Luo Jiuyuan

My husband, Mark Reynolds, was dead. The news hit me like a physical blow, but the real shock came when the funeral home director handed me a notice. Mark owed five million dollars. Five million. We were always struggling, barely making rent. Now, he was gone, leaving me and our five-year-old son, Leo, with an impossible debt. My best friend, Jessica Miller, put her arm around my shoulder, her voice dripping with concern. "Liv, you can' t do this. You have to renounce the inheritance. Think about Leo." I knew this moment. The exact moment it all went wrong before. In my past life, I listened. I signed away everything, desperate to escape the debt. But the debt collectors came anyway. They didn't care about the law. They took Leo. They sent me a small, bloody box. A single, tiny finger bone. My son was murdered. I was trafficked, sold into a hellhole in Myanmar. Years later, I saw a news report. Mark wasn't the broke man I knew. He was the founder of a multi-billion-dollar global conglomerate. His estate, tens of billions, was going to his sole heir. A young boy, standing next to his mother. The mother was Jessica Miller. The boy was her son, Ethan. My best friend, my husband, their son. My life, my poverty, my son' s death-it was all a lie. A sick game they played to ensure her child got everything. The rage burned me alive. I found a way to end my life, seething with impotent hatred. And then, I opened my eyes. The sterile scent of the funeral home. Leo, alive, his small, warm hand in mine. Jessica, standing right in front of me, her face a mask of perfect concern. "Liv, you can' t do this," she said. "You have to renounce the inheritance. Think about Leo." It was the same day. The same moment. This time, I would not make the same mistake. This time, I would claim what was mine. I would burn her world to the ground.

Ava Jenkins stared at the stark white medical report. The black letters spelled out Idiopathic Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension. A death sentence. She had maybe a year left to live. The man she loved, Liam Hayes, whom she called "Uncle Liam," rejected her publicly, his coldness a stark contrast to her vibrant pleas. He dismissed her with disdain, ignoring her desperate attempts to connect. Her stepmother, Martha, added to her agony with a slap and an engagement invitation: Liam Hayes and Chloe Jenkins, her stepsister. When Ava, desperate, confronted Liam, he shoved her out, slamming the door. The world crumbled around her. Her grandmother, Rose, her only comfort, was brutally attacked, leaving Ava with blood on her hands and heart. Liam, the star lawyer, refused to help her, choosing his "duty" to his future mother-in-law, Martha, over Ava' s desperate pleas. His cold, cynical smile as he questioned if she could afford his fees, his outright refusal to defend her, telling her it was his duty to defend Chloe' s mother. How could he? How could the man she loved so deeply, the man who was once her only solace, betray her so completely? Left with nothing, Ava became a bar girl to pay her grandmother' s medical bills, only to be publicly humiliated by Liam, who accused her of selling herself. Devastated, yet determined, she filed a lawsuit, seeking justice for Rose, only to find Liam opposing her in court. She confessed to a crime she didn't commit, sentenced to three years in prison, pushing him away forever. Just as he received news of her impending death, his true feelings surfaced, but it was too late.

My wife, Scarlett, doubled her company' s stock value overnight, and her idea of celebrating involved a new pair of men, not for her investors, but seemingly for me to "coach." It was the peak of our three-year marriage, a performance where I was a mere accessory, like a thousand-dollar vase-present, but never truly seen. She ordered me, her 'good little cuckold,' to buy protection and champagne for an hour-long tryst with two strangers, right in our penthouse, while her friends tittered with malicious laughter. The final straw broke when she smirked, "You' ve been my good little cuckold for so long, you should be an expert by now." That night, Liam wasn' t just going to buy the champagne; he was going to turn her perfect world upside down.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of garlic and basil, a testament to the perfect life Ethan Thorne was building with his fiancée, Olivia. They were soulmates, partners in love and in their shared dream: a restaurant of their own, with a wedding just two weeks away. Then, a whispered phone conversation shattered his world. Olivia, the woman he adored, speaking with venom about his deceased sister, Isabella, and laughing about him as "that fool chef" and "just a toy." He was a pawn in a chilling revenge plot, destined for public humiliation at their wedding. His heart, so full moments before, became a hollow, aching void. Every shared laugh, every tender kiss, twisted into a grotesque lie. His fiancée wasn't his partner; she was his executioner, meticulously planning his destruction for a perceived wrong from five years ago. How could the woman he poured his entire being into be so cruel? How could she look him in the eye, whisper "I love you," and plot his utter breaking? The depth of her betrayal was an open wound, an injustice that screamed silently within him. But Ethan Thorne wouldn't be a victim. He would play her game, right up to the very end. He wiped the tears from his eyes, picked up his phone, and called Professor Davies. "Tell me more about Paris."

