Plot Twists Short Stories & CEO Marriage Novels

I transmigrate into a melodramatic angst novel. My CEO wife, Victoria Gibson, hangs me up and beats me brutally to force me to agree to a divorce. But when I see the two-billion-dollar breakup fee, my eyes light up again and again. With both my hands injured, I quickly grab a pen with my foot and sign the divorce agreement. I say with a grin, "Thanks for the money. I wish you two a long and happy marriage. May you have many children."

In the three years I date Colin Blanchard, he tests me 99 times. On the 100th time, he sends me to a jock's bed following his secretary's suggestion. This time, I do not resist. I sleep with the jock seven times in one night. Colin berates me for being shameless. He quickly marries his secretary, Chelsea Wright, and deliberately waves their marriage certificate in front of me to provoke me. He taunts, "Tammy, you were just one step away from becoming Mrs. Blanchard. It is your own fault for not holding on. Now it is too late to regret it." Chelsea wraps her arm around him affectionately and says, "Thanks to you, I am able to a wonderful man like Colin. But now that you have lost your chastity and have been dumped by Colin, I am afraid no one in Baywich would want to marry you." What a coincidence. I happened to have registered my marriage just the day before. My husband, Jeremiah Atkinson, is the richest man. Five years later, I take my daughter to a piano competition. By chance, I run into Colin again. Seeing my plain clothes, he comes over to mock me. "Tammy, did you come here today just to see me because you knew I would be here? Stop dreaming. Even if you abandon your burdensome child in front of me today, you are no longer worthy of being with me." I ignore him. In my heart, I am feeling anxious because Jeremiah is still nowhere to be seen. Our daughter is about to perform!

"I know you're an ace divorce attorney. Please help me!" A young woman who's holding a child suddenly barges into the law firm and gets down on her knees in front of me. I'm about to help her up to her feet when a few live comments appear in front of my eyes. "This really is a doomed story. I can't believe the FMC has to go through all sorts of torment before dying." "Once she gets caught, both she and her child will be dead. The MMC can only spend the rest of his life in eternal remorse." "The FMC is pretty naive, isn't she? She thinks finding herself an attorney can help her secure a divorce. The MMC is the richest man in Opalford at the end of the day, so there's no way she can file for a divorce successfully." When I spot the next comment, its contents sting my eyes immediately. "Unfortunately, this attorney is a throwaway character too. Not only does she refuse to help FMC, but she also fails to recognize her as her older sister, who has gone missing for many years."

Everyone knew I was the man the richest woman in Tova City adored most. She spoiled me constantly, giving me everything I wanted and following my every lead. One day, after waking up from a nap, I found myself tied up at an auction house. On the stage sat my wife, surrounded by her group of friends. One of them laughed and asked, "Sora, how did you find time to bring Damien out today? Everyone says you're so obsessed with your husband Cleo now that you don't have time for Damien anymore." Sora looked at the man next to her before expressing wryly, "Cleo hasn't been feeling well lately, so I've been home taking care of him. Damien's been throwing a fit about it, so I figured I'd make time to bring him out today." I squirmed desperately, trying to get Sora's attention so she would help me. She finally noticed me, but all she did was slowly raise her bidding sign. "Number nine won't stop squirming. He looks like a real handful. One million dollars! I'm picking him."

Everyone warned me never to fall for Dante Moretti. They said he was the ghost of the Velasco family—an underboss who ordered hits without blinking, his heart colder than the barrel of his gun. But when he bent me over that mahogany desk, his mouth against my ear commanding me to say his name, I was stupid enough to think that was possession. It took me an entire year to see the truth. The photographs locked in his study drawer were never of me. The woman in white waiting for him in the cathedral district on Sunday mornings was never me. The girl who took a bullet for him, the one he called his "salvation"—her name is Elena Abate. And Elena happens to be my stepmother's daughter. My father is trying to sell me to a half-dead Agosti heir for five hundred million to save the family. My stepmother is scheming to erase me from existence entirely. And the man I thought would burn this city to the ground for me? On the day I needed him most, he was lifting Elena up a flight of stairs, cradling her like something sacred. They all thought I was just a pawn to be moved around their chessboard. They were wrong. If Dante can't let go of his precious white moonlight, his "salvation," then I'll become someone else's "widow." If Elena believes she's already won this game, I'll let her watch from the front row as a woman with nothing left to lose burns it all down. My name is Serafina. Remember it. Because I am about to become the reckoning none of them saw coming.

