Freak Revenge Short Stories & Novels

Before the wedding, my fiancé disappeared while camping with friends. I searched for him for an entire month, nearly losing my mind. But on Valentine's Day, a week before our wedding, I saw him at a romantic restaurant, hugging and kissing his childhood sweetheart. Jayden Corrick held the woman in his arms and said softly, "If this goes on, I don't even want to go back and marry Leah." Sophie Muller asked if he regretted disappearing—if he truly didn't plan on going back. He hesitated for a moment. "No regrets. Let's stay one more week. Our parents will cover for us anyway. When she's completely driven mad with worry, I'll show up again." I stood hidden among the crowd, watching their closeness, and gave a bitter smile. The next moment, I called home. "Don't bother looking for Jayden anymore. I'm never marrying him."

I left Seaport for Crellan, thinking I was about to marry Bryson. Instead, I got drugged and kidnapped on our engagement day. Barely conscious, I caught him talking to his assistant. "Doctor and kidnappers—handled?" Bryson said. "Get her kidney. Lily's out of time." The assistant wavered. "She's not in great shape. This could ruin her." That gave Bryson a flicker of guilt—but it vanished quick. "She's not fragile like Lily. She's a broke student. If her kidney didn't match, she wouldn't be living like this. That's worth it." His face stayed ice-cold. I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug in, blood pooling in my mouth. So that was true Bryson—a monster in disguise. He thought I wanted to sell my health for some empty marriage. Too bad I never wanted it.

The first thing I do after being reborn is dump my devoted boyfriend and immediately say yes to the obsessive man's pursuit. In my past life, my so-called best friend, Sarah Cole, bound herself to an app that could transfer all of my boyfriend's love for me to her. My boyfriend was Luke Spencer. The golden roses he prepared for me ended up with her. The hotel he bought for me suddenly had her name on the deed. The way he looked at me shifted from fierce desire to cold disdain, but when he turned to her, his eyes overflowed with the tenderness I once knew so well. When I cried and demanded to know why Luke had changed, he just looked at me with disgust as he spat, "We broke up a long time ago. Leave my girlfriend alone!" On my birthday, Sarah went live online, flaunting how Luke had rented out the entire amusement park for her. Fireworks lit up the sky behind her in a blaze of color. And me? They worked together to have me thrown into a mental hospital. They called me a crazy woman obsessed with someone who never loved me back, and in endless rounds of electroshock therapy and forced medication, I died in despair. When I open my eyes again, I'm reborn. This time, I no longer feel anything real for my ex-boyfriend. Instead, I play along with Ethan Grant. I find it funny when Sarah opens the app again, siphoning away every drop of Ethan's overwhelming love. I really want to know if she can handle it.

I won the first prize at the Christmas party, which came with a bonus of $3,000. My boss generously doubled the rewards, and I eventually got $6,000. But my best friend and my boss started egging me on to treat everyone. In fact, they were just getting me to cover the company’s Christmas party. If I did not agree, my best friend wanted to cut off ties with me, and my boss wanted to fire me. Due to the pressure, I had to foot the bill, and I even ended up paying an extra $50,000 out of my own pocket. After I paid the bill, they abandoned me, who was drunk, and I just froze to death on the side of the road. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the day when the Christmas party was held.

My brother came back from his heir-training course convinced he was destined to marry an ultra-wealthy heiress. He took my car and tried to crash into the rear of Wendy Hewitt's vehicle. That girl was a top heiress in Greateast's elite circle, and my brother wanted to set up a chance encounter with her. I slammed on the brakes and told him the Hewitts were no fools. If my brother were to crash into that car, it would ruin our whole family's finances and then some. Wendy eventually held a grand wedding that shook the whole nation. My brother was consumed by jealousy. He insisted he would have been the groom if I had not stopped him that day. That resentment festered into hatred. In the end, my brother drove his car straight into me. I died. … When my eyes snapped open again, I found myself back in the passenger seat—back on the very day my brother tried to create that so-called chance encounter. A smug smile tugged at his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on the car ahead. "The moment Wendy sees me, I'll have her heart. And then I'll ditch this scrap metal." I didn't stop him this time. My brother stepped on the gas and crashed straight into the 50-million-dollar supercar.

