Cerita Pendek & Novel Homewrecker Revenge

We can't settle on our holiday plans, so my girlfriend, Janine Simpson, starts a group chat with the three of us. "Let's roll the dice. Whoever gets the highest number decides. That's the fairest way." My friend, Mitchell Stone, rolls a six and wants to go to Marisport. I roll a one. I wanted to go to Rosemont. Rosemont isn't a random pick. It's the place my late mother had always wanted to visit but never got the chance to. This year marks five years since she passed away, and I've promised her I would see Lake Azure for her. Janine knew that, too. Three months ago, she held my hand and promised she would go with me this year. "Fair's fair. You lost the bet." She sends a little pat-on-the-head sticker in the group chat. This is the 27th time this year that I've rolled a one. The week before, I'd lost when we were choosing a restaurant for our team dinner. The week before that, it was a movie. Then yesterday, I used Janine's tablet to look up travel guides and accidentally came across her synced text messages. Her chat with a friend sat right at the top. "I sent you the dice plugin. It can roll whatever number you want." "Thanks. Cameron can get quite stubborn. This is the only way to get him to agree to things." I stared at those messages for a long time and placed the tablet back where I found it. She has known all along what Rosemont meant to me, and it turns out I haven't been losing because of sheer bad luck. I've been losing because she has already taken someone else's side. I leave the group chat and book a direct flight to Rosemont. On the first day of the holiday at 7:00 am, I will board the plane alone.

On Christmas, the company handed out bonus envelopes, and I drew a 24-hour overtime voucher. Meanwhile, the boss took the female workers and my wife to a yacht party to celebrate. So, I calmly lit the Christmas tree and burned the company down. In my previous life, I worked overtime until I was completely exhausted. With a sharp pain in my chest, I called the boss to ask for leave. His tone was cold. “Everyone accepted their Christmas gift. Only you didn’t. “Get lost, then. You’re fired. Just a nobody at the bottom of society, anyway!” Through the phone, I heard my wife’s heavy breathing, one wave after another. “Thomas, ever since I got married, I’ve never had a good life. Today is truly amazing!” “Hahaha, Samantha, you’re really pitiful, married to such a poor loser.” Mocking laughter filled my ears. Rage consumed me, and I died at my desk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Christmas Day.

I'm the avoidant type. When I was fifteen, my brother accused me of breaking his PlayStation. I didn't argue. I just made sure he didn't see my face for six months, until he wrote me three apology letters and sent me thirty thousand dollars. Years later, I mated his rival. Lucian Vance, Alpha of Northridge. When Lucian didn't answer my texts, I pretended I'd never sent them. When he skipped the dinner I'd spent all afternoon cooking, I ate it alone and said nothing. He bragged to my brother that I loved him too much to ever leave. Then his brilliant new assistant walked through my front door. The girl who bullied me out of high school. I asked him, once, to replace her. He told me to stop being jealous. So on my birthday, I packed everything I owned and got on a plane. That night, Lucian texted my brother a photo of my birthday cake. We're doing great. Hate it all you want. My brother wrote back: Oh, totally. My sister's the most forgiving person alive. Worst case, she never speaks to you again.

The ninth time I tried to divorce my husband, Don Louis Romano, my best friend Jenny Parker, who had always talked me out of it, handed me the papers herself. Every time before, she'd done everything in her power to stop me. She'd even taken over the Family's day-to-day affairs just to create chances for us to see each other and reconcile. I took the papers and couldn't help but ask. Years of pent-up exhaustion showed in Jenny's eyes, and to my shock, her voice was edged with resentment. "You got Vivian shot this time. She nearly didn't make it. How long are you going to keep this up?!" Vivian Hale was the woman Louis had been seeing. I stared at her in disbelief. "Vivian's had a hard life. I'm the one who introduced her to Louis. "I know it's not fair to you, so I've been trying to make it up to you. But you've been at this long enough. It's time to stop." Jenny sighed. "Back during the arms shipment ambush, Louis and I risked our lives to pull you out of that firefight. "If our saving your life means anything, stop using divorce as a way to get Louis's attention." I couldn't speak. My fingers clenched. The love and friendship I'd treasured for years had only ever been real to me. The last ember of loyalty in my heart burned out completely. The moment Jenny looked away, I picked up the pen and signed my name without hesitation. Sherry Bennett. This time, I was really getting a divorce.

