Zhao Da
15 Published Stories
Zhao Da's Books and Stories
Mated To My Ex's Dead Brother
Fantasy My engagement to Kile, the heir of House Golden, was witnessed by the Duke himself. I thought my days as a helpless orphan were over.
But right before our wedding, he coldly informed me that my status was being revoked. I was to enter his family as a lesser consort.
The title of primary wife was being given to his lover, Journey. She hid behind Kile, wearing a spotless white dress and trembling like a fragile lotus.
"Cassie, please don't blame him, I can live without a title," she cried, playing the perfect victim.
Kile shielded her, glaring at me with pure disgust, shouting that I was being completely unreasonable.
The next day, the entire Elder Council cornered me in their grand hall. They told me that as a "Dragonless" nobody, I should be immensely grateful for any scrap they threw my way.
They all stared at me, waiting for me to swallow my pride and accept a lifetime of humiliation.
They thought I was entirely broken. They thought I had no backing and no choice but to bow down to their cruelty.
Instead, I looked straight at the Chief Elder and smiled.
"I refuse to be a lesser consort," I announced clearly, watching Kile's smug expression freeze. "But to preserve our families' dignity, I will fulfill the contract."
I looked right into Kile's shocked eyes.
"I will marry your dead older brother, Lord Ayden." The Substitute Mate: Healing the Fallen Dragon
Fantasy I woke up with a splitting headache, only to realize I had transmigrated into the body of a despised, "Dragonless" noble daughter.
Before I could even process my new reality, I was dragged out of bed and shoved into a plain black carriage, sent off as a disposable pawn to marry a crippled, violent prince.
My half-sister, glittering in dragon scales, mocked me publicly, boasting that she was now free to marry my former crush.
My father had abandoned me to a certain death.
When I arrived at the grim palace, the prince's guards blocked the gates.
He refused to even see his new bride, leaving me to freeze outside.
I was a family joke, discarded by my own bloodline and left to die at a stranger's door.
I didn't understand why this girl was treated worse than dirt, or why I, a top modern surgeon, had to suffer for their sick political games.
I refused to let my life end as collateral damage in a world that deemed me worthless.
Just as my vision blurred, a familiar blue screen flickered to life in my mind—my medical system.
I looked at the hostile guards, my voice ringing clear in the empty courtyard.
"Go tell your prince that I am not here to marry him. I am here to cure his poison."
This time, I would carve out my own survival. The Forsaken Luna's Rise To The Crown
Werewolf I was the beloved daughter of the Stonecrest Pack's Alpha, deeply in love with my destined mate, Everet.
But in the freezing snowy forest, the man who had sworn to protect me shot a silver arrow straight through my chest.
As I choked on my own blood, he looked at me not with concern, but with the detached appraisal of a butcher examining meat.
"You and your precious pack are a gift," he smiled coldly. "My offering to Prince Damien."
Because of my naive trust, my father was framed and executed, my loyal pack was slaughtered, and my reputation was dragged through the mud.
Everet ruthlessly twisted my wrist, mocking me as a weak 'Trophy Daughter,' before his men fired the final arrow into my heart.
As I fell into the bottomless darkness, my soul burned with agonizing hatred.
Why did the mate I loved become the monster who destroyed my entire world? Why did our trusted royal ally orchestrate our ruin?
I cursed them with my dying breath, swearing that if I had another chance, I would tear their schemes apart.
Opening my eyes again, I wasn't in the afterlife. I was sitting in my childhood bedroom.
I had returned to six years ago, on the very day of the Harvest Moon Gala—the exact night my tragic downfall began.
Looking at my young face in the mirror, a flame of cold hatred ignited in my eyes.
This time, there would be no weak Trophy Daughter. I would make everyone who betrayed my family pay in blood. Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Billionaire Uncle
Billionaires "You don’t deserve to be a member of the Donaldson family. Get out!"
Having returned as the long-lost biological daughter, Fiona Donaldson was detested by everyone in her household.
Her fiancé cheated on her with her fake younger sister; her elder brothers berated her as shameless; even her birth father cared nothing for her life or death.
To make matters worse, she had crossed paths with Ewart Blake—the ruthless, cold-blooded head of the Blake family, and also her fiancé’s maternal uncle.
"Let’s pretend nothing happened last night," Fiona intended to cut all ties and go separate ways. Yet this overbearing man insisted she take responsibility for him.
He threatened to expose her secret identities—the miracle doctor with unparalleled medical skills, a bestselling screenwriter, and the hidden owner of a top-tier design firm—if she refused to marry him.