My family keeps an ancient power, trading years of our lives for unbreakable promises. It was always a debt of the soul, always collected. When the powerful Scott family owed us, I, Sabrina, was forced to marry their heir, Ethan. But on my wedding day, his charming younger brother, Caleb, took his place, declaring his undying love. I was a naive mountain girl, completely out of my depth, and I fell for him. A year later, pregnant and blissful, I truly believed I had the perfect life. Then, my world shattered. My entire hometown, all one hundred residents, were massacred. The official story called it an accident, but a private report revealed they were ritually murdered. As I recovered from a near-miscarriage, Caleb, my devoted husband, seemed my only comfort. Until I found his emails. He orchestrated the massacre. It was all for Jennifer, Ethan's fiancée, to "channel their life force" to save her. Caleb even planned to use our unborn child as a sacrifice. My loving husband was a monster, his grief a cruel charade. Trapped, pregnant, and horrified, I knew I had to make a choice. The life of a Pact Keeper is not something you take for free. A soul for a soul. One hundred souls for one hundred souls. It was time to collect.

Ava Miller, a fresh-faced civil engineering graduate, yearned to prove herself at her father' s esteemed construction firm, not just as "Colonel Miller's daughter." Then came the lottery: a grueling federal rebuilding project in hurricane-ravaged Louisiana, managed by the notoriously ruthless Marcus Thorne. Everyone, including ex-boyfriend Liam Peterson, assumed her father's influence would shield her. But the name pulled from the army helmet was hers: Ava Miller. Liam, utterly shaken, begged her to refuse, his horror betraying his casual dismissals – he' d believed her selection was "just for show." His sweet-faced cousin, Chloe Vance, whose insidious whispers already chipped at Ava' s reputation back home, seemed to revel. The Louisiana camp was a stark, muddy nightmare, and Thorne swiftly shredded her meticulously crafted academic plans as worthless "ivory tower" ideas. How could those she trusted so fundamentally underestimate her? Was she doomed to forever be just "Colonel Miller's Daughter," unworthy of a real test? And Liam, why had he so easily believed Chloe' s venomous lies? The sting of Thorne's dismissal, coupled with Liam' s casual betrayal, didn't break her-it ignited a furious resolve. Instead of breaking, Ava snapped. She wouldn't just survive this brutal assignment; she would master it. She would prove them all profoundly wrong, starting with the Louisiana mud beneath her boots, forging academic theories into hard-won, real-world triumphs.

The emergency board meeting was a bloodbath, and I, Ryan Scott, was the designated lamb. Suddenly, my fiancée of six years, Jen, a senior partner and my future wife, threw me under the bus, blaming me for billions in lawsuits and our firm's ruined reputation. Her intern, Caleb, then piled on with a rehearsed lie, claiming I ignored his warnings, while Jen watched, emotionless, as my career and integrity were shredded. For six years, "us" was my world, but in her eyes, I saw only a frantic plea: Just take it. So, I confessed to a mistake I didn't make and resigned, watching my life crumble before my eyes. But they had no idea. As they tried to steal my life's work, my award-winning design, Jen herself sealed her fate with a cold, distant smile. They thought I was useless, broken, but as I tore my blueprints into worthless scraps, a new, colder resolve settled within me. Because I had everything: the recordings of their lies, their betrayal, their plot, thanks to a secret surveillance system I had installed for Mr. Benton. I wasn't useless. I was the ghost who knew exactly how to make them disappear. And I began by accepting a lead architect position at SOM with triple the salary, a one-way ticket out of their pathetic lives.

