Plot Twists Family Emotions Short Stories & Novels

On the morning of the college entrance exam, my daughter surprised me by asking for a ride to school. She was usually much closer to her mother, so when she suddenly turned to me, I canceled my work plans without hesitation. “Don’t be nervous, Ivy. I’ll be right here when you’re done.” I watched her walk into the school, then returned to my car. When the test let out, students streamed through the doors. Some looked confident, while others seemed crushed. I waited anxiously for Ivy. But as the crowd thinned, she was nowhere to be seen. I assumed the test had gone badly and she was too upset to face me. I hurried over to a school security officer and asked him to help find her. He radioed the staff and had her name called over the intercom, but she still didn’t appear. Growing frantic, I showed him a screenshot of her registration details and asked him to check the room listed there. He went inside without hesitation. When he returned, his face was dark with anger. “Are you out of your mind? There’s no Ivy Young on the roster for that room! “There’s no one by that name taking the college entrance exam at this school!”

My parents, the wealthiest couple in the country, were famous philanthropists. I had to ask them for permission if I wanted to spend more than five bucks. The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked them for 100 dollars, but instead of helping, they yelled at me for three hours. "What kind of disease could you get at your age? If you're going to ask for money, at least come up with a better excuse." "Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? Your sister is more sensible than you." I dragged my sick body for miles, back to the small basement I called home. But as I passed the mall, I saw my parents, live on a huge screen, spending a fortune to rent out Disneyland for my sister. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hundred dollars wouldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy. I just wanted to buy a new outfit and leave with some dignity.

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

After my parents passed away, Uncle Mike took me in. When greedy relatives tried to snatch away my inheritance, he chased them off with a kitchen knife. “As long as I’m here, nobody lays a finger on this girl!” Aunt Rachel doted on me, calling me her precious baby and making me nutritious meals every day. My cousin Pete secretly slipped me pocket money and made sure to pick me up and drop me off at school, afraid I might get bullied. The neighbors all said I was lucky and to repay their kindness someday. On graduation day, I cooked them a lavish meal to show my appreciation. Every dish was laced with rat poison. I didn’t spare a single soul, not even the neighbors. I killed them all!

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

I'm on a vacation during the holidays. When I'm scheduling to buy a ticket home, I accidentally oversleep. Still, I manage to secure a train ticket home. Due to the uncomfortable ride, I reach home looking very haggard and wretched. As soon as I step through the front door, I see someone stuffing a bunch of cleaning appliances into my arms. A woman can be seen gazing at me haughtily. Then, she starts ordering me around. "Hurry up! You must clean up this house by 6:00 pm tonight!" I notice that she's wearing my mom's pajamas. Then, I retreat to the doorway just so I can study the double-storied mansion again. This is my home! But who the hell is that woman? Also, who does she expect to clean up this place? Me? As in the only daughter of the wealthiest man in the city? I tap on my family's group chat and tag my dad. "@Dad: Hey, why did your new flame order me to clean the house?"

My husband's parents are dead. He says I'm now his sister's mother figure and need to care for her like she's my daughter. I work myself to the bone to feed her and pay for her expenses, but she's not happy with that. "My classmates drive to school and have trips abroad, Lorey. Can't you work a little harder?" She takes my car away and treats me like a maid. That's still not enough for her, though. When she finds out that I'm pregnant, she threatens to take her life. "You said you would care for me like I'm your daughter. I won't let you give someone else what's supposed to be mine!" I curse her in my heart. Who gave her the nerve to act like this?

