Nouvelles Plot Twists Countdown & Romans

After failing to conquer Quinn Langley 99 times in a row, I finally give up on my quest. When Quinn insists on going on a vacation with the female lead, Melody Frost, during our fifth wedding anniversary, I grant his wish. When he wants to give Melody a proper title, I file for a divorce from him immediately. Even when Quinn wants to give the newborn that I've risked my life delivering to this world to Melody, I just nod and let him take the baby away. Upon noticing the pallor in my cheeks, Quinn goes down on one knee next to me and starts coaxing me softly. "Melody is afflicted with a terminal disease, and she's infertile too. Her biggest wish in this lifetime is to form a family with me. "Don't worry. Once she's passed away, I'll remarry you immediately. This time, we'll spend the rest of our lives as a family." What he doesn't know is that we no longer have a future together. I've already given up on the conquest mission, after all. In three days, I'll get eradicated by the system and leave this world for good.

The day his first love got divorced, my husband drank himself senseless. I stayed up past midnight taking care of him, only to discover that his phone’s photo album was filled with pictures of her. The next morning, after he sobered up, he said to me, “Let’s redo our wedding.” I knew this was his way of provoking his first love into coming back. I smiled and agreed, but not before I slipped a divorce settlement agreement into the wedding contract he signed.

Winter came again, and my husband and son broke out in rashes the moment the cold settled in. No doctor identified the allergen. To keep themselves safe, they drew a hard line and moved to a separate house for the season. It did not matter that I slipped and cracked my head open, or that I ended up in the hospital after a car accident. I fought every battle alone. We became strangers who shared a family name, and I became the thing that could kill them. I endured the bitter cold by myself, lonely and aching. I counted the days hoping that spring would bring my family back to me, until I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear. "Daddy, we only get to see Daphne in winter. Cannot the allergies last a little longer?" Daphne Bullman, my husband's childhood sweetheart. My husband ruffled our son's hair. "All that allergy medicine is not good for you, and Daphne would worry. I will bring you to see her when I can." My son clapped his hands. "Yay! I love the mango candy Daphne gives me in winter, and I get to see her!" Mango. That was the fatal allergen I spent years keeping out of my son's reach. I stood in the freezing wind for a long time before I quietly walked home. Spring returned, and I stopped caring. "Eat whatever you want. If you think I am abusing you, call the police. I do not want custody anyway."

The night my family’s rival gang stormed the mafia ball, I was taken as leverage. My boyfriend, Nolan, and my closest friend, Riven, stood only steps away. But they chose to shield my cousin, Anna, instead. I was being saved by a secret man hours later—bruised, shaken, and already forgotten. No one asked what had been done to me. Nolan only said, “Anna was scared. She needed us more.” Days later, Anna invited me to her birthday party. I went out of courtesy—only to watch her cast me as the villain of her story. Nolan and Luca stood by her, protecting her again. That night, I said yes to the marriage alliance my family had prepared years ago. When I left the city, Nolan finally texted—angry, wounded, offended. “You’re really leaving?" I replied with just one line. “You’re more than welcome to my wedding.”

One day, after getting rear-ended outside my office, I, Maeve Dahlman, call out for help, but Austin Cooper, who is simply passing by with Carmen Holt, merely glances at me impatiently, annoyed that I've disrupted their lunch plans. Instead of helping, he has his assistant take me to his private club and lock me in a room, accusing me of being paranoid and dramatic. "I'll give you three days to calm down," he says before walking away and leaving me in isolation. Eventually, I escape and call the police. An ambulance rushes me to the hospital, where doctors diagnose me with a brain injury that requires immediate surgery. I keep calling Austin, only to realize that he has blocked my number. Then, I see Carmen's latest post online, gushing about a romantic luxurious dinner with him. After I'm discharged, I cancel the wedding, destroy all the invitations, and finally call my mother. "Mom," I say, "I've made up my mind. I'm ready to meet him."

