Qiang Weiwei

The harsh clang of the school bell ripped me from a nightmare. One moment, I was bleeding out on the cold community center floor, choked by smoke and gasoline, watching the Outlaws murder my family. The next, I was back in my high school classroom, the familiar scent of chalk and disinfectant filling the air, alive and untouched. My heart hammered-not with teenaged excitement, but with the primal terror of a ghost, knowing this was it: the day it all began. Brittany Hayes, perfect blonde hair and a weaponized smile, stood at the front, pushing her dad' s "Life Path AI" onto our entire class for free. Liam Carter, the class golden boy, nodded eagerly beside her, his handsome face alight with ambition, calling it "foolproof." A wave of excited chatter filled the room: the exact siren song that had led to ruin in my last life. I remembered standing up then, my voice trembling but determined, warning them about the AI' s flaws, its bias towards corporate partners. They' d laughed, calling me jealous, a conspiracy theorist, just because my family ran a charity center. They ostracized me, humiliated me, and then Brittany' s father' s media machine discredited my family, painting us as backward fools. Then the Outlaws came, paid to send a message, and they destroyed everything: my parents, my little sister Lily, and me. The memory burned, a raw, open wound in my soul. This time, I didn't stand up. I leaned back, a mask of calm indifference, an empty smile for Liam who glanced my way in surprise. Let them walk into the fire. This time, I would be the one holding the gasoline.

Ami Cleveland's family empire was destroyed overnight by a malicious short-selling attack, leaving her mother facing federal prison and hunted by ruthless loan sharks. To secure a hundred-million-dollar lifeline, Ami risked her life as a blindfolded co-pilot in a deadly cliffside street race, all just to get five minutes alone with Jerad Kidd, the elusive Wall Street titan she had accidentally slept with the night before. But instead of saving her, Jerad completely crushed her dignity. "What makes you think you are worth a hundred million dollars?" He mocked her desperate pitch, calling her family's equity garbage, and coldly walked away. Two days later, he forced her onto his Miami superyacht as a political decoy, making her wear a backless silk gown that offered zero protection and throwing her into a sea of wealthy predators. When a drunk tech billionaire pinned her against a sofa and tried to rip the thin straps of her dress, Ami screamed for help. She looked up at the VIP balcony in absolute despair, only to see Jerad looking away, treating her like she didn't even exist. She didn't understand why he was torturing her. Why did he let her risk her life in his car, only to humiliate her and feed her to the wolves? With no one to save her, Ami grabbed a whiskey glass and violently smashed it into her attacker's face. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the man's brutal retaliation slap. But the hit never came. A large hand, wearing a heavy Patek Philippe watch, shot out of nowhere and clamped down on the man's raised arm like a steel vice.

Six years ago, I was given to New York's most ruthless mafia Don as collateral to pay off my father's gambling debt. After one terrifying, pitch-black night with him, his grandfather framed me for treason and threw me out onto the freezing streets. They threw me away, not knowing I was pregnant with his triplets. Now, I only came back to his city to get his signature on our divorce papers so my children and I could disappear to Europe. But his men ambushed us at the airport and dragged us to his underground interrogation room. Damien threw a DNA consent form on the steel desk, staring at my fierce five-year-old son with dark reverence. "Sign the paper. Or I will personally forge him into the sharpest weapon this family has ever seen." I was trembling with absolute terror. He believed the lies that I had sold his family's secrets and abandoned his firstborn heir for money. I didn't understand why this monster wouldn't just let me go, but I couldn't let him drag my innocent babies into his violent hell. Just as I tearfully picked up the pen to surrender, the room plunged into darkness, and a digital threat hijacked his monitors. My other five-year-old son had hacked the Don's network, starting a 60-second countdown to wipe out all his billions. Damien was forced to yield, but when the steel doors opened, his severely traumatized, silent six-year-old heir walked in—and immediately curled into my arms. Damien stared at us in shock, then slowly tore my divorce papers into pieces. "The deal is off."

