Historias cortas y novelas de Female Growth

Coming home from a late shift on a winter night, my fingers were stiff with cold. The first thing I did was head for the bathroom. Ethan stopped me, a bowl of late-night leftovers in his hand. “What took you so long? Rena’s in the bath. Just wait a bit.” I glanced at the clock. It was already eleven thirty. “I have to be up at six. Could you ask her to finish earlier next time?” He frowned. “It’s just a bath. Do you really have to make an issue of it?” When we’d been apartment hunting, I suggested getting a place with two bathrooms. Ethan insisted on this one because it was close to his and Serena’s office. Their commute was ten minutes. Mine meant three transfers and nearly four hours round trip. Back then he’d said, “I’ll drive you to and from work. You won’t have to cram onto the subway.” Six months later, not once. The bathroom door opened and Serena walked out in my bathrobe. “Sorry, Quinn, I didn’t know you’d still need to shower this late. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have soaked so long.” Ethan immediately grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her, then bent down to towel off her wet hair. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t owe her an apology. She’s just tired from work. On edge.” A sudden wave of weariness washed over me. I set down the towel I’d been drying my hands with and slipped off my engagement ring. “Right. On edge.” “So this place is all yours.”

For ten years, I've handled leather procurement for the group. Every year, I buy more than ten million euros' worth of rare hides. As usual, I went to Marco's Leather Goods to choose some hides, but the owner, Marco Bellini, wasn't there. Instead, his son, Leo Bellini, was sprawled on the couch playing video games. I spoke as casually as always. "Hey, the grain on this year's saltwater crocodile hides looks a little flat. I'll cut a sample for testing." Leo rolled his eyes at me and went back to his game. I ran a finger along the edge of the hide, then sniffed my fingertip. The sharp smell of tanning chemicals hit my nose. The brand's couture reputation was on the line, so I also cut small samples of lambskin and cowhide from the next rack for lab testing. But as soon as I put them in a bag, Leo jumped up and knocked it to the floor. "Quit acting like a big shot. If you can't afford it, just say so. This is the same premium leather Hermès uses. You think this is some scrap leather you can cut up whenever you feel like it?" I took a deep breath and explained. "This batch doesn't feel right. I need to have it tested at the lab. That's how we've always done business. "I place orders worth ten million euros with your dad every year. If you don't believe me, call him. We've always done it this way." Leo snorted and video-called his father. "Dad, there's some woman here cutting up our stock and helping herself like she owns the place!" Marco, who used to fawn over me whenever I walked in, appeared on the screen with an icy expression. "We have a deal with a major North American conglomerate now. We don't need to coddle picky little buyers anymore. "Charge her for every full hide she cut into. If she won't pay, call the cops!" I looked at that ugly face on the screen, and without a word, I paid €50,000. Then I walked out of the shop, turned left, and went into Bottega Artigiana, the quiet little shop next door. An hour later, Leo was kneeling at the workshop entrance, fran

I lost my eyesight to save Sean Sherman. He had once made a vow in front of everyone, "Rachel Todd, even if you can't see, I will take care of you for the rest of my life." I was deeply moved. I secretly sought out treatment and I kept the recovery of my eyesight a secret as a surprise for him. But on the day I regained my sight, I saw Sean holding his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Cross, in his arms, fooling around with her right in front of me. "You last really long today. Is it because your wife is watching us?" "What do you think? She was the one who bought me these protection products." I understood every word of their sign language. At that moment, my blood ran cold. Suppressing the nausea that was about to overwhelm me, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the research team that had been inviting me for a long time. I told them yes—I would join their research project. I was going to leave Sean behind and make sure he lived the rest of his life in regret.

I am a Servant of Death, sent to the werewolf realm by the Dark Goddess of the Underworld. She gave me a single rule. Every year during the pack's Dark Moon Festival, I must receive a water lantern carrying a genuine blessing. The first year, my future Alpha mate, my brother, and my childhood best friend all wrote my name on their lanterns. The second year, my childhood friend Julian said my adopted sister, Chloe, was too weak, so he wanted to pray for her just this once. The third year, even my brother, Ryker, who swore to protect me forever, gave his lantern to Chloe. Only my fated mate, Declan, left one for me. This was the fourth year. I couldn't sleep at all, so I finally told them the truth. "Please, just leave one lantern with my name on it. That's all I ask." The three of them smiled and promised. "Don't worry, you'll get every single one." But on the night of the Dark Moon Festival, the pack's sacred lake was filled with water lanterns drifting toward the Underworld River. Not a single one bore my name. I searched everywhere with tear-filled eyes, only to find the three men surrounding Chloe in celebration. "Four lanterns! I'm the one with the most blessings from the Moon Goddess this year!" Pain stabbed through my chest, and my voice trembled. "You promised me." Ryker looked away. "Chloe is under a lot of pressure for her Werewolf Academy interview this year." Julian, my once-gentle childhood friend, shrugged. "You've had so many before anyway. Missing one year won't kill you." Declan, my Alpha mate, didn't even look up. "To fight over a few lanterns, you even made up this 'Servant of Death' nonsense. Aren't you embarrassed?" Chloe leaned on his shoulder, covering her mouth to hide a laugh. "Stop making a scene, Amara. If you're a Servant of Death, then I'm the true daughter of the Moon Goddess." But they had no idea that if I failed to receive a single lantern, the Dark Goddess would take me back to the Underworld.

