Plot Twists Age Gap Short Stories & Novels

After I Took Three Bullets For Him, He Said He Was Just My Uncle I took three bullets for Don Lorenzo Moretti, the man I called my uncle. The last one nearly killed me. Only then did the family elders agree to name me Donna. But in the two weeks I lay unconscious, Lorenzo announced his engagement to Ava, the daughter of a family benefactor. The Rocci, my family, lost its power when I was ten. Ever since Lorenzo, a close friend of my father's, brought me to the Moretti estate, I was certain he would one day be my husband, despite our age gap. He always told me to find men my own age, but I just let it go. In my previous life, I crashed their engagement party, a decision that led to a miscarriage and my own violent death. But this is my second chance, and I have learned my lesson. I will reclaim the token of my love, accept my destiny as Donna, and offer myself in a marriage alliance far away in Sicily. Uncle, I finally understand. A young man is far more entertaining than an old one like you.

When I was five, I fell into a well and somehow survived. After that, Mom had nightmares every night, dreaming that the woman who had drowned in that very well was haunting her, demanding her daughter. Desperate, my parents held a ritual and made me accept that woman, Rose Reynolds, as my mother. From then on, I became an outsider in my own family. After thirteen years of going hungry and enduring hardship, I accidentally discovered that Mom's nightmares had all been a lie. The truth was, our family was too poor. To make sure my sister, Emily Simmons, had enough to eat, they had lied to me. Now that Emily has been accepted into college, the whole family is moving to the city. They don't want me with them. It doesn't matter. The woman from the well comes to see me every night. From now on, she's my new mom.

I was the daughter of the Ashford Pack Alpha — the most beautiful she-wolf in the entire southern territory. Alphas lined up to pursue me, and I couldn't be bothered to give any of them a second glance. Until my best friend dared me: "Sera, I've got a bet for you. Think you can make my brother Kieran fall for you? Win, and I'll give you my mother's healing moonstone necklace. Lose, and you hand over that limited-edition sports car you love so much." Countless beautiful she-wolves had tried to get into his bed. Every last one of them had been turned away cold. The very first night after I took the bet, I saved Kieran from a silver poisoning, and spent the rest of that night tangled up with him while he burned through his heat. For the two years that followed, he grew more and more obsessed with me. On the long conference table in the pack meeting room, he pinned me down against the papers. In every room of his private estate, we left traces of ourselves behind. I gradually fell in love with him during countless intimate moments. Until the night only to overhear his conversation with the pack elder. "Alpha, it's time to announce who will be Luna." The Elder's voice was low and deliberate. "Miss Seraphina has been by your side for two years now. According to pack tradition—" "Enough." Kieran cut him off. "She and I were just having fun." The Elder was quiet for a moment. "And your first love? When you two separated, she asked for two years apart to try other partners. Those two years are up now. Isn't it time for her to come back?" "Yes." Warmth finally crept into Kieran's voice. "It's time for her to come back." That was when I realized — his so-called true love was my half-sister. The person I hated most in the world. For two years, I had been just his experiment while he "tried someone else". I turned and walked away without a second thought. But this powerful Alpha went mad — tearing through the entire wolf world searching for me.

In dragon families, tail-wrapping was only reserved for one’s mate. I did not know that. All I knew was that when my heater broke in winter, my best friend had left her four-year-old nephew at my place, whose body temperature was absurdly high. That night, I shamelessly coaxed him. “Be good. Can you stretch out your little tail and let me warm my feet with it?” He paused for a moment, then obediently extended his small, golden dragon tail and wrapped it around my ankle. It was warm and glowing, like a tiny sun. I happily enjoyed it for three days. Until the livestream comments exploded. [Tail wrapping means claiming a mate! She let the Dragon Emperor’s youngest brother wrap her for three days! That’s basically marriage in dragon society!] [The Dragon Emperor himself is diving down from the heavens! His ETA is in 5 seconds!] The moment the ceiling exploded, the little kid transformed into a golden-scaled dragon, blocking the opening and roaring, “Bro! She’s finally warmed her feet, yet you just blew open the ceiling. Now, all the cold air is coming in!”

