Freak Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

As the Donna of the Moretti Family, I paid out of my own pocket to build a high-security school for the children of our fallen members. But the widows repaid me by dragging my name through the media. Worse, they leaked the locations of three safe houses, dealing the Family a devastating blow. They claimed the school was never a benefit at all, but a “hostage camp” where I kept their children to force them to remain loyal to the Family. While Don Lorenzo Moretti was away, they even filed an impeachment motion with the Family Council, demanding that I shut down the school and hand its operating funds directly to them. Fine. I signed the closure order that very day. But the moment the notice went out, the widows swarmed the estate gates, crying and begging me to reopen the school. Only then did they understand— What waited for their children beyond the school gates was never freedom. It was a rival Family’s hit list.

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

My son, Tim, was kidnapped by a group of rogues. My husband, Alpha Kieran, spared no effort, using every resource at his disposal to find him. Finally, he tracked him down to an pub training center nearby. But when Tim regained consciousness, he discovered that he was disabled. As the only son of Kieran, destined to inherit his father’s title, he couldn’t bear the reality of his condition. Despair consumed him, and in his grief, he attempted to take his own life by drowning himself in the lake within our territory. I arrived too late. By the time I pulled him from the water, my strength was nearly gone. Kieran rushed me to the pack hospital, holding me close as he whispered into my ear, "Please, Selene, stay with me. I cannot lose you too." But after my surgery, as I lay in bed, I overheard Kieran speaking to his Beta, Damon, in the hallway. "Alpha, sacrificing the rescue mission that could have saved Tim seemed… excessive. Finding another heart donor wouldn’t have been impossible. Using Tim’s—he was your only son with Luna Selene." "I allowed him to be born because I knew he could save my daughter. I’ve already raised him long enough. It’s only right that he gives me what I need now." "And the doctor said siblings have a better chance of surviving heart transplants. Ana is my most precious child—I won’t risk her suffering another heart attack." Kieran’s words shattered me. He was my fated mate, the love of my life. Yet he had sacrificed our son—our son—to save the bastard child he had with his mistress. The marriage I once cherished, the fated mate I once believed in, had now become my own personal hell.

My younger brother, Anthony Chapman, the only family I had left, was suddenly diagnosed with cancer. Overnight, my modest salary became our only hope. I pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion, working overtime and taking on every extra assignment I could to earn enough bonuses and overtime pay to cover his treatment. But the universe seemed determined to make us suffer. One morning, just as I arrived at work, I received a notice that my brother was in critical condition. Below it was a string of voice messages from his girlfriend, Paige Fleming. Through helpless sobs, she told me they'd been through countless tests and had finally run out of money. My heart ached. I quickly reassured her and transferred the last 2,800 dollars in my bank account to her. Still consumed by worry, I took out another 14,000 dollars as a cash advance on my credit card. I urged her not to panic and to take good care of my brother, promising I'd find a way to cover the expenses somehow. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't afford to break down. I forced myself to regain my composure and returned to my desk. Just then, my best friend rushed over and thrust his phone toward me, a photo playing on the screen. "Clement, look at this! Isn't that your brother and his girlfriend? They're eating at some fancy restaurant!"

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."

I'm at an auction with my mother-in-law, Agnes Bachert. She spots a breathtaking emerald necklace, and we end up winning it for 30 million dollars. The auctioneer signals for payment. To make things easier, Agnes suggests charging it to my father-in-law Otto Garrett's account. But just as she says this, a flashy middle-aged woman and a young woman storm over. The younger woman, Janette Saccone, grabs Agnes' arm while the middle-aged woman, Ruth Coleman, slaps her hard. "I knew something was off!" Ruth snarls. "You're a nasty old bitch for destroying my family and trying to seduce my husband! I hope you suffer!" I rush to shield Agnes. "Are you okay?" Ruth's sharp gaze snaps onto me when she hears me speak. "Your mother-in-law has no shame, throwing herself at rich men. And you're not even embarrassed for her?" I step in front of Agnes and tell Ruth that I'm married into the Garrett family, then demand to know who she is. Ruth gives me a cold, arrogant look. "Who am I? I'm Otto Garrett's legal wife—the one he married officially!" She gives me a look of pure contempt. "And who are you to question me?" Before I can say a single word, she pulls out her phone and dials a number. "Clement, my dear son, get to the auction house right now! Help me catch this homewrecker!" Clement Garrett? That's my husband. Since when does he have another mother?

