Plot Twists Short Stories & Bias Revenge Novels

As the year ended and payday finally arrived, my salary still hadn't hit my bank account. I headed straight to the finance department to sort it out, but Sarah Thompson dismissed me impatiently. "You picked up those coupons last week, didn't you? The ones for "Spend 2,000, save 1,000". You got ten of them, adding up to $10,000. Your salary is $8,000, and that extra $2,000 is a perk." I stared at her, stunned. No one had said a word about this when the coupons were handed out. Worse, they could only be redeemed at our boss's supermarket, where commodities were ridiculously marked up. Items that cost $19.99 at a regular supermarket went for $49.99 there, more than double the price. It dawned on me that the boss was just shuffling money from one pocket to another, which meant I had been basically working for free. I shoved the coupons back at her. "I don't want these. Just deposit the cash into my bank account." Michael Wright walked over with a frown. "What's all the yelling? We gave you an extra $2,000, and you are not even grateful? You're stirring up trouble for nothing. You'd spend your salary on stuff anyway. We're just making it convenient." My voice rose, shaking with fury. "What you're doing is illegal!" He laughed, cold and scornful. "Then sue me. I manage things here. You think I'd be scared by a minor employee like you?" Right then, my phone buzzed with a text notification: [Lisa Matthews, congratulations on securing the Enforcement Officer position at the tax bureau.]

At the company team-building event, I got called out by my colleague Samantha Rowler for not removing my price tag—she accused me of being a "freebie chaser." "Oh wow, Carla, you drive a BMW 5 Series. Are you seriously planning to return your clothes within seven days too?" she sneered. I tucked the tag back in and ignored her snide remark. But after the event, as soon as I got home, my phone started blowing up. My chat apps were going insane. A friend had sent me a link: [Luxury-Car Executive Turns Out to Be a Return Addict!] Someone had filmed me leaving the price tag on and posted it to a short-video platform. I opened the comment section and was met with a barrage of insults. [Can't afford to live, huh? Tag warrior.] [Is this car a sugar-daddy gift? Those who know, know.] [OMG, does this woman have some kind of illness? Which brand is this so I can avoid it!] I immediately knew Samantha was behind it. I messaged her to delete the video. Instead, the next second, she blocked me—and pinned a comment to the top of the thread: [You can know a person's face but never their heart!] I was about to post a statement to clarify, my finger hovering over the send button, when I noticed the video's likes had already shot past ten thousand. I laughed. If they wanted a scene, fine—let's make it bigger. I quickly posted a new update: [The outfit is really nice. I'll wear it again next time.] The netizens erupted. The insults doubled, the heat skyrocketed, and the post shot straight to number one trending. I just put my phone down and went to sleep.

Right after getting reborn, the first thing I do is start a livestream with the equipment I've brought to the main entrance of a bank. There, I humiliate myself on purpose just to attract the viewers' attention. Immediately, tens of thousands of viewers flock to my channel. After that, I take off my high heels on the spot and throw them at the armored truck that's carrying cash with all my might. "Get down! Don't move!" As I listen to the guards' stern warnings and watch as they aim their guns at me, I just spread my arms with a smile on my face. "This is a robbery! Hand over the money!" In my previous life, my business partner, Zachary Leed, and the finance director of my company, Yvette Sanders, had betrayed me. They used the perks that came with their jobs to receive illegal loans while using my company as a collateral asset. In the end, they fled with the cash, leaving me with the shitty aftermath to deal with. I was given a life sentence in jail in order to atone for the crimes Zachary and Yvette had pinned on me. My brother went all over the nation and spent all of his fortune just to seek justice for me, but he ended up dying from depression. When I open my eyes again, I yell loudly to the viewers watching my livestream at the moment. "Everyone, you shall witness the most historic moment ever! Come with me as I rob a bank right in front of your eyes on this livestream!"

At the award-giving ceremony of the end-of-the-year gala, my boss, George White, suddenly announces that he will be adding a bonus round on a whim. "This is the annual department evaluation! The department that comes last shall come onto the stage and receive a tiny encouragement from me!" The huge screen lights up at that moment. The sales achievements accumulated by all departments are being shown in a ranking system. The sales department is ranked first. The operations department comes second, and the marketing department gets third place. As for the administrative department, the sales achievements shown on the screen are none. After all, that department has no KPI to achieve at all. George beams at us from the administrative department. "Everyone from the administrative department, come on up and receive your prize!" Two people can be seen carrying a basket of brooms up the stage. Everyone bursts into laughter instantly. "Come now, sweep away your bad luck with the brooms! Try not to come up as the bottom-ranked department again next year!" George personally thrusts the brooms into our hands. Camera flashes go off beneath the stage—people are clearly taking photos of us. The people from the sales department are the ones laughing the hardest. "Finally, the peeps from the administrative department are getting the recognition they deserve!"

