Plot Twists Imagination 단편 소설 & Bias Marriage 소설

After Dominic Hatch loses his memories, he refuses to believe that I'm his wife. "If you really are my wife, why is it that there aren't any photos of us together?" I explain to him that he doesn't like taking photos. That's why we didn't even have a wedding portrait of us. But soon, Dominic digs out nine thick and heavy photo albums from a hidden compartment in his safe. The main characters in those albums are him and another unfamiliar woman. There are countless photos documenting their journey—from they were still children to when they had completely grown up. The pure and innocence on their faces slowly give way to the sappy love and affection they have for each other. In fact, Dominic and the woman even had a wedding portrait of their own. At the back of the photo, a passionate "I love you" is scrawled there. I feel the blood in my veins turning to ice. With a trembling hand, I dig out my marriage certificate. Dominic merely glances at it before scoffing at me. "The edge of the seal is crooked! Clearly, this copy is forged!" My mind buzzes loudly at that moment. At the same time, the system's warning blares loudly in my mind. "This marks the end of the marriage registration mission. You have failed the mission. Commencing eradication protocol. Countdown: 48 hours remaining."

When the news of my husband's death reached me, I was seven months pregnant. My vision went black, and I fainted on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, a childish voice shouted in my head, "Mommy, wake up! Scumbag Daddy tricked you! He's not dead! He's with his mistress who's about to steal your identity!" I was stunned. The voice angrily spoke again, "The head of the Shaw family from the capital is your biological brother. Today, Scumbag Daddy is going to let his mistress take your place as his long-lost sister! Then, he and his mistress will conspire to kill you, and my brother and I will be sold off. To protect me, my brother will get his legs broken by human traffickers in the future and starve to death!" The child's heartbreaking cry jolted me awake from my grief like a bucket of ice water. I thought it was a hallucination, but then I heard the voice of an unfamiliar man in the living room. "Mr. Shaw, this is Miss Alice Woods. She's the long-lost sister that you've been looking for for twenty years!"

My husband, Calvin Ziegler, recently bought a lifelike silicone doll. He says it's a companion to help relieve work stress. In the middle of the night, a faint noise wakes me up. I discover him holding the doll tightly, his expression unusually focused. Suddenly, a series of strange comments appears before my eyes. "Dorothy Sanders is using the resonance system again tonight to transfer her consciousness into the doll's body. Sneaking around right under Laura Halliwell's nose is so thrilling!" "Calvin and Dorothy really know how to have fun. That idiot of a wife probably has no idea what's going on. Haha!" I look at the doll on the couch. The corners of its mouth are curled into an eerie smile. I smile too. Since you love being a doll so much, I'll make sure you stay one forever.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

My wife, Camilla Fender, who was also the richest person in Jaxonville, had just given birth. Meanwhile, I, Frank Langley, was dragged into a survival game. With our baby strapped to my back, I ran through the woods for my life. I then heard Camilla's best friend's voice coming through the loudspeaker. "Camilla, why aren't you staying at the hospital with Frank to recover after giving birth? Why did you come here? Is your lover throwing another tantrum?" Camilla chuckled. Her voice was filled with helpless affection. "Yeah. Jack insisted on coming to watch this circus show. Frank thought I had business to handle, so he even pushed me to come back here when our child's surgery was happening. He's ridiculously foolish." I desperately slammed against the surveillance camera to try to get Camilla's attention and ask for help, but because Jack Solomon screamed in fright, she simply pressed the punishment button in her hand. An electric current coursed through my entire body. My son coughed up blood, and the blood splattered all over the ground. I curled up with tears streaming down my face. As the footsteps of the people hunting us grew closer and closer, the survival game reached its climax. Everyone was gambling on who would survive until the end. Only Camilla's voice remained cold. "I'm betting a million dollars that the crazy father and his son will die!"

After our last mock exam, the whole class went to a karaoke lounge to celebrate. A video suddenly appeared on my phone, supposedly sent by Mason Blackwell ten years in the future. Mason and I had grown up together for over a decade, and I'd secretly loved him for five. In the video, he wore a suit, his familiar face softened by a tenderness I'd never seen before. "Hannah, I'm getting married. "To Paige Monroe." The next second, class beauty Paige linked her arm through his, their fingers intertwined. "Hope you find your true love soon." The video ended. The black screen reflected my reddened eyes. I splashed water on my face and went back into the private room. The moment I walked in, everyone turned to stare. Paige stood up with a bright smile and announced into the microphone, "See? I told you she'd cry!" The room erupted in laughter. Mason rose with a frown, swept a cold look across the room, and said, "Knock it off." He walked over and looked down at me, a trace of nervousness in his voice. "Paige asked me to make that video. Her grades improved this time, so it was her reward. Don't read into it." Behind him, Paige added with a laugh, "It was just a joke. Don't tell me you can't take one?" I stood there, staring at the face I'd secretly loved for five years, and said nothing. The video really was a joke. But ten years later, they truly did get married. Because I'd come back from ten years in the future.

