Xiao Wang
15 Published Stories
Xiao Wang's Books and Stories
The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband
Billionaires The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business.
I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar.
They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream.
When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything.
I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse?
But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter.
"If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance." From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Mafia 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." Contract With A Monster: The Heiress's Revenge
Romance It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered. The Rejected Omega Is Actually The White Wolf
Werewolf I jumped into the freezing Hudson River. Not to kill myself, but to save the only thing I had left—my father's Medal of Valor, which Krystal had thrown into the water like a stick for a dog.
I clawed my way up the muddy bank, lungs burning, shivering violently. I looked up at the villa balcony, hoping my Fated Mate, Jaxon, would be looking for me.
He wasn't.
He was wrapping his arms around Krystal, watching the artificial meteor shower he had arranged just for her.
"Anything for you, my love," he said, completely forgetting I was drowning in the dark below.
For three years, I believed I had "Wolf Sickness." I took the pills he sent, grateful for his care.
But the pills were poison. Wolfsbane. Designed to keep me weak, docile, and unable to shift, just so he could replace me with a more powerful Luna.
He called me a liability. He watched his mistress run me over with her Porsche, ordered his guards to silence me, and let her dogs tear my skin.
Now, clutching the cold medal, the final thread of our bond snapped.
I didn't go back to the pack house. I dragged my broken body to the airport and sent one final text.
"I, Alina Phillips, reject you, Jaxon Francis."
I mailed him the medical report proving he had been poisoning his own mate, and then I disappeared.
By the time he realizes what he's done, the Alina he knew will be dead. Shattered Vows: The Mafia Heiress's Ruthless Comeback
Mafia I was just the decoration at the gala, the dutiful wife of Chicago's Underboss, Dante Moretti.
Then my phone buzzed with a photo of his hand on another woman's thigh, taken inside the venue just minutes ago.
I finally snapped, leaking the photo to the press to shame him.
Dante dragged me home, pinned me to the sofa, and carved a thin line into my collarbone with a switchblade.
"You don't get to leave until I say you're done," he warned.
But the real devastation came later. An anonymous video file revealed the truth about my mother's "suicide" ten years ago.
She didn't jump. My sister, Sofia, pushed her.
And Dante? He didn't marry me for power. He brokered a deal with my father to cover up the murder and took me as hush money.
I crashed Sofia's birthday party to expose them, but my father slapped me in front of everyone.
Dante grabbed my fresh wound and forced me to my knees.
"Apologize to your sister," he threatened, "or I bulldoze your mother's grave right now."
I swallowed my pride, bowed my head, and apologized.
But Sofia just laughed, pulled out a detonator, and pressed the button anyway.
"Oops," she giggled as the explosion rocked the ground. "Happy birthday to me."
Watching the smoke rise from my mother's destroyed mausoleum, the old Elena died.
I vanished into the night, leaving behind signed divorce papers and my bloodied dress.
When Dante finally tracked me down, I wasn't hiding in fear.
I was standing next to his mortal enemy, Luca Rossi, wearing a massive diamond ring.
I handed Dante a cream-colored envelope.
"What is this?" he asked, his hands trembling.
"An invitation," I said, my voice ice-cold. "To the wedding of Don Luca Rossi and Elena Vitiello." My Dead Husband Returned With Another Woman
Mafia Three years after I buried an empty casket for my husband, I found him alive in a grocery store parking lot.
He was rubbing a stranger's pregnant belly, smiling a soft smile I had never seen in our years of marriage.
My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, had become "Arthur," a gentle man with no memory of the empire he ruled or the wife he left behind.
To protect his happiness, I swallowed my agony and lied.
"I am his cousin," I told his pregnant fiancée, Mia.
I brought them home to his estate, enduring the torture of watching him give her the tenderness that used to belong to me.
But my mercy was rewarded with cruelty.
Dante looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes and slapped divorce papers onto the table.
"Sign them," he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "I want to marry Mia before the baby comes. I want a fresh start."
He didn't know I was dying of a heart defect caused by the stress of grieving him.
He didn't know I stalled for two weeks not for money, but because I wanted to be buried with his name.