When Ewart Blake was young, he was tasked with safeguarding a certain girl. Years later, they met again when she was framed and ended up in his bed.
He originally planned to fulfill his old promise and shelter her under his protection, only to discover this woman was far less fragile than she appeared, and instead full of clever schemes… My Vengeful Husbands Demand A Remarriage
Fantasy I survived ten years in the apocalypse, only to transmigrate into the body of the most despised woman in the Galactic Empire.
When I opened my eyes, I was holding a bloody whip, straddling a beastman husband the original owner had just tortured.
The mechanical system in my head immediately issued a death sentence.
"In two months, your trial marriage ends. Your six abused husbands will be legally permitted to tear you apart."
The original host was an absolute monster. She beat them, starved them, stole their meager military stipends for luxury goods, and even sent two of them to a deadly alien warzone just to impress her high-society friends.
Now, I was left with her massive debts, a blocked power core, and the terrifying reality of six powerful, vengeful beastmen plotting my murder in the basement.
I inherited all her sickening sins, and the crushing weight of their justifiable hatred felt like a suffocating nightmare.
How was I supposed to survive when the people I lived with were just waiting for the legal countdown to snap my neck?
But an apocalypse survivor doesn't just roll over and die.
I pawned the original's useless designer bags, bought the highest-grade nutrient solutions, and called my would-be murderers into the living room.
"I know you hate me, and you have every right to," I told them calmly.
"We are getting a divorce." Torn Papers: My Bankrupt Military Husband
Romance Josie woke up gasping in a ransacked 1970s living room, trapped in the body of a notoriously vain, gold-digging wife.
The opulent Sterling family was officially bankrupt and politically dead.
The original host's grand plan was to use her unborn child to extort a massive divorce settlement from her terrifying military husband, Donovan.
But fragmented memories showed Josie the grim reality of that choice: she was destined to be conned, dying penniless and alone in a freezing gutter.
Now, Donovan stood towering before her, his dark eyes filled with absolute disgust.
He tossed a thick envelope of divorce papers onto the glass table.
"Sign them. You leave the child alone, and you walk away."
The ruined family watched with bated breath, fully expecting the spoiled socialite to take their last hidden funds and abandon them to a brutal exile in a Pennsylvania rust-belt factory town.
Josie knew the cold truth. A meager settlement couldn't protect a pregnant woman from DC's ruthless political vultures.
She refused to let that miserable, lonely death become her reality.
Staring directly into Donovan's hostile eyes, Josie picked up the heavy legal documents.
With a sharp, deliberate motion, she tore the divorce papers cleanly in half.
"I'm not getting an abortion, and I am staying as your wife."
She was going to rewrite this destiny, but before they boarded the train to the rust-belt, she had one last score to settle.
She would use her formidable husband to terrorize her hypocritical biological family and take back every penny they stole. His Unwanted Fiancé Is A Genius Heiress
Billionaires Karmen lived suffocating under a tight chest binder and a grotesque silicone scar, forced to disguise herself as her degenerate twin brother, Kem. Her only job was to maintain a fake corporate engagement with the ruthless billionaire Earl Calderon.
But her abusive father suddenly escalated his demands. He ordered her to steal Earl's revolutionary AI patents, threatening to cut off her mother's life-saving medical trust and abandon the real Kem in a locked Swiss psych ward if she failed.
The task was a death sentence. Earl absolutely despised "Kem." He treated her like a repulsive parasite, constantly threatening to break her neck. When he accidentally caught her without her wig, he mistook her for a deranged cross-dresser, forcing her to glue the dirty fake scar back onto her raw, inflamed face in sheer disgust. At home, her father hurled glass ashtrays at her, violently yanking her collar.
"Do whatever you have to do in that bedroom, Kem. I don't care how disgusting it is. Just get the signature."
Trapped between a fiancé who loathed her very existence and a father ready to sacrifice their family for greed, Karmen endured the agonizing physical pain of her disguise. She was exhausted, terrified, and running out of time as her brother's life hung by a thread.
But they all underestimated her. When the Calderon matriarch forced Earl to link his ultra-secure private phone with "Kem" to fake their romance, she unwittingly handed over the master key. Karmen wasn't just a helpless victim; she was the elite hacker Nyx, and she was going to tear their empire apart from the inside. His Starlight, Her Fiery Reckoning
Romance I was the secret lover of my CEO, Kristofer Gordon. He called me his "Starlight," and I, a brilliant but naive software engineer, believed him.
