Plot Twists Short Stories & Freak Regret Novels

After my physical examination, I'm about to leave the pack infirmary located in my cousin's territory when a heavily made-up healer suddenly grabs my arm. She hisses, "Stop right there! You think you can break something in the infirmary and just run away? No way!" I look at her unfamiliar face and blink, feeling utterly confused. "What did I break?" She points to the crystal potion bottles on the shelves and wrinkles her nose exaggeratedly. "You reek, and your stench has contaminated all the potions, making them unusable! Alpha Xander bought these at a high cost, and all of it is worth 500 thousand dollars. There's also compensation for causing me emotional distress—that's another 200 thousand. "Altogether, that's 700 thousand dollars. Will you pay by cash or card?" My scent is a mix of violet and amber. It's noble and cool, like a winter dusk. Of course, not everyone loves this scent, but "contamination"? Please! I can't fathom why the infirmary in Xander's territory is operating like a scam. I laugh out of anger and say, "I'm Alpha Xander's cousin. I don't pay a single cent in his territory. If anyone has a problem with that, have Xander come say it to my face." But the healer only rolls her eyes. "You bitch, trying to use such lowly tricks to get my Alpha's attention? You wish! If you don't pay up today, I'll strip you naked and throw you onto the street so that everyone can smell how foul you are!" She has no idea who she's threatening. I take a deep breath and quickly contact my Beta. "Tell Xander—either banish this healer from the pack, or I'll banish him."

As soon as I graduated from university, I suggested to my three roommates that we should rent a place together. The place I found was near our workplace, and it was cheap as well. It was much better than the house they used to rent in the suburbs. During the first three months of renting the place together, everything seemed fine. One day, I got off work early and heard them talking in the living room. "I did some research online. The rent of the houses in this area is at least 2 grand a month. But ours is only 800 dollars a month. How about we rent the master bedroom out for 800 dollars? That way, we won't have to pay any rent." "Alright, I'm in! Why does Jessica always get to sleep in the master bedroom? Even if she covered all the bills of this house, how much would that cost anyway?" "I've had it with her arrogant attitude. Thinking of her being homeless makes me want to laugh!" I laughed inwardly. 'You want to see me homeless? But I'm the landlord!'

After pulling an all-nighter to finish a group assignment, I wanted only one thing: sleep. I did not even get 10 minutes. My roommate, Ronda Jones, burst into the dorm, raging about class. She shouted into her headset and turned our room into a storm of insults and keyboard slams. When I quietly asked her to keep it down, she turned on me instead. Then the power went out, and a 5-dollar electricity bill became the excuse she had been waiting for. I refused to split it. That single decision set everything in motion.

"Look, chat! The rich guy who lives in this fancy apartment is secretly a pervert who gropes college girls!" As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, my neighbor Yvonne Shaw cornered me at the door. She tugged at her collar while crying to the camera. "Chat, this is where the guy lives! Just now in the elevator, he covered my mouth and groped me all over... If the elevator door hadn't opened in time, he would have dragged me back to his place!" The comments section exploded, the screen filled with curses aimed at my husband. But later, in court, when they saw my husband who had lost both arms saving someone five years ago... They were all dumbfounded.

Damien and his ex-wife got divorced five years ago, and then he married me. When I married him, he had a 13-year-old adopted daughter named Lily. After our marriage, Damien treated me exceptionally well and I always treated Lily like my own daughter, even when she occasionally showed hostility towards me, I didn't mind. That's normal for a teenage girl. Until my father was accidentally hit by a car and left in a vegetative state, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Damien and his assistant. "Boss, I don't get it. Why block the craniotomy?" the assistant asked, sounding confused. "The doctors say there’s a high chance he could recover. Why are you insisting on conservative treatment?" "He can't wake up," Damien’s voice was suppressed with pain. "He saw Lily's face." I clamped my hand over my mouth, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. Lily is the adopted daughter of Damien and his late ex-wife, Sarah. Sarah died saving Damien, so he has always treated Lily with a mix of guilt and utter indulgence. Damien continued, his tone incredibly conflicted. " But Lily didn't do it on purpose! She is only thirteen... If she gets a criminal record, her life is over. Sarah’s only dying wish was for me to take care of Lily and see her grow up safe and sound. I can't give up on her." The assistant fell silent for a few seconds. "And what about your wife?" "I’ll make it up to her," Damien’s voice softened. "I’ll provide her with the most prosperous life, and secure the largest private ward along with the best caregivers for her father who’s suffered from the car accident. I don’t care how much it costs." My heart sank completely. Just because you feel guilty towards Sarah and Lily, you're going to sacrifice my father? With trembling hands, I saved the recording and had my lawyer prepare the divorce papers. But when I completely disappeared, the once powerful CEO went mad.