In my past life, my sister, Kyra Wood, and I got married at the same time. My husband, Callum Gray, was a navy captain, while hers was a farm director. Both of our husbands shared the same childhood friend—Eliana Sullivan. Kyra and I had the same blood type as Eliana. After she got into an accident, we both donated blood to her. When she woke up, she unexpectedly started being able to hear the thoughts of Kyra and me. Callum and I got into an argument, and I wanted him to apologize. However, Eliana told him that I'd never forgive him, even if I died. On Kyra's wedding anniversary, she decided to ask her husband, Anthony Stone, for a bicycle. However, Eliana told Anthony that Kyra wanted a sports car. Callum thought my personality was too fiery and decided to divorce me. Anthony thought Kyra was too much of a spendthrift and divorced her as well. My sister and I were abandoned and lived in loneliness for the rest of our lives—until we died. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Kyra and I have been reborn. This time, Callum and Anthony can hear our thoughts too.

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

On a rainy day, I gave my pregnant neighbor a ride home since it was on my way. As a result, she became clingy and started insisting I drive her home every day. When I refused, she teared up and accused me of lacking compassion. Her husband even showed up at my door, demanding, "Why won't you take my wife to and from work? Are you looking down on us?" In the end, I sold my car and moved to a new place. If I couldn’t afford to offend them, at least I could avoid them!

My sister-in-law is eight months pregnant. One day, she gets pushed to the ground and starts bleeding heavily. She's then taken to the hospital right away. As I drive by, I quickly roll up the window and pretend not to notice. I step on the accelerator and speed away. In my past life, though, things were different. The moment I saw her collapse, I sprang into action and took her to the hospital without delay. She was in critical condition. After the heavy bleeding, she developed amniotic fluid embolism. My husband was the city's top obstetrician. Thus, I called him urgently, pleading for him to come straight to the hospital. However, he accused me of jealousy. He was having dinner with his first love's family, after all. He claimed that I was exploiting my sister-in-law's accident to force him to come back. By the time my in-laws arrived, my sister-in-law had already succumbed to the amniotic fluid embolism. Her family blamed me for her death, convinced I had stirred trouble with my husband and brought about her demise. Having just returned from out of town, my brother-in-law believed their accusations without question. Overcome with grief, he stabbed me to death at the funeral. Opening my eyes again, I realize I've been transported back to the very day my sister-in-law is knocked down.

The company manager, Elton Baldwin, wants to promote my best friend, Lacey Donnovan, at work. In my past life, I, Giselle Ashford, told Lacey not to accept his offer. But after she realized that someone else got promoted in her place and even doubled her salary overnight, Lacey got extremely jealous. She conspired with her boyfriend, Xavier Pugh, to push me off the top of a building, cursing at me and saying, "You jealous bitch! You've always hated seeing me do well, and now you cost me such a good opportunity!" When I open my eyes again, I realize that my world is no longer a shattered one with crimson blood in my eyes. Instead, Lacey's inquisitive face appears before me. She asks, "What do you think, Giselle? Do you think I should grab this opportunity?"

Despite dreaming of attending university all my life, I ended up stuck in my farming village. I married my brother-in-law and became my nephew’s stepmother. This all happened because my sister died trying to make money for my tuition fees on the day my results came out. I thought I had failed to secure a place at university and stopped thinking about higher education out of guilt. I married my brother-in-law according to my sister’s wishes. To pay for my sins, I raised my nephew and treated him like my own son. I made money and tutored him so that he could get into Northside University. In the end, I developed late-stage cancer. Before dying, I attended my nephew’s celebration, but he publicly accused me of being a homewrecker while my husband agreed that I had seduced him. They brought out my sister, dead for eighteen years, and made me apologize to her. It was then that I found out she had faked her death and used my university admission letter to finish her study. She had become a university lecturer after tricking me into taking care of her family. Outraged, I had a cerebral hemorrhage. When I woke up, I found I had gone back to the day my sister faked her death.