Then he publicly chose his fragile childhood friend, Elenor, revealing I was nothing more than a disposable secret.
The cruelty didn't stop there. He bought my late mother's necklace for Elenor, who taunted me by putting it on a stray dog. When I snapped and attacked her, Kristofer had me arrested and beaten in jail.
Lying in a hospital bed, I learned the final truth from a gloating Elenor: Kristofer had secretly filmed every intimate moment we ever shared, holding the tapes as blackmail.
He wanted to break me. He wanted me to suffer.
But the woman he thought he destroyed died that day. I walked out, set his mansion on fire, and disappeared.
This time, I would be the one in control. He Chose The Mistress, I Took Everything
Mafia On the night of our fifth anniversary, I wasn't drinking champagne. I was standing in the shadows of my husband's study, clutching an encrypted drive I found taped behind our wedding photo.
It contained the blueprints to a life Dante was building with another woman—Sofia Ricci, the daughter of our sworn enemy.
He wasn't just cheating on me. He was using the Port Redevelopment project I had spent two years designing to launder the money he needed to run away with her.
When I confronted him, Dante didn't beg for forgiveness. He looked at me with the cold indifference of a Capo and told me to fix my face for dinner.
The humiliation didn't stop there.
He forced me to share a car with his mistress while my ankle was swollen and throbbing from a fall. He fussed over Sofia’s "delicate" motion sickness while ignoring my pain completely.
"Elena is sturdy," he dismissed.
Sturdy. Like a mule. Like a table he owned.
He even stripped me of my rank, handing my multi-million dollar operation to Sofia simply because she had a "vision" for glass walls.
He thought I was just a compliant wife, a placeholder to keep his books clean while he played house with his true love.
He forgot that while he was the muscle, I was the architect.
So, at the Family Gala, wearing a backless revenge dress, I didn't just ask for a separation.
I threw a glass of champagne in his face and announced to the entire underworld that the accounts were empty.
I didn't just leave him. I took the encryption keys, the money, and his entire future with me. The Heiress You Threw Away
Romance "We' re done, Ava." Ethan' s words hit me like a physical blow, shattering the future we' d planned. He stood in the penthouse doorway, a stranger, offering me a bizarre payoff: the absurdly luxurious apartment, a sports car, and ten million dollars.
A "thank you for the past four years," he mumbled, avoiding my eyes, before dropping the bombshell: he was getting married, an arranged family alliance that had "nothing to do with me."
Just last night, he' d whispered my name with desperate passion in my small, cheap apartment, making love to me in what I thought was a new beginning. But this morning, he was gone, replaced by a lawyer, delivering "gifts" from "Mr. Hayes." My four years of love, reduced to a transaction.
He thought money could fix this, buy my silence. The irony was crushing. He called me a poor, smart girl, working my way through college on scholarships, having no clue his ten million was pocket change. He didn't know I was Ava Riley, the sole heir to Riley Tech.
Why would the Ethan I knew, the man who despised the arrogance of the rich, agree to a forced marriage? Something was terribly wrong. I stared at the keys in my hand, then at my phone. The heartbroken girl was gone.
"Noah," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I need you to find someone for me. Ethan Hayes. I want to know everything. Especially who he' s engaged to." Betrayed Bride, Vengeful Heart
Billionaires My wedding day. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, standing side-by-side with my best friend, Sophia, marrying into the powerful Beaumont family.
But then, a scream cut through the music. Isabella Stone, a family friend, pointed a trembling finger at our fathers, accusing them of unspeakable acts.
Just minutes into our new lives, Liam and Ethan Beaumont, our new husbands, turned to monsters. They let their security beat our fathers mercilessly on the cold stone patio, ignoring our pleas, their faces devoid of the love we thought we shared. The sounds of fists hitting flesh, their grunts of pain – it was agonizing.
Then Isabella whispered to us, her voice filled with chilling glee, that our fathers were still alive when they were left to bleed out. Liam and Ethan had actively prevented the ambulance from reaching them, sealing their gruesome fate. My world shattered. My kind, gentle father, dead. All because of a monstrous lie.
In the sterile hospital waiting room, as Sophia and I grappled with the unspeakable truth that our fathers were truly gone, we overheard Liam and Ethan. Their every word dismissed our pain, their only concern being for Isabella, the architect of our devastation. It was then I knew: the love I thought was real was a delusion.