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

On the first day of every month, my mom will give me my allowance based on the number of times I had checked in with her last month. "You'll receive 20 dollars for greeting your parents once in the morning and once in the evening. But last month, you only hit ten days' worth of quota, so you can only receive 200 dollars. This also means your 300-dollar punctuality fee will be deducted as well. "After adding on 150 dollars for your basic necessities, you shall receive only 350 dollars for this month's allowance. Remember to write a reflection report on your lack of punctuality later. I'll only transfer you the money if your report is acceptable." I become so overwhelmed by anxiety that my voice starts trembling. "I was busy with my finals last month, Mom! I had to line up outside the library at 5:00 am every day just so I could secure myself a seat! That's why I couldn't call you in time!" In a choked-up tone, I plead to my mom, "I need 600 dollars for the train ticket all the way home during the holidays! 350 dollars really isn't enough for me! Mom, can you please—" But my mom cuts me off firmly, "The allowance system is something that I've specifically designed for you so that I can help you get rid of the bad habit of wanting to receive everything without putting in hard work! Why can't you just understand that I'm doing this for your own good?" After that, she ends the call mercilessly. Just as I'm filled with despair and helplessness, a blond appears before my eyes. He's willing to buy my train ticket for me, but in return, I need to leave with him.

While I'm enjoying a promotional set that I've ordered from a restaurant, my best friend sends me screenshots she has taken from someone's social media feed. "I just met a weird customer who's clearly impoverished but acts like she isn't. How can I make her realize that she has no right to be dining in such a fine establishment?" The screenshot's descriptions grow even more familiar. "One has to spend an average of two thousand dollars in this fine dining restaurant, and yet this broke loser has the nerve to order the cheapest promotional set instead! On top of that, she's shameless and pathetic enough to make me take a photo of her that makes her look very fancy! "Seriously, I want nothing more than to post that ugly and unedited photo of hers on my social media feed and pin it there, just so I can humiliate her to no end!" Someone in the comment section tells the floor captain of the restaurant to watch her behavior. "She's a customer at the end of the day; your restaurant's reputation will suffer from a blemish if things get out of hand. "You should know when to stop. After all, you're in the hospitality industry, so you shouldn't act too arrogantly." The original poster has the guts to respond to that comment. "I will never show respect to those who can't afford a 14-thousand-dollar meal! The fact that I have the balls to post the entire thing on my social media means I'm not scared of that peasant at all! What can she do to me anyway?"

I get cyberbullied by the elderly people in my community. Apparently, they've uploaded videos, claiming that my charity kitchen that sells one-dollar meals not only sells bad food, but I've also sold them at ridiculously high prices. During the first year of the kitchen's establishment, I've sunk 420 thousand dollars and given it my all in running the kitchen. But all I receive in return is the Internet's backlash on me, which calls me for being a vile person. So, I decided to go along with the public opinion by shutting down the kitchen entirely. Then, I transform the venue into a card room that costs ten dollars per hour. As soon as the notice is posted, the entire community goes nuts. The elderly people's children soon show up on my doorstep and beg me to reopen the kitchen.

