Plot Twists Short Stories & Independence Family Emotions Novels

I was diagnosed with cancer. After much deliberation, I called my husband. He fell silent for a long while. “Most of our mortgage is unpaid, and our children need money for school. You should go for conservative treatment.” I called my mother while weeping. “You’re so troublesome. None of my friends or family have cancer!” I stopped crying and started living for myself. God favored me and let me see reality early in my life. He even gave me a chance to start over.

After our eighty-eighth canceled wedding, I called my business partner. "I'm taking the Haviana market project." There was a beat of stunned silence. "Seriously? That's ten years overseas. You just got married—well, weren't you? Does your husband even know? What about your parents? You always said staying close to them was everything." I glanced around the empty church and let out a sharp laugh. "There was no wedding. No husband. And my parents? They've got Cindy. That's all they need." Another pause. "Alright. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow." After the call, I ran a hand down my wedding dress. One last tear slipped out, quiet and pointless. Cindy had another "episode" today. Claimed she'd off herself. Andrew canceled—again. I'd looked at him, drained. "It's the eighty-eighth time." He dropped his head, guilt all over him. "Just a little more time, Viv. She's been off since the accident. I'm scared she'll actually do it. I swear, I'll talk to her. For real this time. Then we'll get married. Promise." My parents didn't hesitate. "Vivian, let Andrew go. If Cindy hadn't gotten kidnapped trying to save you, she wouldn't have these breakdowns. Are you really putting a wedding over your sister's life?" "How could you be so selfish?" I'd heard it all before. Used to fight it. Not this time. If neither my fiancé nor my parents wanted me around, then fine. I'd leave.

Dad and my brother, Jonah Atwood, have always favored my sister, Lisa Atwood, while resenting me. At my coming-of-age ceremony, when several werewolves in the Blackwolf pack corners and harasses me, it's Rex Vaughn, the Alpha's heir, who steps in to protect me. He throws the most extravagant mate-bonding ceremony for me, right before the Moon Goddess. Overnight, I become someone every other female wolf wishes they could be! I'm seven months pregnant when I show up at Lisa's birthday party. Somehow, we're ambushed by dark magic. As always, Dad and Jonah put Lisa first. They throw everything they have into shielding and dragging her out of the enemies' barrier, leaving me trapped in the center of the spell circle, nearly consumed. In the end, it's Rex who pulls me out. Later, I wake up in Stone Cabin, only to walk right into a scene that makes my blood run cold. "You paid off an old witch from the Darkmoon pack to set up that spell circle?" Rex's eyes blaze red with fury. "She's only seven months along, and you were already trying to rip the pup out of her? "What? Were you hoping Lily and her pup would blow up and die together?" Jonah and Dad shrink back, trying to explain themselves. "Lisa's wolf is fading fast. The old witch said the only way to save her and her wolf is to sacrifice someone with the same blood immediately…" Rex snaps, "I care about Lisa more than either of you do! Why else do you think I claimed Lily as my mate? Sure, I want to save Lisa, but not by sacrificing Lily and her pup!" That is how I learn the truth. Rex didn't bond with me because he cared. He did it to save Lisa. As it turns out, he's no different from Dad and Jonah. All they ever see is Lisa, the weak-born wolf. I was never part of the picture to begin with. Since no one's ever truly cared about me, I'll walk away with my pup.

The day I recovered from my mental illness and got discharged, my parents held me in their arms with tears of happiness. My sister gave me a teddy bear and said she had been waiting for me to come home. I comforted my parents who were crying and accepted the gift from my sister. I slowly got used to ordinary life and became the real daughter of the Schmidt family. To show their preference for me, my parents transferred the family business into my name on my sister’s 18th birthday. But I cruelly murdered the family of three who cherished me on this day.

I was getting married—but I didn't tell my parents. It was my fifth wedding. The last four? Total disasters, thanks to them. Every time, they claimed something was "wrong" with the wedding car and somehow scared the guy off. First was my college boyfriend. We were solid—four years strong. My parents pushed for marriage... then ditched the idea on the big day because his car wasn't "fancy" enough. Second groom? My boss. He pulled up in a shiny new car they actually approved—until they didn't. Yanked me right out. Third time, they set me up with someone themselves. The guy brought ten cars to play it safe. Didn't matter. They shut it down before I even stepped outside. Fourth time? Same story. I kept wondering—what was so cursed about these cars? Why push me to get married, only to destroy it every single time? This year, I was trying again. Wedding number five. This time, I was pregnant—with the son of the country's richest man. I didn't tell my parents. Thought I'd finally outsmarted them. But just as I was about to get in the car... I saw them sprinting toward me.

