Independence Feel-Good Story Short Stories & Novels

Trenton Nelson and I had been together for three years. For those three years, I did everything he asked. Whatever he wanted, I gave him. Even when he went out with other women, I just laughed it off. He knew I was head over heels for him, and so did everyone around us. So after I begged and begged, Trenton finally accepted my proposal. The night before the wedding, I got a video from Trenton's childhood sweetheart, Gwen Roberts. In it, Trenton had his arm around Gwen, his voice dripping with contempt, "Jennifer is so useless. At least she's fairly obedient, though. Rather than finding someone who'll give me trouble, I might as well marry her." "Getting to be with Trenton is the best thing that'll ever happen to Jennifer," one of his friends chimed in. "Her face is decent enough, but her figure's way too plain. She's nothing compared to Gwen," another added. The video was long. The rest of it was just his friends putting me down and Trenton sneering at me. Then Gwen sent a message. Gwen: [Don't think you've won just because you get to marry Trenton. He doesn't love you at all!] Gwen thought the video would leave me heartbroken, but I burst out laughing instead. Who needed Trenton's love? I'd gotten close to Trenton for one reason only: to take back everything that belonged to the McQuay family! Trenton's father had used underhanded tactics to steal my father's business. Now, I was simply giving the Nelsons a taste of their own medicine. As for Trenton, once I'd taken the company, whether he lived or died would be none of my concern.

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

I've been Carl Grant's trophy wife for three years, and I have nothing going for me aside from my looks. Even his younger sister Quinn would complain, saying that I won't survive three days away from the Grants. I'm not bothered. I used to be the Managing Director of the Assembly of the Global Financial Order (AGFO). After a lifetime of hard work, all I want to do now is to slack off. Who could refuse the life of an eight-figure monthly allowance without having to work or think? That is, until twelve foreign corporations joined forces to short-sell Grantcorp. Suddenly, Carl's father Ben was forced to resign. His two brothers were thrown into jail, while Carl, who used to look so omnipotent, was being threatened into surrendering all his shares. One of the twelve representatives even flashed a sleazy grin at me. "Don't worry, Mr. Grant. When your family goes bankrupt, we'll make sure to take good care of that charming little creature for you." I watched in silence, bearing with their insults as long as I could. If the Grants really went bankrupt, I'd never find a patron this generous! Just a second before Carl signed away his shares, I was in the main seat, calling a number I had not called for ten years. "Freeze all trades in the continent. I'm giving you a list of twelve organizations. Within 30 minutes, I want the people in charge at my location, explaining to me in person what they think they're doing."

Three days before my family was due to divide the estate, I came across a post online: "Both my older daughter and my younger daughter are wonderful. How should I split the family assets so it looks fair?" A commenter replied, "Split it evenly, obviously. What is there to agonize over?" I was bored and about to scroll past when I spotted a familiar username. It was my brother's. "If you don't know the real situation, don't hand out advice." "As their older brother, I know how things actually are at home." "Anna never spends money anyway. Give it to her and she'll just let it sit. Annie, on the other hand, has poor health. She can't leave the house without bodyguards, and she needs top doctors on call around the clock. Someone in her situation should get a bigger share." Right below that comment, William chimed in: "Well said." "However Mr. and Mrs. Vittoria decide to divide the estate, the Moretti family will do everything we can to look after Annie and Anna." I read those comments and smiled. Back when we went to banquets together, Annie would tell me that she and the others were headed to the restroom. I'd wait there like a fool, only to learn after the banquet ended that they had all gone home long before. I used to believe that as long as I stayed close behind them, they would never leave me behind. But every time I turned around, they were already gone. Only I was left standing there. Nothing has changed. All they see is what benefits Annie. I was never in the picture. They probably assume I'll keep putting up with it forever. Too bad. This time, I'm done.

My little brother was the weakest man on the ship. He was a pirate, but he couldn't even lift a blade. Other pirates his age had already taken plenty of plunder, but he spent his days fussing over jars of medicine. He was always saying that fighting was bad, that it was too rough. He was bullied throughout his childhood, and I always stepped in for him. Later, I gave up piracy, got married, and came ashore to settle down as a wife. I didn't see him for a long time. Then one day, my husband, Duke Edgar Windham, brought his pregnant lover home. To make me accept that bastard child, he drugged me. "Helga, as long as you're a good girl and accept this child, you'll still be my wife. "After all, you don't have any family to back you up, do you? "That brother of yours is probably off somewhere fiddling with his herbs." When I refused, Edgar began beating me, and he never stopped. One day, after he'd nearly beaten me to death, the castle door was kicked in. A tall figure stood in the doorway. "Edgar, touch my sister again. I dare you."