My younger brother, Luke, committed suicide after being falsely accused of plagiarizing Layla's brother's music. My own life was a living hell. I was a respected music critic, but now I was the sister of "the plagiarist." My reputation was in tatters. My colleagues whispered behind my back, and my articles were dismissed as the ramblings of a biased, grieving relative. The one person who had always stood by me was my husband, Julian, a successful music producer. We had been together since college, and he was my rock, my refuge in the storm. I thought he would believe me. But, he didn't. But the real betrayal came the evening, just another day of being ridiculed online, I came home to find Julian on the phone. His voice was low and urgent, laced with a coldness I had never heard before. "The case is closed, Layla. It’s over," he said. "The evidence has been submitted. No one will ever know that it was your brother who plagiarized Luke's music."

I'm the daughter of the Alpha King of the Werewolf Alliance that's based in Valdoria. In order to give my Alpha fiance whom I've never met before, Lucas Howell, a surprise, I've specifically hidden my scent as a royal she-wolf. Clad in a seemingly ordinary white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, I walk into the venue, where the Dark Shadow pack is hosting their annual celebration. As soon as I take my seat at the main table, which has been reserved for me, I feel someone dumping a glass of red liquid onto me. A she-wolf wearing a red dress that comes with a deep V-neck can be seen standing in front of me. Her expression is one of disdain. "Where did you come from, you filthy Rogue? You really think you get to sit at the main table, huh?" As I wipe the wine stains off my clothes, I do my best to suppress the ferocity of my wolf. "Lucas has specifically reserved this seat for his mate. Why can't I sit here?" The she-wolf acts as though she's heard the biggest joke ever. She then point at her work badge that's pinned on her chest while saying mockingly, "I'm Lucas' personal secretary as well as the future Luna whom everyone has acknowledged. In this pack, my word is the law here. "Guards, drag this delusional half-breed away and throw her out!" What a coincidence. Lucas has just texted me, pleading with me to announce our relationship as soon as possible. I dig out my phone and dial his number. Then, I put my phone on loudspeaker mode. "Your personal secretary claims that she's the future Luna, and she has commanded the guards to throw me out. What's your explanation for this matter, hmm?"

My name becomes the sensational topic on the trending list thanks to my company's employees, who have cyberbullied me relentlessly. It all started when an intern named Cecily Plinkton posted a complaint on her social media feed, claiming that the seafood thermidor, a new food item that had just gotten released in the company's cafeteria, was sold for 14 dollars, which was four dollars more expensive than before. "What a scum company! Are the higher-ups that crazy over money? They're just leeching from us white-collar peeps repeatedly!" The entire Internet doesn't hesitate to curse me out. They claim that I'm a cold-blooded capitalist who's greedy enough to charge her own employees for lunch. No one cares about the fact that I've been shelling out my own money in order to upgrade the cafeteria's food choices just so I could make the employees happier. Every day, they get to eat over hundreds of dishes to their fill for free. Every week, the expensive dishes, such as lobsters and crabs, are charged at the net price. Thanks to these free benefits, the administrative department has been suffering from almost a one-million-dollar loss every year. So, I announce that the food prices in the cafeteria will be changed to reflect the current market's prices. At the same time, I've fired the head chef and the kitchen staff and left the meal preparation to another company that produces instant meals. As soon as the announcement is made, the entire company goes into a frenzy. The employees all crowd outside my office while begging me to bring back the benefits with tears streaking down their cheeks.

