Su Liao
15 Published Stories
Su Liao's Books and Stories
The Wife He Betrayed, Now Free
Romance The heavy prison gates clanged shut behind me. After five years of hell, I, Ava Smith, was finally free. My first stop, however, wasn' t a warm bed, but the county clerk' s office. I needed a divorce from Liam Johnson.
The clerk' s words hit me like a physical blow: "There's no record of a marriage between Ava Smith and Liam Johnson. This is a fake, honey." My entire marriage was a lie.
Memories flashed back-Liam, the grieving businessman, conceiving our son Ethan in a drunken haze, calling me his deceased first love. His powerful family forced him to marry me, but on our wedding night, his words were cold: "I will never love you, Ava." I played the perfect wife, loving our son with every fiber of my being.
Then, I was framed for destroying a memorial garden. Liam believed every lie, his eyes full of disgust, and sent me to prison. For five years, the thought of Ethan was all that kept me alive. My son, the same one who now screamed at me, "Mom! What did she do to you?" as he ran to my best friend, Scarlett Hayes-the woman who was supposed to be dead, now living in my home and raising my child.
"She's more of a mother to him than you ever were," Liam said, shielding them both from me. The agony was unbearable.
How could he believe her? How could my son, the child I carried and loved, hate me so fiercely? It was a betrayal beyond words.
I picked up my phone, dialing a number I hadn't used in years. "I'm not interested in my 'marriage' anymore. Or my son." The lie tasted like acid. "The children in the mountains," I said, my voice gaining strength, "they'll be my new family now." Jilted Heiress: Rising From The Ashes
Modern I stood in the center of my Manhattan penthouse, staring at the empty satin hanger where my custom Vera Wang gown should have been. It was a masterpiece of silk and pearls that had taken six months to perfect for my wedding to the billionaire heir, Boston Travis.
Then my phone buzzed. Boston’s voice was a flat line, devoid of the love he’d promised me for four years.
"The wedding is off, Florrie. I’m marrying your sister, Asia."
He told me Asia was dying of Stage 4 cancer and her "final wish" was to be a bride—wearing my dress. He had sent his security team to my home with a spare key to steal the gown, claiming it was Travis property since his family accounts paid the bill. My stepmother texted me minutes later, demanding I vacate my own beach house so the "dying" girl could have a honeymoon.
When I tried to protest, Boston snapped at me.
"How could you be so heartless? She’s your sister. Have some compassion."
They expected me to play the part of the discarded woman while they paraded my life around as a PR stunt. I realized then that Asia hadn't just taken my dress; she had spent her entire life stealing my father's love and my peace, always playing the fragile angel while I was cast as the villain.
I didn't cry. I sat at my desk, opened my contacts, and relabeled Boston Travis as "TARGET."
If they wanted a tragic story, I would give them a massacre. I reclaimed my mother’s multi-million dollar trust, seized the deed to the beach house, and walked into Asia’s hospital room with a lit sparkler to expose the truth behind her "terminal" illness.
As I slapped Boston in the hospital lobby in front of a dozen recording iPhones, I realized I didn't need a husband. I needed a clean slate—and I was going to burn their empire to get it. The Fake Heiress: Captured By Her Warden
Modern I was a ghost in the rafters of Sotheby’s, five floors above the most expensive pavement in New York, clutching a ten-million-dollar ledger hidden inside a drop of blood-red agate. I had the perfect exit planned, but I didn't count on Harding Bishop, a security predator who could track a shadow through a rainstorm.
When the exits were sealed and the tactical teams started swarming, I made a split-second choice to survive. I stepped out of the shadows and looked into the eyes of a billionaire socialite searching for her missing daughter, whispering a single, broken word: "Mom?"
Just like that, I wasn't a thief anymore; I was Cassandra Sterling, the heiress who had been gone for five years. But the homecoming was a nightmare. My new "sister" promised to send me back to the gutter, my "father" held a gold-plated pistol to my knee the moment the limo doors closed, and the family patriarch tried to strike me down with his cane just for breathing his air.