I, Daphne Thorn, am an impoverished woman from the slums. William Blackburn, on the other hand, is the son of the richest man in Wylland. Unexpectedly, the two of us who share such vastly different identities end up being together. So far, we've tried out various difficult positions in our bouts of passion during our secret rendezvouses in secluded areas. Like the madman he is, William often torments me in every session. I'm so exhausted that I'm about to fall asleep. That's when a notification pops up on William's phone, which is sitting next to me. So, I take a peek at it. "William, my stomach hurts a lot! I'm suffering so much right now!" It's a text from someone named "Ellie". All the exhaustion in me disappears. I can feel my chest tightening up in discomfort. Once William is done with his shower, he leaves the bathroom and picks up his phone. "You should sleep first. I'm heading out," he says. When I see William turning his back on me, I blurt out, "Are you going to meet that childhood sweetheart of yours?" William wheels around to look at me. Suddenly, he moves to lift my chin. There is a trace of wariness in his eyes. "Don't go around sticking your nose in my business, Daphne. I like my woman docile and obedient." But I end up stalking William all the way to Royale Hotel, where I witness him visiting Elaine Moore, his childhood sweetheart. He coaxes her as though she's the most precious treasure in the world. I don't have the courage to question William in person. But still, I want to know who he thinks is more important to him—me or Elaine? So, I give him a call. "William, my gastritis is acting up again! It hurts so much! Can you drive me to the hospital?" I said. I use the same tactic that Elaine had used earlier. That night, I keep waiting for William, and yet he never returns to me. That's when I decide to not love him anymore.

After I returned home from traveling abroad, I found that our housekeeper had sued my husband and me. In court, she cradled her protruding belly and said with heart-wrenching anguish, "Gary and his wife are absolute scum! Under the guise of hiring a housekeeper, they lured me into their home, tied me to a bed, and abused me. "The child I'm carrying is Gary's!" Her mother, meanwhile, was sobbing uncontrollably. "Those two monsters have ruined my daughter's life. They deserve the death penalty!" No sooner had she spoken than a chorus of curses against my husband and me erupted from the gallery. "That scum is utterly brazen. He didn't even show up for the hearing! He must be punished severely!" "Exactly! Look at his wife. She's actually smiling! She's completely devoid of humanity. They both deserve to die!" The very next moment, I produced a piece of evidence that made everyone gasp in shock.

At twenty, Riley Nolan married Yale Sullivan, a close friend of her father's, despite the considerable age difference between them. Eight years her senior, Yale was notorious in their social circle for his cold, ruthless nature. He was merciless in business and had never shown the slightest interest in women. Yet with Riley, he was almost impossibly gentle. All she had to do was casually mention that a necklace was pretty, and he'd have the million-dollar piece delivered to her the next day. When menstrual cramps left her curled up in bed, he'd put aside business projects worth tens of millions of dollars to make her ginger tea with brown sugar, patiently coaxing her to drink it one spoonful at a time. In moments of passion, he'd grip her waist and call her "baby" in a low, husky voice, telling her how good she was and how he couldn't get enough of her. He even used "For Elise" as his display name across all his social media accounts. Riley had always assumed it was a tribute to the piano piece she'd played the day they first met. Then one day, she came across an old photo album in his study. Every picture featured the same girl, who bore a striking resemblance to Riley, smiling in front of a piano. On the back of one photograph, someone had written: "For Elise. My beloved Selise."

I had just become an adult when my neighbor, Connor Grayson, started flirting with me. We kept our relationship a secret year after year. After a wild night of intimacy, Connor whispered into my ear that he loved me over and over again. The next morning, I could barely stand as I got out of bed. Then I saw Connor bring another woman home. "Selena, this is my fiancée. We're getting married." I thought Connor would let me go. I didn't want to ruin anyone's relationship. However, he wouldn't leave me alone despite my shameful predicament. "Yes, I'm getting married, but did I say you could go? It took a lot of effort to make you fall for me."

On Benedict Bradford’s birthday, he posted a link on social media with a taunting offer: [$1.99 buys you a prank—target: Sansa Stormcloud.] So when I arrived at his party, the guests drenched me in water, hurled glasses, smashed cake in my face, and shoved me down the stairs. Benedict sneered as he stood over me, arm slung around Lina Kipling. “You think you’re fit to marry into the Bradfords? Pathetic. “You’re not even in Lina’s league. You’re worth nothing more than a couple of dollars!” I picked myself up, dusted off my dress, and handed him an invitation. “You know, Benedict, the Bradfords have another heir. “And shortly afterwards, you’ll address me respectfully as your sister-in-law.”

