Plot Twists 短篇故事與 Bias Revenge 小說

Derek Lewis killed me six times for Claire White. Each time, I waited for him to change his mind, but every time, he drove the knife straight into my chest. “Sherry, Claire was born with a serious heart condition. You’re the only compatible donor who can save her. I swear—you’re the only woman I’ll ever marry.” But before the first week after my death had even passed, he married Claire. My former mansion became their new home, and my sports cars were used as their wedding cars. Even the Lewis family’s billion-dollar fortune became jointly owned between them. Standing in line to be reborn again, I finally realized that I didn’t want the scumbag anymore, but the Lewis family’s wealth had always included my share. So, I was reborn, choosing to become their child. On the day of the delivery, Derek publicly announced that Lewis Group would one day belong solely to this child. Inside the delivery room, I was born crying. Claire took one look at me, and her scream tore through the room. “Derek, why does our baby look like Sherry?”

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I was trapped in a cabin with my daughter, Sofia Costello, as floodwaters raged outside. With shaking hands, I used the emergency satellite phone to call my mafia husband, Henson Costello, and begged for help. I dialed more than 90 times before the call finally went through, yet all I heard was the breathy moans of his first love, Angelina Rossi, on the other end. "Henson...slower..." Before I could even process the shock of his betrayal, I heard a conversation that sent me straight into hell. "That kid was dead weight anyway. Trading him for control of Pier 9 was the best deal the family ever made." It seemed that Leo Costello, my son, who had supposedly drowned at the beach five years ago, had not died in an accident after all. Henson had used him as part of a business deal. All this time, I had been drowning in guilt for taking him to that beach, blaming myself for the tragedy. I never knew the truth was this cruel. Tears streamed down my face as my body shook uncontrollably. After ten years of marriage, I finally realized I had never truly known the man I loved and sacrificed everything for. I picked up my phone again and dialed Vincenzo Moretti's number. "Vince, I'll marry you. But you have to help me destroy the Costello family from power." After a brief silence, his voice came through the line. "Aurelia Astor, I've been waiting ten years to hear you say that."

Everyone thinks Jimmy Hudson, my college roommate, is the typical brutally honest and socially clueless guy who just has zero filter sometimes. A friend and I meet up to go boxing and practice our hooks, but he calls it a hookup when texting the group chat about it. He even nonchalantly says he won't be deleting his message. When I meet my boxing buddy, he says I'm meeting my hookup buddy. He even has the nerve to say, "It's just a joke. Don't be overly sensitive and read so much into it." Thanks to a few more of his dirty tricks, my reputation is ruined, and the entire class ostracizes me. But Jimmy doesn't stop there. He slips sleeping pills into my drink, which leads me to miss an exam. Later, he claims it was just a careless mistake and blames it on his scatterbrained tendencies. Eventually, he dumps crushed cherry pits into my water bottle, which ends up poisoning me to death. This all happened because our campus belle, whom he has a crush on, helped me with my luggage on our first day on campus. All of a sudden, my eyes open again. I've returned to the first day of my freshman year at college. This time, I'm going to let Jimmy get a taste of what it's like to have his life ruined with a helping of some social cluelessness of my own.

I was the Blackwell family's real heir, lost as a child and recovered only five years ago. After Grandfather's will left me the controlling shares, the adopted son, Damian, jumped into the pool himself and swore I'd pushed him. My parents never bothered to check. They shipped me overnight to the poorest mining belt in Kembala. Three years later, my father called me for the first time. "Damian isn't angry anymore." "Blackwell Forge Holdings is short on cash." "Crawl back here and marry into Gloria Dane's household in Damian's place, so she'll invest in us." I laughed. Gloria Dane was an old woman pushing sixty. What a devoted father he was. But they didn't know that during those three years, I'd quietly built the largest private financial network in the world, the Obsidian Crown Consortium. Now they were days from bankruptcy and still wanted to trade me for money. Fine. I'd been looking for a reason to go back and settle every account.

