened the door, I found my famous hockey star husband and my daughter acting like the perfect family with Dayna, a glamorous sports commentator.
My daughter shrank away from my open arms.
"Mama's boring. She never plays with me. Don't go, Auntie Dayna!"
My husband didn't even look up from his phone to wish me a happy birthday.
He coldly canceled our dinner plans, claiming he had an urgent, last-minute strategy meeting for his team.
Hours later, a TMZ article popped up on my phone, featuring a brutal photo of the three of them sharing a steak at an upscale Manhattan restaurant.
The headline praised Blake's "family dinner with rumored flame Dayna Nixon" and openly wondered where the current Mrs. Carlisle was.
My daughter lied for this, and my husband publicly humiliated me, treating my five years of silent sacrifice like a pathetic, disposable joke.
I didn't cry, and I didn't throw a desperate fit.
Instead, I calmly walked into his study, signed the pre-nuptial divorce agreement he had prepared years ago, and booked a one-way ticket back to Boston.
From now on, I am no longer Mrs. Carlisle. I am Corinne Sargent, and I am taking my life 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?" 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. Betrayed Bride: Marrying The Ice Tyrant
Valeria On our third engagement anniversary, I bought my fiancé the watch he had wanted for months.
But my phone's location tracker led me to a secluded overlook, where I caught him rocking his car with another woman.
The woman in the passenger seat was my stepsister, Sienna.
When I exposed their affair, my adoptive parents didn't comfort me.
Instead, they called to scream at me for ruining the family's reputation.
They even rewrote history, claiming Sienna was the one who saved my fiancé from drowning six years ago, and I had stolen her credit.
Carter shamelessly agreed with their lies.
"She's been quietly supporting me all this time... I misunderstood."
I was disowned, thrown out into the freezing rain, and my adoptive father threatened to use his corporate empire to crush my small bakery.
I finally understood that to them, I was just a temporary placeholder, a stepping stone for Sienna to take everything I cherished whenever she pleased.
I refused to let them destroy me.
To protect my bakery and tear down their hypocritical lives, I walked into the penthouse of New York's most ruthless billionaire to propose a fake PR relationship.
But he slid a two-year marriage contract across the table instead.
Before I could fully process marrying a man I barely knew, a little blonde girl ran into the room and tugged at my dress.
"Are you my new mommy?" 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. Secretly Extraordinary: I'm The Crown Jewel You Failed To Treasure
Anemic Sun For three years, Allison poured herself into marriage, caring for Henry and their home while he gave her nothing but silence.
When his first love returned, he handed her divorce papers and cast her aside.
Heartbroken, Allison walked away and reclaimed the brilliant life she had buried-becoming a famed jewelry designer, restoration master, and mysterious healer.
Only then did everyone learn Henry's unwanted wife was a hidden genius.
Late one night, he called, begging for another chance.
Before she could answer, a male voice spoke. "Allison, who's that?"
Allison answered aloofly, "Just a scammer."