I invited my colleagues out for drinks, only for my card to be declined at the bar. Desperate, I approached the handsome stranger sitting in the VIP booth. "Can you cover my tab? I'll pay you back." The man barely glanced up. "Do I know you?" I grabbed the wine glass from his hand. "No, but your bodyguard knows me pretty well. Ask him how many times he's called me for help. Don't I deserve a favor in return?" The man looked completely confused, but his bodyguard raised a hand to shield his face. "Sir, she's telling the truth. Every time you get drunk, you won't let anyone come near you except her. I've had to call her multiple times just to get you home safely."

Jenson Bailey suffered from severe face blindness. The morning after our wedding night, right after sleeping with me, he pulled up his pants and warned me coldly, "We got married for business. Profit comes first. We stay out of each other’s lives. Don’t forget your place, Natasha." So I picked up a part-time job at a coffee shop. Jenson said, "That girl has a really clean vibe. Look into her background." When I started singing at a bar, Jenson said, "That lead singer’s voice is incredible. Find a way to sign her to the company." After I set off fireworks by the beach, Jenson stared at me for a long moment before asking, "Miss, have we met somewhere before?" I told him I was married, and he went quiet for a while. "I’m not interested in being the other man. But can I ask when your husband plans to get out of the way?"

What John Dyke and I had was nothing more than a business marriage. In my previous life, I failed to understand that from the very beginning. I foolishly wanted love from him. I wanted us to be a real husband and wife. Worse, I kept throwing my weight around as Mrs. Dyke and constantly targeted the woman he truly loved. In the end, I destroyed the marriage alliance and ruined the partnership between our families. When my family went bankrupt, I was driven to my death by debt collectors. Meanwhile, John rose to become the richest man in the country, married the love of his life, and walked away with both power and happiness. Then I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the very first time I caught John and his precious first love together in a private club room. John frowned at me. "Naomi West, we had an agreement before this marriage. Other than appearing together when necessary, we don't interfere in each other's private lives. What exactly are you doing right now?" His tone carried barely suppressed anger. But in my previous life, not only did I fail to notice, I arrogantly slapped his true love in the name of being Mrs. Dyke. That was the beginning of my road to destruction. The memory of my car plunging off a cliff while I desperately tried to escape debt collectors flashed through my mind. I immediately waved my hands. "Whoa, don't misunderstand. I just walked into the wrong room. Please, carry on. Don't worry, I understand the rules of a business marriage." I backed out of the private room and even thoughtfully closed the door behind me. Then I turned around and went to find a few handsome young men to keep me company. Endless money to spend, a lot of time to enjoy my life, a husband who never came home... I really must have lost my mind in my previous life to waste time begging John for love.

My marriage to Caden Bradley was nothing more than a strategic alliance between two powerful families. For three years, our home has felt like a walk-in freezer. Convinced there was no room for me in his heart, I was ready to sign the divorce papers and walk away for good. Suddenly, the baby in my womb began to launch a relentless stream of telepathic commentary. [If Mom doesn't look at Dad soon, his eyes are actually going to fall out from staring at her!] [Dad tried to sneak a hand-hold last night, but when Mom moved, he was so startled he rolled right off the bed onto the floor. I’m dying here!] [They called it a marriage of convenience, but Dad is totally whipped. His lips are sealed shut, but his heart is burning to ashes. This is agonizing to watch!] My breath hitched. I whipped my head around only to collide with Caden’s deep, intense gaze. His entire body stiffened instantly, and though he tried to look away, his ears were burning a bright, tell-tale crimson. Had the Ice King melted? Fine. I’d put these divorce papers away for now. Let’s see exactly how long he could keep up this act.

By the time I hit twenty without a husband, I'd become the joke of Butcher's Alley. I wasn't about to just take it, so I marched out to the pauper's graveyard and dragged home a half-dead man I found there. He was gorgeous. More handsome than any portrait I'd ever seen. It didn't matter that he'd lost his memory and wasn't quite right in the head. It didn't matter that he couldn't lift a crate or carry a load, that he nearly fainted dead away the first time he watched me slaughter a pig. I slapped my knee and made up my mind. "You're the one. You handle looking pretty, and I'll handle bringing home the bacon." I named him Walt and treated him like he was made of glass. I fed him well, kept him comfortable, and slowly nursed him back to health until his cheeks were full and his skin was soft. Then I started planning the wedding. On our wedding night, I'd just gotten his wedding coat off when the front door flew off its hinges. Hundreds of royal guards dropped to their knees all at once, their voices shaking the walls. "Welcome back to the capital, Grand Chancellor!" I looked down at the man beneath me. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by something cold and sharp. The belt I'd been holding snapped right in two. I was done for. I'd been bossing around the most powerful man in the empire for six months and using him as a house husband. Was I looking at death by slow torture, or would they wipe out my entire family?