My husband, Leon Hobbs, calls me to tell me that his grandma, Phoebe Reid, has forgotten to bring her blood pressure medication, so he wants me to deliver it to her. "Hurry up, Elsie! Grandma's blood pressure is spiking again! You're the one who's closest to her right now!" With the medication in hand, I've just reached the corridor when comments pop up on my phone out of nowhere. "Don't go! The old lady will die in the living room ten minutes after you enter the apartment!" "The blood pressure medication has been swapped out for poison, and your prints are on the bottle! Everyone will think that you're the one who poisoned the old lady!" "Your husband and your mother-in-law have left the apartment purposefully so that you'll be the only one facing the old lady's corpse! Then, they'll use the assets that you and the old lady have left behind just to buy a new home for your husband's pregnant mistress!" I remain rooted to the spot as I stare at the bottle of medication. Leon had passed it to me last night, claiming that it was a bottle of newly prescribed medication. He wanted me to keep it for Phoebe for the time being. My fingerprints are all over the bottle at this time. Three seconds later, I turn on my heel and head toward the nearest pharmacy. Then, I place the bottle of pills on the counter. "Please help me check whether or not this bottle of medication fits the label."

My younger brother, Oliver Lawson, calls me out of the blue and tells me that he wishes to transfer 30% of his company's shares to my name. "Daphne, you've helped me out far too much over the years. Now that my company is making profits, it's only fair that you receive these shares." Feeling quite surprised, I rush to OIiver's company. The paperwork is already laid out on the desk. Suddenly, live comments appear in front of my eyes. "Don't sign those documents! These aren't dividend shares! Instead, they are management shares, which makes you take on the company's debts! "Oliver's company can no longer pay off its debts! Once you sign the documents, you'll become the jointly and severally liable party! The 30-million-dollar debt will be saddled on your shoulders! "Your house, savings, as well as your daughter's school-district property will be seized by the court!" I hold the pen, yet I make no move to do anything with it. Oliver smiles as he pats me on the back of my hand. "What are you staring at, Daphne? Once you're done signing, you have to treat me to a nice meal, you know!" As soon as his hand touches mine, I hear his voice echoing in my mind. "Daphne has had it too difficult in this lifetime. After the divorce, she has been raising Emma all by herself. I've always wanted to give her something to help improve her life. "The dividends for the next quarter come to at least 100 thousand dollars. That should be enough for Daphne to clear her house mortgage. "Our parents left us far too early in life, leaving us to rely on each other. If I don't treat her well, who else will?" I can only hold the pen, feeling my fingers going cold. Who should I believe?

"Ms. Clarke, you have successfully purchased a Final Memories recording package. We have arranged hidden cameras to record you anytime and anywhere. From this moment on, no matter where you go or what you do, everything will be secretly filmed until the day you pass away." The staff member handed the contract to Lila Clarke and asked her to confirm everything one last time. Without hesitation, she signed her name. The reason she ordered Final Memories was because she had been diagnosed with cancer. She had no more than one month left to live.

Five months after my husband, Ian Goldman, is declared dead, my mother-in-law takes me to the hospital. She registers me for an induced abortion. With reddened and tearful eyes, she tries to persuade me to terminate my pregnancy. She says, "Sofia, he's gone. You have to move on with your life. End the pregnancy now, and I'll find you a good husband." I clutch the consent form in my hand without saying a word. Then, all of a sudden, a childish voice rings in my ears. "Mom! Don't get rid of me! Dad isn't dead at all!" I freeze like I've been hit by a bolt of lightning. The abortion form slips from my fingers and falls to the floor. "Dad is at the care center in the suburbs of the city. They're almost done brainwashing him into becoming someone else's husband! In our previous life, you believed Grandma and never went to find Dad. I was never born. "When Dad eventually learned the truth, he almost lost his mind!" Without a second thought, I rush to the care center with my heavily pregnant belly. Just as a nurse stops me outside a training room, I see a woman holding Ian's hand. She is speaking to him in a gentle voice. "Don't be nervous, Captain Goldman. You can only start over once you forget the people from your past." I lift my foot and kick the tightly shut door wide open with a loud bang.

