Contos e Romances sobre Plot Twists com Crime

After the college entrance exam, my sweet, well-behaved daughter suddenly turned into a monster. She stabbed the grandmother who had raised her with her own hands over and over again, leaving her to bleed to death. She threw her little brother, who had always adored her, straight off the tenth floor. My husband and I were horrified. We begged her to stop, our voices shaking. But she only laughed like a maniac. “Grandma and my brother were too good to me. That's exactly why they had to die! “And you two worked yourselves to the bone to support me, pay for my schooling, and give me a good life. You were good to me too. “So you have to die as well!” Then she set the house on fire with my husband and me still inside. I closed my eyes, furious and unwilling to accept it. But when I opened them again, I found myself back one week before my daughter's college entrance exam. This time, I secretly installed a camera in her room. No matter what it took, I was going to uncover the truth behind why she'd murdered our entire family. But when my husband and I finally saw what the camera had recorded, neither of us could say a word.

After I get abducted to Paradise Island, I've attempted escape twice so far in order to avoid becoming the rich's plaything. The first time I get caught, on that very same night, I receive a video of my fiancee, Lucille Hoffman, getting torn into pieces by a school of piranhas. The second time I get caught, my older sister, Edith Cox, whom I've relied on since I was young, gets mutilated by the kidnappers on a cruise ship. Driven by despair, I agree to bind myself to a system. "As long as you earn enough points, you can revive your lover and your sister." From that day onward, I shed my pride and ego. I allow the electrified collar to dig deep into my neck. I keep getting tormented time and again until I lose consciousness. After undergoing yet another organ transplant that's forced onto me, I stare at the points, which are enough for me to revive Lucille and Edith. That's when a trace of hope emerges from my heart. Just as I'm about to hit the "confirm" button with a trembling finger, I hear a burst of laughter coming from a corner. "That idiot actually thinks he's bound to a system! He's still working hard to gather points just to revive his sister and his fiancee! Little does he know that Paradise Island, their deaths, as well as the system, are all big fat lies!" "I know, right? The rich really have a way of grooming people, huh? Apparently, Ms. Cox and Ms. Hoffman faked their deaths and created a fake system for this guy just because he had slapped Mr. Trenton back then and refused to apologize to him or admit his mistake. That's why they put on this act in order to teach him a lesson and make him yield to them." "Shh! Drop this topic for now! Ms. Cox and Ms. Hoffman are here to check on the training progress…" I feel as though I've plunged into an icy abyss. My ears begin ringing from shock and disbelief. That's when the poison I've taken in advance starts kicking in. Before I know it, blood begins streaming down the corner of my mouth uncontrollably. Just as my vision is going dark, someone kicks the door open.

When my ex-wife, Clara Quinton, holds a wedding ceremony with her first love, they put me in a coffin. Sha says this is a new immersive experience at the cultural village and asks me to play along with a staged scene where the ex-husband crashes the wedding. The guests gather around the coffin and cheer. The host grins and calls out, "Bury the ex, and may the newlyweds live happily ever after!" Her first love, Kevin Irwin, is dressed in a suit. His eyes glisten with tears. "Clara, is this really okay? After all, Sam has been with you for seven years," Kevin says. Clara gently fixes his hair and says in a soft voice, "Back then, he was the one who forced you to leave the country. Because of that, you got into an accident that nearly ruined your career. "Today, we're only making him lie in there for a little while." Before they close the coffin lid, I desperately grab onto the edge and scream, "Clara, Max is inside the coffin too!" Everything outside falls silent for a moment. Then, Clara lets out a cold laugh and says, "I can't believe you'd make up something so ridiculous. Max went to Southville with your friend, Noah. "There is a ventilation hose in the coffin. The camera is rolling too. So, stop pretending!" The dirt slowly covers the coffin. From inside the coffin, I hear her coldly order, "Let him out when he admits he was wrong and apologizes."

The wealthy Hanson family makes it clear that whichever sister gives birth to the family's first grandson will inherit the billion-dollar fortune. In my previous life, my sister, under our parents' arrangement, married the strong and healthy third son, Jerome Hanson. I, on the other hand, was given to the gloomy eldest son, Lester Hanson, whose legs were paralyzed. Under my treatment, Lester regained full use of his legs. I became pregnant with the Hanson family's first grandson. Meanwhile, my sister was driven to madness by Jerome's abuse, becoming the laughingstock of every wealthy woman's dinner gossip. On the day I went into labor, my sister stabbed my belly with a knife. Then, she pulled me off a rooftop with her. Now, in this life, we start over. The moment Lester sends over a golden bridal bouquet, my sister snatches it without hesitation. "I want to marry Lester!" she declares.

After lights-out, I make my roommates play with an Ouija board with me. Being the scaredy-cat she is, my roommate decides to ask something stupid, "Where did my earphones go?" I almost burst out laughing. I can't believe she's using it to find her earphones. To our surprise, the planchette starts to move. It spells out, "It's under your bed beside the eye." We exchange glances in confusion. What eye? I snort and get out of bed. Using my phone's flashlight, I check under the bed. Nothing is there. Before I can make fun of my roommate for being superstitious, the door slams open. The student who stays next door barges into our room, her face as pale as a sheet. Her voice trembles as she shouts, "Wake up! Everyone on campus is going wild! Someone found an eyeball in our dorm!"

