Melodramatic Countdown Short Stories & Novels

Victoria Graham told me we'd have to postpone getting our marriage license again just as I was picking up my fork. Victoria set down her cutlery, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "Next time." I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Okay." She glanced at me, then lowered her head and reached for another bite. Before taking it, she looked up at me again. "You're not angry?" I took another bite and answered calmly, "I'm not." We'd been engaged for six months, and this was the 17th time she'd postponed getting our marriage license. She was used to it. So was I. I ate slowly and finished my meal, one mouthful at a time. She didn't touch her food again. After taking my last bite, I got up to clear the dishes. As I passed her, she grabbed my wrist. "Lucas, next Monday. I'll definitely be free next week. We've already had the engagement party anyway. A few more days won't make a difference. Don't worry. I definitely won't stand you up this time." I lowered my gaze to the hand wrapped around my wrist, then looked back at her and smiled. "Okay." Over the past six months, she'd said "next week" 9 times, "definitely" 13 times, and "don't worry" 16 times. Even so, we had still never gotten our marriage license. And next week wouldn't be any different. Because this time, I was the one who was going to stand her up.

On the night the real Shepherd heir is welcomed back to the wealthy family, my sister, Savannah Shepherd, kicks me out and dumps me at an orphanage. Overnight, my pampered, smooth-sailing life takes a 180-degree turn. The delinquents at the orphanage make my life a living hell. One day, they pin me in a cesspit, and I nearly suffocate. The next, they're whipping me raw until I can't even drag myself out of bed. I cry and beg the orphanage's director, Dee Juarez, to save me, but she only sneers at me with contempt. "If you weren't so cruel, why would your family have thrown you out? You brought this on yourself!" Her silent approval allows the delinquents to escalate their abuse, tormenting me until I'm barely a shell of myself. Then, on the night before New Year's Eve, they strip me naked and throw me out into a snowstorm. Only after my entire body is frozen rigid am I rushed to the emergency room. Through the haze of consciousness, Dee's mocking laugh fills the room. "Rich people sure know how to have fun. She kicked out her own brother just to keep her adopted brother from being bullied, and she even dumped a truckload of money on us just to teach him a lesson and smooth out his rough edges." Dee clicks her tongue. "Have you seen the news? His parents are spoiling that adopted boy rotten, while his sister has practically devoted herself to him. "Who knows if Ms. Shepherd will even bother showing up when I call? Either way, we're definitely not footing his medical bill." So that's the truth. As it turns out, all my suffering is nothing more than a twisted game Savannah engineered for Joey Shepherd's entertainment. My hands clutch the diagnosis report the doctor hands me—terminal bone cancer—and I laugh until tears stream down my face. Wonderful. Very soon, Joey really will be the only brother Savannah has left.

For twenty-two years, I had been the only daughter of the Falcones. Everyone in the family held me in their hands. Underboss Leon Marchetti took a bullet for me. Consigliere Enzo Ricci stormed into enemy territory just to pull me out. Vice Don Darius Lombardi even swore in front of the Don himself that no matter what happened, I would always be the first person he protected. They spoiled me rotten, made me willful, and convinced me of one thing. No matter who I eventually chose as my fiancé, they would never leave my side. Until six months ago, when the real Falcone heiress, Bianca Falcone, came back to the family. Little by little, their time, their protection, all their care shifted to Bianca. I cried. I fought. I even swallowed my pride and asked them if there was something I wasn't doing right. All they said was for me to be reasonable. "Bianca spent twenty-two years out there. You've already lived her life for too long." "She's the true heir of the Falcones. Elena, know your place." I started to wonder what they once treasured, was it really me, or just the title of Falcone's daughter. I forced back my tears and knocked on Don Salvatore Falcone's study door. "Don. Tomorrow, I'm going back to my own family."