Grief turned to icy rage. A catering assistant, a terrified teenager, offered us a video, undeniable proof of Isabella' s calculated performance. The truth was finally within our grasp. It was time to fight back. Discarded After Thirty Years: His "True Love" Was A Lie
Billionaires I spent three decades by Marcus Thorne's side, his loyal companion, the quiet force behind his empire. My life was a gilded cage, filled with whispered promises and the subtle comfort of being cherished.
Then, at the annual gala, he shattered it all. On stage, he introduced "Isabelle Vance" as his "true love," casting me aside like forgotten debris. He ripped the silk gown he'd designed for me, a brutal symbol of his sudden, chilling contempt.
My fall was instant and brutal. From Thorne Tower's mistress, I became a servant, enduring Isabelle's sadistic whims and Marcus's cold indifference. They subjected me to "mental recalibration," a systematic torture designed to erase my very memories of affection, pushing me into the abyss of Thorne City's dreaded Rehabilitation Center and ultimately, Section Zero.
How could a man I gave 30 years of my life to so readily condemn me to hell? Was every memory a lie? The injustice burned, fueling a tiny, desperate flame within me even as they tried to break my spirit.
Just when all hope seemed lost, a defiant prisoner named Elias offered an unexpected escape. Now, as the truth about Marcus's manipulative "true love" finally shatters his world, he desperately seeks my forgiveness. But I am no longer the woman he discarded; my fight for freedom has truly begun, and this time, it's on my terms. The Blood Bank Bride
Romance For seven long years, I, Ava Chen, willingly served as a human blood bank for Chloe Vance, the sickly heiress beloved by Ethan Cole, the man I secretly adored.
My architectural dreams at Columbia were constantly sidelined, all for the unrequited hope that Ethan might one day see me.
When Chloe desperately needed a life-threatening bone marrow transplant, I demanded Ethan marry me to agree, but during my near-death flatline, his callous words echoed: "If Ava doesn't make it, so be it."
I jolted awake, not truly dead, yet Ethan's chilling indifference had irrevocably shattered my foolish, wasted devotion.
Later, I was brutally beaten by Chloe and her clique, left for dead, and even then, Ethan ordered my critically injured body to be 'drained' for Chloe's blood.
How could I have been so hopelessly deluded, so utterly blind to the callous man I loved, or the manipulative viper he protected?
The stinging reality of his cruel pragmatism, repeated over years, finally pierced through my heartbreak, leaving only incandescent rage.
In that moment of ultimate despair, a cold, unyielding resolve transformed me: no more sacrificing myself for them.
I would reclaim my life, starting with a daring, unexpected act that would ensure Ethan truly received what he deserved, marking my definitive escape from their toxic grasp and a new dawn for myself. You might like
Reborn And Remade: The Mind Reading Queen
Yixi Yuhuan In my past life, my family's bankruptcy destroyed everything, and I ended up dying on a cold metal table as a test subject for the Chimera Project.
It all started when my father's company was framed for a magical artifact leak, forcing him to pay a ruinous compensation.
When we begged for help, his own brothers came to our house. But they didn't come to save us.
"Sign the deed to the ancestral home over to me, or you can all starve in the streets," my uncle sneered, picking our bones clean.
At the magical academy, I became a bankrupt charity case. Elite girls like Vanessa Sterling framed me for stealing her dragon-hide wallet, turning me into a pariah.
"A lowly Human like you doesn't belong here," she mocked, as everyone watched me get humiliated.
My parents died in absolute despair, and I was sold off to a dark laboratory, my wrist branded with a jagged, ugly scar.
Until the moment the searing agony tore through my nerves, I couldn't accept it.
Why did my own blood relatives push my father to suicide?
Why did the magical elites get to trample us into the dirt without consequence?
Then, the white-hot pain suddenly vanished.
I gasped and opened my eyes, finding myself sitting in a bright classroom, ten years in the past.
The ugly scar on my wrist was gone, and a strange new ability was awakening in my mind.
I could hear their thoughts.
This time, I was going to rewrite my fate and make them all pay. The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1
Christina Engela Just think about it.
As frontiers go, this is probably the most final of them all, not because it may be the last
frontier, but because as long as we try to cross it and explore it, we take it with us. No
matter how far we go, the frontier will always be just that much ahead of us, tantalizing our
curiosities. Thus, we can never really cross it in so far as just push it back a little.
The universe is so vast, so immense, we can never expect to explore it all. It is in effect,
not so much a final frontier as an ultimate frontier; the ultimate frontier – as wide as it
is deep. Stars shine coldly in the unimaginable blackness. Out of the darkness, a tiny speck
caught the distant light of stars – a tiny gray speck that, as it moved, seemed to grow
larger, catching the light just so until it revealed itself to be a ship.