In the tenth year of my diagnosis with selective mutism, my mother decided it was time to bring home a little brother for me from an orphanage. Her eyes immediately landed on a boy in the back row, but the head of the orphanage opposed without hesitation. "Ms. Lane, this kid has been nothing but trouble since he was small. Just two days ago, he made an old man on crutches play goalie. If you take him home, your life will never be peaceful!" I looked on without the slightest interest. My mother, however, was exhilarated. Pointing at the boy, she declared excitedly, "Then, he's exactly the one I want!" And suddenly, lines of bullet comments scrolled before me. 'The mom cracks me up. Her eyes practically sparkled like spotlights.' 'Our brooding female lead grew up friendless. Her mom's been worrying about that for years. Now she's found this rascal, there's no way she's letting go.' 'Honestly, fate is wild. The mom instantly picks her future son-in-law. In their past lives, the female lead died trying to save him. Now that they've both been reborn, maybe they'll finally get a second chance together.'

On the eve of my engagement banquet, news broke that my fiancé had fathered a child with his mistress, and it spread like wildfire. Before I could confront him, Jayden Ford brushed it off casually. "It was just an accident. Focus on organizing the engagement banquet first. Besides, your dad’s in the late stages of stomach cancer. Calling off the engagement now won’t do either family any good." That night, he skipped the banquet but posted a photo of a swaddled newborn on social media. When I video-called him, he was bottle-feeding the baby. "I’ve been busy taking care of the kid. You know how it is. Our family lineage has always been sparse and dwindling, and the child takes priority." He wiped milk from the baby’s mouth. "But don’t worry. Once he’s a month old, I’ll send him to the overseas. Just show up on holidays and pretend to be his mom. The title of Mrs. Ford will always be yours." I stared at the matching diamond ring on his finger and couldn’t help but laugh. "Jayden, this engagement is off." He scoffed, "You're really throwing a tantrum over something like this? Don’t be so childish." I hung up on him and called his father—Charles Ford—directly. "I heard you’re looking for a new wife? Why not consider me?" I ran a hand over my belly and smiled. "After all, I’ve got a naturally fertile body. I can give you as many sons as you want." So much for being the sole heir. I’ll make sure he has plenty of brothers to keep him company.

I married a guy thirty-two years older than I am. Reason? Money. We got divorced, I got all his money and became the city's richest person. Just when my luck was starting to turn, I was hit with devastating news. My ex died. Drowned, they said. The cops think I'm the killer.

When my husband, Robert Bowen, takes his assistant, Bianca Strickland, to a prenatal checkup, I'm being kissed by his 18-year-old version in a corner. "You're already 30 years old, yet why do you smell so nice and taste so kissable? I love you so much, honey! "By the way, where did my 30-year-old self go? Why didn't he come pick you up after work?" I push the 18-year-old Robert away helplessly, only to meet the icy gaze of his 30-year-old self from afar. "You already have a young side piece, and yet you still can't bear to get a divorce from me? Don't make me look down on you, Kaitlyn Hudson." As I watch Robert leaving the hospital with his arm around Bianca, his 18-year-old self begins throwing a temper tantrum in my arms. "That idiot! How dare he speak to my wife in such an arrogant manner! I might as well commit suicide right now so that he'll disappear from this world permanently!"

The year was 1983. The sun had set. It was dark outside. Only one dim light was in the Foster family’s living room. “Dad, Mom, I’m willing to live abroad with you.” When they heard their daughter’s words through the phone, Philip York and Angela York were moved to tears of excitement.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.