The day I learned I was pregnant, I walked out of a private clinic holding the test results, ready to tell my husband that we were finally going to have a child. I never got the chance to make the call. A sports car driven by Damian's foster sister, Serena, struck me outside the clinic. When Damian arrived, he rushed past the paramedics and lifted Serena into his arms, even though she had suffered only minor injuries. He never recognized his wife being loaded into the ambulance. After surgery, he called to tell me that Serena had been in an accident and needed him beside her. "I am sorry, but I have to cancel our anniversary dinner." I did not tell him that I was the other person involved in the crash. I did not tell him that the child we had wanted for five years was gone. He gave me the title of Donna while reserving his forbidden devotion for her. Since he could not bear to lose either of us, I would make the choice for him. In seven days, I would leave New York and return to my parents in Sicily. Damian would receive the two gifts I left behind. The first would be a divorce that restored his freedom. The second would be the wedding he and Serena had always wanted. This time, I would not ask why he betrayed me. I would quietly give them my blessing, and then I would disappear forever.

After Poppy Steele, the heiress of the Steele family, loses her sight, my brother, Trevor Nott, breaks off their engagement and moves abroad. Left with no other choice, my parents ask me—their adopted son—to replace Trevor as a form of compensation. I take meticulous care of her for five years until she regains her sight. Just as she is about to marry me, Trevor appears at the wedding holding a bouquet of flowers, gets down on one knee, and confesses his love to her. The usually aloof Poppy bursts into tears. She throws away her wedding ring and runs to him, asking why he has only shown up now. I instantly become the laughingstock. I don't make a fuss, though. I change out of my suit and let them have the wedding. Poppy praises me for being sensible, claiming her recent actions are just for show. She promises that I will always be her fiance. I smile without saying anything and quietly book a flight abroad. She doesn't know yet that my care for her is nothing more than a deal. Now that her old flame is back, it's time for me to live my own life.

Lucien Arden took the throne. He crowned Rosalind Hartwell empress. And Evelyn Hartwell—the principal wife who had fought at his side all the way from embattled prince to emperor—was given only the rank of Imperial Consort. The day the decree came down, Silverleaf Palace was completely silent. Every servant kept their head lowered and hardly dared to breathe, afraid that Evelyn would weep, or throw things, or come apart the way any consort does when the emperor's favor leaves her. Evelyn simply accepted the decree, calmly. “I thank His Majesty for his generosity.” There was no movement in her voice and nothing in her face. Even her beautiful eyes held not the slightest trace of grief. She turned, went back into the inner rooms, and picked up her book where she had left it. As though the decree that had just stripped her of her place as his principal wife had nothing whatever to do with her.

My ex, Luca Romano, had a rival family on his tail, so he begged me to hide him at my family's private estate for five days. For old times' sake, I agreed and gave him a temporary passcode that would work for five days. Five days later, I finished my work out of town and returned to the estate. When I entered the passcode, the door wouldn't open. Someone had changed it. I rang the doorbell. A woman I had never seen before came out wearing my nightgown. She yawned as if she owned the place. The moment she saw me, she looked at me with disgust. "So you're the ex-girlfriend who won't leave Luca alone? "You two already broke up, and now you're showing up at his place in the middle of the night? Don't you have any shame?"

When Adrian Hale chose Rosalie Quinn for the tenth time, I was hanging helplessly over the cliff’s edge. He clutched a rope in one hand, the web between his thumb and forefinger worn raw and bloody. Rosalie was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Adrian, I’m scared…” He hesitated for only a second before pulling out a dagger and cutting through the rope on my side. “Clara, hold on. I’ll come back for you after I save Rosalie.” The system counted down in my ear. [The tenth abandonment has been confirmed.] [Life countdown: zero.] Before I fell, I didn’t wait for him to turn around like I had the previous nine times. I only smiled at him. “Adrian Hale, we’re even now.”

To leave something for her dying first love, my wife, Elara Wynn, decides to carry two babies at once, implanting his previously frozen embryo while she's already pregnant with our child. On the day of the procedure, she even stations 50 bodyguards outside, convinced I'll show up and try to stop her. But I never come. Once the embryo is successfully implanted, she finally relaxes. She doesn't understand why I'm making such a big deal out of it. All she wants is to leave something that belongs to her first love. She doesn't see anything wrong with that. Afterward, she comes to find me and says, as if she's doing me a favor, "Callum, aren't you happy I'm carrying twins now? Try to be the bigger person. What kind of example are you setting for the kids?" What she doesn't know is that while her first love's embryo survives the procedure, our baby doesn't. And I've already filed my immigration papers. In ten days, Callum Vane will cease to exist. I'll leave the country under a new identity, and she'll never see me again.