Every second was a high-wire act. I had to play the part of a traumatized victim while a ten-million-dollar stone was literally sewn into the raw, bleeding wound on my shoulder. If I moved wrong, I’d bleed out; if I spoke wrong, I’d be buried in the backyard of the Hamptons estate.
Harding Bishop didn't believe a word of it. He moved into the room next to mine, watching my every breath and checking my hands for gun calluses under the guise of protection. He thinks he’s the warden and I’m his prisoner, but he’s about to find out that a cornered rat is the most dangerous thing in the house.
"Sleep tight, Vesper," he whispered as he locked my door, using my real name for the first time.
He thinks he’s won, but he has no idea that I’m already reaching for the Agate hidden under my pillow, ready to burn his empire to the ground. My Protector: The Billionaire's Hidden Devotion
Modern In my last life, I was played for a fool by my charming fiancé, Curtis, and my jealous cousin, Chloe. He promised me the world, but it was all a beautiful illusion built on lies.
He stole my ideas, shattered my reputation, and left me broken and alone.
My death was ruled an "accident," but I knew the truth. They had orchestrated it all.
Chloe, my own cousin, stood by his side, watching with twisted satisfaction as my world burned. They took everything from me-my career, my dignity, and finally, my life.
The betrayal was a cold rage that settled deep in my bones. I couldn't understand how I had been so blind to the monster hiding behind his perfect smile.
Now, I've opened my eyes to a second chance. I'm back at the beginning, forced to choose a husband to save my family's failing company. On one side is Curtis, the charming serpent who destroyed me. On the other is the cold, ruthless Arjun Becker, a man who promises security, but at what cost?
This time, I won't be a fool. I know exactly who to choose. His Betrayal, Her Shattered Symphony
Modern I was a Grammy-winning musician, engaged to the love of my life, tech mogul Julian Watson. But on the night of my greatest triumph, he framed me for plagiarism to protect his secret lover, the pop starlet Kaylene Avila.
He leaked my private journals, and the world turned on me. An enraged fan, fueled by his lies, attacked me, leaving a scar across my face and destroying my vocal cords forever. My grandfather died from the shock.
I ran, changing my name and hiding for five years as a barista. But Julian found me. He threatened the kind old woman who'd given me a job and even my grandfather's grave. His price for their safety? I had to become Kaylene's ghostwriter.
Trapped in a luxury apartment, I was a tool for their ambition. Kaylene, wearing a bracelet Julian once gave me, smirked as she handed me her terrible lyrics.
"Don't worry, Annie," she purred. "Your voice might be gone, but your words can still be mine."
But my usefulness ran out. Kaylene arranged for me to be beaten and left for dead. As I faded into darkness, I heard her final, chilling order to "make sure she's permanently out of the picture."
What she didn't know was that my estranged sister, a federal prosecutor, had just found me.
And she was about to fake my death. His Sister-in-Law, My Hell
Romance The church doors opened, and my wedding day shattered.
My groom, Colby, turned from me at the altar, his eyes fixed on his pregnant sister-in-law, Camryn.
He led her down the aisle as if she were the bride, leaving me a statue in white lace.
He begged me to stay, promising his love, claiming duty to his dead brother.
Foolishly, I believed him, only to find Camryn' s suitcases already in our new home. Love Curdled into Cruel Hatred
Billionaires My mentor, Emily Stone, had me admitted to Serenity Hills Wellness Center, claiming it was for "stress." I knew it was to control me. But I had a secret purpose stronger than her grasp: my body donation agreement for ALS research, the only thing I had left to give as my life slipped away.
Just as I believed I' d secured my final act of defiance-enough money for a quiet exit-Emily' s security team appeared. They dragged me back to her penthouse, a gilded cage I' d inhabited for five years, ever since she blamed me for her brother Liam' s death.