On my five-hundred-and-twentieth flight into Chicago, my boyfriend finally came to the airport for me. He held a bouquet of air-flown Blue Moon roses, and the diamond ring inside the velvet box caught the terminal lights. The moment he dropped to one knee, I heard the shocked gasps around us. “Eliana Lowe,” he said, his gray-blue eyes lifted to mine. “Marry me.” My fingers tightened around the handle of my suitcase. I held out my hand, my voice already shaking. "Luca, we--" The ring had barely slid over my finger when Luca laughed. He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking over my shoulder at the row of black SUVs idling by the curb. "Told you she'd say yes. Hand over the key to Warehouse Three." Laughter burst from the SUVs. Luca's circle spilled into view: casino managers, dock supervisors, rich kids who lived off the Moretti name, and Vivian Gray at the front in pale fur, laughing hard enough to wipe at the corner of her eye. “No wonder she stayed at your heels for ten years. If I had a pet this obedient, I wouldn’t have the heart to throw it out either.” Luca smiled and patted my head soothingly.“Eliana, it was just a joke. Don't be angry. I’ll make it up to you later.” I looked at the ring on my finger, then at the people laughing behind him. For ten years, I had played along with his games. This time, I didn’t want to anymore.

At our engagement party, the men of my Mafia fiancé, Daniel Rizzo, egged everyone into an old family game: Secret Truths. When it was Nikki's turn, his childhood sweetheart spoke in French. "The groom likes me far more than his dull, wooden bride-to-be." The whole room erupted in laughter. Glasses clinked all around us. Daniel rolled his wineglass between his fingers and replied with an amused smile, also in French. "Who doesn't enjoy a fresher, juicier peach?" The laughter nearly brought down the roof. Nikki swatted his arm flirtatiously. "You're awful. Aren't you afraid she'll find out?" Daniel turned to me and smiled. "She doesn't understand." Without missing a beat, he drew me against his broad chest. I let him hold me while something inside me turned to ice. What none of them knew was that I had been born in Paris. French was the first language I ever learned. I fought down the ache in my throat, kept a polite smile fixed on my face, and quietly slipped my engagement ring off my trembling finger. I'd made a bet with my family that Daniel would love me for who I was, without knowing my wealth or my family name. I'd lost. It was time to go home.

My husband, Bastian Howard, had finally taken his seat as the Don. But the woman he married and brought into the Howard estate was my "sister"—the fake heiress, Moriah. As for me, the wife who actually signed the marriage pact with him? I was stashed away in a separate apartment. I went from the Don's wife to a dirty little secret. Worse, when Moriah framed me for poisoning her, Bastian snatched away my adoptive mother's heirloom without a second thought. When Moriah and I were both kidnapped, he chose her without hesitation, leaving me to die. Every single time, he'd tell me, "I'll make it up to you next time." But he didn't know—there wouldn't be a next time. Soon, I'd fake my own death, leave this hellhole, and find the man I truly love.

The night before Christmas, my husband makes it official with his 49th mistress. "Love of my life, @TiffanyVale." "Love of my life, @RomanBlackwell." Then he turns to me and tries to smooth it over. "She lost a dare. Don't take it to heart." Everyone laughs at me, but I don't make a scene. What they don't know is that I have a deal with the System. Every time Roman cheats, a year of his life transfers to me. By now, his 80 years are down to just one. All I have to do is make it past New Year's, and he drops dead of natural causes. Then I can take our three children and inherit the Blackwell family's trillion-dollar fortune.

My mafia husband, Vincent Santoro, was born a monster, incapable of loving anyone. But one day, I discovered he was hiding a ‘forbidden fruit’. A girl from the slums, Claire Murphy. Scarred by life, yet as beautiful as a wildflower growing through concrete. For a man who'd waded through blood his whole life, she was a fatal attraction he never saw coming. He thought he'd covered his tracks. He was wrong. At the Santoro family's annual dinner, I confronted him about Claire, tears streaking down my face. He just lightly frowned, then had his consigliere slide the divorce papers across the table to me. "Isabella. Sign it. The three North Side docks and the shipping lines are yours." I tore the papers to shreds. He just kept raising the offer. He had me thrown into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. He blew up my family's distillery—the Romano family's legacy. Finally, he took my parents. Tied them in an abandoned warehouse and made one watch as he set the other on fire. "Sign, or watch them burn. Your choice." I begged him on my knees, but a roar of flames consumed the world— The heat seared my skin, the ash of my parents clinging to my face. "No... NO!" When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back on the day I first learned about Claire. This time, no tears, no drama. That night, I called my family in Sicily and set my escape in motion. But the moment I vanished from his world… Vincent Santoro went insane.

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."

