Cerita Pendek Plot Twists & Novel Hypocrisy Face Slapping

I returned to the small Mississippi town I had left years ago for my high school's centennial celebration. My childhood friend, Emma Brooks, had stayed behind and found a job there. When she saw me arrive in a Rolls-Royce Cullinan, her eyes lit up. She immediately asked to borrow the SUV for her wedding. Back in high school, I used to pay for all her meals. But this time, I refused. She scoffed, "Seriously? You won't even lend me a lousy car? Or did you just rent it to show off?" I told her the truth: it belonged to my company, and I couldn't lend it out without permission. She rolled her eyes and stormed off. By the time I got back to my hotel, the alumni group chat was blowing up. Emma had told everyone I was some rich man's lover in New York. She claimed he'd bought me the car, then dumped me and sent me home after I caught some disease. My former classmates couldn't distance themselves from me fast enough. Someone even suggested I be banned from the celebration. But none of them knew why I'd really come back. A venture capital firm had sent me with a massive donation. Ten million dollars would go toward a new academic building at my old school. And I was also there to fund the private high school where Emma worked.

I had an arranged marriage, and my wife was the only daughter of her family. Because of PTSD, she couldn't be intimate with anyone. When she handed me the signed agreement, she also sent a gentle, obedient woman to my room. "Even though it's our wedding night, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with this." I stared at her in disbelief, wondering if this was some kind of test of my character. Just as I was about to launch into a speech about loyalty and marriage, I suddenly heard the thoughts of the psychologist standing beside her. [What does he have to complain about? That position should've been mine! If Kayla didn't need the Grant family's support, she never would've agreed to marry a loser like him! Luckily, Kayla loves me. She even used PTSD as an excuse to save herself for me. I just need to try harder and get her pregnant, then Benjamin Grant will become a complete laughingstock!] The words that had been on the tip of my tongue disappeared instantly. Without hesitation, I accepted Kayla's arrangement. There was nothing wrong with people in a business marriage living separate lives. I wasn't an idiot. Why would I pick a fight with Kayla over something like this? Living peacefully and minding my own business was the smartest choice. To show that I had no inappropriate intentions toward her, I even ordered maternity and baby supplies for her. "I heard you're pregnant. Coincidentally, the woman you sent to me is pregnant too." I was planning to ask her for some advice. Instead, her face darkened. She gritted her teeth and snapped, "I'm not pregnant! She's not your mistress either. She's the IVF coordinator I hired to get you up to speed!"

I was in the parking garage of my Beverly Hills high-rise. And I backed my car into my neighbor's Ferrari. On purpose. I got out, a half-empty bottle of tequila in my hand, right in front of her. "Are you blind? Do you know how much this car costs? Can you even afford to fix it?" She was furious, her face turning red as she whipped out her phone to call 911. I just smirked. "You should probably call them. Get the LAPD down here to arrest me. I'll wait." The first time around, I was the fall guy for my fiancé, Grant, and his sister, Blair. They got high at some Hollywood party, went joyriding, and killed an innocent valet. But the car was my Porsche. And they swore I was the one driving. I rotted in a California state prison for ten years. The shock killed my mom. A heart attack. When I got out, they weren't done. They forged offshore debts to drain my trust fund and drove me to suicide. I woke up 24 hours before it all happened again.

Bright

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

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.

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

My stepsister, Abigail Lambert, is accepted into Quailmont High School through a special admissions program. Her teachers say she has what it takes to get into Bromwich College, one of the country's top colleges. My mother, Harper Quinn, and my stepfather, David Lambert, are so thrilled that they reserve a private dining room at the nicest hotel in town to celebrate her achievement. Before the celebration, they make a special trip to Quailmont and spend two days there. They even pick out presents for Abigail. When they come home, they're carrying the latest computer, their faces glowing with excitement. "Zachary, is dinner ready yet? If not, put some ribs in the oven. They're Abigail's favourite. Make extra so you can have some, too." I'm already on it. The ribs are roasting in the oven, filling the kitchen with their aroma. The television in the living room is airing a report on a string of missing-child cases. Nearly ten children between the ages of three and sixteen have gone missing. All of them are believed to have been kidnapped by human traffickers. The kidnappings are becoming increasingly common. The report immediately catches Mom's attention. "I don't think we should let Abby go out alone this summer. Zac, be sure to keep an eye on her, alright?" she prompts. "Her tutoring lesson should be over by now. Zac, go pick her up when you're done." The delicious smell of ribs fills the kitchen, overwhelming me until I can barely breathe. Abigail is missing. She's been missing for 30 hours, and she's nowhere to be found.