I am Charles Grant’s crush, and everyone said that he was really loyal to me. But on our third wedding anniversary, I found out that he had gotten a replacement for me. They even had a three-year-old child. I caressed my belly and tore apart the pregnancy report that I had brought to give him as a surprise.

After my husband got into a car accident, he started acting strange and unpredictable. I went to countless doctors, and every one of them told me the same thing—he couldn't be provoked, and I had to go along with whatever he wanted. When he said he didn't want me in the master bedroom, I moved my things into the guest room next door. When he said his childhood sweetheart had cancer and he wanted to spend her last days with her, I even brought her into our home. One night, when I went downstairs to get some medicine for my stomach, I heard Harvey's voice, his tone oh so tender. "Katie, you have to live on. If you don't, I'll die too." Katie's breathy, trembling voice followed. "Are you sure Jenna's willing to donate her bone marrow to me?" "Of course. Even if she had to die for me, she'd do it willingly." I froze in place. Tears streamed down my face. That's right. Five years ago, I had donated one of my kidneys to him. Back then, I loved him so much that I really would have died for him. But now, all I wanted was to leave.

The third year of my marriage to Dominic, he started resenting the things I asked of him. The first time I caught him acting too close with his personal assistant, Kayla, we had the biggest fight of our marriage. I told him to keep his distance. He said I was being too sensitive. After that, every time I showed the slightest displeasure, Dominic would punish me by going to Kayla on purpose. He took her to pick out furniture for a new apartment and let her sit in the passenger seat. When I was sick, he left me alone in the Staten Island estate and took her to a dock party. In the end, I stopped expecting anything. Stopped asking. Kayla told Dominic happily, "Don, just provoke Donna a little more. She'll get so scared of losing you, she'll stop trying to control you." Later, when he tossed me a hundred-million-dollar Brooklyn waterfront infrastructure contract and told me to hand control over to Kayla, I did it. "That's how it should be, Evelyn. That's my good Donna. You should trust me instead of always trying to tie me to your side." He looked at me, satisfied. But what he didn't know was that the dock's control was no longer in his hands. What he knew even less was that I'd tucked a divorce agreement into that infrastructure file. And he signed it without ever knowing.

At our company's tenth-anniversary party, my four childhood friends, who were also my business partners, slid a contract in front of me. "There's a serious PR crisis in Dayaka, and we need the whole team out there. "Pull this off, and we'll own this industry. "Cora, you've always been decisive. You're not going to back out just because there might be fighting, right?" Jared Blake wore his usual confident smile. Standing behind him was Faye Sterling, the illegitimate daughter the Sterling family had only recently brought home. I signed it right in front of them. As everyone cheered, Jared made me a promise. "Cora, once this is over and we're back, we'll get married." Later, I pushed open the conference room door. The projector was still hooked up to Jared's laptop, and on the screen was a group chat they'd forgotten to close. "Dayaka's settled?" "Done. One empty promise was all it took to get her to that hellhole. Now Faye can stay in Nova City and take over as senior partner, fair and square." "Jared's taking the biggest hit, though. He has to keep playing fiancé to that control freak." I stood in front of the screen, holding my files. Behind me, the door opened, and I heard the four of them laughing and talking as they crowded around their little princess. I turned around. The moment our eyes met, every smile in the room froze.

When they dumped my sister Ayana Vale's body into the altar, it was in pieces, mangled beyond recognition. I overheard the warriors who had dumped her body there. They said she had been framed for conspiring with a witch to harm Lilith Voss, Silver Moon's future Luna, and had been subjected to dozens of brutal tortures before she finally died. "No one really believed she was working with a witch. They only had Lilith's word for it. But the Alpha refused to let Ayana defend herself. He simply decided that Lilith's miscarriage had been caused by a witch's curse. Poor girl kept calling out for her sister right up to the end." That was how I learned what had happened to Ayana. I was away sacrificing my wolf in exchange for the Moon Goddess's protection over the pack. Before I left, Soren Blackwood, my childhood friend and the Alpha of Silver Moon, had sworn to protect Ayana. But he had branded Ayana a witch's accomplice and condemned her to brutal torture for the sake of another woman. I looked down at Ayana's broken body, and a bitter laugh escaped me. Day after day, I prayed at the altar, sacrificing myself to secure a century of prosperity for the pack. And they had repaid me by torturing my sister to death. If that was how it would be, then the pack I'd spent so long protecting was also mine to destroy.