My best friend hands me the divorce papers she drafted. "You spent five years chasing Joe before you finally got him. Why do you suddenly want a divorce?" I force a smile. "Because he won't have dinner with me." Five hours earlier, I sent Joe Watson the address of a restaurant. "I made a reservation for our third anniversary." He replied almost immediately. "Busy right now." I spent five years chasing him and three years as his wife, only to get those words in return. Then I saw him outside his office, protectively guiding a short-haired woman into his car. When I first started pursuing Joe, I could barely get a response from him. But little by little, he opened up and began sharing all his joys and frustrations with me. Now, all I ever hear from him is, "Busy right now." I thought I wasn't trying as hard as I used to. But that wasn't it. He had simply fallen for someone else. My phone rings. It's the restaurant calling. "Ms. Gray, how many people will be dining tonight?" I slip the divorce papers into my bag. "Just one." I know Joe brought that woman to the same restaurant, which works out perfectly. From now on, he can share its signature dish with whoever he wants. It's none of my business anymore. I'll enjoy it by myself.

Damian and I have been together for five years. He's the heir to the Hartwell family, a family of old money, but he's incredibly devoted to me. He planned a perfect trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, intending to propose. He held me close and whispered, "They say couples who see the aurora together will be together forever. Nora, you and me -- never apart." As the brilliant lights danced across the sky, I truly believed our love would last an eternity. Then I saw him snap a photo and send it to Sophia with the message: "Wish you were here. Sending you some aurora magic." I froze. Sophie was Damian's childhood friend. The kind of woman who always draped herself all over him, and sent him provocative selfies in the middle of the night. The next second, Sophia called on video. "Damian! I'm so dizzy... When are you coming back to keep me company?" It was then I realized Damian had brought Sophia along on our proposal trip and was staying at the same hotel as us. I turned around and made a phone call without hesitation. "Mr. Parker, the three-year assignment to Germany you mentioned—I accept. Yes, the sooner the better." But why has this Billionaire been searching for me all over the world for three years after I left?

It wasn't until my first month of college that I found out the entire pack had been calling me a leech behind my back. The nickname came from Sienna Blackwood—Lucas's partner. To every wolf in Silvermoon, I was just some weakling squatting on pack land. They saw me use Lucas's pass, saw the tiny cabin at the edge of his territory, and filled in the blanks themselves. I went to find Lucas, thinking he'd defend me like he used to when we were pups. But he just waved a hand, didn't even look up from whatever he was doing, and said, "It's just a nickname, Elena. Sienna's joking around. You're being too sensitive." Then he added, "Besides, you're always around me. You use my pass, you live a stone's throw away—to everyone else, yeah, it kind of looks like that." In that moment, something inside me just... broke. Eighteen years of being by his side, and all he saw was a wolf leeching off her Alpha. I didn't cry. I didn't get mad. I just opened my logbook, calm as anything, and submitted my withdrawal from the pack. They had no idea who I really was. They had no idea I wasn't some leech clinging to anyone for survival. Seven days left until I walked out of Silvermoon for good.

When the heatwave apocalypse hits the Earth, the ozone layer has completely dissipated, forcing mankind to move into the underground city. My husband, Rhett Calloway, and I get to stay on Level Two, seeing as we've funded the construction of the underground city. On day in the third year of the heatwave apocalypse, Rhett brings back a sickly young woman from the slums located on Level Three out of the blue. "Nora, the living conditions on Level Three are very difficult. Anna is in poor health. I can't just sit by and watch her suffer." After that, Rhett carries Anna Archer into our home. I keep my gaze lowered as I remind him, "Don't forget that there's a strict population count on Level Two. The available slots in every family are fixed." "I know that. That's why you need to head down to the slums on Level Three to replace Anna for the time being. Once she recovers from her illness, I'll bring you home." The moment I hear Rhett's response, I remain rooted to the spot for a long time. After walking out the front door, I do my best to suppress the quiver in my tone as I call a number that belongs to Level One. "I've already thought it through. I've decided to join the project to end the apocalypse on Level One."

The day I was kidnapped by my enemies, my adoptive father, Lucien Moretti, stormed into the warehouse with his bodyguards. He took a bullet for me, then carried me to the car, his body drenched in blood. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” That was the sentence he said to me most often. Lucien was the most ruthless mafia don in Sicily, yet he had spoiled me, the daughter of a deceased friend, for ten whole years. In the hospital room, as I watched Lucien sleeping peacefully, I could no longer suppress my feelings for him. “Lucien, I love you.” He suddenly opened his eyes and frowned at me. “Don’t get any improper ideas. I’m your adoptive father.” From that day on, he withdrew every bit of favoritism he had shown me. He blocked my number and instructed his right-hand man to stop reporting anything about me to him. The guards at the estate no longer let me in. “Mr. Moretti says you’re no longer welcome here.” Whenever I appeared in front of him, he would turn and walk away with a cold expression. Until half a year later, I was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer.