Given a new chance at life, upon learning of my husband's supposed death, the first thing I did was to register him as dead. In my previous life, after my husband, Jonah Lloyd, learned that his elder brother, Noah, had died in an accident, he resolved to assume his brother's identity and provide for his widowed sister-in-law. All because the young widow from the city couldn't withstand the gossip of the village. As for me, coming from humble origins, even without my husband, I could survive on my own. When I heard the news, I truly believed that my husband had died in an accident. I was determined to raise our daughter with all my heart. That year, during a blizzard, while his family huddled together and celebrated in the warmth, I was out there fighting over the money after selling my body. I bled out and died in the harsh, cold night. My daughter, Tina, left waiting for me to bring back good, starved to death in the bitter winter. Only after death did I learn that my husband hadn't died. He had spent his entire life in his brother's name, protecting the widow, living to see his children and grandchildren grow old around him. And now, reopening my eyes, I had returned to the very day my husband died in an accident.

On my way to a meeting at work, I call my daughter, who is at home. Instead, I hear a voice identical to mine over the phone. She claims that she is me three years in the future. "Dezarae, go home to Liv right now. Your daughter is in danger." I am stunned. I argue in disbelief and question who is behind this prank. When I step on the accelerator, she stops me sternly. "Do not drive ahead any further. There will be a traffic accident at the intersection where Peace Street is." In the next second, at the intersection that is less than 30 feet away from me, two cars collide. Cold sweat starts to trickle down my back when the woman with a voice identical to mine says, "Liv will fall off a building and die in three hours. This is your only chance to save her."

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

After my parents get divorced, my twin brother, Archer Sullivan, chooses one parent to live with. I choose to be with Mom. After the divorce, Mom's mood is at an all-time low. She gambles away all of the money we have, and she begins bringing various men home the moment she runs out of money. I have to move into a dark and damp apartment with Mom afterward. Lewd sounds keep drifting from her room every now and then. Every day, I have to secretly take on part-time work in order to earn my living expenses, on top of going to school. Life is very harsh and bitter for me. That is, until Archer, whom I haven't kept in touch with for a very long time, sends me a link to a streaming website. "Tap on the link, Adam. It's a surprise for you." I tap on the link, only to realize that the livestream that's on top of the trending list features… me? It's a livestream with a split-screen function. One screen shows me finishing my homework under the dim light in a cheap apartment. The other screen shows my parents cuddling with Archer happily while seated on a luxurious couch in a villa. "Let's see what sort of differences there will be between a pair of twins that are raised differently till they're 18 years old!" "I suppose the older twin doesn't realize that his parents never got divorced, and that his family is actually very rich! Both parents are still living happily together. Even his younger brother is living a great life." "That poor twin, though! He's living a very difficult life without three hot meals a day! Isn't this considered abuse?" "Well, that older twin is more understanding and obedient, isn't he? That's why his parents chose to make him suffer in life."

I've returned to the Ashcroft family for three years. All three homecoming parties have ended in failure. At the first party, I was accused of stealing a watch in front of the guests. Because of that, I became the entire elite society's laughingstock. In the second party, I was pushed into a swimming pool. As such, I suffered from a high fever and was comatose for three days. It almost killed me. In the third party, a forged paternity test was hurled in my face. My own mother announced that she had cut all ties with me on the spot. Every party ended with the fake heir, Everest Ashcroft, bursting into tears and admitting his mistakes. But the entire family kept telling me, "Everest is deathly afraid of you obtaining our love meant for him. That's why he threw a small tantrum. "You're already acknowledged as a son of the Ashcrofts. Why must you keep latching onto this matter so pettily?" In the fourth party held on the fourth year, Everest threatens to off himself. In order to save him, I fall from the rooftop, causing my right leg to suffer from a comminuted fracture. My entire family huddles around Everest, who's obviously shaken, and keeps showering him with love and care. The butler is ordered to pass on their message to me. "Know your place. Do not disturb Everest when he's in bedrest." As I caress my broken leg, I keep laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. It's not that Everest doesn't want the Ashcrofts to give away their love to me. It's just that the Ashcrofts don't want to acknowledge me as a part of them at all. In that case, I might as well leave this family permanently.

In my last life, I was kidnapped alongside the fake heiress, Lilith Howe, at the same time. My father, the richest man in the country, claimed he had to prove his impartiality. Without a second thought, he told the police to rescue Lilith first and refused to pay a ransom for me. In front of the cameras, he declared with solemn conviction, "A daughter of the Howes must have backbone. We will never give in to criminals!" Lilith returned without a single scratch, and the internet crowned her a miracle girl. Meanwhile, I was killed by the kidnappers. There was barely anything left of me to bury. As my soul hovered above the scene, I watched my brother sneer at what little remained. "Good," he said. "At least she won't come back and be an eyesore to Lilith. We'll finally have some peace in the house." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the kidnappers called with their demands. A knife was pressed against my throat. On the other end of the line, my father's voice was just as cold, just as absolute. "I'm not choosing. My money belongs to charity. If she's a Howe, she should be ready to sacrifice for the family." I laughed. If he was willing to destroy his own flesh and blood for the sake of so-called honor, then this time, I would grant them a reunion in hell!