A deal between families forced my Fiancé Marco Corvini to marry me. My parents were dead. His obsession was Isabella Falcone, the princess of our rivals. In the end, Marco devoured my family’s empire and threw me to the wolves. He paraded Isabella on his arm like a prize he’d won. Twenty years later, I was on my deathbed. My own son—our son—held the poison. He said I was useless, that his father needed the Falcone family’s power. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day of my blood oath. This time, to save my family, I didn’t sign my name on the pact. I signed hers. Isabella Falcone’s. As for me? I took the fortune my parents left me and disappeared. This time, I wouldn’t be the fool bleeding for a man who was never mine.

My husband said he was going to Montreal to handle a deal at the port. I went to the hospital alone for my eleven-week test results, planning to surprise him when he got home. Four years earlier, I’d taken a knife to the stomach protecting him. After two surgeries to repair the damage, I’d finally gotten pregnant, but I’d waited until the doctors said everything looked good before letting myself celebrate. As I passed the maternity ward, laughter drifted through an open door. “Look at them. The girl’s all Celeste, but that boy is his daddy’s double.” “You stayed with her through labor all night, Dante. Now you’ve got one of each. What more could you want?” “Their mother’s safe. That’s all I need.” My husband’s voice. I stopped outside the room. Dante Vitale sat beside the bed, kissing a woman’s fingertips. Two bassinets stood next to him. His name was on both cards, under Father. He never saw me. Last night, he’d talked me to sleep over the phone, claiming he couldn’t sleep without hearing me breathe beside him. I folded my results and put them away. I knew Dante too well. He could lay the whole world at my feet, and he would do whatever it took to keep me by his side. If I asked for a divorce, he would never let me go. If I wanted to leave him, I would have to find another way. This time, I would make everyone believe I was dead.

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.

I watched as my boyfriend put the ring that he had promised to give me on Sophie White's finger at her birthday party. When I questioned him, Mark Goodman shrugged nonchalantly. "I promised to marry Sophie. Since that's not happening now, the ring is compensation." I was left speechless from rage and so disenchanted that I decided to cut all ties with him. Everyone was cheering when Mark later showed up at a gathering with Sophie, both wearing a matching set of rings. But when they all thought I would make a scene, I smiled faintly. "You two really deserve each other. When are you getting married? Do send me an invite."

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

On the morning of my wedding, I found a saved voice message on Elliot Mercer's phone. It was only four seconds long, barely long enough to matter, yet the girl's voice filled the bridal suite as if she had stepped into the room herself. "I miss you, Elliot. I know I shouldn't." The makeup artist had just finished pinning the last pearl into my hair. My dress was zipped, my veil was hanging over the back of a chair, and downstairs, two hundred guests were waiting for me to marry the man I had loved for seven years. Elliot stood behind me in the mirror, already dressed in his black tuxedo. "She was drunk," he said. "It happened after the firm retreat. Someone dared her to send it." I checked their messages with shaking hands. Case notes. Coffee orders. Court schedules. Her apologies whenever she needed him again. His replies, patient and calm, as if being needed by her had become part of his day. There was nothing explicit. That almost made it worse. I couldn't point to one sentence and call it betrayal. I could only feel the space she had taken from me, quietly and steadily, while I was busy trusting him. My tears fell onto the lace of my dress. "Block her," I said. "Block Tessa now, and I'll still walk down that aisle." Elliot looked at me for a long moment. Then he took the phone from my hand. "After the ceremony, I'll have her moved off my cases," he said. "You have my word." Seven years together, and I still wanted his word to mean something. Then his phone rang. He looked down, and I saw Tessa's name before he turned the screen away. A second later, her text appeared. I'm outside. I can't breathe. Please don't make me do this alone. Elliot's face changed. I caught his wrist before he could reach the door. "If you leave this room," I said, my voice trembling, "don't come back expecting me to marry you." For one second, he looked like the choice hurt him. Then he peeled my fingers from his sleeve, one by one, and walked out of the bridal suite.

My little brother was the weakest man on the ship. He was a pirate, but he couldn't even lift a blade. Other pirates his age had already taken plenty of plunder, but he spent his days fussing over jars of medicine. He was always saying that fighting was bad, that it was too rough. He was bullied throughout his childhood, and I always stepped in for him. Later, I gave up piracy, got married, and came ashore to settle down as a wife. I didn't see him for a long time. Then one day, my husband, Duke Edgar Windham, brought his pregnant lover home. To make me accept that bastard child, he drugged me. "Helga, as long as you're a good girl and accept this child, you'll still be my wife. "After all, you don't have any family to back you up, do you? "That brother of yours is probably off somewhere fiddling with his herbs." When I refused, Edgar began beating me, and he never stopped. One day, after he'd nearly beaten me to death, the castle door was kicked in. A tall figure stood in the doorway. "Edgar, touch my sister again. I dare you."

