Female Solidarity 短篇故事與小說

I'm in the hills for a project inspection when a sudden downpour hits. I lose my footing and tumble down a steep slope. Lying in a pool of blood, I fumble for my phone and call my husband, Joel Grant, who's supposed to be nearby. "Rachel has anxiety. I only brought her back to her hometown to help her unwind. Can you stop being so paranoid and jealous for once? You're due in two weeks. I'll be there, okay? Just behave." In the background, I hear Rachel giggle softly. "The models have to be in their birthday suit for sketching, right?" Joel hangs up without another word. My sister-in-law—and best friend—Chloe Murphy finds me. She's sobbing as she cradles me, desperately trying to call her husband, Michael Grant, for help. "Are all pregnant women insane these days?" Michael snaps. "Don't start with the same manipulative crap as Anna. Joel and I are busy modeling for Rachel. We don't have time for your petty dramas." Then he blocks her. My injuries are too severe. There's no way help will arrive in time. Despite being heavily pregnant herself, Chloe hoists me onto her back and carries me down the mountain to the nearest hospital. Somehow, I survive. My baby doesn't. Chloe, devastated and physically pushed past her limits, loses her child too. "I want a divorce," I whisper with my eyes swollen from crying. "Me too. I'm done with Michael." We filed for divorce together. That's when Joel and Michael finally lose their minds.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

I give my grandmother a gift she'll never forget on her 60th birthday. My husband and I get into a fight on the highway back to my hometown. He pulls over in the emergency lane and chases me out of the car. He then drives off, leaving me stranded on the highway. He later gets into a major accident on the highway. His car is totaled, and he dies. It's actually not an accident—it's homicide. I'm the murderer.

My best friend and I grow up together, and we each have our childhood friends. When we're old enough, we marry our childhood friends. One is a doctor, and one is a firefighter. We even fall pregnant one after the other. During our pregnancies, we go out for a stroll. Suddenly, I'm rammed over, and I fall into the river. My best friend miscarries after trying to save me, and my child dies in my belly, too. I call my husband. However, he roars, "Cass is in danger; I have to save her first! Stop bothering me!" My best friend is also reprimanded by her husband. After giving birth to the dead fetuses, we both decide to get divorced. However, the two men weep and beg us not to leave.

After the human race loses the war, the beastfolk rule over the human lands. As crown princess, my sister Amber Whitaker is born beautiful and is handed over to the Beast King, Theron Olson, as his concubine. Compared to her, I'm plain, so they send me to the breeding quarters, where beastmen fight over me and use me like a breeding machine. However, Amber doesn't fare well either. She's too gentle for palace schemes. Before long, the other women frame her, and she dies. As for me, pregnancy after pregnancy wears my body down until it's too weak to go on, and I die filled with hatred. Then, everything blurs. When Amber and I open our eyes, we stare at each other in shock and realize we're back on the very day the human race falls. This time, I hold her hand tightly and say firmly, "Let me serve the Beast King instead!" On the night, Theron takes me to his bed. "You look so slim, yet you're surprisingly full. Are you afraid?" With that, he strips away my clothes and casts off his own. One glance makes my breath hitch. I've seen beastmen's packages before, but I never expected Theron to have two!

Everyone says Brandon Foster loves me to the bone. I'm the only one who knows he has a secret lover—a poor student I once sponsored. On our wedding night, he brushed me off with the excuse of needing to entertain the guests. In truth, he was busy fooling around with her. Well, I don't care about that anymore. I have cancer, and my time is running out. I don't expect him and his lover to both lose their minds when they find out, though.