My son was kidnapped by rogue wolves during training. Ethan used all his connections as Beta to finally locate him in an abandoned hunting lodge. When I burst through the door, Tyler was already lying on the ground. His chest was a bloody mess, his heart ripped out completely. I chased after the rogue wolves like a mad she-wolf, desperate to retrieve his heart, but I was too late. Unable to bear the devastation, I collapsed and fell from the cliff edge. Ethan carried me to the pack healer's den, his face deathly pale. Before the healing ritual began, he gripped my hand tightly, his voice trembling: "Serena, you can't give up. Our son is already gone. I can't lose you too..." But when I regained consciousness, I found an anonymous text message on my phone. I opened it and heard a recording. "Beta Gray, you have already found another heart donors. Why specifically choose young Tyler? He's so young, and he's your son..." "He was just a tool to save Lucas. I raised him all these years—taking one heart isn't too much to ask, is it?" "Besides, the pack healer said a blood relative's heart has the smallest chance of rejection. Lucas is mine and Vivian's life. I can't bear to see him suffer even a little." My entire body shook violently. I could barely hold the phone. The man who repeatedly claimed to love me was the murderer who killed my son for his illegitimate child with his mistress. The marriage I thought was happy was nothing but an elaborate deception.

After I got a second shot at life, the very first thing I did was enroll in an intensive weight-loss boot camp. In my past life, my boyfriend was always on my case about my weight. He flat-out told me he wouldn't put a ring on it unless I got down to a hundred pounds. I tried every diet and workout plan out there—I pushed myself to the edge—but instead of losing, I packed on even more pounds. Meanwhile, my so-called best friend ate cheeseburgers, fries, and pizza like it was her job and still dropped from 130 pounds to a hundred in less than a month. The second she hit that magic number, my boyfriend's head turned. They started sneaking around behind my back. When I finally confronted them, they shoved me off a rooftop. It wasn't until after I died that I discovered the truth: my "best friend" had linked herself to a weight-transfer system. Every single pound I struggled to lose went straight to her. And every ounce of fat she should have gained? It landed right back on me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day my boyfriend gave me his hundred-pound ultimatum. With every memory of my past life intact, I couldn't help but smile. My best friend wants to be skinny, does she? Well then, let's see how she likes being nothing but skin and bones. Let's see if forty-five pounds is skinny enough for her.

My husband, Matthew Lorenzo, dies unexpectedly. Soon after, my in-laws come to me with an outrageous suggestion. "Why not let Matthew’s twin brother take you in and look after you? After all, your child needs a father." My sister-in-law, Felicia Dare, furiously calls me a shameless woman. I turn to look at Matthew's brother, Michael Lorenzo. It's like staring at Matthew's face all over again. The grief hits me hard. Just as I'm about to talk my in-laws out of this ridiculous idea, I overhear a conversation behind the door between them and "Michael". "Michael was the one who died. Why did you lie and let everyone think it was you?" Matthew sighs. "The one I love is Felicia. Faking my death was the only way I could be with her openly. And as for this nonsense about taking Luna in and looking after her—drop it. "As for Luna, I gave her a child and a respectable marriage. I don't owe her anything." I turn around and see my daughter standing there with her eyes red. She asks, "Mommy, does Daddy not want us anymore?" I kneel down, gather her into my arms, and hold back the ache in my chest. "Sweetheart, your uncle just wants to protect the person he loves. We shouldn't disturb him; it's time we start our new life."

On the way to the hospital in my daughter's car, my legs felt cramped, so I adjusted the angle of the passenger seat. A second later, I heard a soft snap from beneath the seat. A toothpick had broken. I jumped in fright as my daughter, Marissa Langford, slammed on the brakes, her face turning pale. "Why would you touch that? Tyler set that seat to a specific position on purpose. He uses it to check whether another man has been sitting in the passenger seat. How am I supposed to explain this now?" Realizing I'd caused trouble for her marriage, I immediately sent Tyler Ashford, my son-in-law, an apology. Hours passed without a reply. Eventually, all I received was a cold laughing emoji. Thinking Tyler was upset, I bought two expensive bottles of wine and personally went over to smooth things over. However, when Marissa opened the car door, I finally saw what was covering the passenger seat. It was a custom seat cover. Embroidered across it in glaring letters were the words: "Tyler's Exclusive Seat. No Old Bastards or Dogs Allowed". My vision went black with rage. Seeing me standing there without moving, Marissa frowned impatiently. "Tyler's just immature. Are you really going to be this petty and hold it against him?" I laughed. "You're right. I am petty. That's why the $20,000 I give you every month ends today. From now on, you're on your own."