An alarm wakes everyone up at 1:00 am. It turns out that a few college students have gone missing during their exploration in Wolffang Valley. My heart goes tense at the news. After all, my stepdaughter, Nancy Campton, had told me yesterday that she'd be exploring that place! Since Nancy has asthma, I specifically prepare medication that's meant to treat asthma in my medical kit just in case anything happens. After carrying my backpack, I begin urging my husband, Jack Campton, who's also the leader of the rescue team, to set off right away. But he keeps stopping me in my tracks. "What's the rush? Let's wait for Dakota to finish doing her makeup." Half an hour later, Dakota Sweeney, who has a face full of makeup and is wearing a pink rescue jacket, begins complaining in a high-pitched voice. "Why did you keep rushing me? Thanks to you, my eyeliner came out all crooked!" On the way to the valley, Dakota actually pulls out a pair of pink lace panties. After unscrewing the cap of a bottle of life-saving water, she starts washing it with said water. I can't endure her stupid antics anymore. "Have you gone nuts? This bottle of water could potentially save someone's life!" But Dakota replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm a woman with principles! I must wash my underwear that I've changed out of on the same day!" Jack shoves me away at that moment. He then snatches the bottled water from me before passing it to Dakota. "Willow Armstrong, you're the crazy one here! Is it wrong for Dakota to take care of her hygiene?" As I stare at Jack, a cold smile slowly spreads across my face. It's not wrong for Dakota to take care of her hygiene. I just wonder if Jack is capable of facing the consequences behind Dakota's tendency to drag things out.

My fiancé's junior colleague went around the hospital every day calling herself "the best girl". When a patient with acute appendicitis was admitted, she mistakenly prescribed laxatives instead of proper treatment. The patient nearly went into shock and died. After the hospital was reported by the patient's family, she simply smiled and said, "I don't even need a supervising doctor to prescribe medication anymore. I'm such a good girl!" On another occasion, she failed to order routine pre-op blood work for a surgical patient. During the procedure, a visiting senior surgeon was exposed and later contracted HIV. She actually puffed out her chest and said, "Even if everyone had to stay up all night helping me save the doctor, I'm still the best girl!" I protested more than once and urged my fiancé to dismiss her. He refused every time. He brushed it off with a laugh, saying "this good girl" just needed time and experience. Then, a prominent patient was transferred from a military hospital for surgery. She secretly tampered with the medical records, switching the pathology findings from the left lung to the right. She even revised the surgical plan, recommending removal of the patient's completely healthy right lung. Luckily, I caught the mistake in time, restored the correct pathology report, and performed the surgery successfully. After the patient recovered, he asked for our team to be recognized. To my disbelief, Elena Bakers ran to my fiancé in tears. "I wrote the entire report by myself! All by myself! I'm the best little girl! "Why do you always take credit away from me? It took so much courage for this little girl to be brave just once! "You're all horrible!" Elena stormed out of the hospital and was struck and killed by a car on the spot. My fiancé did not say a word. However, on the very day I was appointed hospital director, he produced falsified evidence accusing me of altering records and causing multiple medical accidents to advance my career. I was arrested, tried, and sentenced to death. As the verdict was delivered, he looked at me with unmistakable satisfaction. "You'll never make up for what you owe Elena. Not in this lifetime." When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Elena altered the surgical plan.

I'm the heir of the York family in Yarrowdale. My parents request that I choose either June Langley, my female bodyguard or Jasmine Turner, the low-income student that my family has been sponsoring as my wife. I had had a crush on Jasmine for a long time. On the day I was supposed to draw lots, I tampered with the box and chose her as my wife. But after we got married, Jasmine plotted to let the butler's son, Marcus Lockwood, take my place as the new heir. Just like that, I fell from grace and became the impostor that everyone looked down on. Then, I was cast out of my own home. Jasmine then introduced Marcus and their illegitimate child into the York family. Her actions gave my parents heart attacks, leading to their deaths. Before my death, I witnessed Jasmine gifting the Yorks' shares to Marcus. She even shattered my parents' urns just to appease him. "Tristan, you had spent your life in luxury. Now, it's Marcus' turn." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm meant to choose my wife by drawing lots. This time, I've changed the names on both lots to June Langley, my loyal bodyguard.

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

There was a fire in my house. After I risked my life to save my parents, who were the richest people in the country, multiple media outlets wanted to interview me. Faced with the journalists' questions, my parents said that they would fulfill any of my wishes. Their adopted daughter, Lily Jackson, thought that I would use this chance to drive her away, and her eyes had begun to turn red. But I just looked at the camera and said coldly, "I want to sever all ties with the Jackson family, and I want all of you to be witnesses of my decision." The crowd went into an uproar. My parents were infuriated. The journalists wanted to ask some more questions, but I just started packing my luggage. Only I was aware that I was reborn. During my previous life, I took the chance of this interview to drive Lily out of the family. Not long after she was taken away by her biological parents, they sold her to a man, and she died a terrible death within her husband's house. My parents pretended like they didn't care and said to me that it was Lily's fate, but in truth, they secretly started poisoning my food. After the poison killed me, they placed my body in front of Lily's grave in a position as if I was on my knees and apologizing to her. They made me pay for Lily's death with my life. "If you hadn't driven Lily away, Lily wouldn't have met such a terrible fate! You should pay for what happened to her with your life!" That was the last thing I heard, and I became completely disappointed with them. But when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was reborn and went back to the day of the fire.