My father was rotting in a cell, and my secret son, Leo, was the only reason I kept breathing. Then, everything shattered when Augustine Hoover’s bodyguards dragged me to a remote estate and locked me in a room with a dying monster. The man in the dark was Augustine himself, bleeding from a wound and lost in a drug-induced delirium. He didn't see me as a person; he saw me as a debt to be collected. By dawn, the feverish attacker was gone, replaced by a cold, calculative billionaire in a wheelchair who told me I was now his property. I was trapped on a private island, forced to play nurse to keep my father protected in prison. While I suffered in silence, the world turned against me. My fiancé, Grant, went on national television to dump me, calling my family a disgrace. When Augustine finally brought me back to New York, it wasn't for freedom—it was to parade me at a gala where I saw Grant with his arm around my stepsister. She was wearing my dress, living my life, while I stood there with Augustine’s bite mark fresh on my neck. The humiliation was total. Augustine offered me a deal: sign a marriage contract with a mandatory "Heir Production Clause," or watch my father die and my son disappear. He promised to crush my enemies, but his touch felt like a shackle. I felt a cold rage settle over me. If I was going to be a prisoner, I would be the most dangerous one he had ever seen. I realized then that everyone I loved was a pawn in a game I didn't even know was being played. I signed the papers and officially became Mrs. Hoover, the most envied and hated woman in the city. But as we pulled up to his gothic mansion, a burner phone in my pocket buzzed with a message from my father’s oldest ally. The man I just married wasn't my protector. He was the one who framed my father and destroyed my life. I’ve entered the lion’s den, and I won’t stop until I’ve ripped his heart out.

The staff party was a dull throb, a familiar exhaustion settling deep in my bones. Then Sabrina Chavez held out the brownie, her eyes wide and innocent, just like before. But I remembered the last time. Taking that brownie led to my throat closing, my lungs burning, and a severe anaphylactic shock. I was dying on the floor, gasping for air, while my boyfriend, Ethan, comforted Sabrina, who claimed it was just cross-contamination. He called me "dramatic" at my hospital bed. That "accident" cost me my promotion, gave me lifelong respiratory damage, and shattered my relationship. It all ended when Ethan, defending Sabrina again, pushed me, and my head hit the counter. I died. Now, I' m back, standing at that exact moment. Sabrina' s smile was sickeningly sweet. The world snapped into focus. This time, everything changes.

I was five years old when my dad traded me to a dying billionaire. He called me his lucky charm, a living prophecy, and in return, I got a mansion, a trust fund, and a fancy title: "Madam Chair" of a multi-billion-dollar foundation. I grew up navigating the opulent halls, an outsider in a gilded cage. My only real connection was with Ms. Chadwick, the formidable chief of staff, and the quiet, observant Wesley. But my twisted stepsister, Jennifer, refused to let my past stay in the past. She, along with my opportunistic father, saw my position as their ticket into the Blakely empire. They relentlessly schemed, first trying to marry Jennifer off to the heir, Caleb, then, when that failed, she orchestrated a horrifying corporate sabotage. She framed Caleb, leading to scandalous accusations and the collapse of a crucial merger. Then came the news: Caleb's fiancée, Victoria, was dead, killed in a suspicious car accident. I knew in my gut Jennifer was behind it, her ruthlessness finally escalating to murder. The Blakelys were in chaos, desperate to cover up the scandal, so they gave Jennifer a high-profile role, silencing her with money and status. They bought her silence, but they ignited my fury. This wasn't just about family feuds anymore; it was about justice and survival. I, the quiet girl dismissed as a symbolic chairwoman, decided to wield the foundation's immense power like a sword. It was time to expose every lie, every betrayal, and tear down the very people who thought they could control my destiny.