Juliet Sutton has always been hopelessly devoted. But the day her first love is diagnosed with cancer, she hands me a pill that can make someone forget. She says, "Matthew, Wilson doesn't have much time left. Give me three days. Let me give him the wedding he always dreamed of. "I won't break your heart. This pill only causes temporary memory loss. Once the ceremony is over, you take the antidote, fall in love with me again, and then we'll remarry." Seeing the resolve in her eyes, I take the pill and swallow it without hesitation. What Juliet doesn't know is that I'm the one who developed the pill. There is no antidote. In three days, I'll forget her completely.

After suffering from a miscarriage, I've gotten rid of all the habits that my military husband, Nathan Linwood, despises. No longer do I ask him about his whereabouts. He can spend the night elsewhere for all I care. When I get hurt in a rescue mission, the doctor tells me to inform my family about my condition. I merely shake my head and say, "I don't have any family." But Nathan still arrives at the scene half an hour later. The tall and broad-shouldered man looks at me, his voice extremely cold. "Why didn't you seek me out when you got hurt?" I lower my gaze. "It's just a minor injury. There's no need to trouble you at all, Commander Linwood." For some reason, my nonchalant tone annoys Nathan. He's about to open his mouth when a conversation between the guards floats into our ears. "Commander Linwood sure is concerned about Ms. Schuman. When she twisted her ankle during a performance, Commander Linwood had a helicopter rerouted to the venue immediately. He even carried her into and out of the helicopter, refusing to let her feet touch the ground at all." Nathan's expression shifts into one of nervousness immediately. He glances at me from the corner of his eye, seemingly waiting for me to demand answers from him or kick up a fuss like usual. But my eyelashes barely flutter at the conversation. All I do is close my eyes and rest. Ten days later, I won't have anything to do with everything that's going on here.

On my birthday, My wife told me there was an emergency at the hospital and she couldn’t come home. She sent me five hundred dollars with a note: Happy birthday. Love you. Ten minutes later, her young resident, Evan Hayes, posted a screenshot of a transfer. Fifty thousand dollars. Congratulations on becoming an attending. I’ll be there for every milestone from now on. Seven years ago, Claire lost both her parents and was buried in debt. I gave up a senior architect position overseas, stayed by her side, and helped her through medical school, residency, and every exam that stood between her and the life she wanted. The first time she put on a white coat, she held me and said, “Adrian, I wouldn’t be here without you.” Years later, she gave someone else the time, patience, and care she once gave me. That night, I didn’t argue. I accepted the London offer I had turned down three times, took off the ring I had worn for seven years, and left. Claire wasn’t worried. “He loves me too much. He’ll come back.” A month later, she called in tears. “I’ll give you everything. Just come home.” She still didn’t understand. I never left because Evan got more. I left because the woman I spent seven years lifting up had finally made my love feel worthless.

For our ninety-ninth engagement ceremony, Julian booked us a skydive. He said he wanted to tell me he loved me at thirty thousand feet. My chute didn't open. I got tangled in a big tree. I survived, yet suffered multiple fractures all over my body. In the ward, I accidentally saw a message on the screen of our jump instructor's phone. It was addressed to Julian, and it carried a video. The video showed someone tampering with my chute before we boarded. So the "accident" was Julian's idea? I dragged myself out of bed on crutches, every bone in my body screaming, ready to confront him. I made it as far as the hallway. He was already there, talking to someone, and the moment I saw the other man, the floor tilted under me. The man across from him was the same driver who'd hit me with his car the night before our last engagement. The hit-and-run that should have killed me. "Mr. Veil, if you ever need me again, please reach out." Julian's voice was flat, almost tired. "There won't be a next time. I've tried everything I can think of. The engagement can't be postponed anymore." "And the woman you actually love, sir?" "I'll keep loving her," Julian said. "But Ada is the one I marry. Her mother gave my father a kidney. That's the debt. I have to pay it." I stood there shaking, and the truth rearranged itself behind my eyes. The camping trip he had planned, where I got lost and nearly died of hypothermia in the woods. That had been him. The vitamin C he had handed me, the one that put me in the ICU. Him too. And this time — the skydive, thirty thousand feet, “I want the sky to witness our love”. All of it. Every single one of those accidents was him trying to delay the wedding. But Julian, I thought, I could save you the trouble. The next morning I accepted an offer that had been sitting in my inbox for weeks: an invitation from a world-class orchestra on the other side of the planet.