Yi Xiaoxin
13 Published Stories
Yi Xiaoxin's Books and Stories
Too Late For Regret: The Biker Queen
Romance I was the Old Lady of the Iron Cross Motorcycle Club, secretly pregnant with the President's child.
But before I could tell him, Bennet brought a bar girl into our clubhouse and announced she was taking my place.
When she found my positive pregnancy test, she cornered me in the garage and shoved me hard into a steel engine stand.
A sharp crack echoed through my spine, and a pool of dark blood quickly spread across the concrete beneath me.
When Bennet rushed downstairs, my lead mechanic screamed at him to call an ambulance for his unborn child.
But the bar girl clung to his arm, crying fake tears.
"She's lying, Bennet! It's fake blood! She's doing this to ruin your party!"
To save his pride in front of the rival clubs drinking upstairs, Bennet looked at me with disgust.
"Nobody calls outside doctors into my clubhouse. Lock the doors."
He ordered his men to bolt the heavy steel garage doors from the outside, leaving me to bleed out in the dark.
Lying on the cold floor, feeling the life drain from my womb, my heart turned to absolute ice.
How could the man I spent years building an empire for let our baby die just to protect his fragile ego?
But I didn't die that night.
I survived, and I quietly packed up every custom bike, engine patent, and dollar I had built for his club.
It was time to show the President what happens when you cross the woman who holds the keys to your entire empire. Trapped By My Fiancée's Crazy Sister
Romance My sister Carmelita was the family's radiant princess, about to marry Wall Street emperor Kingsley Sterling. I was just Gretta, the mentally unstable, disgraced younger sister.
But no one knew the truth behind my ruined reputation.
Years ago, Carmelita meticulously crafted rumors to paint me as a shameless outcast. When my baby boy was dying of a severe fever, I knelt in our family's gravel driveway in the freezing rain, desperately begging for help.
She just smiled in her custom charity gala gown, looking down at me with utter disgust.
"They won't see you. You're an embarrassment."
She shut the heavy oak door, leaving my son to grow cold and take his last breath in my arms.
She even blamed our grandmother's fatal heart attack on the scandal she herself had created. I was entirely abandoned by my parents, left with nothing but faded scars on my wrists, while she enjoyed her flawless life.
Why did my innocent child have to pay for her cruel vanity? Why did she get the perfect fairytale ending while I was forced to live as a hollow ghost?
The weak woman she destroyed died on that driveway. Before my grandmother passed, I promised her I would take everything back.
So, I slipped into Kingsley's penthouse, spiked his whiskey, and pressed record on a hidden camera.
When the mighty CEO woke up naked next to me in a panic, I handed him a contract.
"For the next month, you belong to me, and you will not touch Carmelita without my permission." Divorced By The Boss I Slept With
Romance Arnetta had been married to a wealthy man for three years, but she had never even seen his face.
After a wild night of drinking, she woke up in a hotel room next to a handsome, ruthless stranger.
He coldly kicked her out, mocking her as just another desperate woman trying to sleep her way to the top.
To her shock, she soon discovered the stranger was Brennan Kirkland—her firm's top-tier client and a legendary Wall Street billionaire.
Hiding her true identity as a corporate spy, she manipulated her way into becoming his executive assistant to steal his data.
During a business dinner, Arnetta received a humiliating text from her absent husband, demanding a divorce and calling her a greedy parasite.
"He is a deadbeat coward who thinks money solves everything," Arnetta spat in anger.
"A man who hides behind lawyers is weak," Brennan agreed coldly.
He had absolutely no idea he was insulting his own actions, nor did he realize the wild, gold-digging wife he despised was sitting right across from him.
The next day, her husband's legal team sent a brutal twenty-million-dollar settlement offer, threatening to ruin her if she didn't take the payoff and disappear.
Staring at the degrading ultimatum, Arnetta's hands shook with blinding rage.
She looked at Brennan, who was busy plotting to destroy his own wife, and a terrifyingly calm smile touched her lips.