My best friend and I. A witch and a Fae from Whisperwood. I have the blood of a Seer. My three rune bones can see a kingdom's rise and fall. She's a gold-touched Fae. Born to attract wealth. One roll of the dice in a goblin casino, and she'd empty their vault. When we were eighteen, we found a disgraced Grand Duke in the capital's slums. His stepmother had thrown him out. We saved him. She amassed his gold. I spun his fate. We helped him claw his way back to the capital. He took back his land. His scepter. The first thing he did? He asked my best friend to marry him. They had a son. A gifted heir. I grew tired of the noble squabbles. I went back to my hidden cottage in the woods. Ten years later, a little princess. Blessed by the Moon Goddess. Finally born in the Duke's castle. He was ecstatic. Flew his griffin over the mountains that night. Begged me to come bless his daughter. Of course, I agreed. I stood over the cradle. Drew a sacred blessing rune on the baby's forehead. Before I left, I had a sudden urge. I tossed my three rune bones. A quick look into my friend's future. But they hit the floor and turned to dust. Black magic choked the air. An omen of death. Her soul was gone. Ice flooded my veins. If my best friend was already dead...then who was the Duchess, smiling at me from her velvet chaise?

I, Nora Jackson, was the fake heiress of the Jackson family, a billionaire family. When the biological daughter, Chloe Jackson, returned, she played the sweet sister act in public. Behind closed doors? She would squeeze out tears to our parents, claiming I looked down on her humble background. Furious, I dumped salt into her morning milk. She retaliated by shredding over a hundred of my designer gowns. For six months, we waged outright war, each praying the other would get kicked out. Then came my birthday bash. I walked in to find my boyfriend, Julian West, playing a mouth-to-mouth shot game with my best friend, Janet Fraser. I slapped them both. Julian kicked me so hard and cracked my ribs. He grabbed me by the hair, dragging my face into the floor while humming with a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Still playing high-society princess? You’re just a fake.” Janet smirked down at me. “Bow to me ten times and apologize. Then we’ll call it even.” Desperate, I looked over at my older brother, Ethan Jackson. He just swirled his glass of red wine. “Be realistic, Nora,” he said coldly. “In your position, you can’t afford to offend a single person in this room.” Just as I gave up hope, the real heiress, Chloe Jackson, strolled in with a hundred armed bodyguards, shutting down the entire hall. She glared at me first. “Pathetic.” Then she stepped up and slapped Ethan eighteen times in the face. She pulled out a buyout agreement, tossing it onto the table. “Julian West, right? I just bought out your family’s entire company. Go on your knees now or enjoy living your life on the street.”

For three years straight, my father had taken the whole family on a Christmas trip. This year, even my newly-engaged fiancé tagged along. Everyone except me. "Chloe, Legal's swamped at year-end. You'd better stay and work—keep an eye on the house for us while you're at it. We won't book a ticket or hotel for you." My father's excuse sounded perfectly reasonable. Beside him, my mother and sister were already chatting about the snow-capped Alps, not a flicker of doubt that anything was off. And my fiancé, Jack, was helping them load luggage, grinning as he said he'd be the perfect German translator for the trip. For three years, they'd always found a reason to leave me behind. And for three years, I'd caved. Not this time. I didn't argue. I just watched them drive off. The moment the car disappeared, I walked into HR and dropped my resignation. Half a month later, my family flew back—only to find themselves locked out of the apartment. Key cards were all disabled. Security guards from the company were blocking the entrance. My father called, over and over. I didn't pick up. I just sent one message: "I quit. The company took back the executive apartment. Oh, and the engagement's off too. Happy New Year!"

On the day I went into labor, my mate Caleb Ashford received a call from his first love. "Caleb, I'm back. Can you end your mate bond with her and become my mate?" Caleb glanced at me in the delivery room, said nothing, and hung up without hesitation. I thought he had chosen me. But the day I was discharged after giving birth, he slid a mate bond dissolution agreement across the table toward me. "Nora, I'm sorry. I can't say no to Lila. After the bond is dissolved, I'll give you a large sum of money to make up for it." I stared at the dissolution agreement in front of me. I didn't cry or make a scene. I picked up the pen calmly and signed my name, Nora Hart, at the bottom. Caleb hadn't expected me to agree so readily. A flicker of shock crossed his eyes. I handed him the signed agreement. "It's fine. I've always known Lila is the one you've loved all these years. "Being your mate for seven years was already more than I could have ever asked for." With that, I turned and walked away under his stunned gaze. Once I was out of his sight, I looked at my copy of the agreement again. The settlement was enough to keep me comfortable for three lifetimes. He had no idea that playing it cool was a gold digger's oldest trick.