When I returned to the corporate research and development press conference, I knew Tyler Zach would step forward to accuse our team of plagiarism, yet I chose to turn a blind eye. In my previous life, Tyler’s accusation had caused Nelson Corporation to instantly lose ten percent of its core interests. Back then, I stepped up and single-handedly saved the day. Not only did I ensure the press conference ended smoothly, but I also used the opportunity to elevate the company’s reputation to new heights. However, I was eventually betrayed. My first love, Rosie Nelson, fabricated evidence against me and sent me to prison. Even the results of my project were falsely credited to Tyler. I refused to believe it. I bombarded her with questions and demanded answers. Rosie’s eyes were filled with guilt, but she only replied, “Evan, Tyler came from humble beginnings. He can’t afford to lose this once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a name for himself! “Don’t worry. We’ll get married once you’re out.” I fought desperately to appeal, but I was beaten to death in prison. I wondered if Rosie could handle the company’s losses without me fighting tooth and nail to turn things around this time. I did not expect Rosie to turn to me at the most critical moment of the conference with panicked eyes and urge me desperately, “Evan! Why aren’t you on stage explaining everything yet?!”

Alpha Claus Ellison, who has already betrayed me, goes ballistic the moment he smells another wolf's scent on me. Ironically enough, Claus is also seen embracing an Omega while kissing her passionately three days ago. He's capable of betraying me, his mate who has been with him for seven long years, and trampling all over my pride. But once I find myself another wolf to be with, Claus acts as though someone has dug his heart out. That night, he grips my wrists forcefully, his eyes all bloodshot. He's using so much strength that I think my wrist is about to break soon. "Please don't use this method just to get revenge on me…" As I look at the way Claus loses control of himself, I let out a chuckle all of a sudden. "Oh, this is just the start of my revenge."

The day Victor Moretti told me he was the Sicilian Don's heir, he also handed me a bill for everything he had spent on me over the years. "Elena, the Family will never let a woman who came to me for money become its next Donna." He pushed the ledger across the table to me. From the hot dogs we shared when we first got together to the condoms we used the first time we slept together. From the mattress-cleaning bill he had fronted to the hospital bill for my miscarriage. Thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars in total. Every single item, down to the cent. I looked at the man I had loved for five years, swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat, and kept my voice low. "I have to settle my mother's surgery bill first. I'll pay you back next month." Victor frowned at once. "Camilla was right about you. Women who come from nothing, like you, always have an excuse. I should have listened to her. I never should have broken the rules and gotten involved with you at all. Fine. One month. But you'll pay the same interest rate the Family charges its borrowers." I gritted my teeth but didn't argue. I silently accepted the condition. But the hospital's billing desk had another shock waiting for me. A clerk told me the balance in my account was down to one dollar. The hundred and fifty thousand I had scraped together from every corner of my life to save her was gone. Shaking all over, I called Victor. His tone was as condescending as ever. "I hacked into your account. Camilla Marchetti wanted an antique jeweled necklace, and she was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars short." "It comes to more than what you owe me. Consider the difference payment for the damage you did to my Family's name." With two casual sentences, he had turned my mother's life into a bauble at the throat of a mafia boss's daughter. The call ended. Then a nurse behind me said, "Miss Hayes... you don't need to pay. Your mother... she just took her own life... She said she didn't want to be a bur

