Zhu Gong

I returned to the city for the only person who ever truly loved me—my dying grandfather. As the "forgettable" daughter of the wealthy Clemons family, I had spent years hiding my true identity as a world-class elite behind oversized hoodies and a silent, exhausted demeanor. But the welcome home was a nightmare. My family made it clear I was nothing more than a parasite, unaware that I had just saved a powerful stranger's life on the train or that I was the silent partner of the very club they were visiting. While they sipped champagne in a VIP penthouse I had secretly upgraded for them, they left me standing outside in a freezing downpour for hours. My cousin Belle recorded me, laughing as she called me a "drowned rat" for her social media followers. My father, Glyn, even sent me a formal notice revoking my access to the family trust, thinking he was cutting off my only means of survival. He had no idea my private bank account held eighty-five million dollars. The betrayal cut even deeper when I discovered the darkest truth: they were swapping my grandfather’s life-saving medication for cheap generics just to pocket the extra cash. I stood in the mud, watching the people who shared my DNA celebrate their greed while they slowly killed the man who raised me. How could they be so blind? How could they treat me like trash while they lived off the crumbs of my secret success? "Enjoy it while it lasts," I whispered against the cold glass. I was done playing the victim and done hiding in the shadows to protect their fragile egos. I pulled out my encrypted phone and dialed my head of security. As an armored Range Rover pulled up to the curb and the city’s most dangerous man watched me from the shadows, I realized I was done being the "charity case." It was time to show the Clemons family who really owned this city.

The custom-designed logo I created for Dante Mancini’s new company, a gift for my twenty-second birthday and the supposed start of our life together, slipped from my fingers the moment I heard him tell his consigliere he was faking an engagement to get rid of me. It landed with a soft thud on the plush carpet outside the private room, the sound swallowed by the low thrum of music from the club. My world went silent.

My husband, Mark Davis, a tech titan, paraded his 100th mistress, a social media starlet named Brittany, right in front of me at a high-profile gala. "The young lady had an unfortunate accident; her dress is torn," he sneered, his eyes cold and sharp. "Chloe, lend her yours for the evening. And then take her to the suite upstairs. Make sure she' s perfectly clean." I casually placed my champagne glass down, pulled a folded divorce agreement from my clutch, and handed it to him. "Divorce Agreement," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion. The crowd whispered, scoffing that I'd be begging him back in days, as always. Mark just smirked, tenderly kissing Brittany's forehead, telling her, "She just needs to be reminded of her place." He had no idea. My spirit, my very soul, had already departed. The woman he still believed he tormented was merely a shell. I was already gone. Mark was screaming at a ghost, and the foundations of his world were about to crumble.

The sheets were still warm, Liam' s scent clinging to the pillows, a familiar comfort in his minimalist apartment. This was our routine for years-best friends who' d blurred the lines into something I thought was real, a future we were building. Then he walked out of the bathroom, casually announcing Olivia, his high school "what if," was back in town; my architectural advice, my city knowledge, repurposed for her date. The name hit me, cold and hard, a revelation that crumbled my world: I was just a convenience, an "easy" placeholder until his long-lost love returned. He left for Olivia' s date, leaving me shattered and exposed in his bed, the realization hitting me like a physical blow-I was simply a tool in a game I didn't even know I was playing. The ultimate betrayal came when he and Olivia, after a car accident where he only cared for her scraped wrist, accused me of being dramatic, and Olivia herself, a toxic sweet poison, physically attacked me, turning Liam' s hatred directly on me. "You psycho! You attacked her!" he roared, utterly convinced by her performance, telling me I was "dead to him." My world, my love, my trust-all annihilated in one devastating night, with the final blow being his utterly blind, unwavering belief in her lies. I watched my life with him, 20 years of friendship and love, reduced to ashes by his callous disregard and an impossible betrayal that left me no choice. There was only one way out, one way to reclaim myself from the ruins he had created. I booked a one-way ticket to Vienna, leaving everything behind, finally ready to build a life on my own terms, block by block, note by note, without him.