I'm the Alpha's eldest daughter and the rightful heir to the Grimwood Pack, but I'm cursed. Every boyfriend I brought to the Shrine of the Moon for the mate test walked out and did the exact same thing.They don't reject me. They try to kill me. By the time I turned thirty, I'd survived ten murder attempts from ten different men. My own father, Alpha Damian, screams at me every time it happens. He beats me until I'm covered in bruises and claims my blood will atone for my sins to the Moon Goddess. The entire pack says I'm too sinful to deserve a mate. Even my grandmother, the woman who raised me and loved me most, came out of the temple and tried to strangle me. I finally couldn't take it anymore, so I needed to see what was inside that temple. But when the truth appeared in front of me, I broke down.

I reunited with my ex-husband for the first time in six years in a courtroom. He sat on the bench, while I stood in the dock as a murder defendant. The moment Tristan Hodges recognized my face, his eyes widened in shock. "You're… Sabrina?" His reaction did not surprise me. After all, who could have imagined that Sabrina Westbrook, the woman who used to burst into tears at the sight of a cockroach, and Hope Westbrook, the serial killer who had murdered five people, were one and the same? Tristan's eyes turned bloodshot, and his teeth ground together with barely contained fury. "Six years. Five lives. Five families broken forever… Sabrina Westbrook, how could you bring yourself to do it?" Watching his reaction, I let out a low laugh. "There were more than five. Judge Hodges, your fiancee—and my former best friend, Edith Rayburne—has been missing for a week now, hasn't she? Take a guess. Where do you think she is?"

Fifteen years ago, my parents-in-law were cut into pieces. My wife and I spent years searching for the killer. One day, I came back from the market and found that the neighbor’s family had been murdered in the same way. At the crime scene, I saw the neighbor’s face in the mirror. I rushed out and chased him. I was just about to catch him when my wife stopped and handcuffed me with her own hands. “Drop the act. You’re the killer!”

The night my fiancée ran over my sister, all she had to do was show me a family photo—and I dropped to my knees before the police and confessed. For seven years, my parents called me a monster, my relatives said I deserved to rot, and I wasn't even allowed to touch my sister's ashes. The day I walked free, my fiancée came to meet me in a wedding dress. Smiling, she pressed a wedding invitation into my hand. "I'm marrying your brother. You took the fall for me, and now you're just an ex-con. Stay away from us." I should have torn the invitation to pieces and demanded to know why. Instead, I smiled and nodded. Then, with everyone watching, I signed over everything I owned—every property, every share, even the old house my parents had left me. Everyone called me spineless. Pathetic. Until her wedding day, when I took out that same family photo. One look at it, and her parents dropped to their knees, smashing their foreheads against the floor. Her husband looked once, seized a champagne bottle, and shattered his own kneecap. And my ex-fiancée finally went mad.

Three years after I had made my girlfriend, Sophia Lambert, sleep with her superior, she finally went from being his lover to becoming his wife. Meanwhile, I barely made it out alive after years of being undercover in a drug trafficking ring. My body was broken beyond repair, and I had returned home only to wait for death. Sophia arrived with one of her arms wrapped around her husband’s during a charity visit for the poor. When she saw me standing in line for relief aid, she let out a mocking laugh. “Benjamin, how did you end up like this?” I hunched my shoulders. I hid the First-Class Merit Medal for Narcotics Enforcement I had received not long ago. After a long silence, I asked, “Are you happy now?” She twirled the diamond ring on her finger in a lackadaisical manner. “The wedding’s next week. What do you think? “If you want, you can even become a groomsman. Orlando believes in diversity. His groomsmen comprises of different kinds of guys. He’s just missing someone disabled.” I shook my head and turned down her offer. “No, I won’t be able to make it.” The poison in my body had already spread to my heart. I only had a few days left.

There's a saying that circulates among anglers: "If a dead fish still takes the bait… reel in and leave." The day I went fishing with my dad, we ran into exactly that. What unsettled me was not the fish. It was the look on my dad's face: an excitement that felt completely wrong. Then a message flashed across my livestream, and a chill ran down my spine. [Get out. Now. Your dad is about to trade your life for the one who died in this river a year ago.]

After my mom, Margaret Hale, dies of a heart attack, she starts appearing in my sister Claire Dawson's dreams. In a dream, Mom tells Claire to climb Mount Mistwood before sunrise and burn the entrance ticket for her, or the other ghosts will bully her. Claire doesn't tell me anything. She packs a bag in the middle of the night and forces herself to the summit. While she's gasping her way up that mountain, I'm asleep at home when I suddenly go into cardiac arrest. I wake up in the emergency room with doctors shouting over me. I barely survive before Mom appears in Claire's dreams again. This time, she says skydiving is her last wish. If Claire doesn't do it for her, she won't rest in peace. Claire signs up right away, ignoring everything I say. But then, her parachute refuses to open, and she plummets toward the ground. Luckily, she gets snagged in a tree and walks away without a scratch. Meanwhile, I miss a step going downstairs, tumble to the bottom, end up covered in bruises, and break five ribs. While I'm recovering in the hospital, Mom shows up in Claire's dreams again. Now, she wants Claire to go to the South Pole for her, saying she can finally move on and be reincarnated once Claire completes the trip. Claire doesn't hesitate and books a tour on the spot. While she's taking pictures with penguins, I freeze to death back home during a 104-degree heatwave. Only after I die does it finally hit me that Mom's missions for Claire always end with me on death's doorstep. What I don't understand is how Mom keeps shifting the danger meant for Claire onto me instead. The next time I open my eyes, I'm back on the morning after Mom first appeared in Claire's dream.