After Heath Renwick abandons me and our daughter for Celeste Worthing's dog for the seventh time, we finally learn our lesson. He parades around with Celeste and the dog, trending online, landing magazine features, and I don't say a word. He even tears up our daughter Maisie's favorite sketchbook to line the dog's bed, and she doesn't cry or make a fuss. Then the dog chases Maisie down a flight of stairs. She hits her head and ends up in the ER with a concussion, and only then does Heath bother to show up. "Raven! Why didn't you tell me? I'm Maisie's father too!" I spend the whole night sitting outside the emergency room. I look at him, my voice perfectly calm. "It's nothing serious, just a mild concussion. She'll be out in a couple of days. We know you're busy, so Maisie will understand." Heath freezes. "A concussion is serious, and you're telling me it's nothing? What kind of a mother are you?" He wants to blow up, but the whispers around him stop him short. "Mr. Renwick really is better suited for Ms. Worthing. If she hadn't gone abroad back then, a small-town woman like Raven would never have had a chance." "Exactly. She can't even keep her own child safe." Heath frowns. "There's nothing going on with Celeste. She's like a sister to me!" I nod. "I believe you. "Maisie fell down the stairs because Prince chased her. I know that dog means everything to Celeste, so I didn't bring it up. I didn't want to put you in a difficult position." A flicker of shame crosses Heath's face. "I'll find the best doctor for Maisie. Prince is everything to Celeste, you know that. She has mental health issues." "Mr. Renwick, I understand. Maisie doesn't need to call you Dad anymore." He panics. "If you're upset, just say so! Stop putting on this act and dragging the kid into it!" I nod. "Okay. I got it." I'm not planning to make a scene. I already have plane tickets to Eraly. In five days, we'll have nothing to do with each other anymore.

For three years, Hallie Larson has managed to keep her affair so carefully hidden that I can't find a single trace of the other man. Once, I find a pair of men's underwear in the back seat of her car, still warm, as if someone has only just taken them off. Other times, I notice fresh, suspicious marks behind her ear. Every time, I lose my temper. I tear through the house, demanding to know who the man is. Hallie only furrows her brow, looking more exhausted than guilty. "Sebastian, how long are you going to keep imagining things? If you're going to accuse me of cheating, then at least show me the man you claim exists." So, I start following her everywhere, 24 hours a day. I even call every relative and friend I can think of, asking them to stake out hotels with me so we can finally catch her in the act. But every time we force open a hotel room door, we find nothing. Mwanehilwe, Hallie is sitting calmly on the couch, a faint, mocking smile playing on her lips. "Go ahead," she says. "Search the room." On the way out of the room, my mother takes my hand and sighs. "Sebastian, trust is the most important thing in a marriage. You keep making a scene like this every day. What do you think you're doing to Hallie's reputation?" Even my best friend tries to talk some sense into me. "Maybe you're under too much stress. Maybe you're imagining all of this." But I can't forget what I see on Hallie's collarbone—a faint trace of moisture she hasn't completely wiped away. It's so out of place, so suspicious, that I can't bring myself to dismiss it.

Brandon Hawthorne said if I wanted to marry him, I had to prove I was tough enough to be a Hawthorne. He took my bank cards, ditched me in a city I'd never been to, and made me figure out how to get home alone. When my fever hit 104°F, he still refused to let the family doctor through the door. Instead, I had to smile through dinner with a house full of Hawthorne relatives while I could barely stay on my feet. And every time I finally asked Brandon for help, he looked at me like I'd failed him. "You can't even handle something this simple. How are you supposed to be my wife?" But when his childhood friend, Patty Rowan, got blisters from her shoes, he picked her up and carried her away in front of everyone. She got a headache in the middle of the night, and he left me alone in the hospital to take the family doctor to her. I asked him why. He frowned. "Patty's fragile. And she's not the one trying to become a Hawthorne." Then came our engagement party. I accidentally ate peanuts. My throat started closing. I couldn't breathe. Brandon grabbed my EpiPen and locked me in the lounge. "This is your final test. If you want to marry me, tough it out." Then Patty called. She had a paper cut. Brandon immediately left with the doctor. "Hold out for ten minutes." I lost track of time. Right before everything went dark, I saw Brandon come back with Patty tucked close beside him. She had a Band-Aid on her finger. Through the haze, I heard the disappointment in his voice. "Patty was bleeding, and she didn't even cry. Are you seriously pretending to be dead?" Then came the final blow. "You failed the test. You're not ready to become a Hawthorne."