I was the sole front desk clerk at a haunted hotel. Welcoming players, checking in on the bosses’ quarters, and slacking off a bit were all part of the job. At least, that was what I thought. It turned out my days were far from ordinary. A blood-drenched little girl in a tattered red dress kept ringing the service bell. Her eerie voice echoed, “Miss, why didn’t you come play with me?” A creepy black cat with glowing eyes wouldn’t stop meowing and rubbing against my legs. And then there was the old woman with claws like knives, cheerfully knitting me a sweater… out of players’ skin. One day, I took a day off to care for my sick mother. That was my biggest mistake. The entire game instance erupted in chaos. Bosses interrogated players, demanding to know where their precious front desk clerk had gone. “Did she abandon us? Is she never coming back?” I ran. They chased. But no matter how fast I fled, their grip on me only tightened. In the end, escape wasn’t an option.

My childhood sweetheart has aplastic anemia and desperately needs a bone marrow transplant. His brother agrees to help, but there's a catch. "I can save him, but you need to marry me." My lover ultimately dies because of medical negligence. I'm heartbroken but still marry Martin Steinfeld per my promise. During the wedding, he gets on one knee before me. His gaze is loving as he says, "I'll treat you well for life, Audrey Lynch. I'll be a thousand times better than Henry; I won't let you shed another tear." I look at his face, which is so much like Henry Steinfeld's. I believe him. Three years after our marriage, I'm five months along when I stumble upon Martin with his mistress. He wraps an arm around her and sighs. "She still can't forget about that dead guy despite us being married for so long. She's not like you, who only has eyes for me. "If not for her insisting on marrying Henry and ruining my future, I wouldn't have had to take my own brother down so much earlier than planned." My blood runs cold, and I tremble all over. Hatred consumes me, and I only have one thought—I have to destroy Martin!

I was diagnosed with cancer. After much deliberation, I called my husband. He fell silent for a long while. “Most of our mortgage is unpaid, and our children need money for school. You should go for conservative treatment.” I called my mother while weeping. “You’re so troublesome. None of my friends or family have cancer!” I stopped crying and started living for myself. God favored me and let me see reality early in my life. He even gave me a chance to start over.

Years ago, a witch cast a prophecy over me. She said I was the cursed wolf, an abomination who would bring the pack to ruin. My parents believed it completely. Locked me in the cellar that same night and left me to starve. My older sister, Sia, fought like hell to keep me alive. When the pack came for me, she stood in front of every single one of them, crying as she tried to shield me. "She's not an abomination. She's never hurt anyone." Because of those words, when the Alpha fell for her but still feared me, that so-called abomination, I volunteered for exile. Walked away from the pack forever. Before I left, I gave Sia a charm. Told her, if anyone ever laid a hand on her, just speak into it, and I'd come running. No questions asked. Three years later, I had clawed my way to Alpha of the Wintercrest Pack through sheer power. I was about to tell Sia the news when her distress signal hit me. My blood went cold. I raced back to my old pack, only to walk right into the Alpha's covenant ceremony with another woman. That smug witch was up there, chanting blessings over the happy couple. My parents stood by, grinning. And Sia? Nowhere. I scanned the crowd again. Still nothing. My chest tightened. Let me be crystal clear. If anything happened to Sia, I would give them a real abomination to fear.