I died the morning the deadline arrived, taking the secret of my love to the grave.
Ironically, that very night, a bullet grazed his temple during an ambush, unlocking the memories he had lost.
He remembered the peach orchard. He remembered our blood oath. He remembered that I was his soulmate.
He ran to my brother’s gates, screaming my name, blood pouring down his face, desperate to beg for forgiveness.
But my brother just stood there, blocking the entrance to the cemetery with a cruel smile.
"She waited for you every single day," he spat.
"And you killed her." His Manipulation, Her Undoing, His End
Romance My fiancé thought he was manipulating a naive heiress, unaware I had video proof of him plotting to commit me to an asylum.
He planned to steal my inheritance with my cousin, but tonight, I' m not signing a marriage license.
I' m signing his death warrant.
For years, I played the role of the docile, grateful orphan while Holden and Dianne mocked me behind my back.
They called me mentally incompetent, laughing as they planned to strip me of my father' s legacy and lock me away.
I watched them parade around my birthday gala, smug in their victory, treating me like a fragile doll on the verge of a breakdown.
They expected tears. They expected submission.
Instead, they got a cold-blooded execution.
In front of the entire New York elite, I didn't hand my voting rights to the golden boy who promised to love me.
I walked past him and handed the charter to the one man the entire family feared.
Hazen Ingram.
The scarred, silent "monster" of the dynasty.
As Holden screamed and was dragged away by security, I realized something terrifyingly beautiful.
I didn't just choose revenge.
I chose the only man who ever truly protected me. The Chess Master's Final Deadly Move
Modern My boyfriend, a chess prodigy, planned to publicly humiliate me at our graduation. He'd spent three years faking our relationship, even secretly filming us, all to get revenge for a lie he believed about my father. I overheard his entire twisted plan just before it was set to happen.
So I fled to Paris, leaving him with the wreckage of his prized antique chess set and a video of me smashing it to pieces.
I built a new life, found real love with a kind man named Kolton, and my art began to flourish. I was finally healing, finally safe. Then, one morning, my ex shattered my apartment door, holding a black rose, his eyes burning with a terrifying declaration: "I was wrong. I love you. And I'm not leaving until you're mine again." The Agreement of Erasure
Modern My voice was a pathetic whisper. I was on my knees, hands clutching the hem of her dress. My vision was blurry, the room swaying.
"Get off me, Ethan," she said, her voice flat. "You' re pathetic." She kicked my hands away. The love I used to see in her eyes was gone, replaced by contempt.
Then I heard Liam, my own half-brother, gloating. "Pixel Legacy is ours now, Sophia. And with his signature on that transfer document, there' s nothing he can do." My game. My life' s work. Stolen. And Sophia, my girlfriend, was his willing accomplice.
The drug Liam gave me hit hard. I was in agony, slamming my raw knuckles against the carpet. I heard their laughter from the living room. She re-entered, ordered me to stop making noise, and when I begged for a doctor, she locked me in. Later, she and Liam forced more of the poison down my throat, leaving me to dissolve into a black void.
When I woke, I was in a hospital. A new intern, Noah, told me he found me unconscious in the bathroom, bleeding. My phone buzzed with an email from Sophia: an "Agreement" to erase me from my own life, stealing everything, leaving me with nothing but a few thousand dollars as a consolation prize.
How could she? How could three years of shared dreams crumble into this cruel reality? Was it always a lie? As I lay there, helpless and broken, a cold resolve settled in my gut. I would not die here. I would leave. I would survive this. I would get my own back. The Bonus That Broke Me
Modern I had given ten years of my life to Scott & Associates, a law firm I built from the ground up, making myself indispensable as their senior paralegal and handling everything from client intake to IT.
My boss, Mr. Scott, had promised me a partnership for years, a dream I clung to, along with my significant five-figure Christmas bonus that barely acknowledged my worth.
Then, his newly-graduated niece, Madisyn, arrived as "Operations Manager" and immediately announced a drastic, public pay cut, effective immediately.
The harassment began almost instantly-forced to clean toilets, fix jammed copiers, and endure petty humiliations while Mr. Scott watched and approved.
