Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Revenge

I used to be the cockiest rich kid in high society, but somehow I became the biggest simp in the whole circle. It was all because I was bound to a heroine conquest system. If I failed, I would be finished. To stay alive, I had no choice but to do everything Samantha said and constantly try to please her. Knowing I could give her anything she wanted, she took the sports car I gave her and went for a drive with her childhood friend, Charles Lindsey. Then she left me alone on the highway in the middle of a violent storm. "Samantha, my asthma is acting up. My medicine is in the car. Can you come back and get me?" She gave a cold, mocking laugh. I could also hear Charles laughing on the phone. "Walk home yourself. There’s no room in the car for you." With only ten seconds left to live, I finally snapped. "You stupid system! How can a woman this cruel be the heroine? I want to switch targets!" The system froze for a long moment before a notification appeared. "Target has seriously deviated from the assigned character profile. Select a new target within five seconds!" In a panic, I pointed at the thin, miserable-looking figure in the distance. "New target selected: Destined Villain. Confirm?" I shouted with all the strength I had left. "Her! I choose her!"

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."

A former classmate of mine, Zack Lindell, is unlawfully fired by his company and denied a severance package. With nowhere else to turn, he becomes so desperate that he threatens to take his own life. I represent him entirely free of charge and run myself ragged until I secure a 500,000-dollar settlement for him. Yet on the day he receives the money, he comes to me with a 50-dollar parking receipt. "William, I drove my car that day, so I'll let the gas money slide, but the parking was because you had business at the courthouse, so that should be your expense, right?" Beside him, his wife, Helena Lindell, adds sarcastically, "I hear you big-shot corporate lawyers make insane money. Tens of thousands, and even hundreds of thousands of dollars at a time. You're not seriously going to stick us with a 50-dollar parking bill, are you?" As I watch the couple count their money, I lose whatever goodwill I still have toward them. I turn down an acquisition worth millions of dollars to handle his case, only to end up owing Zack 50 dollars for parking. I toss a hundred-dollar bill onto the table and block them. A year later, Zack sinks his life savings into a residential development that is never completed. When he can't find anyone willing to help him recover his money, he corners me with tears in his eyes. "William! Please, you have to help me! That money was everything we had." I have my assistant hand him a retainer agreement. "I can help you, but my consultation fees run at 5,000 dollars per hour, and my contingency fee is 30% of the total asset value. Those are my terms. Not a penny less."

When my CEO wife, Rita Scanlond, decided to promote me as the lead in a project, I was not grateful for the offer, and I slapped every single board member present. I gave up the six‑figure salary and returned home to enjoy my life. Everyone believed I had gone crazy from immense pressure and demanded that a rebellious employee like me be fired. Rita's assistant, Hudson Cobb, made fun of me for not having any ambition and tried to replace me in the company. I laughed at the situation even though I was not compensated for being fired. This happened because Rita had insisted in my past life that we use Hudson's proposal for the project, which caused our data to be stolen and led to billions in loss. I was made the scapegoat of the company for leading the project and was beaten by debtors as I ended up owing them billions. Rita and Hudson registered a new company and used my formula to become successful entrepreneurs. Without me to be the scapegoat in this life, I wanted to see how Rita would pay back billions in debt.

When my husband, Angelo, slept with my best friend for the ninety-ninth time, he told the entire Family I was insane. He bought off the Family enforcers and the doctor. Everyone believed I had lost my mind, that I was unfit to be Capo. He let my so-called best friend, Bianca, humiliate me in every way imaginable, plotting to have me locked away in an isolated psychiatric facility. When I discovered the accident that caused my miscarriage was a murder they orchestrated, and that they were now conspiring to seize the territory my father had left me, I made a call to a number that had long been gathering dust. "I'll agree to any arranged marriage. My only condition is that you find me the most ruthless cleaner in the city." "I want my husband to wish he were dead."

When the rebellious and flamboyant Sylvia Carter returned to her home country, she discovered that her family had already married her off to someone. Her husband was Jason Porter, the head of his family, who was eight years older than her. Naturally, Sylvia was reluctant to accept it. During their first meeting, having heard that Jason was disciplined, reserved, and a clean freak, she deliberately showed up in a black, form-fitting halter dress. She even hired eight male escorts to fuss over her with refreshments. Her parents were embarrassed. Just as they were about to apologize, Jason calmly leaned forward. He held them steady with his strong hands and spoke in a deep, clear voice. "This arranged marriage has put Ms. Carter in an uncomfortable position. I should be the one apologizing to her." Sylvia froze. She slowly raised her head and met Jason's intense gaze. He had such alluring amber irises.