I had anemia, so getting pregnant was not easy for me. My husband and I tried for ten years, and we finally had a son. When our son turned eight, he got into a car accident. The doctor said that he needed a blood transfusion, but his blood type was A. Both my husband and I were type O. My husband started to suspect that the child was not his and did a paternity test right away. The result showed that the boy really was not his son. I could not believe it and asked for another test, but the result was the same. My mother-in-law accused me of cheating and called me horrible names. My husband asked for a divorce and told me to leave with nothing except my son. We were kicked out of the house and ended up living in a cave in the mountains. A sudden rainstorm caused a landslide, and my son and I were buried alive inside. After I died, my spirit stayed near my husband. I heard him talking on the phone. “Don’t worry. I made her leave with nothing. We’ll get our marriage certificate tomorrow.” It turned out he had been seeing another woman for a while and had planned everything to make me leave with nothing except my son. What I could not figure out was how he managed to fake the paternity test in front of everyone. Luckily, I returned to the past. I woke up on the day of my son’s car accident.

My father, Terence Locke, is covered in mud. He grabs my shoulders desperately, and his eyes are bloodshot. He says, "Emma, my company has gone bankrupt, and I accidentally killed a business rival. You have to run away with me." I believe him. Suppressing my fear, I follow him deep into the untouched mountains. To find food for him, I eat bugs and drink dirty water. When a pack of wolves closes in on our cave, my first instinct is to stand in front of him. "Dad, I'll lure them away. Run!" I look back at him one last time before finally making up my mind to trade my life for his. But after I leap off a seemingly bottomless cliff and fall to a pulp on the rocks below, I somehow "see" him inside a slowly descending helicopter. He is popping a bottle of champagne in celebration. At that moment, I finally understand everything. The whole desperate escape over the past few days that ultimately pushes me to sacrifice my life is nothing more than a reality show staged by him. He is merely putting on a performance, while I am truly dead...

Three years ago I erased my identity without telling anyone and left Harbor City. I ran into Stella Shaw at St. Auden's. She'd brought her foster brother to the evening service. I was there to light a candle for my mother. Stepping over the threshold, I tripped. She caught me fast, and there was irritation in her voice. "Do you not watch where you're walking?" She didn't recognize me. Leo, at her side, smiled. "Sorry about that. My sister just worries about me. She thought you might knock into me. "There's a service this evening. Are you here for it too?" I paused, and found myself glancing at Stella, whose lips were pressed into a line. "It's the anniversary of my mother's death. I came to light a candle for her. "There's an old injury in my leg. I lost my footing for a second. Sorry." Leo looked at my bad leg and shook his head, sorry for me. "Poor guy." My chest seized. I pulled the mask tighter over my face without thinking and walked away fast. Three years ago, at a banquet, I was drugged and lost consciousness, and woke up lying next to a homeless man. Overnight my photos were on every screen in the country, and I was the degenerate the whole city lined up to condemn. And the drink that put me under, Stella had handed me herself.

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

Before my wedding, I was diagnosed with a progressive autobiographical memory disorder. The neurologist said I'd gradually forget everyone, including myself. When I got back to the Winslow estate, my parents had moved the entire wedding fund meant for me into the room of their adopted daughter, Marissa. "Elise, you're the older sister. You need to give way to Marissa. Stop bullying her and making us dread the sight of you." I lowered my head and agreed, then cried in my room all night. The next morning, I couldn't remember why my pillow was wet. That afternoon, I saw my fiance, Graham Ellsworth. He was wiping tears off Marissa's face and looking at me with disgust. "Elise, I was only being affectionate with Marissa. Was that enough for you to threaten to end our engagement? You're unbelievably petty." His words made me cry. But at dinner the next day, when Graham spoke to me with the same cold contempt, I stared at him in confusion. "Sir, who are you?" I was forgetting faster. Then, one evening, Graham offered to take me for a drive outside the city. He stopped on an isolated county road. "The tire's caught against something. Get out and see whether a rock is blocking it." I did as he said and stepped out of the car. Graham drove off and called through the open window, "Since you can't stop tormenting Marissa, stay here and think about it." The car disappeared. I stood beside the road with nothing in my head. I wanted to go home, but I didn't remember where home was, or what my parents were called. By the time the Winslows panicked and Graham had searched every road beyond Stonewick, they finally understood. I really had disappeared.