I was a new dad, celebrating my son's one-month birthday at my wealthy in-laws' stunning Napa estate. Life felt perfect, despite my manipulative father-in-law's constant urging to drink. I woke up with a pounding headache to a nightmare: my baby boy was gone. In his crib, lay a baby girl, a complete stranger. My wife, Chloe, and her parents gaslit me, denying my son ever existed. They accused me of being drunk, of rejecting my own child. The world blurred as I was framed for the infant girl's murder. My entire digital life was rewritten, my son's existence erased. Labeled a monster, I was swiftly condemned and executed. The horror was unimaginable, the confusion absolute as I died. But then, I jolted awake, back on that same couch, the party still faintly audible. It was happening again-the terrifying loop of my son's disappearance and my impending doom. Was I insane, or was this a meticulously crafted, cruel conspiracy? This time, the confusion vanished; a cold certainty set in. I wouldn't just be a victim; I would be ready. I would expose their twisted game, reclaim my son, and end this nightmare once and for all.

I gave my best friend, Julian, one of my kidneys. It was a simple decision; he was family. Later, when my father fell ill, needing a transplant, I offered my remaining kidney, willing to risk my own life for him. But then Chloe, my fiancée, abandoned me. A week later, her Instagram was flooded with pictures: happy, healthy Julian, and my Chloe, married, on lavish vacations. I was left with a dying father and crippling debt. That' s when Vicky Hayes, a childhood friend from a powerful healthcare family, appeared, promising salvation. She covered all the medical bills, became my rock, and eventually, my wife. Yet, my father died after the operation, and I was left with an artificial kidney, a constant reminder of my sacrifice. Six years of agony, six years of marriage, and I stumbled upon a conversation that shattered my world. My father never received that kidney. Julian didn't even critically need it. Vicky, my wife, had orchestrated everything, a monstrous lie built on my life and my father's death. She chose Julian over everything, over us. The woman I loved, who saved me, stood revealed as the architect of my deepest pain. Every day of agony, every loss, was her design. How could I have been so blind? My world spun, my blood ran cold, but a chilling clarity descended. This wasn't just betrayal; this was a calculated destruction. I grabbed my phone, pressed record, and began to plan.

The newsroom hummed on a Monday, just another day at the Johnson County Chronicle. My husband, Mark, the owner, was supposedly on an "urgent business trip" in Springfield. Then I saw it: his rarely used Instagram had a new post. Mark, arm around Tiffany Hayes, the new social media girl, at our local Fall Harvest Festival. Smiling, too close, sharing a cider donut. My breath stopped. He wasn't gone; he was here, with her. I instinctively tapped 'like'. A quiet "I see you." Moments later, Mark called. Furious. "What the hell was that? Trying to embarrass me?" He snapped. He accused me of being a "jealous teenager," aggressively defending Tiffany. The next day, she publicly twisted my 'like' into a classist insult on Slack. Then Mark' s public decree: "Apologize, or you're suspended." Suspended? From the paper I' d built for seven years? He wanted me to apologize to his mistress, who was publicly attacking me? I recalled his indifference when my throat closed from an allergic reaction, leaving me to rush to her aid. And now, he wanted me to give up six months' salary as "compensation" for her manufactured "emotional distress." The sheer audacity was stunning. "No, Mark," I said, my voice calm. "The answer is no." My resignation email, effective immediately, hit send. Relief, sharp and clean, washed over me. This fight was already over for me. He just didn't know it yet.

Sarah Miller thought she had it all: her thriving Napa vineyard, a landmark deal, and Ethan Vanderbilt, her fiancé, partner in their dream. Then Ethan vanished, gutting her family’s finances, leaving her parents dead and their legacy in ruins. Her rescuer appeared: Julian Vanderbilt, Ethan’s alluring brother, who plucked her from a nightmare assault and offered a marriage of supposed protection. For five years, she clung to him, finding fragile peace, until a new hope stirred—she was pregnant. That hope shattered hearing Julian calmly plot her miscarriage, revealing her baby was just a "complication" to his true agenda with another woman. The man who "saved" her was, in chilling truth, the orchestrator of every trauma, from the initial assault he filmed to her family's ruin. Her entire life with him had been a meticulously woven lie, designed to break her, culminating in a second attack that cost her child and her future fertility. How could her loving protector be the monstrous mastermind behind her complete devastation? This agonizing realization ignited a silent, burning fury, replacing her despair with terrifying clarity. She wouldn't just escape; she would orchestrate her own vanishing act, leaving him haunted by a ghost and a digital trail of damning evidence that would ensure his carefully constructed world collapsed in on him.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was the domineering CEO with a cold heart. Abandoned by her husband, she had nothing left but pain and desperation. Signing the contract, she agreed to be his secret lover and became the prisoner of love. However, he got addicted to her sweetness before he came to the realization. The contract was about to expire, but he refused to let her go. Not only did he want her to be his, but he also wanted to win her heart.

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.

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!"

"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."

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

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."

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"