After two years abroad in seclusion as I recovered, I received a selfie from my daughter, Lila Ashford. She was sitting on a bike, dressed in a work uniform. "Mom, you’ll be home soon, right? I miss you so much." My heart softened as I thought about how my girl had grown up. She understood that she needed to start from the bottom and work her way up. I was about to praise her when I noticed her skin seemed tanner, and her fitted shirt was the same one I’d bought her three years ago. It was frayed and worn thin, yet she still hadn’t thrown it away. As a child of the wealthiest family, Lila shouldn’t have to live like this, not even for "life experience". I zoomed in on the picture again. Her shoes were falling apart, the front gaping wide open. The more I looked, the more uneasy I became. The next second, I stumbled across Serena Ashford, my adopted daughter’s posts on social media. She was showing off male models, luxury cars, and on her wrist, the global limited-edition diamond bracelet I had given Lila. What shocked me most was the car that appeared in nearly every photo, the very one I had gifted Lila for her college graduation. How the hell had it ended up with her instead?!

On the first day the real heir, Kyle Snider, reunites with the Snider family, he slashes his arm on purpose and frames me for doing it with red-rimmed eyes. My adoptive dad, Jeremy Snider, doesn't hesitate to slap me without even getting to the bottom of the incident. When I turn my head, I can see the fortune score above everyone's heads. The score above Jeremy reads, "Fortune score: 8%. In three days, his investment will implode, leaving him saddled with a ten-million-dollar debt." Then, I turn to look at Kyle, whose eyes are still reddened. He lowers his head afterward. "Surely Nathan didn't do this on purpose. Please don't cast him out. I'm fine suffering from a little grievance…" Meanwhile, Jeremy, who used to view me as the apple of his eye, has nothing but disdain toward me. "You've stolen 20 years of Kyle's life, and yet you have the guts to slash him with a blade? Just how vile are you, Nathan?" As for Lilian Snider, my older sister who used to dote on me the most, throws my suitcase out of the front door. She roars at me, "Get lost right now! Ingrates like you don't deserve to stay here!" I don't say anything. Instead, I just look at the row of words floating above Lilian's head quietly. "Fortune score: 5%. In two hours, she will get caught in a multi-vehicle collision, leading to her legs getting amputated." I caress my cheek, which has gone numb from Jeremy's slap. Then, I slowly rip up the protective charms I've just gotten for them into pieces. After that, I pick up my suitcase. "Fine. I'm leaving." As soon as the front door is closed, I see the number above Kyle's head flickering once. "Fortune score: 85%. In the middle of absorbing the Sniders' fortune luck."

On the night of our wedding, my husband told me he wanted to have a child with his teacher’s daughter. When I confronted him, he turned it back on me. “Teacher is seriously ill, and her only wish is to see three generations under one roof. My junior and I are just doing IVF. It’s not like anything is actually happening between us!” “Besides, you were also her student. How could you refuse to help fulfill her last wish?” However, the next day, when I went to visit our teacher with a fruit basket, I saw my husband and his junior locked in an embrace at the corner of the hallway. The moment was like a bolt of lightning. I turned and walked away. The following day, my husband sent me a text: [I’m going with her for the IVF. Let’s postpone the family gathering for a few days.] I did not reply. Instead, I went back to my hometown alone, visiting each of my relatives to personally apologize. Then, I went to a lawyer. “I’d like to sue my husband for bigamy.”

On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Steven Cooper, suddenly appeared before me with his arms around his first love, Molly Hart. “I love you, and I love Molly too. I’ll still give you the wedding you’ve always wanted, but Molly is the one I’m going to marry.” A sharp pain struck my heart. Just as tears were about to fall, I heard Molly’s thoughts. “What a joke. He keeps offering things that don’t even matter. If he loves me so much, why doesn’t he give me money or buy me a house? “If the system weren’t forcing me to collect affection points from scumbag men, I wouldn’t bother standing here acting out this villainess role with him. “And seriously, with a demand this outrageous, she’s not actually going to agree to it just because she’s head over heels for him, is she? “Even if this is only a pre-wedding test, once she gives in, he'll keep trampling over her boundaries. In the end, she'll be destroyed emotionally and physically, and both she and her baby will lose their lives.” My eyes widened in shock, and the tears instantly disappeared. Maybe I was a little lovestruck, but I definitely didn’t want to die.