After falling into the sea and losing my memory, I spent five agonizing years trapped in a filthy, isolated fishing village. For half a decade, I survived by digging through dumpsters and wrestling stray dogs for scrap leftovers. I was barely human, living more like a ghost than a person. Then came the sixth year. A team of bodyguards tackled me on the beach and dragged me right to a woman’s feet. She took one look at the scaly, rotting skin on my cheek and pinched her nose in disgust. She claimed to be my wife. Claimed she’d spent the last six years searching everywhere for me. Yet there wasn't a single spark of joy in her eyes when she saw me. She didn't care that I was reduced to skin and bones. She didn't bother asking why I walked with a severe limp. All she cared about was shoving me onto a private jet as fast as possible. They flew me straight to an elite private hospital. Lying in the ICU was a young man who bore a strong resemblance to me. The second the doctor announced that my tissue was a perfect match, a smile finally broke across the woman’s face. I overheard her cold, sharp voice whispering in the hall, "Well, Aiden, I guess you're finally good for something." In that exact moment, my lost memories came flooding back like a violent tidal wave. She hadn't spent six years searching for me out of love or desperation. Tessa Laurent had spent six endless years hunting me down for one single reason: to rip out my healthy kidney and give it to my half-brother.

My girlfriend, Summer Reeds, told me the apocalypse was coming and sent me to a snowy peak in the dead of night, saying it was for my own safety. "There's going to be a period of extreme heat and torrential rain, so this is the safest place you can be in! Stay here and be good. I'll go get the supplies!" Summer was a meteorological data analyst, so I trusted her. However, even as the day crept into night, she still hadn't returned. Wearing nothing but a thin T-shirt and shorts, I shivered uncontrollably in the icy cave. I took out my phone to call her, only for the screen to automatically switch to the surveillance feed from home. My entire family was gathered around my foster brother Aster Rivers, celebrating his birthday. With an elated expression, Summer exclaimed, "Don't worry, I've already tricked Charles into going up that snowy mountain, so he won't be coming back any time soon!" Aster covered his mouth, looking worried and guilty. "What? What if something happens to him up there? Maybe… maybe we should go bring him back. I-I can endure it, I promise…" Summer sighed. "See? This soft-heartedness of yours is why Charles keeps bullying you! Don't worry, I've left supplies for him up there, so he's fine!" My parents nodded in approval. "That's right! He threw you out in the rain, so he can get a taste of what it feels like to go hungry and freeze!" "Yes, consider it payback!" "He won't bully you anymore once we go bring him home after a month, alright?" Outside, the blizzard grew fiercer, and my heart grew more and more numb from the cold. Too bad you didn't know that there were no supplies in this cave at all. Too bad you didn't know that I was never coming back. You wanted to punish me to vent your anger for my foster brother? Fine. Then I'd use my life to appease him.

My house suddenly catches fire. The nanny is burned across nearly 80% of her body while saving my son, and the doctors spend three days fighting to keep her alive. But I fire her because of a single glass of water she gives him. Then I hire a lawyer and demand that she pay me back for every expensive supplement she took while working for us. My son looks at me as if he can't believe what I've become. "Mom, when did you become so heartless? Amy almost died saving me, and you won't even cover her medical bills. Now you're firing her too? "You're the one who taught me never to forget what someone has done for me. If you won't help her, I will!" I hold his gaze without flinching. "Then go ahead! Samuel, I've frozen all your cards, so you won't be using a cent of my money. If you want to help Amy, you'll have to find a way to pay her bills yourself." Because of what I've done, everyone in my family thinks the worst of me. But I don't explain myself to any of them. After all, I've already died once. In this second life, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family, even if it means being misunderstood by everyone.