My childhood friend suffered complications during labor and entrusted her child to me before she died. “Shea Wilde, I trust you the most. I’m counting on you to raise this child!” After she passed away, I endured every hardship while raising the child. Eighteen years of hardships and sacrifices later, I raised my foster son. He became the valedictorian and the top scorer in the college entrance exams. But on the day of the celebration banquet, my childhood friend returned with my childhood sweetheart. “Shea, I never imagined you’d raise my son so well! “Congratulations! I hereby announce you as the best childhood friend ever!” Her childhood sweetheart wrapped an arm around her shoulder while looking down on me. “Shea, Lilian Reyes is the daughter of the richest man in town. We’re taking our child back to claim our rightful inheritance. Here’s 30,000 dollars as compensation for you!” My adopted son was equally arrogant. His face twisted with pride. “I always knew a prodigy like me could never have a mother like you!” The rage killed me instantly. When time turned back, I sent the child straight to the orphanage.

My gastritis medication fell out of my bag during my engagement party. My best friend, Celeste Sims, frowned and said, "Didn't I tell you not to take birth control pills? They’re bad for your health!" I shook my head weakly. "Birth control pills? You're mistaken, Celeste. This is my gastritis medication. I’ve never used—" Before I could finish my sentence, I was suddenly reminded that my fiancé, Justin Ludwig, always gave this medicine to his friend, Callie Fuller. After looking everywhere for Justin, I heard him and Callie having 'fun' in the storeroom upstairs. I did not make a fuss as I quietly turned on the recently repaired security camera in the storeroom.

Everyone in class can hear my thoughts, but there's a catch—the "thoughts" they hear have been deliberately altered. During the exam, while I swiftly fill out the answer sheet, the rest of the class stays put. They eagerly wait to hear the answers in my head. [The answer for this is C, of course. These questions are exactly the same as the ones Ms. Clarke revealed to me. I'm going to be the top student again without even breaking a sweat!] Everyone else immediately copy my answers. Ultimately, apart from me, they all end up failing the exam. During our swimming class, my leg cramps, and I start sinking underwater. I try to scream for help, but my classmates hear something entirely different in my head. [I'm going to act like I'm drowning and see who's the idiot who jumps in to save me. Hahaha!] In the end, they all watch indifferently as I drown. My eyes open again. I've gone back in time to the day of the exam. This time, I can also hear these "thoughts" of mine that have been altered.

I get back from a six‑month business trip right before Valentine's Day and go to pick out a watch for my wife, Natalie Smith. The sales associate jokes, "Mr. Fuller, you and Ms. Smith really are in sync. She was here yesterday and bought a matching set of this exact model, saying they were for Valentine's Day." I freeze. Then I suddenly remember that her assistant, Tyler Chadwick, posted a picture of the exact same watch on social media last night, along with a smug caption. "She says my time belongs to her from now on." I immediately call Natalie, but a man's voice answers instead. "Hello? Who is this? Why are you calling so late? Ms. Smith is in the shower. Call back tomorrow." I let out a cold laugh. "Who am I? I'm your boss! Tell her you're both fired. Neither of you needs to show up at the office tomorrow!"

The day the exam rankings are released and I claim the top spot is also my older sister's birthday. During the birthday party, everyone asks what she wishes for. She turns her head and looks straight at my fiance, her red lips curving into a smile. "I want first place. Can you give it to me, Professor Howard?" The man lowers his eyes, saying nothing. The next day, my name disappears from the top of the rankings. After that, I fail to place five times in a row. When I confront my fiance, he simply hands me a slice of sponge cake and says, "Your sister has it hard. If she can't place first at Imperial Academy five consecutive times, she'll be forced into an arranged marriage with that crippled prince. As for you, you'll have other chances in the future." What he doesn't know is that I have no future left to wait for. As an illegitimate daughter, my engagement only exists because my mother sacrificed her life to secure it for me. Now, my mother is gone. And because my sister falls in love with my fiance, she makes my life miserable. To keep up appearances, my father allows my sister to propose a wager before the family council. If she can remain the academy's top-ranked student for five consecutive years, she will be allowed to take my place in the marriage. For that reason, I study by candlelight night after night, terrified of losing my fiance. But now, I rub the thick calluses on my palms. With a bitter laugh, I accept my fate.