Don Ettore Vitale's lover, Viola Serra, and I are abducted at the same time. When it's time for Ettore to make his choice, he doesn't hesitate to choose Viola despite always doting on me all the time. "Larissa, Viola can't take this. She's too fragile. Once this is over, I'll definitely make it up to you." "If you choose her, I'll hate you forever!" He remains silent for a moment before whisking Viola away in his arms. I just keep laughing till tears spill down my cheeks. Some time later, I nestle into Ettore's arch-nemesis, Vittorio Romano's arms while smiling at the former. But he keeps begging me to return to him like an absolute lunatic.

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

I accidentally come across a post made by my mom's smurf account on the Internet. "Is it too cheap for me to prepare just a set of gold bars as a coming-of-age gift for my daughter?" My heart skips a beat. My parents are known for being extremely stingy. To think that they are willing to spend this much on me! I'm worried that my parents might overwork themselves just to prepare such a lucrative gift, so I take a screenshot and save the link to a three-year vacation tour that's priced at 999 dollars. Then, I decide to respond to the post as an anonymous user. "Your daughter will feel very happy as long as she receives her parents' love. No materialistic gift can ever outshine that." Five minutes later, Mom responds to me, "Thank you for your suggestion, but I've already taken my darling on a graduation trip in Enora last week. She had so much fun there."

Yvette and I fought over who was the real heiress for two lifetimes. In my first life, my parents were convinced I was their true daughter. They coaxed me into going to the hospital for a blood test. However, when I woke up in the ward, weak from blood loss, I saw their faces twisted with hatred as they strangled me. “You fake! Just die!” “You’re not our child at all!” I could not fight back. In agony, I took my last breath. In my second life, I was certain Yvette was the real heiress. I pretended to be sick to avoid my parents. Still, I saw the news a few days later—Yvette’s body had been found in the wilderness, drained to a husk. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn for the second time. Yvette was shaken with fear, while I was dragging my suitcase. Both of us were staring at each other. I looked at her and smiled. “How about we run away together?”

Mom always said my entire life ran on luck. When I ranked first in my class, she said, "You just guessed really well." When I won a gold medal, she said, "The judges must've been blind." When I got into Westridge University, she told everyone, "This kid has no real ability, just good luck!" So on my first day of college, she tossed me a book of scratch cards. "Since your luck's so good anyway, might as well let it handle your living expenses too. "You get one book per semester. However much you scratch off is all you get. "And just so you can't come crying to me about being broke, I'm blocking you now. I'll unblock you next semester." With that, she ignored every one of my desperate pleas and blocked me on every single platform. I wanted to cry but could not even manage tears. All I could do was scratch two cards every day. On good days, I would win 20 to 50 dollars. Most days, I won absolutely nothing. I survived by sneaking expired cookies out of my roommates' trash. By the last week of the semester, I had developed severe anemia. As I used every ounce of strength to scratch the final card, I laughed. Mom was right. My luck really was incredible.

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

My friend, George, and I are both knocked unconscious by a basketball. When I wake up, I suddenly hear my late mother's voice. "Tam, don’t let George fool you again. He loves pretending to have amnesia just to toy with you and please Ariana Rogers." I freeze and look at George, who has just woken up. I hear him ask, "Who are you?" My mom goes on, "In your past life, he ruined you. You gave him a good life and everything you have, but he killed you just to be with Ariana. "Listen, your dad is about to ask you to choose a boy to be your brother. Don't pick George. Choose the boy from the Muller family. Even though he never smiles or gives you the time of day. He quietly carries your bottle for you during training every time." Before I can process it, my dad walks toward me and holds out several photos of boys. He says, "Tam, they are all children of soldiers who sacrificed for our country. I plan to adopt one to be your brother. You choose. From now on, we will be a family." This time, I do not hesitate. I point straight at Clyde Muller. "I'll listen to Mom and choose him."

As per my father’s offer, I decided to leave both my son and husband behind and go back home where I would become his little girl again. That decision came after I heard my family’s true thoughts following my surgery. My husband thought, “It was just a minor issue! Why did she stay in the hospital for so long? She’s back and has yet to do any chores. Can’t she see that my suit needs ironing?” My son thought, “She spent so much money on that surgery, and now she’s even drinking my favorite yogurt! Why can’t she be a successful businesswoman like Sarah? All she does is stay in the house and act like a freeloader!” My mother-in-law thought, “She had to come back right when I’m making chicken soup, of all times! She can just drink the dishwater for all I care.” Feeling utterly disappointed, I turned around and closed the door. Then I called my father. “Yes, it’s just me. I’m not bringing anyone.”