Five years ago. Killian Rossi. The ruthless mafia heir. Framed for a hit. His own family wanted him dead. The whole underworld thought he was done. But I was a top trauma surgeon. I locked myself in the morgue for three days. Three days. No sleep. I dug bullets and trace evidence out of corpses. The real traitor went into the Hudson River. Killian was cleared. Since that bloody night, the mob boss worshipped me. He became the most dangerous lover. Pinning me against clinic walls. Kissing me rough. He gave me his dark empire. He gave me his wild heart. All of it. Two years later, we got married. We shut down three blocks in Manhattan. People called it a dark fairy tale. Everyone said I was lucky. A scalpel saved his life. And it made me the Mafia Queen. Easy. But it was all an illusion. And it shattered. Right outside a VIP room in his underground casino.

I went to the largest jewelry shop in Greyharbor before dusk. When I stepped inside, a young woman wearing a sunstone pendant stood behind the counter. She had an innocent face and a warm, sweet smile. "You have wonderful taste, ma'am. This moonstone brooch would look lovely on you." I was impressed by how much she knew about gemstones. I was even more surprised that someone so young owned this century-old shop. She touched the rare sunstone at her neck and said shyly, "My protector paid off my turning debt and bought this shop for me. He was worried I'd just been turned and wouldn't have a way to support myself." Most newly turned vampires had to serve their makers for years before they could repay the blood debt. For someone to buy her freedom and give her a shop on top of that, he clearly cared for her deeply. I couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy. "He must really care about you, to think so far ahead for you." Her words made me think of my husband, Adrian Vaughn. Three years ago, after we'd sworn our blood oath, I wanted to manage the estate accounts and oversee the family's properties in Greyharbor. But Adrian refused. He said the Chief Magistrate's wife should not dirty her hands with business, let alone mingle with commoners and blood servants. The young woman rolled her eyes. "Dirty your hands? He's just afraid that once you have power, he won't be able to control you anymore. If it were me, I wouldn't put up with a man like that for a single night." Just then, steady footsteps sounded from downstairs. She lifted her crimson skirts and hurried toward the staircase. "That must be someone my protector sent with rose blood jelly. The Twilight Parlor just released this new recipe tonight. I only mentioned it once, but he remembered." I followed her gaze. The one coming up the stairs with a black lacquered food case was Caine Mercer, Adrian's most trusted personal guard.

After our family went bankrupt under millions of dollars of debt, I risked my life to protect my little sister from the ruthless loan sharks. She, however, floated above the squalor—a saint who treated money like filth. I was beaten half to death trying to guard the last thousands of our savings. Once the money was secured, she handed every last dime to a pitiful distant uncle. I saved us from the goons with a smashed glass bottle, shielding her all the way to the police station. Instead of thanking me, she called me barbaric, insisting I should have sat them down for a civilized conversation. I toiled for months pulling three grueling shifts a day to settle our father’s debts, while she lounged at home basking in a peaceful domestic paradise, handing out charities when it pleased her. Then came the day I was framed for embezzling funds from my father’s friend’s company. I begged her to testify in court—to tell them it was a predatory scheme I was tricked into. But she simply looked down at me. “If you did nothing wrong, then you have nothing to fear. The law will grant you justice when the time is right.” Her pious refusal was my death sentence. Driven to the brink to repay the missing funds, I was cornered on the edge of a half-built construction. A shove sent me plunging down, my bones shattering on the cold concrete below. While I bled out on the ground, she was promptly adopted by our father’s friend, married off to a high-born heir, and crowned the darling of elite society—a pristine gem everyone adored. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the day the loan sharks kicked down our door.

I did everything to be a good friend, only to be treated as my so-called best friend’s scapegoat. When her husband found cigarette ash in their house, she claimed I was the one smoking. When she snuck off for a private rendezvous with her lover, she told him she was celebrating my birthday. And when she got pregnant, she pinned the blame on me again, declaring I was consumed with jealousy—that I had spiked her drink and hired someone to violate her. Enraged, her husband marched to my doorstep wielding a blade and hacked me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the exact day she had asked me to cover for her affair.