Six years ago, a corporate acquisition deal I handled went up in flames, and 50 billion dollars vanished into thin air. Bankrupt investors spray red paint all over my front door for a year straight. Dad died from a stroke, and Mom lost her mind and disappeared. I ended up doing six years in prison for embezzlement. After I got out, I changed my name and started delivering food in downtown, running myself ragged for a few bucks per delivery. But then my ex-wife, Shirley Pearce, showed up, and the entire delivery station ground to a halt. She had become a financial powerhouse, a regular on the covers of business magazines. Reporters blocked my delivery scooter, shoving microphones in my face. "Mr. Marcus Quinn, Ms. Pearce has been single for six years, paid off all your debts, and she's been waiting for you to come home!" I stared at that perfectly made-up woman with her adoring eyes and felt nothing but disgust. That so-called "devoted" ex-wife of mine? Six years ago, she had forged company seals to help her boy toy short the stock market. Then, when everything fell apart, she threw me under the bus to save herself.

The day my husband, Ethan Hart, posted wedding photos in a bridal gown with the college girl he was sponsoring on his social media, I didn't fly into hysterics like I usually did. Instead, I gave them a like. I even left a comment: [Such a perfect match. Let's all wish the newlyweds a lifetime of happiness.] People in our circle said I was the most pathetic wife alive, letting the mistress walk all over me without resistance. A week later, he came home and explained, "It was just an act. Her grandfather is sick. Before he dies, he wants to see her get married." I nodded calmly. "I didn't take it seriously. I believe you." In my previous life, I had stormed into their wedding ceremony that very day and caused a scene, ruining their wedding. To punish me, Ethan went after my parents' company. He drove them into bankruptcy and forced them to jump to their deaths. And I was sent to a mental hospital by that woman, tortured until I truly went insane. So in this life, reborn with everything laid bare, I no longer crave his love. All I want is his money. Every time he cheats, I transfer a portion of the assets under his name. Three chances remain. After that, he will have nothing left.

The night of our engagement party, I found my best friend playing a dangerous game with my fiancé. The casino on our family's private yacht was where I found them. Clara was sitting on the lap of my fiancé, Killian, the Falcone family heir. Killian held a sharp family dagger, its tip snagging the thin strap of her dress. The blade traced a path along her collarbone. The slightest pressure would snap the silk. It was a dangerous, intimate scene. I stepped forward with a frown, but Killian just scoffed. "It's just a little game to liven things up, Principessa. Don't be so tense." Clara's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "We're just playing a traditional family game. The knife game. You don't mind, do you, sweetie?" I was about to speak, but Killian's expression hardened. "We just got engaged and you're already trying to control me?" So I said nothing. I just drew my custom pistol from its holster on my thigh. "So, it's a game," I said. "Then let's play for something real."

"Just help me out this once, man. I just made it to the final round, and I can't leave the game. Help your little brother out for a change? You're the best, J." It was 2:00 a.m. Chad asked me to go downstairs and pick up his takeout. I wanted to refuse because I was still recovering from a broken foot, but he did not look capable of tearing his eyes from the screen for even a second. Thus, I agreed and stepped outside. Without warning, something like a stream of comments flashed across my mind. [No! Somebody stop him!] [That delivery guy is your brother's roommate! He's got a knife!!!] [Lil' Bro knows that already, J! He's using you as a human shield to buy himself time!] I froze. I turned to go back inside. The door would not budge. Chad had already locked it. The elevator chimed down the hall. The comments in my head spiraled into chaos. [The killer is here! Get out of there, Big Bro!]