I was paying the rent on our band's practice space when the Brooklyn Indie Fest dropped its first lineup. Our name was on the poster. Only, Lila was listed as the lead singer—the girl who’d joined three weeks ago. I asked Noah if they’d messed up the credits. He sent a voice message: "It suits Lila's voice better. Didn't you always say all that mattered was getting the song out there?" That was my song. I first sang it to him six years ago, in a leaky garage back in high school. He promised me that the day we hit a real stage, I’d sing the very first note. Then we started dating. We worked our way out of that garage and into New York’s dive bars. Whenever I asked when I’d get the mic, he told me to wait for the right moment. Now the moment was finally here, and he gave it away. Another text from Noah popped up: Don't be late for rehearsal. Lila needs you to coach her on the second verse. I opened the festival’s website. Solo applications closed in ten minutes. I still had the original demo on my laptop. I hit upload, and didn’t text him back.

I came home late one night to find another woman in the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Alistair Westwood. She was wearing my silk slip, which barely covered her thighs. Barefoot, she pressed herself against him. His hand was wrapped around her bare waist. "Nika isn't feeling well, so I told her she could stay here for now." Nika peeked out from behind him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know this was your place." "Where is she going to sleep?" I demanded. "And why is she wearing my clothes?" Alistair frowned. "Nika is sick. Obviously, she'll sleep with me so I can look after her. Can't you just let this go for once?" "It's fine. I can sleep on the couch," Nika offered. Alistair cut her off at once. "No. You're too sick to sleep there." I stared at the two of them for a moment. Then I grabbed a pillow and a blanket. "I'll take the couch." As soon as the bedroom door closed, I opened my laptop and reached for an invitation on the table. Half an hour later, I typed my answer. By the next day, Alistair's company had lost one of its biggest partnerships.

Mom is very biased. Every night, she will pour me a glass of milk before bedtime, simply because my grades are the best. My twin sister, Melody York, and my younger brother, Jason York, have never received this treatment before. On the night before my college entrance exam, Mom brings me a glass of milk before my bedtime as usual. But the next day, I end up collapsing in the exam venue even though I've always been healthy. Because of that, I miss out on the college entrance exam, causing me to fail. Meanwhile, Melody, whose grades have always been terrible, miraculously gets into an outstanding university. Mom consoles me, telling me that it's fine to just repeat the senior year. Every night, she prepares the same glass of milk for me as usual. Before the second college entrance exam, my cousin, Annie Wood, is staying over at my place temporarily. She wants to have a taste of my nighttime milk, only to get berated by Mom for being shameless. But halfway through the exam, I suffer from an intense stomachache all of a sudden. After that, I get sent to the hospital for emergency treatment. That year, I end up failing the exam again. But Annie, who comes from a vocational high school, gets into a pretty good university thanks to her scores. The entire family is elated, to say the least. But the fact that I have to repeat my senior year for the third time makes me the butt of everyone's jokes. I don't understand why all sorts of health problems will plague my body when it's time for my college entrance exam. When I'm taking the exam for the third time, I tell myself that this is my final chance, so I mustn't slack off no matter what. Three days before the exam, the only food I've ingested is the food offered by the school's cafeteria, just in case I run into more health problems on the day of the exam. But on the night before the exam, Mom brings me yet another glass of milk before bedtime.

My older sister Seraphina had always been the center of attention in New York's Upper East Side. Everyone worshiped her, protected her. At the Montgomery charity gala, my father asked we to choose our future husband in front of every powerful family in New York. Seraphina smiled and generously let me choose first. But this time, I said no. In my past life, I truly thought she cared about me. I followed her suggestion and married Declan Thorne, a man whose immune system had failed after a car crash. He had been confined to a wheelchair for years, and people whispered that he was worthless. I surrendered my place in the family and became his nurse, his support, the only thing keeping him from complete loneliness. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never reach his heart. Then, at Seraphina’s gender reveal party, Declan stood up from his wheelchair in front of everyone. "Brielle,I felt nothing for you. You were just a way for me to get closer to Sera." The silence lasted only a second before the room turned on me. Every whisper, every stare, every hidden laugh made me feel like the biggest fool in New York. That night, I rushed out of the party and drove away before anyone could see me break down. On the bridge, my hands shook so badly that the car spun out of control and crashed through the railing. I made ninety-nine calls before the river swallowed the car completely, and every single one went unanswered. Three days later, they found me trapped beneath the water, already suffocated in the wreckage. Then I opened my eyes, and I was back at the gala where my father had planned to announce our engagements. This time, I picked no one.