For forty years, my life with Elara as a humble Appalachian herbalist was filled with quiet love and shared purpose. Then, on her sixtieth birthday, a blinding light revealed her true form: an Aetheling, and our marriage, a cold "trial" to regain her powers. She abandoned me for her "true love," Caelus, cursing me with unnatural eternal life to watch my entire world slowly die. But the true horror came when Caelus, in a jealous rage, obliterated Hollow Creek, eradicating everyone I loved with a single blighting spell, leaving me the sole, cursed survivor. Elara dragged me to their glittering Aethelgard, where I was a humiliating "pet," a constant reminder of her past. The ultimate betrayal struck when Caelus framed me, and Elara, without hesitation, condemned me to the inescapable Barrow of Whispers, a prison worse than death. How could the woman who shared my heart inflict such calculated cruelty and discard me so utterly? My soul burned with an unbearable mix of grief, helplessness, and seething rage. Yet, in that forgotten abyss, I found the echoing spirits of Hollow Creek, my murdered people. They infused me with the ancient, untamed power of the earth itself, transforming me from a broken mortal into an unstoppable vessel of vengeance. I am no longer Liam, the pet. I am the wrath of the mountains returned, and Elara and Caelus will pay.

My husband, Ethan Vance, was presumed drowned, swallowed by the Serpent River. For three agonizing months, I, Ava – owner of our beloved Portland bakery, "The Daily Rise" – had been a grieving widow, the city's gray mirroring the hollow ache in my chest. My dreams felt entombed by tragedy. My friend Maya finally dragged me to a New Orleans music festival, desperate for a change of scene. Amidst the chaotic pulse and anonymous crowd, I saw him. Ethan. Alive. Laughing, his arm around Chloe Hayes, his "childhood best friend" and a flashy influencer who' d always been a little too close. He looked vibrant, not like a man who' d fought a treacherous river. I heard him brag about "escaping the grind" thanks to "Chloe' s genius plan." Then came the gut punch: "Give it another week... Ava will have really hit rock bottom. She' ll be grateful for anything when I 'miraculously' return." My husband, celebrating my destruction. The betrayal was colder, sharper than any grief. This wasn't just him being alive; it was a premeditated, cruel deception. He'd orchestrated my despair, mocking our shared life. How could the man I loved be such a monstrous con artist? My hands shook, but my voice was steady as I called my lawyer friend. "He's not dead, Ben," I told him, the cold fury replacing my tears. "He's a con artist. And now, I want everything."

My 31st birthday should have been a joyful celebration, a moment of genuine warmth with my younger brother, Mike. He gifted me a luxury smartwatch, a gesture that, after years of my financial and emotional support for him, felt like a true acknowledgment of our bond. But the warmth turned to ice moments later when Mike's new girlfriend, Brittany, barraged my phone with aggressive direct messages. "Jealous old maid," she called me, accusing me of trying to "leech" off Mike and demanding *her* watch back. Mike, bafflingly, defended Brittany's behavior, calling it "loyalty" and allowing her to launch a vicious online smear campaign against me. He prioritized her whims over my needs, even lending out my professional camera equipment, only to publicly humiliate me at my office when I requested it back. How could the brother I’d practically raised, the one I’d sacrificed so much for, turn so cruelly against me? Every past act of love and support was now twisted into a cynical attempt to "control" him, dictated by a manipulative stranger. The ultimate betrayal came when he shoved me, leaving me bleeding on my floor, snatching the watch, and walking out, incited by Brittany’s taunting text. That moment transformed my pain into cold resolve: this wasn't just about a watch anymore; it was time to fight back.