My stepson, Lucas Lincoln, is trapped in a fire. After calling the fire brigade, I quickly ring my husband, Jasper Lincoln. Jasper is the leader of a search-and-rescue team, after all. But to my dismay, Jasper is currently keeping his ex-wife, Yvonne Schmidt, company. Yvonne has won the "Forensic Doctor of the Year" award, and so they are out celebrating it. My phone calls are rejected again and again. Jasper never once calls me back, even after Lucas' cries for help disappear entirely. By the time the fire brigade arrives to quell the flames, Lucas has been burned to a crisp. I tell Jasper what happened to our son, but he only gleefully says, "He was nothing but a troublemaker who'd contribute nothing to society. If he's dead, then so be it. This way, he won't grow up to become a menace. "Yvonne happens to be giving a public talk tomorrow and is still in need of a specimen demonstrating burn injuries. She can use Noah's corpse for her demonstration since it's still fresh." I sneer. So Jasper thinks that my own son, Noah Green, is the one who died in the fire. I immediately send Lucas' blackened corpse to Yvonne's operating room.

When I was fifteen, I lent my rabbit’s foot luck to Shawn Crawford. Half a year later, his wealthy parents found him and came to the orphanage to take him home. When I was eighteen, I stopped him from getting involved with the school belle who bullied me. Later, the girl died on the spot in a car accident. Shawn blamed her death entirely on me. He prevented me from taking the college entrance examination and ruined my life. Forced into wandering homelessly, Shawn still refused to spare me. He sealed me inside a coffin and buried me alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn to when I was eighteen years old. This time, I would reclaim what was mine, my rabbit’s foot luck.

In my last life, I was kidnapped alongside the fake heiress, Lilith Howe, at the same time. My father, the richest man in the country, claimed he had to prove his impartiality. Without a second thought, he told the police to rescue Lilith first and refused to pay a ransom for me. In front of the cameras, he declared with solemn conviction, "A daughter of the Howes must have backbone. We will never give in to criminals!" Lilith returned without a single scratch, and the internet crowned her a miracle girl. Meanwhile, I was killed by the kidnappers. There was barely anything left of me to bury. As my soul hovered above the scene, I watched my brother sneer at what little remained. "Good," he said. "At least she won't come back and be an eyesore to Lilith. We'll finally have some peace in the house." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the kidnappers called with their demands. A knife was pressed against my throat. On the other end of the line, my father's voice was just as cold, just as absolute. "I'm not choosing. My money belongs to charity. If she's a Howe, she should be ready to sacrifice for the family." I laughed. If he was willing to destroy his own flesh and blood for the sake of so-called honor, then this time, I would grant them a reunion in hell!

A Category 5 hurricane will be tearing through the nation tomorrow. The state I live in has officially gone into lockdown in all five sectors involving work, production, business, classes, and transport. But Isabel Stafford, the actual heiress of the Staffords who had just rejoined the family, left an order in the company's group chat. "Tomorrow, everyone in this company must clock in for work! Those who miss out on work will have three times their salaries deducted!" I thought it was rather inappropriate for the order to take effect. So, I messaged her privately that everyone's lives were at stake here, not to mention it was a reportable offense for one to go against the national order of the lockdown. But not only did Isabel ignore me, she also continued texting in the group chat. "We're paying you just to work! Everyone needs to be present in order to protect the important documents and maintain the expensive equipment! You should know that the more you work at times like this, the more the company can see your actual value!" The colleagues dared not refute Isabel at all. But I was really worried that an accident might happen, so I spent the night calling everyone to get them not to go to work. When Isabel found out about my efforts, she went to the company out of anger the next day. The typhoon smashed the company's glass walls that day, resulting in Isabel getting thrown out of the 16th floor. By the time her body was found, she was already dead. My parents and my fiance, Shane Cross, didn't say anything about Isabel's death. But they had me hung from a helicopter on my and Shane's wedding day. "If it wasn't for you stopping the employees from going to the company that day, Isabel wouldn't have died!" "There were so many of them! If they were willing to grab her, she'd be fine!" "You're just jealous that we found our actual daughter! That's why you killed her on purpose!" I begged Shane to save me, but he just gazed at me coldly. "I told you countless times that I'd still marry you even though Isabel is back! But why did you refuse to let her go? "I'll make you feel the pain Isabel has felt when she got thrown into the sky by the Category 5 hurricane!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Isabel is goading the employees to show up at the company for work. This time, it's my turn to send everyone to hell.