On the final day of our graduation trip, temperatures suddenly soared to dangerous levels. I came down with heat exhaustion, but my boyfriend gave our entire supply of electrolyte drinks to my best friend. "You're in good shape, and you know first aid. Just drink some water and rest for a bit. You'll be fine. "Willa's the one we need to worry about. She's always been frail, and without the electrolyte drink, she could get seriously sick." I was too dizzy to argue, so I turned to the others in our group for help, only to be met with eye rolls. "Sophie, you're taking this jealousy way too far." "Ryan was just looking after someone who's actually sick. Do you really have to act like you're about to die?" As the group set off again, my boyfriend looked down at me, still sitting on the ground, and frowned. "Do you really have to bring everyone down right now? "Fine. Stay here and think about your actions. Once you're ready to admit you were wrong, you can catch up with us on your own." He had no idea that I was already showing signs of heatstroke, or that in the moment he walked away, the system would speak inside my head. [Host's life is in imminent danger. Do you wish to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. "I accept."

On the day of our graduation trip, my girlfriend suddenly went silent for half an hour. I didn't hear from her until just before I went through security. "Nicholas, you go ahead and board. Blake and I got upgraded to first class at the last minute. You know his back isn't great. He'll be uncomfortable in economy." Blake Walker was my younger brother in name, and every trip was the same. Whether we flew or took the train, Tiffany Spencer always made sure he got a first-class or business-class seat, while I was left squeezed into economy or a regular train seat. Even our carefully planned trip to the northern coast had been changed to a beach resort in the south simply because Blake casually mentioned that he liked the ocean. After two hours in economy, my back was aching badly, so I finally texted Tiffany. [I want to sit with you two.] Her reply was cold. Tiffany: [We'll be there in another hour. First class is expensive. Don't waste the money.] When we landed, the two of them were nowhere to be found. Tiffany explained over the phone. "Blake's hungry. I'm going to grab something to eat with him first. Come over once you've gotten everything sorted out." Then she told me to book the return flights. "Book our return flights. Two first-class tickets and one economy ticket. Don't forget." I tightened my grip on my phone and quietly said, "Okay." Then I bought three tickets. Two first-class tickets were bound for Kensford, while the third was bound for Aldmere, Loravia.

The entire New York mafia world knows that Don Alessandro of the Rossi family takes a brutal punishment from the Council every year just to marry me. Because the Rossi family has a strict rule: all marriages must be approved by the Council. Yet, for three years in a row, Alessandro submitted our marriage application, and every time, it was rejected! The first year, he was locked in solitary confinement for three days and nights. The second year, his back was whipped raw. The third year, he even knelt in a torrential downpour to beg for their mercy. I always thought it was my fault, that I just wasn’t good enough to meet the Council's standards. It wasn't until the fourth year that I found out all those rejection letters from the Council were forged by Alessandro himself. And the reason was Mia—his secretary who had been secretly obsessed with him for years. "Mia has been by my side for eight years. She took a bullet for me. She held me and cried, saying the day I get married would be the darkest day of her life." "I love Jane, but I just can't bear to hurt Mia." "It just means marrying Jane a little later. She loves me so much, she won't mind." But he was wrong. Even though my heart was breaking, I didn't want this kind of love anymore. I called my father: "Dad, I'm ready to come back to Italy and marry the Don of the Caruso family."