My elder sister, Alice, was a white wolf. A witch had foretold that my power would devour hers, that the moment I shifted during our coming-of-age ceremony, she would die. The only way to save her was to suppress my power, let her shift first at the ceremony, and break the curse. To save her, my parents spent eighteen years breaking me. And the night before our ceremony, they followed the witch's orders and locked me in the basement with silver-banded iron chains. "Be good, Maria. The silver will only delay your shift. Just get through tomorrow, and your sister lives. Then we can all stop suffering." The chains pressed against my chest. I could barely breathe. But something was wrong. My shift was starting, early. I slammed my fists against the door. "Mom, it's starting. I'm shifting now—" "Don't lie to me." Her voice cut through, sharp and loud. "The witch said both of you shift on ceremony day. Or are you really that eager to watch your sister die?" Footsteps faded down the hall. The pain hit, searing, ripping through every bone. I curled into the corner, feeling my wolf slip away.

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

In my last life, the Fosters acknowledged me as their real son. But my own sister framed me for causing their adopted son's relapse. My biological parents believed her and threw me out. Not long after, I died sick and alone on the street. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the Fosters came to take me home. Gracie Foster stood in front of our parents, pointed at me, and said, "Mom, Dad, he's not my brother!" They looked at me in disappointment, then turned and left. I stood there without taking out the locket that could prove who I was, then quietly walked back into the orphanage. Twenty years later, I became one of the country's leading cardiologist. The woman sitting across from me handed over a medical file, her voice trembling. "Doctor, please. Save my brother." When I saw the name, I stopped. My gaze shifted to her worn, haggard face. I stared at her for a long time before finally saying, "I won't take this patient."

On the day of my tenth wedding anniversary, my best friend, Jordan Price, shows up at my doorstep with a cancer diagnosis. He informs me he only has a month left to live, and his dying wish is to have my wife, Renee Myers, be his bride for a day to complete a non-binding wedding ceremony. In my previous life, I find the whole idea absurd. I tell him it isn't appropriate and turn him down. That night, he leaves a suicide note and jumps into the ocean. Jordan had been orphaned at a young age, and Mom takes him in and raises him as her own. When my son, Oliver Hall, is five years old, Jordan even risks his life to rescue him from a blazing building. Consequently, my entire family concludes that my sins are unforgivable and that I've driven him to his grave. Mom disowns me, and my younger brother, Philip Hall, cuts off all contact with me. Every year, Renee will wear her wedding gown and go to the beach to mourn him. My wife and son loathe me for a decade. … On the day of Oliver's wedding, he sets Jordan's memorial portrait at the head table and publicly declares that he wants nothing to do with me, his father, who supposedly killed the man who saved his life. Later on, after I suffer a stroke and end up paralyzed, Renee frames me as mentally unstable and has me committed to a mental asylum. On the day I breathe my last, I receive a video. Jordan, who is supposed to have been dead for a decade, has his arm around my wife. He's all smiles as he tells me he doesn't have cancer, and he never actually killed himself. … When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Jordan hands me his cancer diagnosis. Renee's eyes are brimming with tears as she takes off her wedding ring. "Jordan only wants me to be his bride for a day. Can't you grant him this one wish?" Everyone expects me to refuse. However, I take the ring from her and casually toss it into the trash. "I can. Sign the divorce agreement today, and I'll walk you down the aisle tomorrow."

On the third day of my business trip out of state, someone new joined the group chat formed for my son's class. It had been quiet for weeks when she suddenly sent a voice message. I tapped it, and an unfamiliar woman's voice played through my phone. "Hello, everyone. I'm the new language teacher at the school, and I'm also Tony Gardner's mother. Looking forward to getting to know you all!" My whole body went cold. I opened the group member list and checked it over and over. My son's name was Tony Gardner, and she said she was Tony Gardner's mother. Then, who the hell was I? I immediately called my husband. "Did someone get added to the parent group by mistake?" He paused on the other end before he laughed it off like it was nothing. "Oh, probably just a mix-up. The school has so many kids. It's not unusual for kids to have the same names. What's the matter? Did something happen?" I kept my voice light and told him everything was fine. The second I hung up, I booked the next flight home and headed straight to my son's school.