The smell of stale coffee hung heavy in my college dorm room. My roommate, Jessica, hovered over me, her face a mask of feigned concern. She was my best friend, or so I believed then. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving break, a seemingly ordinary start to a week. But the moment I opened my eyes, a brutal wave of memories crashed over me. The screech of tires, blinding headlights, then utter darkness. My family's beloved restaurant, Miller’s Place, crumbling to dust. My dad, debilitated by a stroke, his once vibrant eyes now vacant. My brother, Michael, broken, his promising future stolen. And my sweet sister-in-law, Emily, clutching an empty nursery. Jessica, the viper I’d foolishly welcomed, had meticulously orchestrated their ruin. She’d falsely accused Michael, leading to Emily's devastating loss. Her calculated lies had bled our family savings dry to fuel her extortion. The shame, the whispers, the very fabric of our small town life, torn apart. I, Sarah Miller, became the pariah, blamed for enabling the monster. The relentless online bullying drove me to walk into traffic, desperate for an end. Now, here she was again, playing the innocent victim, sighing about a lonely Thanksgiving. Her eyes, wide and pleading, mirroring the exact look that had sealed our destruction. How could I have been so catastrophically naïve, so utterly blind to the serpent in my bed? A cold, potent fury roared inside me, threatening to consume everything. The nightmare was beginning anew, a cruel replay of my worst past. But this time, I wasn't the gullible girl. I was back, somehow, exactly one year before the catastrophe. This time, the script was mine to rewrite. This time, I would not be her fool, her stepping stone to ruin. This time, Jessica would finally pay. Every last, agonizing cent.

My tenth wedding anniversary, but the simmering lobster bisque couldn’t mask the acrid taste of my husband’s lies. Mike, the man I’d built a life with, was openly having an affair with a twenty-something influencer, Skyler, her perfectly curated Instagram a brazen display of my unraveling world. The real agony began when our young son, Leo, innocently spoke of "Aunt Sky," recounting secret adventures and sugary treats, blissfully unaware he was a pawn in his father’s cruel game. Mike’s betrayal deepened into an insidious wound as he used our child, poisoning Leo against me, while claiming he was saving a vintage champagne for "a special occasion" that he'd uncork for Skyler on *our* anniversary. But the final, gut-wrenching blow came when Skyler sent a text: a picture of her draped provocatively across *my* bed, wearing *my* husband’s shirt, flaunting her conquest with a chilling message: "#Upgrade." My life, my home, my dignity, shattered into a million pieces, while he, completely oblivious, hummed about a "surprise" he had planned for my birthday. The pain, the humiliation, the sheer audacity of it all was suffocating; divorce felt too clean, too easy for him, as if he could simply walk away unscathed. My heart splintered further when Leo, confused and innocent, asked if "Aunt Sky" would be his new mommy, a question Mike himself had evidently planted. There was no turning back, no hope for repair; in that moment of absolute despair and righteous fury, I knew Ellie Hayes had to die. And Mike Hayes, the man who had stolen my future and poisoned my son, would watch his entire world burn down around him, ensuring he would finally pay the true, devastating price for his betrayal.

Wendy just went to the bathroom when she was on duty. Before she could step out, she was pushed back to the bathroom by a rash man, then his whole body squeezed in. The narrow space in the bathroom was filled with a strong smell of blood. She looked at the man in front of her, trying to calm down her breath. “You only have two choices. Get killed or help me?” A male cold voice sent shivers up her spine. As she knew who the man was, she was shocked to the core. What was worse, this shameless man even dismissed her and forced her to sign the indenture to sell herself.

Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

The story of a man who has been away from home for years. Suddenly got the news that the brothers he loved so much had an accident and were in critical condition. In his last moments, the big brother tied his beloved little brother so that he would no longer leave the house by marrying him to a girl who was even half his age. The young girl who was very brave and a little chatty turned out to be a girl of strong opinion. The toughness of the little girl her step father's last testament has entered the heart of a man who for more than 30 years has remained empty without occupants. The man who initially only wanted to please his big brother at the end of his life turned himself in willingly by the charm of the small and tough girl who had captivated his heart. They just enjoyed their married life. Someone from the man's past who forced him to leave the house years ago. Come and start disturbing the comfort of the household where he has not lived for a long time. I'm Indonesian writer. I personally translated this novel myself, not as a professional translator. I've done my best to make it fun and easy to read, but it might not be perfect. Thank you so much for your patience, understanding, and support. My other stories that are still in the process of being translated. A Girl For The Beasts My Uncle My Husband Bringing My Wife Back The World That Split The Earth Beast In The Civilization We Married For Them My beautiful and handsome readers... I am very grateful to all of you who have visited to read my novels and took the time to view my profile. I am a fiction writer who actively publishes works across various platforms. My stories explore inner conflicts, human relationships, and the choices that shape character. Professional contact: wolfynovelauthor@gmail.com Or, for more information, you can follow my social media account: My Instagram: @wolfayra My YouTube: @wolfynovelauthor My Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61576589373365 Thank you, happy reading.