She wasn't just going to take the money; she was going to completely destroy him. Woke Up Lost, Became His Alpha Queen
Werewolf The forest floor was a blur of wet leaves and black soil under my bare feet, a desperate escape from a monster whose shadow felt like the end of the world. Then, nothing. I woke up in a lavish room, my body aching, my arm broken, and my mind a terrifying blank slate, with no memory of who I was or how I got there.
Panic, cold and slick, wrapped around my throat. I tried to remember my name, my home, my pack – anything – but there was only a vast, terrifying emptiness where my life should have been.
The Alpha, Kaelen, a man of formidable power and chilling detachment, found me and planned to send me away to a neutral shelter, a terrifying prospect of being cast out again. Yet, when I desperately craved chocolate mousse and raw venison, he secretly provided them, a strange indulgence hidden from his pack.
The fragile safety shattered when agonizing pain coiled in my gut, forcing a raw scream of his name. He came, silent and rigid, guiding me through the intimate agony. In that moment of absolute vulnerability, a profound certainty bloomed: "You're my Alpha Prince."
The words struck him like a physical blow. His eyes, usually cold as river stones, flashed with raw, hunted panic before the mask slammed back down. He walked away without a word, leaving me with a terrifying question: What truth had I stumbled upon, and why did my desperate devotion ignite such fear in the most powerful wolf I knew? The Thousand-Day Streak of Lies
Modern For ten years, I believed my long-distance relationship with my architect boyfriend, Griffith, was unbreakable. I was building a successful career, convinced our love was the one constant I could count on.
That illusion shattered the day I saw his phone. A thousand-day Snapchat streak wasn't with me. It was with his intern, a girl he called Kallie Sunshine.
His apology was a cold, duty-bound marriage proposal, followed by him taking the fall for her career-ending mistake at his firm.
In the middle of the chaotic company lobby, as he was sacrificing everything for her, she delivered the final blow.
"I'm pregnant with his baby!" she shrieked, a triumphant smirk on her face. "And you're just a bitter old hag who couldn't keep her man!"
Ten years of my life, my love, my future-all reduced to a humiliating public spectacle. He chose to protect his "little muse" while I was just collateral damage.
I slapped his face, threw the ring at his feet, and walked away. This time, I wasn't just going back to my apartment. I was leaving the country for good. Shattered Love, Deadly Revenge
Romance I used to believe my life with Liam Miller was a fairy tale, a future filled with hope and love.
Then, six months into my pregnancy, at a corporate party meant to celebrate our impending engagement, a video of our most intimate moment flashed across a giant screen, broadcast to hundreds.
My world didn' t just crumble; it exploded. My mother, in a frantic call after seeing an anonymous text exposing the horror, died in a car crash rushing to me. My father, seeing the shame and grief on my face, succumbed to a cerebral hemorrhage.
Why? All of it, a brutal revenge meticulously planned by the man I loved, fueled by a twisted lie about my mother' s past.
Five years later, stripping away my dignity as a cocktail waitress, I finally found the leverage I needed. My son, the last piece of my shattered heart, needed a miracle-a bone marrow transplant I couldn' t afford. Liam was a match. He would be my unwitting savior, or so I hoped. A Love Contract: Five Years
Romance For five years, I was her dog. Sarah Miller, the woman I once loved, owned me, reminding me of it daily. The contract, my reason for existence, was almost over.
Then, Alex Thorne, her COO, smirked, "Try again," smudging the glass I just polished. Her private office door opened; Sarah emerged, beautiful and cold. She walked past me without a glance, stopping at Alex. His hand on her waist, he boated, "I aim to please... in every department," his eyes locked on mine. She leaned into him, whispering, loud enough for me to hear, "I know I can always count on you."
The office watched, a daily performance. They saw me as a joke, the guy publicly dumped by the CEO, crawling back for a demeaning job. Sarah finally looked at me, "The conference room. I want to see the new ad campaign video. You'll run the projector." And with a cruel edge, "You will watch the whole thing. Every second. Don't look away."
My heart became a dead thing, beating but not feeling. I thought about the night it all began, the night I planned to propose, the night I destroyed everything to save her. I wondered, was it worth it?
The contract had only a few weeks left. This time, I' d be free. Six Years: A Betrayal Reborn
Modern Six years. That' s how long I counted every day they left me to rot, a sacrifice made for the woman I loved.