On my wedding anniversary, my three-year-old son gave me an alpaca as a gift. I turned right around and shipped it off to the circus, where I found it a strapping alpaca husband. All because I'd been reborn. In my last life, that alpaca was sweet and gentle with everyone—except me. Every single day, it spat on me. Determined not to disappoint my son, I tried everything to win it over, but nothing worked. My mind unraveled. I stopped sleeping. I started hearing things that weren't there, and every night I dreamed of that alpaca chasing me down to spit in my face. My husband called me vicious. My son called me petty. And the two of them only grew closer to that alpaca by the day. Worn down and broken, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and ended it. Floating above my own body after death, I watched in shock as it stood back up on its own. My son ran sobbing into "my" arms. "Mom, you're finally not an alpaca anymore!" My husband smiled and pulled them both into an embrace. "Nadia, you've been through so much. If it weren't for needing a healthy body to move your soul into, you'd never have had to suffer inside that alpaca for two years." That was when I finally understood. That alpaca had been Nadia Salem all along—the sickly impostor who'd stolen my identity for over twenty years.

I had just found out I was a perfect match and was preparing to donate a kidney to my wife’s foster brother. That night, he left his iPad in the living room, and the screen lit up with a chat history between him and a doctor. “Doctor Evans, whatever you do, don’t tell my brother-in-law,” the message read. “If his kidney is removed, his hidden heart condition will flare up, and he won’t last three months.” The next day, I decisively canceled the donation. My wife was furious, calling me cold-blooded and forcing me to sign a divorce agreement that left me with absolutely nothing. A day later, I overheard his smug laughter from outside his hospital room. “He’s so stupid,” Boyd said. “I just photoshopped a fake chat log, and he actually believed he was sick. Now, we’ve stolen his luxury penthouse, and we can finally be together out in the open.” My wife kissed him. “Good boy. I’ll buy you a better kidney on the black market later.” Standing outside the door, I sneered. Of course, I knew the record was fake. After all, I had just reincarnated from the future. In half a month, a zombie apocalypse would strike, and this toxic pair of secret lovers would not only steal my medicine but also throw me to the undead. This time, with only three days left before the city is overrun by zombies, I want to see something. I want to see exactly how many days a sick bastard without a kidney transplant and a heartless woman without any survival supplies can last inside my luxury penthouse.

My husband, Brody Singer, is the deputy director of a hospital and is known for being level-headed. He is so levelheaded that on the very day I miscarry, he still chooses to take Isabelle Wood, his late rescuer's widow, to look at cemetery plots first. He says, "She's been dreaming about David a lot lately, and it's making her uneasy. You have nurses over there. I'll be right back." Lying in my hospital bed, I open the location he sends me. It's an upscale cemetery with a double burial plot. The permanent maintenance fee costs 18,000 dollars. I text him back, "Nice choice. The grave is located in a bustling commercial district." He doesn't reply, but the comments floating before my eyes start answering for him. "Don't be so sarcastic. He just thinks his rescuer died too young and feels sorry that his widow has to spend the rest of her life alone." "He only married Roxanne out of convenience. Isabelle is his true soulmate and the one he secretly loves with all his heart." "Later, he'll make Roxanne sign papers to sell their home, saying the money is for Isabelle's retirement. The reason he gives is that they are still young and can easily earn money again." As the nurse hooks me up to an IV, I feel a chill on the back of my hand. I think of my wedding ring. Back then, Brody told me doctors shouldn't wear anything too expensive because it gets in the way during surgery. So my ring costs a mere 2,900 dollars. Today, he swipes his card and pays 18,000 dollars without hesitation when Isabelle says she wants to buy burial plots. I tuck the IV tubing closer beneath my sleeve and send my lawyer a message. "Draft a divorce agreement for me. Also, look into my husband's hotel records and spending history." After sending it, I quickly follow up with another text. "Move fast. He's in a hurry to repay his debt of gratitude, and he's burning through money pretty quickly."