In my past life, I was a top-tier criminal psychologist sent to the mountains to assist in an abduction case. I rescued a girl who was all chained up and fighting for food with wild dogs. She didn’t know how to talk and bit anyone who came close. To help her integrate into normal life, I taught her to walk on her two legs, dress herself, eat, talk, and read. Despite being bitten by her so badly that I had to get stitches, I continued staying by her side day and night. Five years later, I helped her find her biological parents, who turned out to be the richest family in the city. Yet, at her welcome banquet, she pulled the hem of her dress away, revealing old scars on her thighs and accusing me before hundreds of media partners and reporters. “Not only did Professor Lawson teach me the rules of society, but he even taught me how to please and serve others. He'd bully me and hit me if I were disobedient.” I was treated like a pariah overnight. The richest man in the city crippled me and hung me on the bridge over the sea as a warning to all. My sister, who had severe depression, had her privacy violated. She was driven to slit her wrists and commit suicide. In this life, the cellar door was kicked down once again. The girl, all covered in filth and dirt, climbed toward me once more, hugging my leather shoes and sobbing. I immediately took a step back and pulled out my body cam. “The suspect is extremely aggressive. Call for female cops and have them bring restraint straps with them. I refuse to come into contact with any underage persons of the opposite gender.”

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

My sister and I married into wealthy families at the same time and became glamorous society wives. She had been childhood sweethearts with her husband, a CEO who was admired and respected by all. On the surface, their marriage was harmonious and respectful. But three years after the wedding, she got drunk one night and tearfully confessed to me. "Carrie… he's seeing someone else. He even has a love child now. They've been together longer than we've been married. He's been lying to me all this time. I'm just a joke to him." My eyes burned, brimming with unshed tears. "Actually… Kai's cheating too. He even bought his mistress a luxury car." We cried together all night. Gradually, our sorrow slowly turned into cold, clear resolve. "I don't want that bastard anymore, Carrie." "It's okay, Rachel. If you're walking away, I am too. I don't want my scumbag husband either." After a long talk, we made our final decision: Since this life wasn't working, we'd disappear. We'd leave it all behind and vanish without a trace.

My best friend was a D-list influencer who'd blown six months of savings to drag me to a so-called "socialite finishing school." But then the instructor made us slap each other across the face — an "obedience test." I couldn't help it. I laughed. The next second, my friend was blacklisted from the entire circle, and her agent sent a termination notice. The instructor pointed at me and gave my friend an ultimatum: "Get on your knees. Slap her ten times. Then I'll lift the ban." My friend cried, trembling as she walked toward me. I sighed. The billion-dollar inheritance I'd just received — looks like the secret was about to come out.

In my past life, my best friend and I married twins at the same time. We shared secrets, complained about our husbands, and teamed up to outsmart our overbearing mother-in-law—it was truly enjoyable. Until the day I nearly died giving birth to twins. As I lay on the brink of death, my best friend cradled my newborns and revealed the cruel truth. “Thank you, Bianca, for giving me such adorable twins. You had no idea, did you? The twins only ever loved me. If I had the ability to give birth, we wouldn't have used you as a tool to have kids. "You’re poor and have never been loved, so it was far too easy to manipulate you. Even the way your husband loved you? It was all my idea—I planned every move he made. “Oh, and every time you two were intimate, I was watching through the cameras—every single time!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I met my best friend.

At four months pregnant, I went to pick up my prenatal test results with my husband, Aiden Carter, who was an OB-GYN. The smile at the corner of his lips froze the moment he saw the report. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and tried to schedule an abortion. I stood there in shock. The attending physician, Dr. Marianne Cole, had just told me the baby was perfectly healthy! I tore myself free and demanded, "Why do you want me to get an abortion?!" He didn’t answer and had already scheduled the procedure. When I tried to run, he yanked my arm tighter. "There's no way we are having this child!" Clutching my belly, I hurried to call my parents, who were both OB-GYNs themselves. Dad, who had always doted on me, raised his fist, aiming straight for my stomach. Mom’s face twisted in horror, shaking her head wildly. "No, this won’t work. It can’t be like this." "Find a few men. Lock Clara Hart in with them." I didn’t understand why they were so desperate to destroy my child. All I wanted was to escape. Instead, they locked me inside a pitch-black room. When I felt the blood trickling down my legs, I knew my baby was gone. Mom came smiling to fetch me. I fought, demanding to know why they had done this to me. Without responding, she turned around and sent me straight to Ravenwood Asylum. I was tortured to death there. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day I went to collect my prenatal report. Aiden looked at me, his face glowing with joy. "Baby, this is our first child. I can’t wait for the day he’s born."