On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off. "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says. Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks. As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily. What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize. The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket. "I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?" I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle. By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below. The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket. Here comes my second chance.

At lunch I'd barely finished handing around the beef jerky I'd made when our department manager, Derek Pritchard, followed the smell to my desk. He grabbed a piece, tasted it, and announced at full volume. "Dylan, this is good. Way better than anything you'd buy to go with a beer." Before I could get a modest word out, his tone shifted. "Perfect timing. The owner isn't coming to the department dinner tomorrow night, so there's no sense throwing money around." He pulled three hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet and slapped them on my desk. "We'll eat in the break room. Dylan Woodward's doing the cooking. There's your grocery budget. "Twenty people in this department. Spend it carefully, but I want drinks, I want meat, and I want a couple of real entrees." Three hundred dollars? For twenty people? A project I'd led had brought the company a serious profit, and I'd worn the owner down over weeks to get thirty thousand dollars approved for a team retreat. Derek meant to pocket nearly all of it and have me cover the difference so he could look generous. Looking at that oily, entitled face, I smiled. "Sure. Since you think that highly of me, Derek, I'll lay it all out nice and clear." Then I turned away and texted the owner. "Aunt Victoria, the budget came through. We're having a surprise department dinner tomorrow night. Care to come taste it?"

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.

At the New Year’s team-building event, the intern, Lilith Woods, did not obtain my approval and changed our suburban trip to a seven-day tour of Baline. “Mr. Lucian Stone, I hear a change of scenery can really spice things up. Don’t lock up tonight. I’ll come by for a deep dive into our collaboration.” She pretended to be drunk and fell into my arms while slipping the room key into my pocket in the process. To avoid suspicion, I did not return to the hotel. However, in the middle of the night, the police called me in for questioning—someone had reported a dine-and-dash. Only then did I realize that the reserved budget of $100,000 for the accommodation had long since been exceeded. Lilith had upgraded their room to a presidential suite, feasted on high-end seafood buffets, and even used company funds to buy luxury handbags! When I showed up at their private room, the interns were still casually taking king crabs and several unopened bottles of the Macallan Whisky with them. “Mr. Stone, you’re just in time. Could you please settle the bill?” Lilith looked utterly righteous as she said this with a grin. “Young people like us make mistakes, while adults help to pay the price. You’re not exactly short on cash, anyway. Just think of it as buying my happiness.” I stared at the $700,000 bill and paid it in silence. The next day, the payment invoices made their grand entrance in the group chat, accompanied by my pinned message. [Upon financial review, this team-building event does not meet reimbursement criteria. All expenses will be shared equally among the seven participants.] [Each person will need to pay $100,000, payable immediately. If payment needs to be deferred, please print the proof and submit it to the President’s Office.]

When Lilith, the woman my fiancé Andrew had never gotten over, was kidnapped and used as leverage by a rival family during a critical transfer of power, I urged him to put the Family first and wait until our internal affairs were stable before rescuing her. By the time he became Don and went after her, Lilith's body had already been dumped in the wilderness. She had died horribly. Andrew never blamed me. If anything, he treated me better than ever and refused to let anyone defy me. Later, after seizing control of both families, he slaughtered my people. His first act was to deliver me to the rival family bound to mine by a blood feud. He stood by while they tortured me to death. He stood over my body, his gaze cold as unmelting ice. "This is how she died. Now you can suffer what she suffered." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment Lilith was kidnapped. I didn't stop him from giving up his chance to be Don in order to save her. He disappointed the Family. Perfect. This time, both families would answer to me.

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biopharmaceutical company that houses numerous talented innovation teams. It is through a rigorous screening process that a team led by a young PhD graduate, fresh out of his studies abroad, emerges on top. I plan to allocate 20 million dollars in funding to him because of his stellar resume and expertise, which is exactly what we need for our project. I, however, instantly call my assistant over after seeing the name listed among his family details. "Disqualify him from the selection, have him get his final pay from finance, and show him the door. I don't need the son of a crook working in my company."

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.