Emily, fueled by a grief twisted into obsession, subjected me to endless torment, treating me as a possession to mold and punish. She mocked my weakening body, forcing me to perform impossible tasks, and unleashed her new partner, David Chen, to systematically brutalize me, physically and mentally.
The torture culminated when David, feigning a rare blood disorder, coerced Emily into crippling me for a bone marrow transplant, severing my nerves to ensure I' d never walk again. I was confined to a wheelchair, my music silenced, my body broken, betrayed by the woman I had sworn to protect.
I was left to wonder: Why did she believe such blatant lies? Why did her love for me curdle into such cruel hatred? And what was the secret that sealed my fate from the moment Liam died?
Yet, even as Emily abandoned me to a fiery death, I clung to an impossible promise. This torment, this injustice, would not be the end of my story. Spring After A Cold Winter
Romance The termination notice arrived, cold and impersonal, ending my three-year stint as the "unofficial queen" of Hayes Tech and Nathan Hayes' s girlfriend. Just like that, I was collateral damage for the return of Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart and "white knight."
But then, a strange relief washed over me. This corporate execution was a stark contrast to the messy life I lived, a life already tangled in Nathan' s possessive grip.
My desk, the one Nathan himself had moved so he could "see me whenever he looked out his office window," now faced a tightly shut blind. Outside, his sleek black car pulled up, and he opened the door for Chloe, a practiced gesture of chivalry he' d never once shown me. His adoration for her was a look he reserved only for her.
He was giving her the world, and I was just the discarded memory, a piece of sidewalk furniture he walked past without a glance. My phone, once buzzing with his messages, now remained dark, a testament to his new home with Chloe.
Then came the calls from unknown numbers, the news reports of their perfect reunion. During this silent abandonment, I made several trips to the hospital, clutching papers that spelled out a truth I wasn' t ready to face.
He stayed home that night, pressing my hand to his cheek. "I' ve been so busy, I didn' t even notice you were sick." His tenderness, a poison I' d willingly consumed, was so easily mistaken for genuine affection. "Ava," he whispered after a night of desperate passion, "you' re not mad I fired you, are you?" How could I be? He was my salvation, the one who paid off my mother' s debts, the possessive voice that rumbled, "Ava, you' re my golden cage bird. The one who can never leave me."
But everything had already changed. I just didn't realize how much until Brenda, Chloe's best friend, showed up, displaying my pathetic devotion for scorn. "Homewrecker," she spat, then lunged, slapping me across the face before slamming my head against the tabletop.
Waking in a hospital bed, Nathan was there, but his concern was for Chloe' s reputation, not my pain. "Ava, Chloe is different. She's not like you. Just be good, okay?" He didn' t wipe away the single, hot tear that rolled down my temple. To him, I was a nuisance, an inconvenience.
So, I had to die for him to let me go? The words were torn from my throat, raw and desperate. He laughed, a strange, humorless sound. He couldn't see it, but I was done. It was time to settle my own accounts.
I would give him a spring he would never forget. Her Babies, His Deadly Secret
Romance On the day I was to marry Mark Chen, a text message changed everything. It was from my cousin, Chloe, a picture of her and Mark on a plane, smiling, with a single sentence: "Sorry, Sarah. We couldn' t wait." Humiliation washed over me, but then David Chen, Mark's uncle, stepped forward, offering a startling proposal: "Marry me, Sarah. Right now." He vowed to erase my shame, claiming he' d loved me for years. Numb, desperate to escape the pitying stares, I whispered, "Okay."
The first three years of our marriage were quiet, peaceful on the surface. David was the perfect husband: kind, attentive, patient. But a shadow hung over our home, woven from seven miscarriages. Each time, hope was extinguished in blood and pain, each loss carving deeper grief into my soul. David was always there, holding me, telling me we' d get through it, grieving with me. Or so I thought.