Mykl d’Angelo groaned where he sat slumped in his chair. The irritating noise was unsettling
his pet dog lying on his lap. The wickerwork garden chair creaked pleasantly under him and
some native Earth birds made pleasant sounds above while the cool wind wafted over him as he
lazily …
Wait-a-minute! His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth
Luo Chengfeng The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time.
Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]"
My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize.
It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me.
He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard.
My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug.
But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me.
The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it.
"This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire.
Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman.
Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off."
She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin. Love's Betrayal, A Mother's Vow
Xiao Youzi Ava stepped off the jet, eager to finally hug her daughter, Lily, after eighteen months away on a critical mission.
A familiar face, her handler, handed her a tablet, saying, "Welcome home, Ava. Everything is ready for your debriefing tomorrow. Tonight is yours."
Her eyes immediately landed on a headline: "Tech Prodigy Lily Thorne Exposed as Fraud, Groundbreaking AI Code Auctioned Off by Estranged Husband Mark Vance."
And then the photo. Lily, bound to a chair on a brightly lit stage, her face pale, a mixture of shock and utter devastation.
Her estranged son-in-law, Mark Vance, stood beside a woman Ava didn' t recognize-his new fiancée, Chloe.
He was sneering into the camera, declaring Lily would be finished, blacklisted, her future one of "menial jobs and constant public humiliation."
The tablet shattered in Ava' s hand, cracks spiderwebbing across the screen.
Her blood ran cold. The rage was a physical force, shimmering in the air around her.
How could he do this? How could a man she once trusted betray her daughter so completely, so publicly?
This wasn't just a betrayal; it was an execution.
"The mission isn' t over," Ava declared, her voice unnaturally calm, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the horrified handler. "It just began." The Butcher's Heart, A Boy's Hope
Qing Cheng The acrid smell of disinfectant and old wax assaulted my seventy-year-old nose.
One moment, I was Butcher Betty, cleaver in hand, surrounded by the familiar scent of my shop.
The next, I was a stranger in a sterile, enormous kitchen, wearing a stiff uniform, feather duster in my hand.
Then, a cold, mechanical voice boomed directly inside my head: "Transmigration successful. Welcome, Host 734."
My new identity: Betty, the cruel and sycophantic housekeeper of the Anderson family, tasked with following a novel' s plot.
My first directive: lock eight-year-old Liam, the biological son, in the dark, damp basement without dinner to solidify my loyalty to the adopted son, Kevin.
I looked at the small, terrified boy cowering in the corner, his eyes wide with a wariness that shouldn' t be in a child.
This wasn' t a character. This was a scared, hungry kid.
The system blared warnings, demanding I adhere to the script, that I become the villain.
But I was a butcher. I fed people. I didn't starve them.
"The plot can go to hell," I muttered, grabbing a saucepan. "This boy is getting a hot meal." Their Betrayal, Her Billions
Jiuye Fenglin My world was a bland digital prison, my consciousness shunted into OmniVerse after their "Full Dive VR Consciousness Upload" experiment went belly-up, leaving me stuck in a hideous default avatar.
I streamed as SeraphSix, a voice of calm in the chaos, but I was constantly battling the insidious rumors calling me a "catfish" and a fraud.
Rival streamer JessiByte, more cleavage than content, fanned those flames, and "KevlarKing," my biggest tipper, arrogantly challenged me to turn on my face cam for a pathetic five hundred dollars, clearly wanting to impress her and humiliate me.
He'd even stooped to leaking a blurry, out-of-context screenshot of my plain default avatar, trying to make me look bad.
The constant accusations, fueled by their jealousy and entitlement, were draining.
Living as merely a voice behind a mask, fighting off attacks from those who sought to expose me as a "fraud" because my forced avatar didn't match the allure they imagined from my voice and intellect, felt like a constant insult to my true self.
My real life had been about beauty and presence; this default skin was a torment, and the whole situation entirely unfair, festering with cold anger.
Why was I stuck fighting in this superficial world that judged only surface, while my intellectual contributions were dismissed? Why did they so desperately want to expose a "plainness" that wasn't even mine?
Just as I prepared to end another exhausting stream, a private notification from the System flashed: "Host compensation protocol initiated. Restitution package available. Replicate original biometric signature onto current avatar?"
My breath caught.
My real face. The one I thought I' d lost forever.
The game was about to change. 
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