Chloe, my fiancée, the one I fought for and willingly swapped places with when gunmen burst into our engagement vacation villa.
I believed her promise: "I'll pay them anything! I'll get you back!"
Instead, six years later, I returned to find her a social media mogul, having built an empire on the very "tragic disappearance" she' d orchestrated with my best friend, Mark.
They wanted me gone-permanently.
Now, thanks to Victoria Thorne, I' m not just back, I' m wealthy, powerful. And she' s given me a choice: justice, Liam. Or retribution. My path is clear. The Mute Muse's Revenge
Fantasy For nine years, I lived as a ghost, tethered to Ethan Blackwood.
The art world knew me as "A.N.", the mute artist madly in love with the city's most renowned and arrogant art critic, a story they all enjoyed.
They didn't know the truth: nine years ago, my younger sister Lily was dying, and desperation led me to the mysterious Muse System.
The price for her life? My voice and identity, transforming me into Ethan' s dedicated muse, his silent shadow.
I endured his daily humiliation, his condescending words, and his blatant preference for Vivienne, his "white moonlight," while I mimicked her style, sinking into debt.
Tonight was our seventh anniversary, also my 28th birthday, but he never came home, the special meal growing cold as the clock ticked past midnight.
He finally stumbled in at 2 AM, reeking of alcohol, saw my absence, and woke me with a snarled command: "Draw my bath."
My bare feet slipped on a stray drop of water, sending a searing pain through my leg as I fell hard on the marble floor, but he just watched with pure indifference.
Then his phone chimed, his voice instantly softening, humming a happy tune as he spoke to Vivienne, admiring a sculpture he' d bought her-a fortune spent while I bled myself dry for his approval.
That night, my own sister, Lily, called, shrill with accusation: "Vivienne is so upset! Ethan belongs with her! You need to divorce him and disappear!"
Days later, my grandmother assaulted me at a family dinner, shoving me until my head met a sharp table corner, a flash of white pain and then darkness.
I awoke in a hospital, my mother dismissing my concussion as "drama," and my grandmother asking the doctor, with strange hope, "Is she going to die?"
Vivienne visited, placing lilies to trigger my allergy, then feigning a cut to get Ethan' s attention, successfully turning his rage on me.
He dragged me from the bed, forcing me to my knees before her, demanding an apology I couldn' t give, leaving me there, alone and humiliated.
The next blow came from Vivienne again, a "calculated" trip that sent scalding coffee all over me, leaving me crumpled on the floor with second-degree burns while Ethan checked on her, blaming me for the mess.
No one helped me, not him, not the servants, as my heart, a dead, calm sea, felt nothing but resignation.
The Muse System finally alerted me to the severe toll the mission had taken: a terminal diagnosis with only a month to live.
Ethan, completely oblivious, brought Vivienne to an obstetrics clinic, where she brandished a sonogram: "It' s yours, Ethan. We're going to be a family."
I learned then everything I had sacrificed for was a lie, and there was no longer any turning back.
My one goal remained: to reclaim my identity before the end.
I called Dr. Alex Carter: "I want my old face back... I want to die as myself." Seventeen Again: This Time, I Win
Young Adult I dreamed of perfect prom nights and Ivy League acceptance letters, with my ideal boyfriend, Kevin Johnson, by my side.
But that dream turned into a living hell when he systematically sabotaged my SAT scores, stole my chance at my top-choice university, and sabotaged a crucial scholarship.
The ultimate betrayal came when he coerced me into enduring a painful, life-altering medical procedure for his new girlfriend, Tiffany, condemning me to years of chronic pain, crushing debt, and a future that utterly derailed.
My life was shattered, reduced to a hollow, suffering existence.
I was nothing more than a disposable pawn in his cruel, calculating game, my body and dreams sacrificed so he could appease another girl.
The bitter injustice festered, scarring me to my very core.
Then, the familiar fluorescent hum of Northwood High' s hallway surrounded me, and I was seventeen again, knowing every single devastating move he was about to make.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl he could break.
This time, I knew everything.