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

My sister-in-law, Sabrina Linskey, never hides her hatred for me. Yet, on my daughter Elena Satchwell's birthday, she does something I can never imagine. She gives Elena a dress, claiming she had sewn it by hand. She calls it a blessing for Elena's health and safety. I let her ease the dress onto Elena, relief washing over me as I convince myself that Sabrina finally understands the importance of upholding peace in the family. But Elena's skin begins to fester, until even the lightest touch makes her flinch in pain. That's when I realize Elena's fate has been swapped with Sabrina's son's. Mom and Dad, along with my brother, know all about it. Elena, beyond saying, eventually dies. I, too, am killed the moment I uncover the truth. But when I open my eyes again, I return to the day Sabrina arrives with that dress for Elena's birthday.

An employee blasted me on TikTok, accusing me of not approving her wedding leave. Ainsley Castillo ranted, "Our marriage rates are low; birth rates are low. It's all because of toxic capitalists like you! You won't even approve my wedding leave. In your eyes, am I just a workhorse? Not even a person? I believed your nonsense about building an all-women company and a women-friendly workplace. Now your true bloodsucking capitalist face is showing!" The video blew up instantly, and countless young people empathized with her hardcore. They piled on online, cursing me, even doxxing me and sending razor blades. As the boss, I went live and confronted her head-on. "Sorry, but I can't approve her wedding leave. She can quit and go through labor arbitration, or sue me, but her wedding leave is out of the question." The live stream exploded in views that day. Among the supporters for her, some claimed to be lawyers, offering to sue me pro bono. But Ainsley looked troubled. "I just want my wedding leave. I never thought about quitting, let alone suing her."

While on vacation, I return to my hometown to help my parents harvest pears. After seeing my Instagram post, my son's homeroom teacher, Ernest Dugan, sends me a private message. "So you sell pears, Mr. Miller? The kindergarten hasn't finalized next month's fruit supplier yet, so we'll order from you. You won't suffer any loss from this deal. I'll pay five dollars per pound. You just need to arrange transportation and deliver them to the kindergarten." I almost laugh out loud. My family's pears are the famous Green Jewel variety; they are known as the "Hermes of pears". They sell for over 100 dollars per pound on average. Five dollars wouldn't even cover the cost of a single pear. Even though Ernest is being ridiculous, I still reply politely, "Sorry, all of our pears are reserved. You'll need to find another supplier." To my surprise, Ernest immediately posts photos of my family's pears in the parent group chat. He writes, "Next month's fruit selection for the kindergarten will be upgraded to Green Jewel pears. If anyone wishes to buy some for personal consumption, feel free to place orders below. The price is five dollars per pound." The chat group buzzes with activity as parents rush to place orders one after another. Three days later, they block the truck carrying my shipment to Windford. Determined to force the sale, they surround the vehicle and refuse to let it leave. Before they can ransack the truck, several military-plated vehicles arrive and seal off the road. A group of officials steps out with stern, angry expressions. One of them coldly demands, "These are pears specially ordered for this weekend's state banquet. Who said you could lay a finger on them?"

My twin sister, Audrey Goodwin, was obsessed with romance novels about rich heirs. All she wanted was to marry into money and live like some perfect socialite. She set her sights on the silver-spoon scion in Jezelton, Michael Strickland, who'd been blind after a car accident. Audrey got close by becoming his private nurse. But she got tired of the work really quickly. So, she asked me to cover for her. When Michael finally got his eyesight back and held a huge celebration, Audrey decided to drug him so she could slide right into the role of Mrs. Strickland. I didn't stop her this time. I even went as far as booking her a luxury suite so she could carry out her plan. In my last life, I had begged Audrey not to go through with it. I told her romance novels weren't real life, and guys like Michael were way too powerful to mess with. She had actually listened and canceled the plan. But a little while later, the news broke: Michael secretly got married. It turned out that he'd been with someone else that very night. Just like that, Audrey's big fantasy was gone. She blamed me for ruining her "dream". My parents blamed me as well; they beat me and yelled at me, saying Audrey couldn't marry Michael now because of me. One night, Audrey snapped. She came into my room with a hammer and beat me to death. Now, I had been given another chance. I woke up right on the night of Michael's recovery party.