After an accident, I gain the ability to hear a notification chime whenever the man I love lies to me. On our eighth anniversary, I hide my positive pregnancy test and ask him playfully, "Tell me. Do you love me?" Elliot Cahill smiles at me tenderly. "I do. You're the only woman I love." I hear a chime in my head, and my smile instantly stiffens. Elliot's phone suddenly lights up. After glancing at the screen, he gives me an apologetic look. "Josie, I really want to stay and celebrate our anniversary with you, but something urgent just came up at work." I hear another chime. I hurry after him, the pregnancy test digging painfully into my palm. "Elliot, will you ever lie to me?" He pauses before chuckling and patting my head. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I won't. I'm coming back as soon as I'm done." Yet another chime sounds. The door closes behind him. With a trembling hand, I caress my stomach. "Your father is lying to us. We don't need him anymore, right?"

Ever since I was little, I've been able to hear the thoughts of people who love me. When I'm three, Mom and Dad hold me up in the air, both thinking that I'll always be their little princess. When I'm 18, Aaron Searle blushes as he hands me a love letter, silently promising to love me in this life and the next. We've been together for seven years, five of them long-distance. Now, Aaron has come all the way to my city to propose. He drops to one knee, his gaze warm. "Marry me, Mia." Tears fill my eyes. Joy floods Mom's thoughts and Dad's alike as I hold out a trembling hand. Just as Aaron is about to slide the ring onto my finger, his thoughts vanish, replaced by fuzzy static. I freeze and look up at him. "What's wrong, Mia?" my best friend asks beside me. I say nothing. When I listen for her thoughts, I hear the exact same static. I draw my hand back. Over the past seven years, I've heard Aaron's thoughts nearly 30,000 times. But this time, all I want is silence.

One day, I somehow connected to a video call with my husband from five years ago. “Madison, you said yes to being my girlfriend today! I couldn’t be happier! “We’ll still be this happy five years from now, right? I have promised to spend the rest of my life treating you right.” On screen, Julian Lorde smiled with such confidence. With downcast eyes, I didn’t say a word. I quietly flipped the camera toward the bed. The man tangled in the sheets with another woman was my husband, Julian—just five years later. The sounds of their affair filled the air. Paying no heed to the young man’s stunned expression, I ended the video call and sent a text. “See that? “We won't get our happily ever five years later. The only thing waiting for us is the divorce papers.”

I guided 3,600 souls across the River Styx. I endured the fires of Hell 3,600 times on behalf of the rich and powerful. I turned down 3,600 offers from the King of Hell to be reborn into a life of wealth and privilege. Finally, after I earned enough merit, the King of Hell allowed me to return to the day of my father’s wedding. I shoved my way through the guests and screamed until my voice gave out. “Dad! Don’t marry her!”

Synopsis The ink on the $50 million breakup check was barely dry. I walked straight into the clinic, ready to end it. I was still sitting in the waiting room when some translucent words floated right in front of my face. [Oh no. Those are literally the only two kids Julian Brock will ever have!] [That idiot surgeon messed up during the kidney donation. Julian saved his precious ex, but he walked out completely sterile!] [She’s sitting on a multi-trillion-dollar empire and she's about to flush it down the toilet? Is she insane?] I froze right at the door. I turned around and bolted for the exit. Abort? Hell no. Meet my two little golden tickets.

Being fair and treating everyone equally has always mattered most to Chase Russell. That's why he has a specialized chip implanted in my uterus. Whenever his childhood sweetheart, Joanna Reynolds, suffers from morning sickness or any other discomfort during her pregnancy, every bit of her pain is transferred to me. "Didn't you always dream of experiencing what it's like to be a mother? I'm making that dream come true for you." The day Joanna goes into labor, the pain hits me so hard that I pass out in the hospital corridor. But Chase is in the delivery room, gently comforting her. "How are you feeling? It doesn't hurt at all, does it?" Later, he tells me he wants to hold a wedding with Joanna, so she and their child can have a proper place in the family. "Although Joanna will be the one marrying me, you'll still be the one whose name is on the marriage certificate," he says. "I told you… I've always treated you both equally." I say nothing. I simply take off the wedding ring he gave me and return it to him. When the wedding march begins to play, I have already boarded a one-way flight to a faraway place.

Ten minutes before the wedding ceremony is about to begin, I receive a disturbing photo on my phone. In it, a man with deeply sunken eyes is crawling on the ground like a dog. He is so skinny that he's nothing more than skin and bones. Meanwhile, my bride, Waverly Suther, is looming over the man on the floor as she gazes down at him with a disdainful sneer. Just as I'm about to block the number of the person who sent me this disturbing prank photo, that person sends me another two messages. "Run away from the wedding! Right now! Don't marry Waverly Suther, no matter what!" "That man on the floor is you ten years from now!"