After blowing through 15 million, which was my wedding gift from the Masons, I turned myself in for marriage fraud. That was when the housekeeper's daughter, Hannah Castillo, panicked. On May 5th, Castillo Enterprise and Mason Group were set to unite through marriage. I was meant to be the bride, but instead, I was locked away in a dark storage room. By the time I fought my way to the ceremony, Hannah had already finished the wedding using my identity. I went onstage and said I was the Castillos' real daughter, only to be questioned by everyone in the company. The reason was simple: Hannah had been using my name and status openly inside the company for the past six months. Hannah kicked me to the ground and sneered, "You're the housekeeper's kid! How dare you make a scene!" Before I could pull out any proof, the bodyguards Hannah hired dragged me out and dumped me on the road. A car ran into me, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the wedding.

I was in the middle of hosting an important international meeting when my younger brother’s sudden call interrupted me. On the other end, his voice was low and trembling. "Matt, someone took my spot for the exchange student program." I rushed to his school right away, only to find him cornered in an office, his eyes slightly red. A cocky-looking boy was pointing at Tim’s nose, his face full of arrogance. "You want to compete with me? I’m the heir of the Smiths in Ardenford. My mom just donated an entire lab building to the school! Who do you think you are?" Even the teacher nearby spoke up in support of him. "Timothy, the Smiths are one of our school’s major benefactors. You’d better be sensible and not cause any trouble." I was about to step forward and confront them when those words—the Smiths in Ardenford—made me stop cold. The Smiths in Ardenford? Since when did my mom have a third son besides me and my brother, Timothy? I immediately dialed her number, a cold laugh slipping from my lips. "Mom, when did you have another son behind Dad’s back?"

As the reigning eight-time champion of the transmigration department, I'm deeply traumatized by the idea of having fight with the fake heiress. Unfortunately, not only is there an 18-year-old fake heiress in my family of this world, but she also has eight older siblings who dote on her endlessly. Seriously, the stereotypical real versus fake heiress plot is driving me crazy. I retreat into the depths of my mom's womb immediately, my tiny hands clamping down on the umbilical cord. My refusal to leave my mom's body is absolute. [Those idiotic brothers of mine keep spoiling that 18-year-old extremely childish fake heiress who insists on sitting in a baby trolley all the time! If I were to leave this place, I'd definitely get assassinated by them!] My mom, who can hear my internal thoughts, is forced to suffer due to the complications in her labor for 72 hours straight. Finally, she yields to me by signing the "Zero-Tolerance Treaty on Unequal Treatment". She also assigns 108 bodyguards to me overnight. Satisfied, I finally release my hold on the umbilical cord and make my flashy entrance to this world. Mom taps me on my forehead. "Natalie is extremely pure and innocent. She would never come up with ways to hurt you." On the first day I go home, Natalie Fairchild, the fake heiress, pushes my crib toward the staircase on purpose. "I wanna see if Nev can fly!" A bodyguard instantly reaches out to catch my crib from coursing through the air. Scared out of her wits, Natalie slumps to the floor immediately. There, she starts crying like a baby. My second brother, Elliot Fairchild, pulls her into his arms lovingly. He says reassuringly, "Don't be scared, Nat. The bodyguard must have frightened you because of his actions, right? Now, now, you can stop crying now. Nev is fine, isn't she?" The next thing he knows, he gets tossed into the heavy downpour by another bodyguard.

My mother-in-law, Lillian Pierce, gets into a car accident and needs a liver transplant from my wife, Elena Prescott. However, she is busy playing a murder mystery game with her first love, Ethan Bennett. In my previous life, I forcibly drag her away from the game and bring her to the hospital for the liver transplant. No one could have foreseen the tragedy that would happen. During this time, Ethan crosses paths with a deranged serial killer and ends up dead in an alley. After his tragic end, Elena doesn't show any reaction to his passing—until the anniversary of his death. On that day, she locks me in the basement and slices the flesh off my body piece by piece. "If it weren't for you, Ethan would never have died. Go down there and apologize to him!" Her smile is sinister, a tell-tale sign of the madness that has consumed her. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day when Lillian gets into an accident. This time, I do not force Elena to do the liver transplant. She saves Ethan but loses her mother forever.