In my previous life, I became the “lucky groom” and married Juniper Green, a woman in a coma, in place of my younger brother, Sean Hale. However, what I never knew was that the person Juniper truly loved had always been Sean. For ten long years, every frown Sean made became another reason for Juniper to torment me. My blood became his medicine. My bone marrow became his backup supply. To her, my entire existence was nothing more than a life-extending cure for Sean. Juniper had often said to me, “If you hadn’t gotten in the way, Sean would’ve been my rightful husband long ago. Keeping him alive is the only purpose you have.” In the end, she signed the consent form for my bone marrow donation. Then, she watched coldly as my life was drained away. “Being able to save Sean’s life is your honor.” Then, I was reborn and returned to the very day I was supposed to marry into the Green family. This time, I decided to return that “honor” to my dear brother. However, before I could even speak, Sean suddenly stepped forward first. His face was pale as he clutched his chest weakly. “Mom, please don’t force it on William. I’m willing to marry into the Green family instead, because I’ve fallen in love with Juniper.

Someone suddenly tags me in a parents' group chat. "Hey Madison, I notice that the lunch boxes you've prepared for your daughter have a nice variety and rich in nutrients. Why don't you prepare the same thing for my son starting from tomorrow onward? "I'm not going to leech off you. In fact, I'll pay you ten dollars per day. When it stacks up, you'll earn quite a lot per month." As I stare at the messages on the screen, I find the situation rather ridiculous. My daughter, Sophie Reed, is extremely picky, not to mention she has food allergies. All of the ingredients of her meals are flown in from their places of origin. That means one meal's net price is more than 500 dollars. Yet now, someone intends to use ten dollars just for me to replicate the same meal for them? I reply right away in the group chat, "No way." Unexpectedly, the next day, Sophie is in tears when she returns from the kindergarten. She tells me that her lunch box has gotten snatched by a fellow classmate. On top of that, the teacher scolds her for being selfish as well. Fine. Since those shameless people intend to take advantage of me, don't blame me for being ruthless at all.

My cousin, Vincent Walker, has fallen in love with Rova Thornwick, the chieftess of a cannibal tribe in Ambryndel. He insists on dragging the entire family to the tribe just so they can sort out the details of his wedding. Little do we know that Vincent has screwed up on the very first day. He accidentally mistakes the tribe's Divine Goblet for a toilet bowl due to his ignorance toward the rules. Vincent and his family are worried that they might get in trouble, so they flee from Ambryndel overnight without letting us know. As a result, my family and I get tied up by the furious cannibals. Later on, we are roasted to death over the fire pit. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Vincent insists on traveling to Ambryndel to marry Rova.

On New Year's Eve, my cousin and I went to the supermarket to stock up for the holiday when a cold wave hit out of nowhere. The temperature plummeted dozens of degrees, and the world plunged into an ice-cold apocalypse. In the blink of an eye, people froze solid into ice sculptures. I scrambled to grab winter coats and whatever supplies I could, but my cousin just sat there playing video games. He even posted his pentakill on social media to brag about it. I went through hell to snag him a down jacket, and he still insisted he was not afraid of the cold. "I'm a real man. You think a little cold scares me?" He refused to eat the compressed biscuits. He even used our scarce bottled water to wash his limited-edition sneakers, then threw a fit demanding freshly pan-seared steak. "It's called having standards, look it up. Even if I die, I'm dying tough and with style!" I scoffed. Since he wanted to die tough, he could go right ahead and freeze into an ice sculpture. Ice sculptures were plenty tough.

When Dexter Welch, a security guard who works in the residential area, sees me driving my pink Toyota Corolla everywhere, he's very certain that I'm a sugar baby who's being backed by her own sugar daddy. On the first day, I see one word getting carved into the car hood. It says "bitch". I merely give the hood a wipedown without uttering a word. Later on, I swap out the current SD card of my dashcam to an SD card that has a 512 GB memory. On the second day, my car windows get smashed in. When I go over to the property management office to check the security footage, the front desk agent tells me that the security camera overseeing my car "happens" to be broken. Dexter leans against the desk with a grin on his face. "If that car of yours is ruined, then so be it. Tell your sugar daddy to buy you another one." I crouch down and take a picture of the damage. Then, I save it into a folder called "evidence" in my phone. On the third day, two of my tires have gone flat. When I bend down to pick up a spare tire, Dexter hugs me from behind all of a sudden. He murmurs into my ear, "What's so good about sleeping with an old codger? Why don't you date me instead? I'm young and strong—" That's when I grab a wrench and smash it right into his arm. As Dexter nurses his injured arm, he glares at me. "How dare you lay a finger on me! Go ahead and lodge a report, then! My uncle's the property manager here! What can you do about me, hmm?" I silently note down Dexter's work ID without saying anything. On the fourth day, I drive another pink car back to the apartment. As soon as Dexter notices the flash of pink in its usual parking slot, he smiles as he exits the guardhouse. Then, he pulls out a key from his pocket and scratches my car with all his strength. An older gentleman who happens to be walking his dog nearby freezes in his tracks. He sounds so startled that his voice actually cracks. "Have you gone nuts? Do you know the model of the car you've just scratched? That's a top-tier Rolls-Royce!"