On the day my parents file for bankruptcy, my adopted brother and fake heir, Oliver Bilson, is also diagnosed with leukemia. To earn enough money to pay his medical bills, I brave the snow and winds and continue working even on New Year's Eve. When I hand over the food delivery to the scion, Charlie Jetton, he suddenly knocks the cake over. "Why weren't you more careful when making the delivery?" he demands. "Don't you know that Mr. Bilson spent a million dollars to specifically order this cake for Olly?" I'm about to make a retort when I hear three voices that I'm intimately familiar with coming from within the warm villa. "It's okay. It's the thought that counts, Mom and Dad." The voice belongs to none other than Oliver! Dad, who claims that our family has gone bankrupt and is saddled with a mountain of debt, proudly says, "You're so mature, Olly. I'm going to give you an island to reward you!" Mom, who has always been frugal, gently adds, "My one and only, precious son is so understanding. I'll give you my golf club in Masonila, so don't be angry, alright?" My phone chimes just as the cake lands next to my feet, informing me that I have received a bad review. Later, I cut ties with them and leave with my advisor, Richard Dyer. However, when Mom and Dad find out that I'm leaving, they fall to their knees and frantically beg me to stay as if they have completely lost their minds.

On my 24th birthday, an app suddenly appears on all the other digital devices in my family except my phone. The one inside that app is another version of me, another Cordelia Winchester. But she's so much better at everything than I am. Mom's bakery has been in the red for three years. "Cordelia" casually tweaks one recipe, and the cakes sell out that same day. Dad has failed to earn his promotion three times. "Cordelia" revises his presentation, and the very next day, his boss grants his promotion. My fiance, Chase Jensen's company is about to run out of cash. "Cordelia" spends ten minutes reworking his pitch deck, and the investors immediately put in another 20 million dollars. From then on, Mom starts asking her how to develop every new dessert. Dad prints out screenshots of everything she says. Even when Chase chooses an engagement ring, he asks her opinion first. On my 25th birthday, before we even cut the cake, Mom suddenly stares at the app and asks, "Does she really have to stay inside the phone?" Dad lowers his voice. "Is there any way to bring her here for real?" Chase taps open customer support. [Apply for a parallel-life exchange?] Customer support replies, [After the exchange, the Cordelia from your world will be sent to the other world. Confirm exchange?] They barely hesitate. I watch as they hit "confirm", my nails digging into my palms and drawing blood. I force a strained smile. "Since you guys adore her so much, I hope you don't regret this." The next second, a red line of notification appears on the screen. [Exchange sequence initiated. Countdown: 7 days.]

Before our marriage, my wife was the kind of woman everyone envied. She was strikingly beautiful and had graduated from a top university. Young as she was, she had already made a name for herself in finance, with a brilliant career ahead of her. I hated women like her: independent, proud, sharp-edged, decisive, and strong-willed. She was the dazzling center of attention wherever she went. So I set about systematically grinding away every last edge she had. After the wedding, I used "taking care of the family" as an excuse to pressure her into leaving a key position in a fast-rising career. I took control of her bank accounts and tamed her into a docile cat that only knew how to say yes. Then I deliberately crushed her confidence, vetoing every decision she made, nitpicking even the smallest daily tasks. I belittled her abilities in front of others and dismissed everything she contributed. Over and over, I wore down her willpower and pride until she had given up every piece of herself. I even made her the CFO of my company and dumped documents on her to sign, ensuring she would be the one to take the fall. I thought I could never lose. Until federal agents knocked on my office door and slapped a stack of evidence on my desk. "Mr. Tyler Hayes, you'll need to come with us." I frowned, flipped through the evidence, and froze. No wonder she had become so obedient. Looking back, the signs had been there all along.