Then, during my eighth pregnancy, the familiar cramps started. I found David's study door slightly ajar and heard voices inside. It was David and his private physician. "The dosage was correct," David said, his voice flat and cold. "It' s taking a bit longer than usual, but the process has started." My blood ran cold. Dosage? Process?
"Chloe is my priority," David continued, "Mark is infertile. When Chloe gets pregnant, her child must be the sole heir. No other Chen child to complicate things." My world went silent. It wasn' t an accident. He had been poisoning me, killing my babies. Seven of them. And now, the eighth.
I stared at him, the man who had held me while I wept, and saw a stranger, a monster. Every kind word he' d ever said now tasted like poison. I had been living in a beautiful prison he had built, mistaking his deception for love. Why? What could possibly drive him to such monstrous acts against me, his wife, and our unborn children?
My rage solidified into a cold, clear purpose. I would leave him. I would uncover the full extent of his betrayal, exposing Chloe' s complicity and their dark secrets, and then I would be free. Scorned Wife, Sudden Fortune
Modern The world came back to me in fragments of pain, the profound exhaustion of thirty-six hours of labor.
They saved me, saved my daughter, and I expected relief.
Instead, I heard my husband, Ethan, from the hall, his voice light, conversational, almost cheerful.
"She' s completely torn apart down there… it' s disgusting. Like a war zone."
My breath caught.
"And her stomach," he whispered, "It' s all loose and flabby, covered in these weird purple lines. She looks like a deflated balloon. I swear, I don' t think I can ever touch her again."
My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a painful thud of realization. This was the man who had held my hand, told me I was brave.
Then the other voice, "What about the kid?"
A flicker of desperate hope ignited. He wanted a daughter so badly.
"It' s a girl," Ethan said, his voice flat. "Lily. Cries all the time. Just another thing to deal with."
The hope died.
Then his tone shifted, charming, for a phone call. "I know, I wish you were here instead. I can' t wait to see you."
A mistress.
The late nights, the secretive calls, the growing distance I' d blamed on pregnancy stress-it all clicked into place.
Tears, hot and silent, streamed from my eyes. Not sadness, but rage and a grief so profound it felt like a physical wound.
He wasn' t just shallow, he was cruel. Not just a bad husband, but a monster.
In that sterile, blood-scented room, I mourned my marriage, the man I thought I knew.
A cold, hard decision settled in my soul, listening to him coo at his lover.
My daughter would not have a father like him.
I would raise her alone.
This wasn' t the end of my pain, but it was the beginning of my fight. Poisoned Love: A Wife's Reckoning
Romance My life was a carefully curated masterpiece: a devoted husband, a lavish Upper East Side apartment, and the gentle recovery from a tragic miscarriage. I thought I had it all, even as I yearned for the child we'd lost.
Then, a whispered conversation tore through the veneer. I heard my husband, Ethan, and his colleagues, talking about "placental therapy" for another woman, Sabrina. "Jocelyn thinks she just had a tragic miscarriage," one slurred. "She' ll never know you paid that 'specialist' … All for Sabrina' s sake. Now she' s got a bun in the oven, and Jocelyn' s none the wiser."
The truth unspooled with sickening clarity. My miscarriage wasn't tragic; it was engineered. The "herbal wellness smoothies" Ethan made me every morning, meant to aid my recovery, were laced with birth control. Everything he' d done, every comforting word, every loving gesture, was a calculated lie for her benefit.
My grief turned to cold fury. The husband I loved had weaponized my body, my trust, and my desire for a family. He wasn't just having an affair; he had conspired to steal my fertility to ensure another woman carried his "true heir."
My decision was chillingly absolute. On Ethan' s "business trip" day, I drained our joint account, left only divorce papers, and vanished, ready to build a real life far from the gilded cage he' d constructed. When the Perfect Life Crumbles
Billionaires I was eight months pregnant, my life with my charismatic tech mogul husband, Ethan, seemingly perfect.
We were at a glittering gala, celebrating our success, our future family.
Then, a sudden shove sent me tumbling down a flight of stairs, triggering premature labor.