Near the end of the year, my best friend, Bethany Greer, and I decide to buy matching gold-plated bangles from Temu for ten dollars just to keep up appearances. The moment we open the package, we both freeze in shock. The heavy weight in our hands and the dazzling shine of pure gold practically scream luxury and authenticity. My hands tremble as I quickly snap a photo and message the seller. I text, "There seems to be something wrong with this order." The seller replies instantly, sounding incredibly arrogant. "Why did you only say something is wrong only after you received it? What were you doing earlier?" I try to send photos as proof. "No, seriously, look at what I'm holding first. I ordered fake bangles..." The seller does not even look at the pictures and immediately sends a voice message in an incredibly rude tone. "I don't care what you order! Once the package is opened, there's no seven-day return policy! Even if it rots in your hands, that's your problem! Don't try making excuses to scam stuff for free. Once the packaging is opened, it belongs to you. Not even the Almighty can help you return it! "And if you dare spread nonsense, I'll report you for posting malicious reviews!" I stare thoughtfully at the gold bangle on my wrist that is worth thousands of dollars. Well, since he insists so strongly, I guess I'll reluctantly keep it. I just hope he doesn't regret it when he realizes the real bangle is missing!

As soon as my neighbor, Shirley Lambert, walked past my house and peeked inside, her eyes lit up. "Mrs. Fisher, this place is huge. It has great lighting too. It'd make the perfect playroom for my son. "You live alone anyway. Just move into our living room. A two-bedroom apartment has more than enough space. "Since we're neighbors, I'll let you stay for free. No rent." I felt so irritated that I nearly gagged. She actually shoved past me into the house and started pointing around like she owned the place. "This crappy couch has to go. The living room would feel way bigger without it. "Oh, and the whole floor needs carpeting. That'd make it safe for my son when he runs around. "Also, why don't you have an air-conditioner? What if my precious boy gets a heat stroke? Could you even afford his medical bills?" She suddenly turned around and glared at me. "Mrs. Fisher, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf? Haven't you got any manners?" Anyone who didn't know better would've thought I was her servant and not her neighbor. I snorted. Clearly, she had no idea about my reputation as the neighborhood menace. "Well, I see you've got plenty of money, and I've got deep pockets. Why don't you hand all your cash over to me for keeping? "And if you like other people's houses so much, I'll write that for you in my letter to Santa this Christmas!"

My sister Iris almost died from anemia. The day she was hospitalized, my whole family started blaming me. I'd been frail since birth, so Mom and Dad had always poured all their attention into me. The new school supplies were mine, the new clothes were mine, and even on the birthdays we shared, the cream and chocolate part of the cake always went to me first. I used to hear Iris crying at night. But whenever I tried to comfort her, she just shoved me away. On my twelfth birthday, I came home from school with a perfect score on my test, beaming as I pushed the door open. Mom and Dad's eyes were red, and they looked at me as if I'd done something terrible. “Why can't you ever be nicer to Iris? We give you everything, and you should be thinking about her too.” “The doctor said her health problems are all because of how she feels.” “You're so spoiled, so selfish.” I lowered my head. They didn't know that I was frail because I'd made a deal to take Iris's death for her. Tomorrow, I was going to be erased.