On the day of the World Rally Championship finals, I pressed the accelerator to the floor, ready for the final dash. The next moment, the engine exploded in a deafening roar, and thick smoke instantly filled the cockpit. Flames spread toward the fuel tank. I yanked at the door, desperate to jump out, but the handle wouldn’t budge, and the brakes felt welded in place. In that instant of despair, my husband’s voice came through the comms. “Attention, all teams, no need to rescue her. My wife is the Iron Racer! “For today’s live broadcast challenge, let’s see if she can drive this burning car across the finish line!” His co-commentator, recently recruited onto the team, chimed in with excitement. “Thomas, the sponsor just confirmed! As long as Jane holds on to the end, they’ll increase investment. I can get a permanent spot!” I understood instantly then that the husband on the commentary platform I had supported for years was using my life to pave the way for his mistress. Smoke clawed at my throat. However, I forced down the dizziness and begged, “For the sake of all our years together…” Only for him to cut me off with irritation. “Save your energy for driving. You’re skilled. Just hold on a little longer. Mandy’s promotion depends entirely on you.” The cockpit had become an inferno; my skin searing with every second. I gripped the blistering wheel, steering through the smoke for the last time. This time, my finish line was the commentary platform where the two of them were huddled together.

I gave up on my inheritance right during the time my love for Matteo Rossini ran the deepest. When I was about to leave, Papa looked at me before saying lightly, "I bet that you'll come home in three years." Back then, I didn't take his words to heart. After spending three years overcoming life's hurdles with Matteo, he finally becomes the Don of his family. On the day the inheritance party is to be held, I decide to wear a dress that I've treasured for a very long time but never had the heart to wear. But the moment I walk into the banquet hall, I see Matteo holding hands with a radiant young woman. She's Isabella Ginevra, a popular socialite in the elite society. Isabella flits among the guests charismatically, as though she were the lady of the house. She's capable of engaging in any conversational topic, be it finance strategies or channels to obtain firearms. I try to participate in a conversation, only for Isabella to cut me off with a titter. "I thought you've been spending the past few years being cooped up indoors. It turns out that you know a thing or two about these topics, huh?" Everyone around us falls silent for a brief moment. My expression freezes on my face. Then, I turn to look at Matteo subconsciously. But he doesn't even bother looking my way. Instead, he merely says softly, "We're talking business here, Bianca. You should sit with the other ladies." I clench my fists instantly. But in the end, I opt to not say anything and just walk away. Through the throngs of the guests, I can see Matteo and Isabella chatting animatedly with each other in low tones. For once, Matteo looks relaxed and at ease—an expression that I haven't seen for a long time. Suddenly, I hear a guest remarking, "If someone like Ms. Ginevra were to become the Donna, she'd be of great help to the Don." A chorus of agreements ring out around him. Matteo just smiles in return, though he doesn't deny that remark. In fact, he even toasts to Isabella and drinks to her in front of everyone. That's when I draw to my feet and walk over to snatch the glass out of his hand. "I think so too. In that case, she can have the position as the Donna, then."

The wedding's in half an hour, and my fiancé's assistant, this woman, just hands me this paper. Rule number one: No physical contact with him outside, not unless he explicitly permits it. Rule number two: Intimacy is to occur only when he initiates it. She is obligated to satisfy his desires at least once a month. Rule number three: He can demand his due at any time, any place, and she cannot refuse. ... After I finished reading this entire two-page contract, I had to fight to keep a smile on my face. Swallowing the fire in my gut, I called my fiancé. "Marcus, what the hell is this?" "What do you mean, 'If he fathers a child, she must raise it, no matter who the mother is'?"

My mother-in-law, Barbara Morris, insisted that a load-bearing wall was blocking our home's good energy. She even hired someone to tear it down for a panoramic floor-to-ceiling window. The contractor, Peter Stone, kept refusing. "Ma'am, we really can't do this. If we take this wall down, the whole building will collapse." In my past life, I fought desperately to stop them, even getting on my knees and begging them not to touch this wall that held the entire building together. My husband, Tom Williams, thought I was embarrassing him. He slapped me so hard that my left ear went deaf, and he forced them to demolish the wall anyway. That night, the entire building suffered a catastrophic structural failure. I was trapped under the rubble for seven days and nights with ruptured internal organs. Right before I died, I heard Tom shouting at the rescue team. "Save my mom first! That other woman has insurance. If she dies, we'll get the payout and buy a new place!" At that moment, the resentment inside me hardened. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment when the construction crew had just arrived. Looking at that thick load-bearing wall and Tom's hand about to rise up and strike me, I smiled and handed him the eighty-pound sledgehammer nearby. I said, "Mom's absolutely right. Once we knock down this wall, our place will turn into a luxurious river-view apartment. Anyone who tries to stop us is a complete idiot."