In the hospital's sterile hallway, I overheard Ethan's voice, cold and calm, making unimaginable arrangements: killing our seemingly "weak" newborn son, replacing him with his mistress Jessica's baby, and sterilizing me.
He presented me with a healthy infant, claiming it was ours while secretly poisoning me to ensure I could never conceive again.
Back at our ranch, Jessica, his mistress, openly flaunted her role as the "real" mother, nursing "our" child, showered with Ethan's attention while I was neglected and humiliated.
She even showed me a video of Ethan by my baby's incubator, moments before his death.
The man I loved, the father of my child, was a monster who planned it all-my fall, my baby's death, my sterilization.
My perfect life was a cruel, calculated lie, and my heart shattered into fragments of disbelief and searing pain.
But beneath the agony, a chilling resolve ignited.
I would play along.
I would gather every scrap of damning evidence.
I would shatter his empire just as he shattered my life.
My revenge would be cold, precise, and utterly devastating. Love's Unforeseen Path
Romance My ticket to independence hung in my hand: a documentary grant to untamed Alaska. It was my chance to escape the gilded cage of my guardian Ethan' s estate and finally shed the unrequited love I secretly harbored for him.
Then came the Tech Billionaires' Charity Gala, a final, suffocating night in his world. I watched his polished girlfriend, Isabella, subtly slip something into Ethan' s drink. My heart pounded – he was being drugged.
I got him home, and in his drugged state, a night of desperate intimacy unfolded. Later, two pink lines confirmed a terrifying, impossible joy. But the next morning, Isabella appeared, perfectly coiffed, staging a cruel charade. Ethan, disoriented, dismissed me, his heart-shattering dismissal fueled by her lies.
How could he be so blind? How could she be so utterly ruthless? My stomach clenched, the secret of our child now a bitter burden, conceived in deceit and dismissed by the man who should have been its father.
Alaska was no longer just a career move; it was an urgent, desperate flight. I would vanish from his life, carry this secret alone, praying Isabella's shadow couldn't reach me, determined to build my own future. When Love Became a Weapon
Romance My husband, Ethan, meticulously wooed me with fifty rare jazz records, each a cherished promise of our forever.
But then his new assistant, Ava, entered our lives, and his fervent gaze, once exclusively mine, began flickering with a feverish admiration solely for her.
Soon, Ava's name became a relentless hum in our home, eclipsing our shared memories and dreams, culminating in his public neglect and the chilling realization that he was building a new life, deliberately erasing ours.
His cruelty escalated: he missed our anniversary, publicly shamed me at galas, and then a terrifying physical pattern emerged—first a convenient "clumsy fall" down the stairs, then a severe allergic reaction triggered by a sedative she "offered."
The ultimate depravity struck when he callously forced me to endure a forced organ transplant surgery to benefit Ava's grandmother, reducing my body to a mere instrument for his mistress's happiness.
Watching my world disintegrate, I began a silent, desperate countdown, ritualistically shattering each record, each promise, a symbolic act of destruction for the love that was agonizingly dying before my eyes.
His actions were beyond comprehension, a calculated campaign to erase my existence, leaving me to grapple with the chilling question: how could the man I loved transform into such an utterly ruthless monster?
But when he attempted to disinherit me through a twisted, fabricated divorce, his final, shocking act of abandonment literally offering me to a predatory figure from his past, I resolved that this broken woman would become his ultimate reckoning.
From that violated hospital bed, I walked away, not as a victim, but as a survivor, armed with irrefutable evidence of his heinous crimes, fiercely determined to expose him, reclaim my shattered life, and finally find true freedom and peace under my father's unyielding protection. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract
Sibeal Sallese I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash.
To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars.
I thought it was a clean transaction.
But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty.
He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me.
My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire.
Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner.
"Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly.
His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand.
"Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler."
They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog.
I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth.
But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood.
"She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison."
They murdered my parents.
I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call.
Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
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