As soon as I leave the hospital after my abortion, I send my husband, Rykel Heffer, a message. "I terminated the pregnancy." I get an instant reply. "Okay." I stare at that single word and suddenly find it almost funny. For years, whenever I gave him a heads-up before heading into a high-risk assignment, the only reply I got was "okay". And whenever I reminded him that if he was unable to reach me for 24 hours, he should come looking for me, I also got a simple "okay". When I was trapped under the rubble after a building collapsed and lost contact for 72 hours, I sent Rykel 309 desperate messages, consumed by fear. He replied with 309 "okay"s. Only now do I realize that every reply I have ever received has been an automated response. Since Rykel never reads my messages, naturally, he has no idea that half a month ago, I told him I would be taking an overseas assignment and terminating the pregnancy today. His attention and affection have always belonged to the woman who fills his social media feed—Joey Mugbrey. "It's our thousand-day anniversary, and it's Joey's birthday too!" The post is accompanied by a screenshot of their chat history. Above the countless messages is a 1,000-day streak, celebrating their thousand days together. I tap "Like" on his post and leave a comment. "A wonderful day indeed." Today marks the anniversary of the day I narrowly escaped death in that collapse years ago. More importantly, it is the day I decide to leave Rykel for good.

When I missed the passing grade by one point, my best friend dragged me to a bar. She said there was nothing a drink couldn't fix. I drank until I blacked out. When I woke up, a man lay beside me, all cool eyes and tightly leashed control. I left two hundred dollars on the nightstand and ran for my life. I thought I'd never see him again. Then, on the first day of the new semester, the class I'd failed had a new professor. I looked up at the podium. The man from that night stood at the lectern, opened the roster, and read my name in a cool, even voice. "Vivian Harper, come see me in my office tomorrow." The color drained from my face. Convinced he was here for payback, I stayed up all night writing a transfer application. The next day, I clutched my transfer application all the way to his office. Before I could work up the nerve to speak, he pulled out a sheet of paper and studied me with an unreadable expression. "I've read the assignment you turned in." "Care to explain why a positive pregnancy test was bound into your term paper?"

Katherine Nolan, my husband's first love, was drugged while studying abroad. When she returns to the country, she is pregnant, just like me. On the day I suffer a massive hemorrhage during labor, my husband, Gabriel Donovan, shows up with Katherine to force me into a divorce. "Kate comes from a highly educated family, and her reputation means everything. If anyone finds out that she's carrying another man's child, it will destroy her. I have to be the father of her baby. Let's get a divorce," he said. In my previous life, I refused to divorce him and even exposed the truth. Katherine's image as an educated and independent woman collapsed. She became the target of public scorn and accusations of fraud. Heavily pregnant, she went to a bar to drink herself numb, but someone took advantage of her afterward. It led to a miscarriage and massive blood loss. She died despite emergency treatment. Gabriel held a funeral for her and offered me a sincere apology. Three months later, I was hit by a car sent by him and left disabled. He even threw our six-month-old son, Adrian Donovan, into a dog cage and left him to be mauled by wild dogs. Only then did I realize that he had long wanted to kill both me and our son. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the very day he brought Katherine to pressure me into a divorce.

On the day we were supposed to get engaged, my fiancé, Marco, married the Don's daughter. My father was framed and thrown in jail. I needed five million dollars to get him out. Then Marco found me. "Be my mistress," he offered, "and I'll save your father." I smiled and turned to the man lurking in the shadows, a man known for his power, brutality, and his stone-cold heart. They said the king of the underworld never let a woman spend the night. But with me, he buried his head in my hair, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the mahogany desk, and the ornate carved bed all became our battlegrounds. And there was one thing I forgot to tell Marco. The man I was with was Dante Landini, the cold-blooded Don of the Landini family, who was Marco's soon-to-be father-in-law.

That night, while scrolling through a secondhand marketplace, I came across a bizarre listing. [Virtual Girlfriend Companion Service — 99.9 dollars/month, premium relationship experience. [Emotionally stable, available on demand, online 24/7, satisfaction guaranteed. [Rave reviews, three customers have already renewed. DM for details.] More than a dozen user reviews were stacked below. [The experience is incredible—more attentive than my ex. Totally worth the money!] [OP, where did you find such a gem? Share the source, please.] [Is this girlfriend AI? She's way too obedient.] [How much to buy her out?] The seller replied: [Real-person service, exclusive source. Tenfold compensation if proven fake. Buyout inquiries via DM.] I frowned, a mix of disbelief and disgust tightening my chest, and was just about to scroll past. Then, by chance, I caught a glimpse of a partially blurred chat background image in the details section. It was something I had drawn myself—the matching profile pictures my long-distance boyfriend and I used.