It's been five years since I fell ill with depression, and I'm finally myself again. I can talk, laugh freely, and I actually have an appetite. The icing on the cake is that my husband, Ian Beaumont, and I are expecting our second child. At our New Year's Eve family gathering, Ian's godsister, Gemma Waverly, gets tipsy and starts making a scene. "I think it was about five years ago. I was dumped, and I took the car out for a little joyride while the surveillance cameras were under maintenance. "Guess what? The moment I stepped on the gas, a cat abruptly flew out of nowhere and slammed right into my hood. It yowled and bolted off." A faint, disdainful smile plays on her lips. "That damn creature not only scared the hell out of me, but it also ruined my car's wrap. "You'd better be careful in the future. Don't end up like me, accidentally bringing all that bad luck down on yourself. The thought alone makes me sick!" Gemma's tone's lighthearted, as if she's recounting a trivial, unlucky memory. Everyone chuckles and chimes in, telling her she should go to a church and pray so she doesn't end up being haunted by lingering spirits. I, on the other hand, stand amid the rowdy crowd, looking at Gemma's contemptuous face, my mother-in-law, Margaret Holloway's, indulgent gaze, and Ian's resigned, helpless smile. In a heartbeat, all the color drains from my face. It's almost as if the lot of them have forgotten that my daughter, Soleil Beaumont, died in a car accident five years ago.

To help his childhood friend secure a spot in a high-ranking institution, my boyfriend, Frederick Linton, steals my academic report. The two of them use my work to publish a research paper before I can. Then, they proceed to accuse me of plagiarism. After they twist the truth and spread it online, I become the target of a vicious wave of cyberbullying. Eventually, the relentless harassment drives me into severe depression. Meanwhile, Frederick's childhood friend, Elaine Anders, rises to prominence in the academic world using my work. On the day Elaine receives her award, Frederick gets down on one knee and proposes to her. I, on the other hand, end my life by jumping off a rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the very day I finished my research paper.

After my little brother, Cochran Ceberano, dies in a car crash, my parents hand the toy poodle he raised over to me. But I haul the dog to an unlicensed, back-alley animal clinic right away and have him neutered. Why? Because I've been reborn. In my previous life, on the day the dog arrives at our house, he suddenly turns vicious, scratching and biting me at every turn. Afraid of upsetting my parents, I bend over backward to win him over. I feed him the best dog food, and I even sleep next to him on the couch. But he only gets worse. Day by day, my sanity crumbles. Insomnia sets in, followed by auditory hallucinations. I even start dreaming that he's chasing me down and tearing me apart every night. Unable to endure it any longer, I hesitantly suggest rehoming the dog. Dad flies into a rage at this, slapping me hard across the face. "Rehome it? He's the only piece of your brother left in this world, and you can't even tolerate him? How can you be so cruel and heartless?" Mom doesn't say anything. She just clutches the dog close to her as she sobs. Driven to the brink by the relentless torment, I finally snap and jump out of a 30-story window. After I die, I drift into the sky in my ghost form, only to discover something that leaves me stunned. Cochran, who supposedly died in the car crash, is awake and alive. My parents throw their arms around him, weeping tears of joy. "The shaman was right! As long as your soul inhabits a dog and stays next to an immediate family member for seven full weeks, you can exchange lives with her!" Only then do I realize that the toy poodle was never just a dog. He was my own little brother.

Serena Sutton was my fiancee, but she wanted to marry my bodyguard, Evan Brooks. The man was a cheat. I didn't want her taken in, so I took her to see for herself what he really was. While the two of them were fighting, a car came through at speed and killed him. And Serena hated me for it with everything in her. In the third year of our marriage, she killed our son. I was in so much pain I was coughing up blood, and she put a knife in me. "Adrian, this is what you owe me for Evan." Only then did I learn that she had never forgotten him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the second before I meant to expose him. This time, I'm staying out of it.

Ronan Carmichael and I are sworn enemies in Glenworth. Everyone in high society knows it. Where he is, I'm not, and where I am, he won't be. He poaches my projects on the East End, and I cut off his funding on the West Side. He drives my assistant off a rooftop, and I destroy his lover's reputation. The reason is simple. I'm in love with his older brother, Desmond Carmichael, and he has his sights set on my younger sister, Annette Sayer. Then comes the yacht gala. Business rivals seize me and shove me to the edge of the deck, screaming that my father is going to pay for his betrayal all those years ago. But Desmond only pulls Annette behind him and tells them, "She's just an illegitimate daughter. Do whatever you want with her." The moment I plunge into the water, Ronan is the one who dives in after me and grabs my hand with everything he has. "Forget about my brother, Daphne. Lunatics like us belong in hell together." And just like that, I think he's absolutely right.

To help my student, Stanley Johnson, win the chemistry competition, my fiancee, Yelena Quincy, replaces my experimental materials with a hazardous substance. She leaves me a note. "Hank, you've already won plenty of awards and honors. Stanley's mother only has a few days left, and this is his last chance to fulfill her dying wish. Just let him have this one. "Besides, you're Stanley's advisor. Helping your own student win the championship makes you look good, too. "Once he wins, I'll say yes to your marriage proposal right away, okay?" But she doesn't know that I no longer have a chance to marry her. The hazardous substance causes a massive explosion, and I burn to death along with the three thousand students and faculty in the building! She faces relentless demands for justice from the families of all three thousand victims.