The night I died, my whole family was busy celebrating my twin sister Elena's eighteenth birthday. Everyone thought Elena was going to die the next day. We're elves. My father worked as a clan guardian, and after Mom gave birth to Elena and me as twins, she stopped working altogether. We should have been a happy family. But from the moment we were born, Elena and I were bound by a witch's curse. Because Elena came into the world one minute before me, she took the full weight of it onto herself. She was never supposed to live past eighteen. From the day we were born, Elena was the family's treasure. Mom and Dad treated me like I owed her something. New toys went to her first. New dresses were always her pick. Every night, Mom would sit in Elena's room for at least an hour before she'd turn off the light. I always fell asleep alone. One night I had a nightmare and ran barefoot to find Mom. She was holding Elena and didn't even look up. "Go back to bed. Stop making a fuss." I kept telling myself: she's dying, of course they're kind to her. But every time I let something go, that splinter in my chest pushed a little deeper. Then the day the curse was supposed to take effect finally came, and naturally, that was the day my stomach cramped so badly I could barely stand. Mom and Dad didn't hesitate. They shoved me into the cellar and locked it from outside. I crouched on the stone floor with the smell of mildew everywhere and knocked on the door over and over. "Mom... Dad... my stomach really hurts, I can't even stand up... let me out, please..." One sentence came back through the door. "Your sister is dying tonight! Can you just give us one day? One day!" "But... Mom... I'm scared..." Nobody answered after that. The cellar went quiet. My eyelids grew heavy. My last thought was: if I were the one dying of a curse, would they come hold me too.

At the high-speed train station security checkpoint, a security officer stops me. "What's inside the case?" he asks. "A living donor heart. It's scheduled for transplant in two hours," I reply and hand over the emergency transit pass. After verifying the documents, the officer is about to let me pass when a hand suddenly shoots out from behind and grabs the case. "He can't go! That case contains illegal stuff!" I turn around. To my shock, it's my brother-in-law, Edward Austin. Pointing at me, he shouts, "Officer, I'd like to report him! He's my brother-in-law. There isn't anything medical-related in that case. It's drugs he bought on the black market. He's planning to use his status as a doctor to smuggle them out and sell them!" Armed police officers immediately surround me with their weapons lowered into ready positions. My eyes redden with panic. "Have you lost your mind, Edward? There's a donor heart in here! The recipient only has two hours left to live!" He rolls his eyes and sneers. "Oh, spare me the act. My sister says you've been acting suspiciously lately. You're obviously up to something. If you've got nothing to hide, why don't you open it right here in front of everyone?" Everyone within the vicinity falls silent. The leading police officer steps forward with a stern expression. "Please cooperate with the inspection. Open the case immediately." I glance at the countdown timer on my watch. My back becomes drenched with cold sweat. If the heart is contaminated, then Michael Ellis—the national hero whose life depends on this transplant—will not survive this.

On Mother's Day, I take my mom to a hotel under my company for a vacation. We've just sat on a leather couch in the lobby for a short while when the supervisor-in-training, Jacob White, rushes over angrily and yanks us up to our feet. "This couch is meant for the guests who have applied for a VIP membership in this hotel! For broke tourists like you, you're welcome to stay in a cheap motel! Don't leech off the cool air generated by our air conditioners here!" My brows are knotted into a frown instantly. I'm about to declare my identity when Jacob shows me a bill and demands that I pay 1,500 dollars for a meal here. My expression goes dark immediately. "We've just arrived at the hotel, and we barely even have a sip of water here. Why should we pay 1,500 dollars for a meal here?" Jacob rolls his eyes at me before rapping his knuckles on the counter in an arrogant manner. "Those who stay at this hotel must pay this sum! We're serving fancy food here, you know! It's your business to consume it, but regardless, you still have to pay up!" Unable to endure Jacob's antics anymore, I tell him to call the manager over. But he sneers at me before pointing at his name tag. "This hotel belongs to my godsister! I'm the one who calls the shots in the entire lobby! No one can help you this time, regardless of who you lodge a complaint to!" I stiffen up on the spot. I'm the only son in this family, and my relatives never meddle with my hotel businesses. Who the hell is this so-called godsister that has usurped my position as the owner?