Xiao Zhaoling
11 Published Stories
Xiao Zhaoling's Books and Stories
The CEO's Pregnant Genius: No Escape
Modern I spent six years as a "shadow asset" for the Holmes family, a brilliant scholar living in a cramped Queens apartment on a secret scholarship. I was their silent investment, a ghost in their machine, until the day a fluorescent orange eviction notice appeared on my door.
The legal documents from Holmes Holdings were brutal. They were terminating my sponsorship and demanding immediate repayment of every cent of my tuition. The reason was buried in the fine print: a moral turpitude clause. I was pregnant with a Holmes heir, and in their world, that made me a liability that needed to be erased.
Ingram Holmes, the family’s cold-blooded CEO, didn't see a woman; he saw a line item on a balance sheet. He offered me a million dollars to disappear, abort the child, and sign away my existence. He had me escorted to a private clinic like a criminal, ready to finalize my erasure. But the plan shattered when his grandmother, the matriarch of the family, collapsed in a sudden cardiac arrest.
As the doctors failed, I stepped out of the shadows. I diagnosed the toxicity they couldn't see and brought her back from the brink of death. I wasn't the helpless charity case they expected. I was a genius who knew their medical secrets better than their own surgeons.
"Who are you?" Ingram growled, pinning me against a desk in his frozen office.
I didn't blink. I had just secured the family's ancient signet ring and a seat at their table. Now, I’m living in his manor, sharing his bed, and holding the keys to the vault that contains their darkest sins.
"I'm the problem you can't afford to solve," I whispered.
The game has changed. I’m no longer the asset—I’m the hunter. The Rejected Luna's Secret: Awakening the White Wolf
Werewolf For three years, my Alpha husband forced me to take inhibitors, claiming my bloodline was too "weak" to bear his heir without dying.
I believed him, swallowing the pills and the lies to be his perfect, submissive Luna.
But during the rogue attack at the Victory Gala, the truth finally shattered me.
A feral wolf lunged for my throat. I screamed Bennett's name, frozen in fear without my wolf to protect me.
He looked at me. Then he looked at his mistress, Aria, who was cowering behind a table with her wolf fully accessible.
He turned his back on me.
He tackled the rogue attacking her, leaving me exposed to be torn apart.
If his Beta hadn't stepped in at the last second, I would have died right there on the ballroom floor.
When the fighting stopped, Bennett didn't even look my way. He was too busy cooing over Aria’s minor scratch, ignoring his wife who had nearly been slaughtered.
I realized then that the pills weren't for my safety. He was keeping me sterile and docile until he could replace me with her.
I walked upstairs, past the wreckage of my marriage, and flushed the inhibitors down the toilet.
Then, I took out a piece of pack stationery and wrote the words that would destroy his world.
"I, Kelsey Jensen, reject you, Bennett Randolph, as my mate."
I left the note on the nightstand, packed my passport, and walked out into the night, never looking back. The Architect of His Own Downfall
Romance I was a celebrated architect engaged to Carter Hart, the city' s golden boy politician. I designed our perfect life, and he was on the verge of becoming mayor.
Then I found a video on a shared cloud drive. It was of him marrying his pregnant campaign manager three months ago.
I was just a prop for his image, a "fake girlfriend" he planned to discard after the election. To keep me compliant, he secretly drugged my daily smoothies, making me feel foggy and unstable. He staged a fire at my award-winning building to ruin my reputation, then tried to have me locked away in a mental institution, claiming I' d had a breakdown.
But the final blow came from my godfather. He discovered Carter' s manipulation began seven years ago, when he paid someone to sabotage my college thesis, shattering my confidence just so he could swoop in and be my savior.
My entire relationship wasn't just a lie; it was a cage he had designed from the very beginning.
So I flew to London and spent six months with my godfather' s production team. We created a ninety-minute documentary to expose every crime, every lie. And we planned to air it live, hijacking the broadcast of his final election night rally.
We called it "The Architect of Lies." The Mermaid He Sold Away
Fantasy I was Lot 734. A living, breathing mermaid, displayed in a massive tank, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.
In the front row, watching it all, was Dr. Aris Thorne, the man who had promised me forever on a hidden beach, the man I had loved with my whole being.
His colleagues had surrounded my secret cove with nets the day after he discovered my tail; he stood by, silently allowing my capture.
He called me a "scientific anomaly," a "new species," transforming me from his beloved Lyra into a specimen for his research facility, where I was poked, prodded, and drained.