But the real blow came when I learned Madisyn had slashed my bonus from five figures to a mere thousand dollars, falsely accusing me of laziness to justify her actions.
Every shred of loyalty I had withered, replaced by a cold fury at their betrayal and utter disregard for my dedication.
They had no idea what they had just unleashed.
I didn't just quit; I walked out, knowing my meticulous records would soon expose their financial crimes and tear their entire empire down. The Immortal's Betrayal: A Forest Spirit's Fury
Fantasy For two years, falling for Andrew Morris was my escape-an immortal like me, I just wanted a simple, mortal love, a normal life.
But two days after he promised me a home in the Appalachians, his warm voice turned to ice: "She's the one. Take her."
Suddenly, I was on my knees, wrists bound, watching Andrew hold another woman, Jennifer, as the entire town looked on.
They had lured me here to be a human sacrifice for their "Forest Spirit," a desperate plea to save their crops.
Imprisoned and drugged with a truth root, I watched Andrew try to steal my fortune, only for Jennifer to swoop in, expose their mutual deceit, and brutally slash my face.
Pain and betrayal consumed me, an agony amplified by the bizarre echo of my ancient past, and a desperate, drug-addled whisper escaped my lips: "Caleb will know."
Hours later, beaten and abandoned on a moss-covered altar, I was ready for death, until the true "Forest Spirit" appeared-not a monster, but the powerful, terrifying being I had spent centuries running from, the very one who had "cursed" me with endless life: Caleb. The Chef Who Cooked Up Divorce
Romance On our third wedding anniversary, I left my restaurant early, the scent of success clinging to my whites, a silver locket meant for my wife, Jocelyn, burning a hole in my pocket.
But when I found her at her Silicon Valley office, she wasn't waiting for me; she was laughing, head tilted back, with Caleb Blakely, her old flame.
My blood ran cold when she introduced me, her husband of three years, as merely a "friend who collaborates on catering events," right after I watched her sign the divorce papers I' d cunningly hidden within a fake contract.
Over the next weeks, I watched her prioritize his manufactured crises, accept his cronuts while ignoring our vanishing past, and heard her speak to him with the intimate warmth she hadn't shown me in years.
I lay in a hospital bed, shattered from a car crash, while the woman who vowed to be my life partner, was busy celebrating Caleb' s birthday, completely oblivious to my situation.
That same evening, standing in the quiet, empty apartment I' d secretly moved my life into, I looked out at the city lights and finally calmly said, "It's over, Jocelyn. We' re over." The Senator's Secret Wife
Romance My wedding night was supposed to be a dream. I stood there, stiff in my white lace dress, looking forward to forever with Ethan.
He was the man I'd loved since girlhood, our families and friends had just celebrated our union.
But the dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
In our honeymoon suite, he coldly declared, "This was a mistake. I don't love you." He spoke of annulment, "false pretenses," and just tossed me aside like yesterday's trash.
Five years passed in the shadow of that brutal humiliation. I rebuilt my life, slowly, finding quiet happiness as the secretly married wife of US Senator Alex Sterling. But fate, or perhaps cruelty, intervened.
A chance encounter in a bookstore brought Ethan and his current fiancée, Brittany – my former intern – back into my life. They relentlessly mocked me, scorned my simple life, then falsely accused me of theft.
The public spectacle escalated into physical violence as Ethan dragged me into a back room, intent on disfiguring me with a letter opener, all while Brittany smirked.
Trapped, bruised, and bleeding, I faced the man who had shattered my world once before, now determined to destroy me completely. How could he still hold such power, such venom? Why did he refuse to believe my truth, even when my dignity lay shattered on the floor for all to see?
Just as despair threatened to consume me and the sharp point of the letter opener hovered inches from my face, a commanding voice split the chaos: "Get your hands off my wife!"
My husband, Senator Alex Sterling, strode in, a force of nature, ready to reclaim his Sarah and exact a righteous fury. Billionaire's Bloody Deal
Billionaires As Ava Moreno, a Queens girl with a mountain of medical bills, my sustainable design for the Phoenix Tower was my magnum opus, ready to redefine NYC's skyline. This was the breakthrough I'd poured my soul into, my chance to save my ailing mother whose MS was relentlessly worsening.