And this time, I would rewrite my entire destiny. No Longer Their ATM
Modern Thanksgiving rush, the usual chaos of life with my daughter, Jessica.
For years, I' d been their quiet support, their free childcare, their endless ATM.
My late husband' s heroism left me one asset: our fully paid-off home.
Then, a towering display of canned goods began to fall, directly on my grandson, Brayden.
Without a thought, I shoved him clear, and the world went dark under a crushing weight.
Instead of concern when I woke in the ER, dazed and concussed, my daughter Jessica' s voice cut through the fog.
She wasn' t worried about my stitches, only Brayden' s scraped knee and her "ruined Thanksgiving."
Then came the demand: While I was still hurting, Jessica, backed by Kevin' s sniveling mother, insisted I sign over my house.
My house, the anchor my husband provided, their latest target.
When I refused, their true colors showed.
They locked me in my own former room, seizing my phone, a prisoner in my own daughter's house.
My own flesh and blood, willing to go to such lengths-accusing me, then holding me captive-all for a piece of property.
The betrayal was a deeper concussion than any physical blow.
How could the daughter I raised, the grandson I saved, become instruments in such a cruel play?
But as my son Michael and his wife Emily burst through the flimsy door, a cold clarity settled over me.
This wasn't pity-this was war.
I was done being their victim, their dogsbody, their endless resource.
This was the moment I stopped being Sarah the doormat, and started fighting back for Sarah. One F-250, Many Felonies
Modern Attending my high school reunion felt like a lifetime ago. I drove my dusty Ford F-250, trying to keep a low profile – just another forgotten face in an ocean of luxury cars, maintaining the façade of a normal life for agency protocols.
But some things never change. Brad Harrington Jr., still the same loudmouth, instantly targeted me and my "work truck," sneering, "Still pushing paper for the government, Carter?" My old crush, Jessica Monroe, chimed in, "Some things never change, do they, Ethan? Still aiming low." Their privileged condescension was a familiar tune, but it grated, especially with a critical national security call looming.
When I tried to leave for that classified call, Brad – flanked by his private security – outright blocked my path. He escalated from insults to threats, then, with a twisted grin, ordered his goons to vandalize my truck. "Teach him some respect!" he gloated. A crowbar, a tire iron – nothing could even scratch it. Brad himself stormed out, screaming in frustration, while I watched, my urgent mission hanging by a thread.
All through their pathetic display, I kept quiet. They saw a "government pencil-pusher," a "loser." They had no idea that "work truck" was classified federal property, or that their "private event" was now jeopardizing something far beyond their comprehension. Their ignorance was almost laughable, if not for the high stakes involved.
That's when I calmly pulled out my satellite phone. As Brad hammered uselessly at the F-250, I pressed a single speed dial. "Blacksite Actual," I said, my voice low and clipped. "Situation Foxtrot... Hostile local interference. Requesting immediate response, Protocol Delta." The reunion was about to get a very real, very federal wake-up call. You might like
THREE-YEARS CONTRACT MARRIAGE WITH THE HOT BILLIONAIRE
Ashley Ray "Sign the contract, or lose everything."
I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King.
My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction.
Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love."
He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end.
I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his.
But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective.
Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything.
They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn.
With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?
Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
Hei Baidong I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up.
When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience.
"Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff."
Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me.
I gave birth to twins all by myself.
The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped.
They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child.
I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister.
I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies.
But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test.
It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years.
Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband.
This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing. The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." A Million Dollar Lie: Watch Me Leave
Jun Shangye For three years, Hilary played the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Julian Carlisle to save her family from financial ruin.
But her husband didn't love her; he was busy throwing a birthday party for the five-year-old son he secretly had with his college sweetheart.
To keep up appearances, Julian bought Hilary a million-dollar Cartier bracelet, but she soon discovered the exact same jewelry on his mistress's wrist.
During a heated confrontation about his lies, Julian accused her of being a hysterical madwoman and violently shoved her away.
But he didn't care that her head smashed against the sharp edge of a nightstand, causing a life-threatening cranial hemorrhage.
So she was left bleeding and unconscious on the cold floor, while he simply sneered at her.
"Stop pretending. I don't have time for these pathetic games."