His fiancée, Isabelle, delighted in tormenting me, kicking away my food, tapping on my tank, her laughter echoing his betrayal as he stood by, silent and complicit.
I tried to tell him that she had sabotaged my tank, almost suffocating me, but he simply believed her tears over my frantic gasps.
When he ripped my precious scales from my bleeding palm, claiming it was to "prevent contamination," I knew the man I loved was truly gone.
My pain was just data points on his tablet as he watched Isabelle douse me in burning sterilization agents.
He then sedated me, turning me into a docile object for auction, a car ready to be sold.
I tried to fight back, unleashing a burst of raw power, shattering Isabelle's glass.
He reacted by electrocuting me, then draining my tank, letting me suffocate on the dry concrete.
Loathing in his eyes, he hissed, "If you try anything like that again, I will make sure you arrive at your new owner's home in pieces."
Then, through my pain, a sharp voice cut through the haze: "Let's see the merchandise."
The buyer's representative dismissed my "damaged" scales, demanding one more spectacle: "He wants to see her cry pearls. Make it happen."
My last flicker of hope died when Aris, his voice flat, agreed. From Oil Heiress To Mountain Ghost
Romance My life as Jocelyn Fuller, the oil heiress, ended the day my father went to prison and my sister Molly fell gravely ill, leaving me desperate.
My ex-fiancé, Ethan Scott, a DC power player, promised Molly the best medical care money could buy if I agreed to a "deal."
That deal turned into a nightmare: I was sold to Caleb Duncan, a ruthless West Texas rancher, becoming his captive and plaything, suffering unimaginable abuse and even a miscarriage.
After three years, Ethan reappeared, claiming Molly was alive and well, offering me freedom and a new life.
But I knew his game. I was done being a pawn in their brutal power struggles.
So, I jumped off a cliff, faked my death, and became Stella, a ghost hidden away in a small Colorado mountain town, vowing to live free.
Then, one by one, they showed up; first Caleb, then Ethan, both determined to drag me back into their twisted worlds.
But I wasn't Jocelyn anymore. I was Stella, and this time, I was fighting back. The Heiress They Stole
Modern The Thanksgiving call from my adoptive mother was laced with a forced cheerfulness that immediately put me on guard. Maria and Anthony never just wanted me home; it was always a preamble to a demand, a lecture, or a guilt trip. This time, it was worse.
I arrived to find our small, worn-out house packed with church members, their eyes filled with pious expectation. My adoptive parents, Maria and Anthony, proudly presented a newborn baby, Caleb, demanding I shoulder his entire upbringing and hand over my paramedic salary as my "Christian duty."
My refusal unleashed a nightmare. They disowned me, threw out my belongings, and publicly shamed me at my workplace, jeopardizing my hard-earned career. But the lowest blow came when they tried to marry me off to my violent cousin, Rufus, hoping to gain legal control over my life and income.
When Rufus used a spare key to break into my apartment, trying to force himself on me, my boyfriend Ethan saved me. Yet, at the police station, my adoptive parents' theatrics and lies allowed them to walk free, while I was left reeling from their venomous threat: a civil lawsuit for "elder abandonment" and demanding every penny I had.
How could these people, who claimed to be my family, relentlessly try to destroy me, all in the name of God? Was there no end to their depravity, no escape from their manipulative grasp? But as their twisted words echoed in my mind, a forgotten memory-a snatch of a phrase about a "fire"-ignited a terrifying new question. Too Late, Mr. Golden Boy
Billionaires Six years, four rounds of IVF, and a mountain of debt were the price for two pink lines, a baby Andrew proudly proclaimed was our heir.
He even bought out an entire floor of Manhattan's most exclusive maternity hospital to celebrate, cementing his image as the perfect #HusbandGoals.
But a knot of dread formed as anonymous emails arrived, hinting at "designer babies" and asking, "Is it really your baby, Molly?"
A secret prenatal test confirmed the worst: the baby I carried wasn't biologically mine.
My body, a battlefield of hormones and needles for six years, had been reduced to a mere vessel for a child conceived with another woman.
The final blow came with an audio file of Andrew's voice, clear and cold: "She's just the vessel. Our perfect heir. Her genes are a dead end. Yours, Sabrina... they' re perfect."
My world didn't just shatter; it revealed itself to be a meticulously crafted lie where I was nothing more than an incubator for my husband's twisted legacy and his mistress's genes.