I was the kind of girl everyone called hopelessly lovestruck. That day was no different from any other. I clung to my boyfriend’s arm, leaned in close, and shamelessly asked for a kiss like I always did. However, right before my lips touched his, a line of glowing comments drifted across my vision. They floated in the air like a livestream chat. [Can this side character wake up already? Can she not see the male lead avoided her the entire time? He hated clingy relationships like this.] [The kind of person who really suits him is the female lead. Someone gentle, patient, and understanding.] [Once the real female lead shows up, this annoying clingy girlfriend is definitely getting dumped.] My body froze. I slowly loosened my arms from around his neck. In the next second, he suddenly looked up at me. “Why’d you stop?”

After billionaire Jonathan Whitman lost his fortune, his wife Selene had no choice but to work as a maid in a mansion to make ends meet. She scrubbed toilets. She cleaned pools. She hauled out garbage—right up until she lost the baby she was carrying. And then she discovered her husband's affair with Vivienne, her employer. She was sleeping with Selene's husband, carrying her husband's baby, wearing million-dollar rubies, sleeping in silk, dining on imported delicacies. The moment she walked in on them, Selene snapped and pushed Vivienne. But Jonathan, to protect her, had Selene arrested and held in detention. He thought she'd come out of it humbled. Quiet. Tamer. What he didn't know was that the moment she walked free, she filed for divorce. She walked out of the basement studio they'd shared without a backward glance. What he also didn't know: he had a genetic infertility condition. And the only woman on earth whose body could give him a child—was Selene.

After transmigrating into a CEO novel as the devoted female foil, I decided to give up on the powerful CEO, but Julian Sterling flew across the globe overnight and dragged me back to get engaged. The usually gentle, refined man gripped my waist, a terrifying madness burning in his eyes. "Georgia, you belong by my side. Forever," he declared.

During the World Cup finals, I brought soup to my husband at his office as he was working overtime. When I arrived outside the screening room of his office, I heard his new assistant, Jodie Lenford, asking with a laugh, "Mr. Hayes, don't you always tell us that Mrs. Hayes watches every World Cup match with you? Why did you leave her alone at home tonight?" My husband, Tristan, was silent for a while before replying, "Every time she watches the match with me, she'll just lecture me about drinking less and going to bed early. It takes the joy out of everything." Jodie laughed again. "Let me accompany you tonight instead. I'll replace Mrs. Hayes for this duty." "You're just like her back when she was young and fiery." Tristan once told me that I would be the only one by his side during every finals match, but I watched as he gently placed the sports jersey I had carefully picked for him years ago over the shoulders of another woman. Jodie asked, "Won't Mrs. Hayes be mad if she finds out about this?" Tristan laughed. "She's learned her lesson. She won't make a huge fuss like she did before." That was when loud cheering erupted from the screen. I stood in the dark as I suddenly realized that some matches would end with me being benched before the starting whistle was even blown.

My wife, Camilla Fender, who was also the richest person in Jaxonville, had just given birth. Meanwhile, I, Frank Langley, was dragged into a survival game. With our baby strapped to my back, I ran through the woods for my life. I then heard Camilla's best friend's voice coming through the loudspeaker. "Camilla, why aren't you staying at the hospital with Frank to recover after giving birth? Why did you come here? Is your lover throwing another tantrum?" Camilla chuckled. Her voice was filled with helpless affection. "Yeah. Jack insisted on coming to watch this circus show. Frank thought I had business to handle, so he even pushed me to come back here when our child's surgery was happening. He's ridiculously foolish." I desperately slammed against the surveillance camera to try to get Camilla's attention and ask for help, but because Jack Solomon screamed in fright, she simply pressed the punishment button in her hand. An electric current coursed through my entire body. My son coughed up blood, and the blood splattered all over the ground. I curled up with tears streaming down my face. As the footsteps of the people hunting us grew closer and closer, the survival game reached its climax. Everyone was gambling on who would survive until the end. Only Camilla's voice remained cold. "I'm betting a million dollars that the crazy father and his son will die!"