While presiding over a transnational meeting, I received a distressing call from my daughter's kindergarten teacher. "Mrs. Payton, a kid drew a massive clown on Anna's face during nap time! No matter how much I try to wash it off, it won't come off!" I immediately rushed to the kindergarten. My daughter, Anna Payton, was sobbing at the door. Her usually fair and tender face was now red and swollen. The clown drawing on it was particularly eye-catching. The new teacher was so panicked that she was crying herself, her voice trembling. "The parent of the other child is in the office. They said they're willing to compensate any amount, but... But there's no way you can make their son apologize." My anger surged as I kicked open the office door. However, I instantly froze in place. In the office, my husband, Arlo Payton, who was supposed to be in Swizor for a year of intensive studies, was holding up the bully. The next second, the little boy in his arms pointed at Anna and laughed. "Look, Dad. Clownface is here!"

My childhood crush's first night is put up for auction after her family goes bankrupt. Instead of paying an exorbitant amount of money to save her from her predicament, I choose to remain on the sidelines and do nothing. Later, I also call off our engagement and move abroad. I act this way because, in our past life, she assumes that I'm expecting her to repay me after I save her. She gives me the cold shoulder for years after we get married, but she gives birth to a pair of twins who belong to her first love. She even allows her twins to poison me. The four of them stand before me when I'm lying on my deathbed. "Our family can finally reunite." My heart burns with hatred when I take my last breath. When I'm given another chance at life, I decide to leave before they can hurt me, fulfilling their wishes.

For five years, Julia Foster keeps me hidden in the kitchen because she is ashamed to have me represent Lockhart's Kitchen, so I take my cooking to her biggest rival. Whenever customers rave about the food, she sends William Hayes out to take the credit. Yet, whenever something goes wrong, she blames me without a second thought. William is the restaurant's public face, so he can't afford to make a single mistake. The truth is, he can't even tell coriander from cumin. When the food festival comes around, Julia sends me home on indefinite leave because she doesn't want me stealing William's spotlight. After finding out that she's planning to take the Lockhart's Kitchen trademark away from me and give it to William, I head straight to her biggest rival, Sullivan's Kitchen.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

"Are you crazy, Donna Gallo?!" The doctor, Corey Dickson, stared at the plastic surgery proposal I had given him. He said in a trembling voice, "Don Gallo would never allow you to do something like this." I smiled softly. "He's too busy having an affair with a world-famous celebrity. He doesn't have time to notice me." Corey was taken aback. I looked at my wedding picture on the wall. Stefan was hugging me while looking at me with great tenderness in his eyes, but just yesterday, I watched him lead that celebrity into our bedroom. He pressed her down in bed as she stared at the silver handgun at the end of the bed and panted, "Aren't you afraid that I was sent here by the enemy to seduce you, Don Gallo? Are you sure you want to put that gun away?" Stefan laughed in a low voice. "It'd be worth it to die in your arms." That gun never left his side. This was the first time he put it aside for someone else. That was when I realized that this was the end of my marriage. It was time for me to leave. I had to find a way to leave this city, where the Don had eyes everywhere, without getting caught.

After I quit my job to become a full-time househusband, my wife, Brooke Lowell, left me with nothing but a bank card capped at 1,000 dollars a month. She said children had to be raised with hardship to grow up strong, and was always worried I might secretly give our daughter special treatment. But 1,000 dollars was nowhere near enough to cover a household's monthly expenses. Every time the kindergarten asked for nutrition fees, I could only swallow my pride and beg for leniency. "She's just a child. Why does she need that much money? You've got some nerve, living so comfortably on 1,000 a month." I had thought Brooke's harshness was meant to temper our daughter's character. That illusion lasted until I asked Brooke for 300 dollars to buy clothes for our daughter's Children's Day performance. What I received instead was humiliation and ridicule from everyone. Brooke accused me of acting like a spoiled rich kid, wasting money on unnecessary clothes. My mother-in-law complained that I dressed too poorly, like a beggar bringing shame to the family. Even my daughter blamed me for embarrassing her, saying I had ruined her Children's Day and damaged her props. I bowed my head, apologized, and paid compensation. Only then did I discover that my bank card had been frozen. The very next moment, Brooke's crush posted on social media about his son receiving a luxury mansion. 'Already a house-owner at three! Who'd believe she's not his birth mother?' Only then did I understand. People who truly loved someone would never be stingy when spending on them.