Just after stepping out of the shower, I received a private message from my so-called uncle, Hank Shephard—a distant relative I barely ever spoke to. "Francis, that new car you posted looks impressive. Perfect for William's wedding!" I hadn't even figured out how to reply to that out-of-nowhere comment when another message popped up. "Your cousin William is getting married next month. Just treat your car as his wedding gift." The entitlement in his tone made my head hurt. I didn't bother arguing and closed the chat window. Apparently, he did not think there was anything wrong with what he had said. Messages kept coming. "Don't worry, your uncle won't let you suffer a loss. "When it's your turn to get married, I'll have William drive that car as your lead wedding car. It'll make you look good." I stared at the screen in silence. That was the moment I realized—Some people don't just feel entitled to your belongings. They believe your life exists to serve theirs.

On my wedding day, 12 confetti cannons go off as the bridal car pulls up to the venue. My fiancee, Giselle Warren, accepts the cash gift Dad offers her—but she refuses to step out of the car. Assuming the amount isn't enough, Dad quickly reaches into his suit jacket for another envelope, but Giselle shakes her head. "That won't be necessary." Then, with every guest watching in stunned silence, she pulls out a bag filled with electronic tracking monitors. They're numbered 1 through 63, each tag labeled with the name of a relative on my family's guest list. "Tell your family to put these on right now," she says coldly. "Otherwise, I'm not getting out of this car." Dad forces a nervous, accommodating smile. He doesn't know what the devices are—he just knows this is the most important day of my life. He reaches out to take the bag. My fists clench, and I step in front of him, blocking his hand. Giselle's face hardens. "Last month, when Shawn invited your family over for dinner, an expensive watch and 20,000 dollars in cash went missing from his room! "This is the most important day of my life. If your redneck relatives start swiping bottles of wine, hoarding party favors, and stealing from my guests today, I won't survive the embarrassment!" Shawn Warren is her foster brother. They aren't related by blood, but she defends him like family. Dad's face flushes a deep, painful red, but he still places a trembling hand on my shoulder. "Just let them wear them. Don't upset your bride on your wedding day. Your mom and I will explain it to the relatives. Don't let this delay the ceremony. "If they haven't done anything wrong, wearing them won't hurt." I watch Dad's shoulders slump in humiliation as he turns away. Without hesitation, I pull out my phone and dial the venue manager. "Cancel the reception. The wedding is off."

“Mr. Mike Atkinson, the payment on your loan is past due.” The collection agent spoke in a flat voice, as though she were reading out just another routine notice. However, I had never taken out a loan in my life. After pressing her for details, I learned that my parents had used my personal information and credit history to take out a loan in my name for my younger brother. They had forged my signature on every document. I did not immediately drive back to my parents’ house and confront them. I left the family group chat. I returned to my small apartment and spent a long time thinking about what to do. When I finally called home, my mother burst into tears and berated me. “You’re his older brother. What’s wrong with taking on a little debt for him?” I ended the call, switched my phone to silent mode, and stared out at the night. I had nothing more to say to her.

The moment they released the year-end audit notice, I just stared in disbelief at the mention of my car, which I had paid for in full and in cash. It was boldly listed under the company’s fixed assets. “Our company practices a ‘family-friendly’ culture. What’s yours is the company’s. We’re a family. There’s no need to get picky about what’s yours or mine.” As if that was not enough, the company fired the driver and handed the chauffeuring duty to me. “Here’s the reception schedule for this month. Also, please pick up my dad at Babolle at 3 a.m. tonight.” My expression had darkened. Nonetheless, the human resources manager continued, “In a family, there’s no ‘yours’ or ‘mine’. My dad is your dad, right?” I was so furious that I almost exploded. ​ “I’m taking my car back, then!” She immediately took out a loan contract. “Simple. Pay by instalments. Work here for three years and you can ‘buy’ back your car.” So not only did I have to work as a driver for free, but I also had to pay to reclaim my car. Ever since the human resources manager parachuted in, she cut perks and cancelled vacations. She even started to dig into my wallet! “I quit!” She sneered. Then, she brandished a thick employee handbook. “Clause 1867 states that an employee who resigns of their own accord will need to pay double their salary. You’re under a six-month probation starting from now. Pass it, then you can leave.”