He walked out the door, leaving her alone to die.
After a brush with death, her years of unrequited love and hope were completely gone, and she finally gave up.
Waking up in the ICU, she calmly looked at Julian's terrified, regretful face and made her final decision.
"Mr. Hayes, please deliver the signed divorce papers to my husband immediately." Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy-The Nightingale Ranch-as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." Old Lady of the Iron Crown
Edilaine Beckert I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins.
My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door.
But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday.
Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract.
The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing.
If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case.
"Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed."
I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash.
I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood.
Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world.
I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country.
Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt. Old Lady of the Apex Crown
Xiao Ye I was the financial backbone of the Rust Hounds MC, keeping my patched-member husband, French, and his scrap-metal club afloat with my private wealth.
But I returned to the clubhouse one afternoon only to find him half-naked on the sofa with my half-sister, Hettie.
Instead of apologizing, he sneered and demanded I accept her.
"The club needs legacy. Hettie can actually give me an heir, unlike a cold mechanic."
When I immediately cut off their funding, his entire family turned into rabid dogs.
They tried to physically seize my family's titanium mining deeds and leaked a security video of me being carried out of a dive bar by a "nameless drifter" to frame me for infidelity.
Even my own father showed up to the club's tribunal to strip my surname, demanding I sign over my assets before they broke my legs and banished me.
I had bled for this club and this family for years, only to be thrown to the wolves so they could steal my inheritance.
They really thought I was just a disposable Old Lady they could humiliate, break, and cast aside into the dirt without consequence.
What on earth gave them the confidence to think I would just roll over and die?
They didn't know that the "filthy nobody" who saved me that night was Camden Diaz, the Apex President of the Iron Kings, the most feared outlaw empire in North America.
And his heavily armed enforcers had just blown the doors off their little tribunal. The Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback
Out Of Town "From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer."
In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title.
The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry.
His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt.
Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get."
They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps.
The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world.
When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance.
"She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel."
I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face.
"This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole."
But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey... 
/1/129526/coverorgin.jpg?v=46e3912652a54b39c8de6e192d526a3f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/124158/coverorgin.jpg?v=b2b8a6f4db34e03821afd67046bd21d5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115688/coverorgin.jpg?v=c4296ba4477593b9cc3c9d74103a5c33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112826/coverorgin.jpg?v=6fc28ed66e620635d5e0e9316bccd490&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102459/coverorgin.jpg?v=18837f26674d1271ead63c27c2004d24&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86550/coverorgin.jpg?v=222226cc5686b8c4229b7e9d0aa1f857&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86507/coverorgin.jpg?v=9201fea77d0761930e0a3303867b7023&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85816/coverorgin.jpg?v=60854c4bebc4a17d995c1294503c61a2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84834/coverorgin.jpg?v=ccd9e3a674d292a009b909c6b9b8085a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83229/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4553711de7e0927f9b6aa22c4452f91&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83098/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a1d6398c5dde7fb3ef6bfeaca225767&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80744/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a8e49575c85365023b2a2fbd1838faf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18646/coverorgin.jpg?v=526ce8f3263e73ad398865f42259e258&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/117347/coverorgin.jpg?v=de20990b4c70907f2f9e27e5baa266ac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/125737/coverorgin.jpg?v=3cbe9c23a9d0a53cbf2f611eefea02a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/127010/coverorgin.jpg?v=66e5aea9e00c9d9a2f5c8845b1c504da&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/126346/coverorgin.jpg?v=f38614d162a35de2a99991f66de49b24&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/122068/coverorgin.jpg?v=cbc3426c74c960d9b7067c33ce0c802a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/125673/coverorgin.jpg?v=48cb253d018a5f70a7e3cb7d59b124a7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/126929/coverorgin.jpg?v=558d826508fdae5ba71548b2a6a55428&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/129211/coverorgin.jpg?v=9d1a6783e270724a626c46c2cc9f9581&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/129716/coverorgin.jpg?v=d81e3c9cf8b0d53a9220b0b265b9c863&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/127457/coverorgin.jpg?v=307dca9319ee30a62c70f5cc1f2e96bb&imageMogr2/format/webp)