The last thing I remember is the sharp crack of my head against the cold marble floor. My husband, Matthew, and my sister, Gabrielle, stood over me, their faces twisted in triumph. My mother, Maria, watched with a satisfied smile. "It' s over, Jocelyn," Matthew had said, just before he pushed me down the grand staircase of the house I bought. The house where they plotted my end. Then, darkness. But it wasn't the end. I blinked awake under harsh fluorescent lights, the air thick with antiseptic. I knew this place: a Planned Parenthood clinic. And there stood Gabrielle, looking younger, her stomach flat. But her eyes were puffy, and a whisper slipped out: "Please, Jocey, don't make me do this. They're your little niece and nephew." My blood ran cold. This was the day. The day I' d dragged her here, trying to save her future, only for them to brand me a monster. They used my help, my pragmatism, twisted it into cruelty, then murdered me. But now, the sharp ghost of memory was gone, replaced by a chilling realization. This was their scheme, their trap. They thought I was still their naive, doting ATM. They assumed I' d fall for their pathetic performance again. A slow, silent smile spread across my face. This time, everything would be different. This time, I knew their game, and I was ready to play.

Life was perfect for Sarah, an 18-year-old college freshman whose loving parents, Mark and Linda, owned a successful chain of hardware stores in their comfortable Oregon town. That idyllic life shattered when her cousin Jessica's trailer tragically burned down, and Sarah's kind-hearted mother, feeling immense guilt, convinced her father to welcome the seemingly orphaned Jessica into their home. Less than a month later, Jessica, consumed by a chilling jealousy Sarah never suspected, intentionally set their house ablaze, orchestrating a devastating fire that claimed her beloved parents' lives and left Sarah clinging to life with severe burns. In the sterile confines of the ICU, Jessica completed her deadly work, leaning close to Sarah' s bedside, her voice a venomous caress whispering, "It's your fault, Sarah," before silencing her heart monitor and coldly pulling away her oxygen mask, watching Sarah suffocate to death. The last sight Sarah saw was Jessica's triumphant, twisted smile, as her life, her family, and her entire inheritance were stolen, leaving Sarah overwhelmed with a burning injustice that transcended death. But Sarah jolted awake, gasping, in her own bed, her body miraculously unmarred, realizing with terrifying clarity that she was back in time, just days before the tragedy, given an impossible second chance to stop her future murderer.

"Always." That was the pact. Ava, Ethan, and Jax had their entire future mapped out: University of California, Westwood, together, a perfect, unbreakable trio. Then Chloe Evans arrived. Sweet, charming, and seemingly innocent, she systematically dismantled Ava's life-from subtly stealing credit for her work to "accidentally" wearing Ava' s prom dress and grandmother's heirloom necklace. Ethan and Jax, Ava's childhood best friends, not only stood by but actively defended Chloe, constantly dismissing Ava's pain and valid concerns. "Don't be so dramatic, Ava," became their infuriating mantra. The final betrayal came at a bonfire when Chloe feigned a "trip" and intentionally seared Ava's face with a burning marshmallow. Yet, still, Ethan and Jax rushed to Chloe's side, pleading, "It was an accident! Forgive her, for our sakes!" Ava's heart turned to ice. This wasn't merely a physical burn; it was the searing truth of their blindness, their utter betrayal. They chose Chloe, every single time. Their "always" was a bitter, self-serving lie. Lying in that hospital bed, the sting of the burn a stark reminder, Ava made her choice. She closed the UCW application, opened a new tab, and clicked "Submit" on Yale. This wasn't just a school; it was an escape. She was charting a new path, alone and finally free.