The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away.

Just an ordinary story about a boy who secretly loves a girl who is too hard to reach, too vague to reach, and too difficult to embrace. He was too persistent to give up on getting her heart. But is he still that way when his only hope fades away?

He always called me his little bird. For six years, since my parents died in that tragic fire, my uncle Michael Davies was my world. He promised to protect me, to give me a gilded cage where I could feel safe. But on the eve of my 18th birthday, that gilded cage became a prison. I overheard him in his study, a phone call that shattered my entire existence. He was talking to Emily White, his ex-fiancée, the woman he truly loved. And in that chilling conversation, I learned the truth. My "savior" had orchestrated a monstrous plan: he was going to auction me off at my own birthday party. And Emily, the woman he swore he loved, revealed she was the one who set the fire that killed my parents. My uncle knew. He' d known all along. Every sweet word, every gentle touch, every act of supposed kindness was a lie designed to keep me a pawn in his twisted game of revenge. I was just a substitute, a cheap copy of the woman he truly desired. The pain was unbearable, a betrayal so profound it left me gasping for air. But the girl who loved Michael Davies died in that hallway. A new Sarah was born, cold, hard, and desperate to escape. I would not be his victim. I would not be their entertainment. I would survive this. My only escape was a desperate plea to his grandfather: arranging a marriage to a comatose man, miles away. It felt like a desolate choice, a sacrifice for freedom. But it was my only hope. I had to get out.

Tonight was everything: my final interview for the American Achievement Scholarship, my gateway to an Ivy League. As I refined my presentation, my stepsister, Jessica Vance, entered, that sweet, insincere smile on her face. "Nervous, Sarah?" she asked, offering a steaming mug of "herbal tea." Naively, I drank it. The next thing I knew, I woke disoriented in a cheap motel, my laptop displaying a plagiarized presentation. Moments later, stern school security and committee members burst in, accusing me of fraud. Publicly shamed, disqualified, my father disowned me, swayed by Jessica' s mother. My boyfriend, Mark Olsen, offered false comfort, trapping me with an unplanned pregnancy. While my peers thrived, I was stuck, my dreams shattered, my spirit ground into dust over five miserable years. One night, I overheard Mark and Jessica: the tea, the motel, the plagiarism-all a "perfect" setup for her to win. Their cold, calculated betrayal shattered me. The injustice was soul-crushing. Broken, I stumbled out, only to die in a blinding crash. Then, a sharp gasp. My eyes flew open. I was in my bed. The door creaked open. Jessica walked in, holding a steaming mug. "Nervous, Sarah?" she asked, that fake-sweet smile identical. "I made you some herbal tea." But this time, I knew. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back.