Suddenly, in a packed boardroom, Julian Sterling’s aide, Liam Astor, launched a vicious public attack. He stripped me from the project, twisting my past into insidious rumors of "ethical ambiguities" and "gold-digging" from my college days. My career, my reputation—everything I’d built—imploded in an instant.
The fallout was brutal. My former colleague, Veronica Bell, shamelessly took over, later sabotaging my design, while my old boss, Marcus Finch, tried to blackmail me. Forced into desperate measures, I faced humiliating propositions from powerful men like Councilman Thompson, revealing the city's predatory underbelly. All the while, my mother's experimental treatments demanded astronomical sums, plunging me deeper into a financial abyss.
Why did this keep happening? Was I destined to be a victim, my talent overshadowed by relentless slander? Every act of "help" from Julian Sterling, the enigmatic billionaire I’d known since college, felt like a transactional noose, further cementing my public image as his "kept woman."
But as I faltered under the weight of it all, a fierce resolve ignited. I would not break. For my mother, I would accept this "blood money," navigate this gilded cage, and fight. My journey into the cutthroat world of power and compromise had only just begun. You might like
The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Too Late For Regret: My Dead Heart
Catlaina Sloggett Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast.
The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan.
"Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm.
A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker.
"Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games."
The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined.
Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death.
Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch.
Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile.
Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face.
Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector.
He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut.
Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash.
She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise.
But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid.
"Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury."
Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation.
What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body? Sexy Behind The Mask
Ellie Wynters She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you." Pregnant For My Ex-Fiancé's Father
Havilworth
I think it was more of guilt than worry. I was fucking my ex fiancee's father and while I may not know how this leads, I knew I never wanted it to end.
Liv Bennett thought she had her future all figured out-until the night she caught her fiancé, Aaron Blackwood, in a passionate betrayal with her step sister just a night before their wedding. Heartbroken and humiliated, Liv drowns her sorrows in alcohol and ends up sharing a heated, unforgettable night with a mysterious older man.
But when the haze of the night clears, Liv's world is turned upside down again. The man she had a one night stand with is none other than Kaelon Blackwood-Aaron's father and a powerful billionaire alpha. As Liv struggles to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, she discovers she's pregnant with Kaelon's child, throwing her into a whirlwind of scandal and forbidden love.
Caught between the betrayal of the past and the temptation of a forbidden future, Livphina must find the strength to choose her own path. But can she overcome the obstacles of age, power, and family to claim the love that was never meant to be hers? Will she walk away from the man who could destroy her-or embrace the one who might just save her?
I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!
The Wine Press I received a pornographic video.
"Do you like this?"
The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts.
"Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response.
"You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!"
The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed.
I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella.
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"I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly.
He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!"
The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him.
"I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster.
He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table.
I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house. His Unwanted Wife: The Genius's Spectacular Comeback
Lan Zixin For seven years, I was the perfect wife to Denny Sanford and the brilliant CTO who built the core technology of his billion-dollar empire.
But at my brother-in-law's memorial service, I hid behind a velvet curtain in the study and caught my husband passionately kissing the grieving widow, Brittany.
They weren't just having an affair. Brittany was pregnant with Denny's child.
"Once the paternity test confirms the baby is a Sanford heir, we control everything," she whispered.
"Christa is brilliant with data, but clueless with people. She's completely harmless," Denny sneered, dismissing me as a convenient tool.
My world shattered. Under his protection, Brittany had already stolen the credit and millions of dollars in consulting fees for my patents. To maintain his perfect facade, Denny even abandoned our six-year-old daughter's championship to hold his mistress's hand through a fake hospital visit.
I had sacrificed my days and nights to build his company, only to realize my entire marriage was a calculated lie designed to fund his second family. He thought my scientific detachment made me blind, stupid, and weak.
Harmless? I smiled coldly in the dark, backed up every server log proving my intellectual property, and messaged the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York. If he wanted to build his future on stolen data, I would show him exactly how a scientist dismantles a flawed experiment. 
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