I gave birth to a child that wasn't mine, then watched my husband publicly dedicate his life and career to his true "partner" in a humiliating display.
With a fierce, cold resolve, I walked out of that gilded cage, leaving my old life behind and determined to reclaim my own identity and future. His Secret Shame
Romance My ten-year relationship with Liam, born in a UT Austin dorm, was slowly dying in our Zilker apartment.
He' d been distant, but the real alarm rang when he slapped a privacy screen on his phone.
Then I saw the text, shining briefly on his kitchen counter: "Thinking of you" from a woman named Chloe.
My heart hammered, a bitter sense of betrayal rising until I discovered a chilling Venmo payment to her: "$200 for your acting skills 😉".
It wasn't paranoia; it was a setup, orchestrated to make me look insane while he planned his exit.
As I scrolled through months of their flirty DMs, I realized he hadn' t just cheated; he had stolen our future, even swapping Chloe's name onto the ACL festival tickets I' d bought him.
The man I loved weaponized my deepest pain against me, twisting my infertility – a consequence of the accident that took my parents – into his excuse to leave, claiming I was "selfish" and only caring about my "tragedy."
Lying heartbroken on the living room floor next to his passed-out form, something inside me ignited.
I was not a victim, not anymore.
My old life disappeared piece by piece: I cut my hair, quit my dead-end job, and moved into a new apartment.
Now, the only question was how publicly I would dismantle the calculating man who had pretended to be my anchor while plotting my demise. Obsessed: A Second Chance Thriller
Romance June 14th.
The date burned into my mind like a brand.
I woke in my bed, David still asleep beside me, and saw the familiar sunlight pouring through the window.
This was the day.
The day everything began to unravel in my last life.
In that life, my sorority sister, my supposed best friend Brittany, systematically destroyed me.
She poisoned David's mind against me, tried to steal him, and when he rejected her, she drove us straight into a deadly accident.
I died.
My life, my love, extinguished by her venomous jealousy.
The betrayal was a cold, constant ache.
To be eliminated by the person you confided in, the one you loved like a sister, simply because she couldn't have what was yours.
It wasn't just a car crash; it was an assassination engineered by a twisted mind.
I died feeling utterly helpless, unjustly robbed of my future.
But this time, I wouldn't be a victim.
This time, I had a second chance, a do-over.
I sat bolt upright, heart thumping not with fear, but with fierce determination.
"David," I whispered, shaking him awake.
"We need to get married.
Today.
Right now."
I was back, and this time, I would rewrite my fate, starting by securing my future. The ATM Husband's Reckoning
Romance The key turning in the lock was a sound I hadn't heard in two years, not since my wife Chloe left for her "research fellowship."
Suddenly, she was in our kitchen, not alone, but holding two baby carriers.
"Ethan," she said, her voice cool, "Meet our children."
My jaw dropped, the half-made sandwich forgotten – children? We explicitly agreed to be child-free due to her crippling anxiety about pregnancy.
Then she announced, with chilling casualness, "They're biologically mine and Liam's."
Liam, her high school sweetheart, the one she told me was dying of a rare cancer, the reason she needed the "fellowship" to be near him – or so she claimed.
A sickening dread coiled in my stomach as her demand to become a stay-at-home dad solidified the nightmare.
Later, hidden men's designer underwear and used condoms in her suitcase screamed "no physical intimacy," while a tax bill proved our co-owned cabin was now solely Liam's.
Eight years of sacrificing my dreams for her anxieties, now revealed as a meticulously planned deception, a cruel, bitter joke.
The final blow came when I found Chloe laughing, openly intimate with a perfectly healthy Liam, mocking me, the "chump" and "ATM," at a local restaurant.
My world shattered, filled with a cold fury I' d never known.
"No, Chloe," I stated, the first time in years I' d defied her, as she demanded I rescue her family yet again.
I handed her the divorce papers; the Berlin job offer, long-deferred, was calling my name, and this time, I would answer.
She slapped me, screamed accusations, her mother joined in, but their venom had no power over my newfound resolve.
I called Professor Albright, securing my escape: "Is that job offer in Berlin still a possibility?"
"Soon," I promised, booking a one-way ticket, ready to leave the toxic wasteland behind forever. You might like
Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray’s text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran’s "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father’s multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city’s most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins—the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street—and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband's Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn't find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn't even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father's legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn's party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara's health and managing every detail of Caden's empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I'd drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause-if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I'd forgotten. Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." 
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