Sarah Miller poured her heart and soul into creating the perfect launching pad for her daughter, Emily-a cozy apartment near university, smelling of fresh paint and new beginnings. She envisioned a safe space for Emily to flourish, a place where her bright, kind daughter could study and grow into the amazing woman she was meant to be. But that peace shattered within three days when Emily' s voice, broken by sobs, revealed a nightmare: her best friend Ashley' s family had invaded the apartment, pushing boundaries, eating their food, and leaving a trail of disrespect. Worst of all, Ashley' s brother had crept into Emily' s room at night, watching her sleep and whispering unsettling words, only for Ashley to dismiss it as a joke. Sarah' s blood ran cold when she heard the terror in Emily' s voice, caught between fear and a desperate plea to avoid a scene. How could a supposed best friend allow such a violation, turning kindness into an open invitation for chaos and harassment? Driven by a mother' s primal fury, Sarah walked into her daughter' s apartment, witnessing the wreckage of their new beginning-stale smoke, greasy food, and a smug intruder. The complacent smirk of Ashley' s brother, coupled with his callous remark about Emily being "high-strung," ignited a firestorm in Sarah. She saw red and acted, a resounding slap echoing through the ruined living room, setting the stage for an inevitable confrontation. This was no longer just about boundaries; it was about reclaiming sacred ground and protecting her daughter' s sanctuary. With that decisive blow, Sarah declared war on anyone who dared threaten her child' s peace, peace she had worked her entire life to provide.

The harsh clang of the school bell ripped me from a nightmare. One moment, I was bleeding out on the cold community center floor, choked by smoke and gasoline, watching the Outlaws murder my family. The next, I was back in my high school classroom, the familiar scent of chalk and disinfectant filling the air, alive and untouched. My heart hammered-not with teenaged excitement, but with the primal terror of a ghost, knowing this was it: the day it all began. Brittany Hayes, perfect blonde hair and a weaponized smile, stood at the front, pushing her dad' s "Life Path AI" onto our entire class for free. Liam Carter, the class golden boy, nodded eagerly beside her, his handsome face alight with ambition, calling it "foolproof." A wave of excited chatter filled the room: the exact siren song that had led to ruin in my last life. I remembered standing up then, my voice trembling but determined, warning them about the AI' s flaws, its bias towards corporate partners. They' d laughed, calling me jealous, a conspiracy theorist, just because my family ran a charity center. They ostracized me, humiliated me, and then Brittany' s father' s media machine discredited my family, painting us as backward fools. Then the Outlaws came, paid to send a message, and they destroyed everything: my parents, my little sister Lily, and me. The memory burned, a raw, open wound in my soul. This time, I didn't stand up. I leaned back, a mask of calm indifference, an empty smile for Liam who glanced my way in surprise. Let them walk into the fire. This time, I would be the one holding the gasoline.

For two years, I, the quiet girl from the town' s greasy diner, nursed a secret, pathetic crush on Ethan Hayes, our school' s golden boy and star quarterback. He embodied everything I admired, a perfect hero from a storybook. Then, one day, I collapsed at a noisy pep rally, and when I came to, he was kneeling beside me, offering a hand, his voice laced with concern. But a chilling, disembodied voice pierced my mind – his actual thoughts: "Ugh, she' s always staring. So clumsy. Probably smells like that greasy diner her parents own." The boy I' d idolized, the kind, perfect Ethan, was instantly replaced by a sneer I hadn't seen but had devastatingly heard. His disgust became a physical weight, overshadowing the relentless bullying from Brittany, his queen-bee friend, which he passively allowed. The final blow came when I was publicly accused of cheating on an exam, and he, the one person who knew Brittany' s true intentions, remained a shameful, silent observer. How could my hero be such a snob, such a coward, letting me be publicly ridiculed and unjustly branded a cheat? The overwhelming unfairness of it all ripped through me, leaving me shattered and utterly alone. But in that deepest pit of humiliation, a scorching resolve ignited within me. I decided then and there to turn all that pain into raw fuel, to outwork everyone, especially him, and secure my escape to a future where my worth wasn' t dictated by their petty judgments.

Tessa is the picture perfect student with good grades, flawless attendance and a charming smile. With one year left to graduate high school and a bucket list imposed by her best friend, her goal is pretty much the same with an extra addition--tick off every item on the cursed bucket list. But trouble comes knocking in the form of blue eyes, muscled body and an ego the size of her head. What happens when the school's bad boy, Benjamin notices her in a boxing ring?