The company is short-staffed for one of our new projects. Despite everyone's objections, I, James Connor, fight to bring in three sidelined, former colleagues onto the project. And so, the four of us become the project's core members. The project's workload is fairly light and comes with a generous bonus. So, they praise and flatter me, calling me their lucky star. Three months later, the project is about to be submitted to the higher-ups. I happen to pass by the smoking lounge and overhear them plotting, wisps of smoke escaping from their lips. "The three of us contributed the most to this project. Why should James get an equal share of the bonus just because he recommended us for the job? He barely pulled his weight." "That's right. We should bring this up with the director. Tell him that we're the ones who laid all the groundwork and that James doesn't have the technical skills to be on this team. We'll ask to have him removed from the contributors list." "Just the thought of not having to split those hundreds of thousands of dollars with him is making me feel like I'm on cloud nine. Hey, let's go celebrate tonight!" I push the door open and am promptly greeted with their shocked faces. I merely smile at them as I think to myself, "You want to cut me out? Sadly for you, I'm the director who was sent here to evaluate all of you."

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband drove me out to the coast. As the sun set, he pointed to a lighthouse in the distance. "Beautiful, isn't it? Look at that red tower." My iced coffee slipped from my hand. My husband is red-green color-blind. He can't tell red from green. Yet here he was, describing a color he couldn't possibly see.

I heard a corpse speak to me in the police department's autopsy room on my first day of internship. It all began when my supervising pathologist flipped through the autopsy report and remarked flatly, "Classic suicide. Close the case." The captain of the homicide unit nodded without a word. Beyond the doors, the victim's mother had fallen to her knees as she sobbed in despair, nearly fainting from grief. I was the only one who heard the woman's raspy voice saying in protest, "I didn't kill myself." The hemostatic forceps slipped from my hand and clattered into the metal tray. Everyone turned to look at me. My supervising pathologist frowned at me in displeasure. "Summer, I know you're an intern, but you can't even keep your composure?" I stared at the corpse's pale, bluish face. The next second, I heard her speak once more, "The killer is in this autopsy room." The air in my lungs froze. Then, my eyes slowly settled on my supervising pathologist's bloodstained hands.

On the last trip before Zeke Malone and I were set to register our marriage, someone clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the bushes to assault me. Zeke and my sister, Crystal Bianco, arrived just in time to "save" me. That was when I heard Zeke switch to French and ask her, "Did you get enough footage just now?" "Yeah," Crystal answered back in French. "But isn't this unfair to Lizzie?" Zeke's voice turned grave. "The man was only acting. He never actually went through with it. We just needed the footage. As long as I don't hold it against her, that's all that matters. "Besides, you could win a Pulitzer for breaking this story. That's what actually matters here." I lay in his arms, a chill spreading through every inch of me. Certain I must have misheard, I couldn't help but ask, "What were you two just saying?" Zeke wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, his voice as gentle as ever. "We were talking about your case, about what happened to you. It might be best to let Crystal be the one to report it. That way, the man responsible will pay for what he did." He assumed I couldn't understand a word of it, so he went right on discussing with Crystal how to get the story more attention. What he didn't know was that I'd spent the past year secretly teaching myself French, just so I could belong in their world. I never imagined that the first time I finally understood them, it would be to discover that they had both betrayed me.

Lately, my seatmate had been looking at me strangely. Whether we were going to the cafeteria or heading to P.E., she kept her distance like she was afraid of me. I finally couldn't take it anymore and asked her, "Did I do something to offend you?" She flinched, backed several steps away, and avoided my eyes. "No. It's not your fault!" But the next day, she voluntarily transferred out of the honors track and into a regular class. Confused, I went to ask her what was going on. The moment I arrived at the door of her new classroom, she'd been chatting casually with other students. Then she saw me, started shaking all over, and screamed in terror. "It really has nothing to do with you. Please stop looking for me. Please!"

When Dad learned I placed second on a practice college entrance exam, he shouted at me. "Second again? Can't you beat whoever came first?" "How did I end up with such a useless son?" I promised I'd take down the top student on the next exam. That night, I dreamed about the girl who came first. In the dream, I pushed her from the twenty-third floor. The sound of her hitting the ground made my stomach turn. I woke from the nightmare to a flood of messages in the class group chat. The first message made my blood run cold. [Zara Henson jumped from the twenty-third floor. She died on the spot.] [Zara's mother insists it wasn't suicide. She says someone pushed her.] [Can you hear the police sirens?]