After five years of washing dishes overseas, I finally paid off every debt my husband owed and brought my child home, ready to surprise him. But when we reached the rental apartment, it was dusty and locked. A passing neighbor looked stunned. "Didn't you and Mr. Guilfoyle break up? Why are you back?" I went straight to my husband's office, only to be stopped by the receptionist. "Looking for Mr. Guilfoyle? He isn't at the office today. He's at his baby's one-month celebration." My phone lit up with a news alert. "Guilfoyle Group president Adrian Guilfoyle spends millions on lavish one-month celebration; couple appears deeply in love." At the same time, a voice message from Adrian came in. "Honey, I found a few baby clothes online for our son. They were only a few dollars. Remember to pick up the package." In the background, a woman laughed softly and teased him. "The bet's over. How much longer are you going to keep using that fake marriage license to fool Maya Liddell? Aren't you tired of pretending to be poor after all these years?" So I was the only one who had ever been truly poor. After going in circles for years, I had somehow become the real other woman.

Five years ago, I witnessed my wife, a university professor, having an affair with Henry Bale, her teaching assistant. Mindy Holmes knelt begging me not to expose her, saying that it would destroy his reputation as a student. I agreed on the condition that he would drop out of school, leave this city, and never return. She would have to sign an agreement to leave the marriage without a single cent if she were to be unfaithful to me again. Everyone rebuked me for being vain and for treasuring money more than our relationship. However, Mindy was willing to go against the entire Holmes family just to preserve Henry’s reputation. Five years later, when I went on a business trip in another city, I found a little girl. I sent her to a police station and had her contact her family. When the policeman dialed the number the girl recited to him, I heard a familiar voice through the phone. “Be good. Don’t be afraid, I’ll come pick you up right away.” Less than half an hour later, Mindy rushed into the station when she was supposed to be at her class miles away. I sat on the bench, my gaze meeting hers. She stood stunned. I stood up with a smile. “Mindy, I didn’t know you had a daughter behind my back. Looks like you can bid goodbye to your reputation as a highly-esteemed professor.”

At the auction, my fiancé's secretary raised the bidding paddle twice on his behalf. The first time, she outbid Lady Margaret Vesta by a single silver coin, snatching away the emerald brooch meant as a coming-of-age gift for her daughter. She brandished the house seal of my fiancé, Cassian Severus, with a brazen grin. "Her husband can afford to keep a woman on the side, but he won't pay what he owes Cassian. I'm just collecting a little interest for him. What's the problem?" Cassian thought I was still at sea. He just smiled and told her not to be so blunt in front of a crowd next time. The second time, she set the seal into the gold tray, activating an irrevocable, open-ended bid. This time, she was after my mother's heirloom: a silver dolphin necklace. She sat in the seat that should have been mine, wearing the custom crimson gown I had paid for, and looked across half the hall at me. "It belonged to a dead woman. Anyone can wear it. Lady Helena has plenty of jewelry already. Why not let me have it?" Cassian still had his back to me. He didn't know I was already back.

For three years running, Matteo always had a reason to push the engagement date back, all because he was certain I could never want anyone but him. The first year, his parents refused to let him marry a poor girl like me, and the engagement was shelved. The second year, he lost the engagement rings I had made myself. No rings, no ceremony. The third year, he "forgot" to tell his parents the date and only told them at the last minute. There was too little time, they could not get there, and the engagement was shelved again. This year, though, none of those earlier "accidents" happened. There was only one exception. On the day of our engagement, the gown my mother had sewn for me stitch by stitch before she died somehow ended up on my stepsister, Capucine. She let her cat climb up the skirt and bite and claw at it until the lace was full of holes. Matteo did not scold her. He soothed her in a gentle voice instead. "It's fine. If it's ruined we'll just have another one made. It's an old dress, it's not like it's anything special." He ignored my red, swollen eyes. "The gown is gone now, so it looks like the engagement will have to wait until next year." I let out a cold laugh and stepped forward to strip the gown off Capucine. "Three times is enough. There won't be an engagement next year either." What he did not know was that before she died, my mother told me a secret she had kept for twenty years. I was never some poor girl. I was the only daughter of a Sicilian mafia family. My real father had found out where I had ended up, and he was already on his way to bring me home himself. Since this engagement was not going to happen, I had decided to go home with him.

I'm the CEO of a publicly traded company, and I'm worth three billion dollars. Ten years ago, I dumped my broke boyfriend Ethan Shaw and left for Wall Street. Everyone said Vivian Quinn was cold-blooded and ruthless, a maniac who only cared about money. Then a car accident somehow transported me into another world. I woke up as a penniless housewife! Ethan Shaw, the ex who should have hated my guts, was suddenly my husband! And there was a five-year-old son tagging along. What a joke. How could I ever fall for a freeloader who spent all day in the kitchen or a pint-size boy who spent every day clinging to my leg? But just as I was determined to find my way back, I realized something wasn't right.