I was born with an extraordinary talent for being slow. In elementary school, my classmates laughed in my face for being an orphan. I proudly said, "That's right. I'm the only orphan in the whole school. That makes me the coolest!" The principal happened to pass by and thought I had been bullied so badly I had snapped. Furious, he called their parents and they gave them a beating when they got home. During my freshman year of high school, a boy tried to prank me by confessing to me with a bouquet of white lilies. I accepted them with a smile. "Thank you. How did you know lilies were my favorite?" After that, every time I saw him at school, I would smile and say, "I really liked the white lilies you gave me." For the next three years, everyone called him Lily instead. Later, my wealthy biological parents found me and brought me home. On my first day there, the fake heiress set me up by pretending I had pushed her down, then cried, "I made a mistake. Please don't hurt me!" My parents and older brother rushed over in a panic, but before they could accuse me of anything, realization struck. "You're practicing acting, right? I haven't even done my part yet! Let's do it again!" With that, I pulled her up and shoved her hard to the floor again. When my family saw how calm I was, they nodded in relief. Later, the whole family went to Harbor City for a banquet for the rich, and the fake heiress pushed me into a dark room. In front of me stood Harbor City's ruthless ruler. On the floor lay a man covered in blood, barely alive. I covered my mouth in surprise. The man narrowed his eyes dangerously and walked toward me. I said excitedly, "This is my first time seeing a movie set. Can I be in it too?"

After my parents have passed away, I drop out of school and spend the next ten years working my butt off so that I can put my younger sister, Delilah Scott, through school. When Delilah scores a total of 1550 on her SATs, I can't help but shed happy tears for her. After holding a grand celebratory party, I see live comments streaking in front of my eyes all of a sudden. "I'm so excited! Today, Lils will be spending her first night with Doug!" The sight of the first comment leaves me stunned. At first, I think I'm just seeing things. But the second comment soon flashes in front of me. "This is all Lils' fault for getting into a fight with Doug right before their SATs! Doug got mad at her and ended up scribbling her name all over his exam papers, causing him to score a big fat zero on everything! Poor Lils is overwhelmed by so much guilt that she has secretly changed her application for her dream university to the community college Doug will be studying at! "Tonight, Lils will be giving her virginity to Doug just to comfort him! Once they start college, they'll be busy popping out babies one after another. After graduation, they'll inherit Lils' older sister's company right away and live happily ever after as a married couple!" The moment the comments vanish before my eyes, I see Delilah walking out of her room. "Trish, I'm sleeping over at my best friend's house tonight, so I won't be coming home."

At seven in the evening, Summit Highway is fully closed in both directions. I'm working through the night to move my flock when a pink Mercedes G-Wagon plows straight through the barricade at the temporary roadblock. As a result, 29 Suffon breeding sheep, each wearing a specially assigned identification tag, are crushed to death on the spot. Cecilia Shaw holds her nose as she gets out of her car. She kicks aside a sheep that is still twitching and says, "Ugh, this sucks! How dare these worthless sheep block my way? Get rid of them now!" I stare at the pool of blood on the ground as I speak. "You plow through a barricade during a road closure and run over my sheep, killing them. Not only are you not offering to compensate me, but you also tell me to get rid of them?" Cecilia sizes me up with a look of annoyance. "Are you out of your mind? You dare try to extort me? I'm the heiress of Eastport's Shaw Group. "My family controls half of the entire country's fresh produce market. Piss me off, and I'll tell my dad to ensure that not a single pound of lamb from this backwater town ever sells again!" I observe her smug, arrogant expression, then pull out my satellite phone. "In that case, let's have the highway patrol come and determine who's at fault."

After guarding the nation's border for ten years, I return home only to see my younger sister, Piper Wright, being trampled under someone’s foot. "Where did this country bumpkin come from? How dare you show up at a place like this?" The man in a suit throws an invitation in her face. "Take a look at yourself. What do you think you are? My sister is Velda Mercer, the top socialite of Hyporion. If you offend me, I will have your whole family thrown into the river!" I smash his nose with a single punch. I help Piper to her feet and dial Velda's number. "Velda Mercer, if it were not for me back then, you would still be begging for food. How dare you bully my sister?"