On the day of the topping-out ceremony for the resettlement housing, my mother, Diana Knowles, insists on reporting me to the authorities for shoddy workmanship. It's all because my cousin, Marco Sanford, went to play at the construction site, stepped into the freshly set cement, and scraped his knee. "You think you're so great just because you built a couple of buildings?" Mom screams at me. "I can't just stand by and watch you put the whole town in danger just to make millions of dollars by pocketing the difference!" Marco clutches his bandage and explains quietly, "It's all my fault for climbing over the fence to play there, Aunt Diana. The construction workers even tried to stop me. It really has nothing to do with Kevin." The project supervisor, Pete Warner, and the town mayor, Hugo Larkin, also hurriedly produce the inspection report. "Mrs. Sanford, the cement, steel bars, and load-bearing cement are all up to standard. This project is a public housing project that the state government is monitoring very closely, and it's going to be a huge deal if we even stop work for a day." Mom, however, holds her head high and yells in a voice louder than a megaphone, saying, "If Kevin dares to let his relatives get hurt at the construction site, then who knows what else he'll dare to do to the rest of the people by giving them shoddy construction? "Stop flattering him! The fact that he became the project manager for this proves that I understand better than you what it means to be a reliable person!"

The day my brother, Aaron Payne, is abducted by human traffickers, an older woman in our town tells me that if I can come up with 80,000 dollars, I can get him back. Desperate to save him, I return to the home I haven't set foot in for two years and beg my wealthy parents for the money. But they fly into a rage. "We sent you two to the countryside to toughen you up, not to give you an excuse to scam us for money!" "Human traffickers? You really expect us to believe someone could kidnap a child and then just give him back? Stop making up stories." With nowhere else to turn, I hear that I can make money by selling a kidney. So that same day, I go under the knife. As soon as the anesthesia wears off, my parents call. "Steve just told us he lost 80,000 dollars, and then we found out you received the exact same amount in your bank account. We were too soft on you. We've raised a thief!" Without giving me a chance to explain, they hang up and transfer the money straight out of my account. Later, my adopted brother, Steve Payne, walks past me with his arms linked through my parents', grinning from ear to ear. "Mom, Dad, thanks for buying me an 80,000-dollar watch. I'm so lucky to be your son." Is he? Without a word, I slip a missing-person flyer under their windshield wiper. If they can help me find Aaron, I'll gladly let him have that luck instead.

To get me out of the way for Simon Luther, the man who steals my position as heir of the Luther family, the three young women my dad took in as children and raised alongside me work together to send me to prison. "Once you get out of jail, one of us will marry you—but on one condition. You'd better take this secret to the grave." To stop me from revealing the truth, the three women even fed me a drug that rendered me mute. As the years go by, the endless and inhumane torment I endure in prison slowly destroys what feelings and affection I have for the three women I once considered my sisters. When we meet again, I watch impassively as the three of them fight to win the auction that gives them the chance to marry Simon. Chuckling, I arrange for the key evidence of Simon's crimes to be put up for auction. The three of them seem to have a thing for making bids. Let's see them scramble to win this one.

The day a rat sold out our East Coast safe houses, the FBI got its hands on the addresses of every old base belonging to the Five Families. The Commission gave the order: every associate had to report to the neutral church and register within seventy-two hours. Only those who completed registration would make the evacuation list and be picked up by the convoys. Once the list was sealed, no one could be added. But Viola Romano claimed she was the daughter of the Commission's Chairman. She said her father had already saved a spot for everyone. They didn't need to register, and they could still leave on the priority convoy. My friends believed her and canceled their registrations, one after another. I begged them not to gamble with their lives and told them to register just in case. Viola immediately accused me of being jealous and trying to ruin things for everyone. My boyfriend, Matteo Russo, said I didn't understand power and that I belonged in line with the ordinary members. In my last life, I reported the whole thing to the Commission. Viola was exposed. Everyone managed to register before the deadline and secure a spot on the evacuation list. She was cast out of the Family for impersonating the Chairman's daughter and obstructing an emergency evacuation. In the end, she died in an FBI raid. Everyone said she got what she deserved. They thanked me for saving them. But after we moved into the new safe house, Matteo shot me from behind. The bullet went straight through my heart. The people I'd saved just stood there, watching coldly. "The worst that could've happened to us was getting arrested by the FBI. Viola lost her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Viola promised to get everyone onto the evacuation list.