I was planning my wedding to Ethan Carter, the man I adored. On the eve of our vows, he burned my family’s home to the ground. He wasn't my loving fiancé; he was a monster hell-bent on revenge, blaming my surgeon father for his parents' deaths. He shattered my father's career, bankrupted us, and forced me to become a servant to his cruel new fiancée. He delighted in my suffering, completely unaware of the devastating irony. The heart beating in my chest wasn't my own. It was a transplant, and his relentless torture was causing it to fail. I finally died. But I woke up again, as a child. And this time, my parents remembered the horror too. We spent years building a new, safe life. I even found real love with a kind man named Liam. I was finally happy. Then, yesterday, the man who murdered me walked into my classroom, his eyes full of regret, convinced our story deserved a second chance.

My life was a constant grind: three jobs, every cent, every heirloom gone, all to keep my wife, Sera, out of prison. She was supposedly in a high-end facility, recovering from a failed tech startup, and I believed I was saving her, sacrificing until nothing was left. Then the phone call came, a final, urgent demand for more money. My seven-year-old son, Leo, must have overheard my desperate pleas for "golden blood" cash. In his innocent, heartbreaking attempt to save his mom, he went to sell his own rare Rh-null blood. It killed him. At the clinic, they handed me an envelope of cash-his blood money. But the real horror began when I arrived at the facility's office, intending to make the final payment. I overheard my "imprisoned" wife, Sera, calmly discussing me and Leo with a man, Marcus Thorne: "He and the boy have served their purpose. Make sure they're given a quiet way out." She was never imprisoned; it was all a monstrous, elaborate lie. Leo's precious, life-giving blood, the very reason he died, wasn't for her freedom, but for her new baby with Marcus. My son died for a fabricated charade, for a woman who plotted his disposal. The news then flashed her radiant face, celebrating her new marriage and pregnancy, while I was left holding Leo' s blood money. Later, loan sharks, sent by Marcus, desecrated Leo' s scattered ashes in our home. There was nothing left to lose, everything had been taken. But when they defiled the last remnant of my son, something in me snapped. With nothing but a cheap pen in my hand, I fought back. The game was over. It was time to choose: crumble or rise from the ashes of my ruined life.

Freya, the youngest vice director of the forensic department, failed whenever she went for the blind dates, not because she was not charming enough but because of her occupation. Bryan, the son of the billionaire in the city, saved her out of danger when she was trapped with another blind date. This incident started the gear of their fate. Signing the contract with him, she pretended to be his girlfriend who got pregnant and he even introduced her to his mother. However, the reason why she agreed with this deal was only because of a secret.

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace. But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge. A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart. Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn. But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left? A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again? She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?

"I will marry you. Wait for me!" Mabel woke up. She had that dream again. In her dream, a man said he would marry her. Just a dream. Five years ago, she was set up by her stepsister and became pregnant out of wedlock. She lost everything, including her baby. Five years later, she was forced to marry her stepsister's fiance, Jayden, who was sick and going to pass away. Having no choice, Mabel decided to marry Jayden, not expecting that Jayden was the man...

I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant. But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over. "Sign it," He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise. I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth. "It's just cramps," I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could. Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus. Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down. He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach.

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Their marriage was born from an accidental night-a mistake he turned into a contract. He wanted nothing but an image and a convenience, yet she foolishly gave him her whole heart. So when the real Marina returns, Lily knows her time as the placeholder is up. David's actions make it clear: she was only ever a convenient replacement. Without a fight, she signs the divorce papers and walks away, surrendering the position he always wanted to give to another. But why is it that the man who once swore he'd never love her... now refuses to let her go? David doesn't understand why Lily's absence haunts him. Why her quiet strength burns him in ways Marina never did. All he knows is that he's determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.