Plot Twists Ambiguous Short Stories & Novels

Everyone in the Wandering Wolf Gang knew that Ash Blackwood loved me desperately and feared my disappearance most. To give me a sense of security, he drank a loyalty potion in front of me. He said that this magic potion would ensure that he would only desire me, get an erection for me alone, and that he would always report his whereabouts through our mate bond, even when he was on a dangerous mission. I worried about him, hiding my identity as the pack's tactical commander, I was worried that he would feel inferior, so I hid my own abilities and did not want him or the gang members to think that he had risen to power through my short-term precognitive abilities. Yet after a mission, I overheard pack members joking: "Alpha rushed so eagerly to meet Scarlett after taking the antidote, was she that amazing?" So after today’s battle, I quietly kept my mind link with Ash's group, and blocked his perception. In an unmuted mind-link, Ash's thoughts were filled with dirty desires and lascivious content, "Little slut, last time we went through seven vials of enhancement elixir, what do you think?" My heart turned to ice. In despair, I called upon the Moon Goddess: [I wish to leave this world.] The Goddess's ethereal voice echoed in my mind. [Once you leave, all traces of you will be erased from this realm.] [I know, please go ahead.] [Countdown begins: seven days.]

My mentally impaired brother married a young, beautiful woman. She was a college graduate, kind and sensible. In just three years, she already had three kids.  My dad couldn’t stop smiling, always boasting to everyone about what a great daughter-in-law he had. However, I knew the truth. Every night, she would quietly sneak into my bed.

I am a top-notch surgeon. But when my ex-boyfriend —— now the Don of the Blackwood family —— was brought to the hospital injured, even the head nurse advised me against taking the case. Everyone said the Dante Blackwood despised me. Because three years ago—the last time we met—I took off my engagement ring and handed it back to him, then got into the car of Dominic, the Don of Mercer family. But I still put on my white coat and walked in. Not only walked in—I pressed my hand right against his stomach without a shred of hesitation. Before the punch came, it was the killing intent in his eyes. "I told you. Touch me one more time, and I'll break every bone in your body." The interns outside the door were all holding their breath for my safety. I adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses and let out a helpless smile. But the moment I undid the buttons of his shirt, even though his mouth told me to get out, his body couldn't help but tense up.

I spent five years as Dominic Santoro’s wife in name only. Five years hidden behind closed doors, buried under his sheets, erased from his world. When he finally agreed to take me back to Chicago—to stand beside him, to be seen—I thought I had won. I bought a new dress. Soft. Elegant. Worthy of a Don’s woman. The night before we left, he looked at me through the mirror and said calmly, “Take the makeup off. Change into pants.” I asked why. He adjusted his cufflinks like I was nothing more than background noise. “Juliana Lancaster is back. Tonight is our engagement.” Russian Bratva. Lancaster blood. A marriage alliance. Seeing my silence, he laughed—careless, cruel. “What’s with that look? Didn’t we agree on this when we married? Brotherhood. Loyalty. No love.” Then he turned, eyes sharp and mocking. “Victoria Miller… you didn’t actually fall in love with me, did you?” I stood there, frozen. Because inside the inner pocket of his tailored suit— was my pregnancy report. And the Don of Chicago had no idea the woman he was about to sacrifice was carrying his heir.

At the company's year-end party, a colleague asks me teasingly about when exactly my boyfriend, Hayden Potter, and I will get married. Hayden's female buddy, Melissa Somers, instantly speaks up for him. "He's not in a rush. After all, Hayden's main priority is his career." At first, I don't think much about Melissa's response. But the next thing I know, I suddenly hear her internal thoughts. [Marriage? When Hayden was sleeping over at my place, he promised me that he'd marry me!] I freeze up on the spot before whirling around to stare at Hayden and Melissa. At the moment, Melissa is taking a sip from Hayden's drink through the same straw he just used. Hayden never once looks at me. In fact, he even has an arm wrapped around Melissa's shoulders.

Claire was known for her strong sense of principle and her strict adherence to rules and punctuality. Everyone knew she never made exceptions for anyone. Yet, when it came to getting married, she had stood Mark up eight separate times. The first time was because her friend from college, Ryan, returned after eight years living abroad, and she had to pick him up at the airport. The second time, Ryan slightly burned his finger while cooking, so she abandoned Mark on their way to the city hall just to check Ryan was all right. The third time, Ryan’s son fell ill, and she rushed over in a panic to drive the kid to the hospital. Now, this was the eighth time. Once again, she was a no-show. All she gave Mark was a rushed phone call, saying, “I have an emergency. I’ll be late.” Mark watched as everyone who came after him got married until the clerk behind the window tapped on the glass. “Son, where’s your fiancée? We’re closing soon.” Just as he was about to dial her number again, a text from Claire popped up on his screen. [I can’t make it to the city hall this afternoon. Let’s do this another day.] As Mark read the message, an indescribable pang of sadness hit him. He was about to put his phone away and leave when a new Instagram feed update caught his eye. It was a post from Ryan uploaded just moments ago. In the photo, Ryan was beaming at the camera. Right next to him stood Claire, holding his son in her arms and gazing up at Ryan with tender affection. The caption read, “Leo wanted to spend the day at the amusement park. A big thank you to Claire for keeping us company the whole time!”

My cold-blooded Mafia boss, Don Cassius, tore my painting to shreds. Right in front of everyone. I needed to vent. I texted a picture of my legs in fishnets to my dark web sugar daddy. [Wanna be stepped on by your Mistress? Stroke it for me. Now.] I looked up. Cassius—usually an untouchable iceberg in a bespoke suit—swallowed hard. His ears flushed a dark red. Curious, I sneaked a peek at his phone. My photo. My filthy command. Both flashing on his screen. Holy shit. Ice shot through my veins. My stupid fucking thumb slipped... and hit the video call button.

When my wife, Anna Smith, and I went back to her hometown for the New Year’s, her male best friend, Liam Reid, barged into our bedroom. Late at night, he suddenly unbuttoned his top and exposed his bare chest. “Anna, my imaginary bosom hurts. Please massage them to make me feel better!” Anna wanted to massage his chest when I flipped the tumbler over next to our bed in frustration. Anna’s face immediately fell. She glared at me in hatred as she roared, “He’s experiencing a psychological issue due to hormonal imbalance. Do you even know science? Why is your mind in the gutter?” Liam pretended to cry as he sobbed, “Sawyer, don’t blame Anna. We’re best friends, and we’re basically sisters. “It’s my fault. If I had been born with a real bosom, I’d definitely stay away from Anna.” I looked at his fake demeanor and smirked. I did not tell them that I had obtained a wish stone, and that it allowed me to change one bodily structure. Since Liam desperately wanted to be a woman, I would make his wish come true by giving him a huge bosom. He could massage them however he wanted.