The Vale family was the most powerful mafia syndicate in the New York City. And I—along with a few other carefully chosen girls—had been handpicked to join their ranks, trained from the ground up so that the next head of the family could choose his wife from among us. Wife. That was the kinder word for it. The truth was whoever got picked would become his shield, his weapon, his most loyal protector. Someone who would kill for him. Die for him. Years passed. One by one, the others fell away. In the end, only Elara Quinn and I remained. And then, Elara died—killed on a secret mission. After that, there were no more choices left. I became Adrian Vale’s wife by default. I had given everything to Adrian. And I loved him. I thought he loved me too until I took a bullet to the chest—meant for him. As I lay there, barely breathing, I heard Adrian talking to his assistant, “Don’t bury her in the Vale cemetery. My half is reserved for Elara.” That was it. Elara—who had never even lived long enough to marry him—still had a space carved beside him in death. I? I had taken the hit that should have ended him… and yet I wasn’t even good enough to be buried near him. I slowly closed my eyes. And when I opened them again, I was back on the day the Vale family formally announced Adrian as their new head. The day everything began.

I had just left the hospital after undergoing a dilation and curettage procedure for uterine fibroids. On the bus, I happened to encounter a woman who was crying and claiming she had menstrual cramps and a terrible stomachache, asking me to give up my seat. But I refused. I never expected the woman to be the famous internet influencer, Bella Marsh. While I was completely unprepared, she started a livestream, and the next day, I was violently attacked online and pushed onto the trending searches. Netizens even dug up the record of my procedure at the hospital. “With a uterine wall that thin, it’s obvious she has had so many failed pregnancies.” “No wonder she was so shameless and refused to give up her seat—turns out she’s a despicable woman.” The so-called righteous netizens harassed me until I fell into depression, and even my boyfriend stepped forward to accuse me of being dirty and said he wanted to break up. Unable to endure the blow, I jumped from the rooftop, while the female influencer gained tens of millions of followers and began livestream selling, earning more money than she could count. Only after my death did I learn that the influencer had been my boyfriend’s childhood crush. To boost the popularity of her livestream, she and my boyfriend had deliberately staged the entire scene. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Bella asked me to give up my seat.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

Two weeks before my wedding to Alexander Hayes, he invites his friends over to our small home. During dinner, Alexander keeps groping me, whether intentionally or not. After they finish eating, I overhear their conversation as I clear the dishes and walk past the study. "Alex, Lydia's quite something. I touched her earlier, and her skin's so soft. She nearly pulled my soul out. "If you don't mind, let us guys have some fun with her once she pays off the debt for you. We'll help you cover the cost of whatever Kay wants." Alexander chuckles softly, his voice casual and careless. "Sure, I don't mind. I've been sleeping with her for so long, I'm already sick of her anyway. "Just make sure she doesn't rat us out to my grandpa... Actually, forget it. She's blind anyway, so she won't figure it out." For two years, I've devoted myself completely to taking care of Alexander, yet he's ready to throw me into other men's beds, using my body to settle his debts. I stand silently at the doorway, feeling absolutely nothing. Of course, I know that someone else has been replacing him for a year. The person who holds me close night after night isn't him, and the child in my belly isn't his either.

My cousin used my gaming account to start an online relationship with one of my teammates. However, after video calling her, he decided she was too gorgeous to be real. "A girl that hot wouldn't need to date online. She'd have enough guys chasing her to fill a stadium. It's gotta be a face filter. Just go meet her for me, bro. If she's busted in person, I'll actually throw up." In my last life, I turned him down. He was too much of a coward to go himself, so he just sent her a breakup message and called it done. Yet when he later found out that his online girlfriend really was that stunning in person, he turned all his rage on me and shoved me off a building. "If you'd gone to meet her for me back then, I wouldn't have lost her. This is all your fault! You deserve to die!" When I was reborn and he asked me again to meet her on his behalf, I said yes with a smile.

I'm a Gen Z rookie at work. When my boss is being poured a drink, I intercept the bottle. When he gives a speech, I strike up a chat. He opens the car door, and I hop right in. I don't do overtime, and I never take the fall. My manager wants to steal my credit and pocket my bonuses? Hilarious. The company belongs to my family. Your boss is my dad!