I spent six months and over $20,000 to plan a family vacation. However, when my mate's childhood sweetheart Ethan heard about our trip, he wanted to join us. Chloe didn't hesitate. She cancelled my spot in the protected convoy and gave it to him instead. She forced me to travel alone through deadly Shadow Pack territory — a thirty-six hour journey where three wolves had died last month. The whole family supported Chloe's decision without a thought for my safety. So I changed my travel plans. I headed north instead of south. I spent three months enjoying myself, ignoring their mindlink messages. That's when the family started to panic...

I was the most renowned pediatrician in the pack. On the day we administered the VRX-17 vaccine I'd introduced, the pups were infected en masse. A neurotropic virus swept through the pediatric ward, killing two pups. Several more developed encephalitis, pneumonia, and permanent paralysis. The Werewolf Court convicted me of deliberate harm. I pleaded desperately that the vaccine was contaminated. But when the drug was sent for testing, the batch number and properties all came back normal. How was that possible? I'd tested the vaccine myself, and my results clearly showed something was wrong. I couldn't accept it. I sought out expert after expert to verify my findings, but every single one told me the vaccine was fine. The judge and the officers wore grim expressions as they spoke. "Ma'am, you can't defraud the pack's medical system like this." "Think of the pups you killed. What had they ever done to deserve it?" In the end, I was sentenced to death for causing a catastrophic medical incident. My parents were accused of aiding my violations. They were stripped of their positions and died under a torrent of blame and injustice. I learned of their deaths before my execution. Even as the wolfsbane seeped into my veins, all I could feel was regret. When I opened my eyes again, a nurse was about to push VRX-17 into a pup's vein.

My grandfather was a thief. He stole my grandmother’s name and the opportunity that could have taken her out of the backwoods, then left with another woman by his side. One of them became a prominent law professor, standing at the front of lecture halls talking about fairness and justice. The other became a renowned fine artist, speaking in front of news cameras about art and integrity. Meanwhile, my grandmother was trapped in the backwoods her entire life, enduring pointed fingers and malicious insults everywhere she went. She died with her eyes wide open, refusing to rest in peace. Fifty years passed. I owed everything to the sacrifices of my grandmother and mother. Thanks to them, I made my way out of the backwoods and became a partner at a top-tier law firm. During recruitment season, I sat in the head interviewer's chair. The young man sitting across from me was bright, handsome, and the star graduate of a top-tier law school. I flipped through his resume, scanning page after page. When I reached the family background section, my fingers froze. I stared at that name for a long time. Finally, I lifted my eyes, looked straight at him, and spoke without a trace of emotion, "You didn't make the cut."

The Moretti family had an old tradition. Whenever a new Don took over, he raised his first glass to the person he was most grateful to. When Damian Moretti became Don, everyone assumed that first glass would be mine. When he was at his lowest, I married him, bringing with me two of my family's shipping routes and 200 million dollars in cash. I was the one who made him Don. But Damian raised his glass and said softly, "The person I'm most grateful to is Rosie Carter." The whole room broke into an uproar. She was a member of the Moretti family I'd never even noticed before. Beaming with excitement, she took the glass from Damian and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't get all sappy on me. We're practically brothers. We've even shared a bed." Awkward laughter rippled around the room. Damian didn't laugh. "Ten years ago, I was badly wounded and on the run. Rosie hid me in the safe house beneath the nightclub. "We slept in the same bed in that cramped little room for four months. "But without her, I wouldn't have survived." Rosie tipped back her head and drained the glass that should have been mine. Every eye in the room turned to me, waiting to see how the Bellini family's heir would handle it. I removed the brooch symbolizing the alliance between our two families, set it on the table, and texted my father. "Withdraw our votes for Damian." "Starting tonight, Don Moretti can fend for himself."