My stepson, Lucas Lincoln, is trapped in a fire. After calling the fire brigade, I quickly ring my husband, Jasper Lincoln. Jasper is the leader of a search-and-rescue team, after all. But to my dismay, Jasper is currently keeping his ex-wife, Yvonne Schmidt, company. Yvonne has won the "Forensic Doctor of the Year" award, and so they are out celebrating it. My phone calls are rejected again and again. Jasper never once calls me back, even after Lucas' cries for help disappear entirely. By the time the fire brigade arrives to quell the flames, Lucas has been burned to a crisp. I tell Jasper what happened to our son, but he only gleefully says, "He was nothing but a troublemaker who'd contribute nothing to society. If he's dead, then so be it. This way, he won't grow up to become a menace. "Yvonne happens to be giving a public talk tomorrow and is still in need of a specimen demonstrating burn injuries. She can use Noah's corpse for her demonstration since it's still fresh." I sneer. So Jasper thinks that my own son, Noah Green, is the one who died in the fire. I immediately send Lucas' blackened corpse to Yvonne's operating room.

Seven days after my father suffered severe burns and was declared brain-dead, Daniel Shaw revived him in front of thirty million viewers. Three minutes after he opened his eyes, I pulled out his ventilator. The cardiac monitor let out a piercing alarm. The color had barely returned to my father’s face before it flushed red again, and the veins in his neck bulged one after another. He opened his mouth like a fish tossed onto dry land, his fingers clawing desperately at the bedsheets. Outside the hospital room, reporters were still livestreaming. Thirty million viewers watched me send my father, the man who had just survived a medical miracle, back to his death.

By the time the Hartwells found me and brought me home, I had already been secretly married to Adrian Sterling, the richest man in the city, for two years. When I came back six months pregnant, Chloe Hartwell — the false daughter — blocked me at the front door. “We agreed to let you come home. We never agreed to let that bastard in your belly come with you. “Go and get rid of it right now, or you’re not setting one foot inside.” I stopped short. “My child has Hartwell blood too. Why can’t he come in?” My stepmother, Elaine, laughed out loud. “You’re twenty and unmarried. Who’s supposed to say where that baby came from? “Chloe’s father has already made himself clear. We are not letting somebody with a questionable history come back and drag the Hartwell Group’s name down with her.” Even Ethan, my own brother, nodded along. “Just listen to Chloe. It’s one baby. Getting rid of it isn’t going to kill you. “Or does a bastard mean more to you than your own family?” With everyone taking her side, Chloe looked more pleased with herself by the second. “So what if you’re Dad’s biological daughter? Dad said it himself — even with you back, I’m still the Hartwell heiress. “Until I say otherwise, that bastard of yours isn’t coming through this door!” It made me laugh. Without the Sterling account, the Hartwell Group was nothing at all. Where did they find the nerve? The moment the thought landed, I picked up the suitcase in my hand and swung it straight at her. “A nothing little family like the Hartwells, ordering me to abort my child. “You’d dare. Your chairman wouldn’t.”

In my last life, I was kidnapped alongside the fake heiress, Lilith Howe, at the same time. My father, the richest man in the country, claimed he had to prove his impartiality. Without a second thought, he told the police to rescue Lilith first and refused to pay a ransom for me. In front of the cameras, he declared with solemn conviction, "A daughter of the Howes must have backbone. We will never give in to criminals!" Lilith returned without a single scratch, and the internet crowned her a miracle girl. Meanwhile, I was killed by the kidnappers. There was barely anything left of me to bury. As my soul hovered above the scene, I watched my brother sneer at what little remained. "Good," he said. "At least she won't come back and be an eyesore to Lilith. We'll finally have some peace in the house." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the kidnappers called with their demands. A knife was pressed against my throat. On the other end of the line, my father's voice was just as cold, just as absolute. "I'm not choosing. My money belongs to charity. If she's a Howe, she should be ready to sacrifice for the family." I laughed. If he was willing to destroy his own flesh and blood for the sake of so-called honor, then this time, I would grant them a reunion in hell!