The day I get my sight back just happens to be my birthday. I plan to drop the good news on my wife, Mya Murray, during the birthday party she is throwing for me. Instead, I end up discovering a "surprise" she prepared for me first. Wrapped in a layer of gauze, my eyes are useless as Mya carefully takes my hand, leading me into the second-floor banquet hall. She whispers thoughtfully in my ear. "Honey, I know how much you love surprises, so I had a batch of roses flown in straight from overseas to build you a flower bridge and hired your favorite live band. "Every business titan and prominent media outlet in Hartwell is right here in this room to celebrate you. Do you like it?" She stands on tiptoe to press a kiss against my cheek. "Don't worry. I promised you that even if you never see again, you'll still get everything you deserve." She has no idea that my vision is back and that I can see every single thing in the room as clear as day.

Coming from a poor background, everyone in Carl Humphry's circle assumes I'm a gold digger. Especially his best friend, Miriam Briggs. She claims she used to be one herself, so she knows my kind all too well. Desperate to prove them wrong, I spend three years with Carl without accepting a single expensive gift. Miriam just scoffs. "She says no, but deep down, she's just waiting for the man to make the first move and offer her something better. It's the classic play-hard-to-get routine." Then comes Carl's birthday. I've saved up for six months to buy him a watch. As I approach the private room, I hear Miriam laughing inside. "I told you she'd buy something pricey. Classic gold-digger move. Pretend you don't care about money, drop a little cash, and watch it pay off big later." Carl sits right beside her and doesn't say a single word. Someone chimes in, "Man, Carl, your girlfriend really knows how to play the long game." When they see me walk in, someone signals the room to hush. "Shh, quiet. She's here." Miriam smirks. "Some people just need to be real like me if they want a man to actually like them. Don't you guys agree?" Carl stares at me for a long time before asking, "Have you just been acting this whole time? Are you really aiming for a massive payout?" As I stand in the doorway, the watch suddenly feels heavy enough to crush me. I don't answer. I just turn around and walk away. I'm done offering real love to someone who only ever questions it.

During a family dinner with Liam, I brought up the idea of getting married sooner and starting a family. He immediately assumed I was after his family's wealth and only wanted to marry him for his money. In front of everyone, he slapped me more than a dozen times. Then he turned around and pursued his jealous childhood sweetheart. I grabbed his hand and begged him not to leave, but in a fit of rage, he shoved me down the stairs. That shove ended up breaking both my legs and fracturing my skull. I spent a month in the ICU before I finally regained consciousness. This time, I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I called my mother overseas. "Mom, about the inheritance you mentioned last time… I’ll take it."

I was the treaty bride carefully chosen by Silvermoon pack and sent to Shadowridge pack. My presence there guaranteed ten years of peace between the two packs. All because I looked a little like the woman who had saved Theron, the Alpha of Shadowridge. For 1007 nights, Theron left bite marks all over my body, but the one mark reserved for a Luna never appeared. I begged him to let me go. He gripped my chin and laughed. "You're a stand-in. What makes you think you have the right to beg me?" After that, I was trapped in Shadowridge. Not his Luna, not his mate, just a shadow he could forget whenever he pleased. Three years later, the woman who had supposedly saved him returned from the dead: Celine. He announced to the pack that he would take her as his mate. Whatever hope I had left died. That same night, I found the man whose life I had once saved. "Help me fake my death. On the night of the eclipse, I want to die in front of Theron."

On the third day of our graduation trip, my childhood sweetheart finally turned his camera toward me. But after taking only a few pictures, he frowned and lowered the camera. "Not a single one is worth keeping." A classmate beside us looked confused. "Huh? When you photograph Zoey, you barely have to try to get an amazing shot." A dull ache spread through my chest, and I clenched my fingers tightly. Lucas Hudson lowered his camera and said, "Forget it. We're done. You're just not very expressive in front of the camera. No matter how I photograph you, you always look the same." Then he casually stopped a young man standing by the roadside with a camera. "Hey, buddy, take a few pictures of her. I'll pay you afterward." Before the young man could answer, Lucas had already grabbed his camera and hurried toward Zoey Richardson. The moment he aimed his camera at her, the furrow between his brows vanished, and a smile curved across his lips. "Turn around and toss your hair. Yes, that's beautiful..." I stared blankly as they photographed each other with an effortless understanding that needed no words.