My grandfather, Daniel Collins, is a thief. He steals my grandmother's name, Elise Caldwell, along with her identity as a volunteer from the city. Then he uses it to escape from the remote backcountry with another woman. Years later, he becomes a law professor, standing at the front of a classroom and lecturing his students about justice. The woman he runs away with becomes a renowned painter, appearing on television to speak about integrity, morality, and principles. Meanwhile, my grandmother is left behind in that remote backcountry for the rest of her life. Everyone around her brands her a "slut" and shames her for something she has never done. She dies without ever reclaiming her name, her identity, or the life that has been stolen from her. 50 years have passed. With the sacrifices my grandmother and mother make for me, I eventually escape the remote backcountry where they spend their lives and build a future of my own. I work my way up until I become a partner at one of the country's most prestigious law firms. During graduation season, I serve as one of the firm's lead interviewers, sitting across from a room full of ambitious young candidates hoping to land their first position at the firm. One applicant in particular catches my attention. She is poised and polished, and she has graduated at the top of her class from one of the country's most prestigious universities, where she studied law and political science. I open her résumé and read through it carefully, page by page, until I reach the section listing her family information. Then I stop. My eyes settle on one name and stay there for a long moment. Finally, I look up at her. My expression gives nothing away as I quietly close the résumé and announce, "I'm sorry, but we're not taking you as the intern."

Alpha Kieran personally invited me to serve as Beta of Silvercrest Pack. But on my second day in the territory, my neighbor Gloria dragged her disheveled daughter Daisy to the center of the training grounds and dropped to her knees, accusing my son Koda of sexually assaulting her barely-eighteen-year-old daughter. Daisy stripped off her clothes in front of everyone, revealing horrifying bruises and claw marks. Gloria had even paid top dollar for a witch to perform a memory trace spell. Daisy sobbed until she nearly passed out. "Koda said if I didn't do as I was told, he'd bite me to death..." The entire pack was in an uproar. Everyone was screaming for blood. "Alpha, why should someone like her be our Beta?" "Vera can't even control her own son — how is she supposed to lead this pack?" They even demanded that Alpha have Koda seized and executed on the spot. I wasn't the least bit worried. Because when they finally brought Koda to the training grounds and everyone got a good look at him — Every single person there, including Gloria's family, froze. I nearly burst out laughing. …

Most people knew me as Helena Rinaldi's tagalong. She was the rightful heir to the Rinaldi family. I'd been a penny-pincher since I was a kid. If I could've split a penny eight ways, I would have. My proudest moment was getting my best friend and me through a month in the slums of Queens on ten dollars. Then I learned my best friend Helena was a mafia Don's long-lost daughter. When he brought her home, she packed me up and took me to the estate with her. So she could take better care of me, she landed the family a ten-billion-dollar Sicilian arms-smuggling deal. They all said she was an angel sent from heaven. The family even took its crews and territory back from Camilla Rinaldi, the adopted daughter, and put them in Helena's name. Helena gave me three billion dollars and put me in charge of the smuggling operation. She even said I could skim a little off the top. So I did as she said. All I spent was $10,000, to bribe the old man who watched the docks. Then, today, the smuggling operation ran into trouble. The cargo ships were seized, and the money was tied up. It turned out the whole line was a trap Camilla had set with a rival family to bring Helena down. The old Don, Enzo Rinaldi, and his wife, Lucia, were so furious they ended up in the ICU. Helena sat in a corner, pale and silent. Camilla kept pressing her. She slid a contract across the table, demanding the Rinaldi family's territory. "The family raised me, so I'll clean up this mess for you. Just sign every dock and casino over to me. "Otherwise, the five families will come after you and the whole Rinaldi family. They'll leave you dead in the street!" Helena's eyes were red. Her fingers shook as she picked up the fountain pen. In the dead silence, I scratched my head and asked a perfectly sincere question. "Huh? Can $10,000 really bankrupt the mafia?"

I was reborn. The universe spat me back to the year of my SATs, eighteen again, right when Noah Ritchie confessed his love for me. Turned out, it was the last year he'd ever love me. That was the year he met her… the one who'd actually own his heart. For Carla Davidson, he didn't hesitate to confess his love to me, not out of sincerity, but to distract me from my studies. Because of him, I missed my shot at a top university and barely got into a second-tier one. He even staged a car accident to keep me from attending an academic competition, just so Carla could win first place. When Carla suffered from severe blood loss in an accident, he convinced me to donate so much blood that it permanently damaged my health and left me unable to bear children. Later, Noah was forced to marry me, but he spent every day brooding over a photo of Carla. And when he learned she was getting married, he abandoned me without a second thought, choosing to die for love. But in this lifetime, I'm wide awake. I won't love him again. I'll be selfish. I'll live for myself and no one else. So when Noah looked at me with his usual arrogance and asked, "Tiffany, will you be my girlfriend?" I met his gaze calmly and shook my head. "No."

At the Iron Moon pack's victory party, celebrating the defeat of our sworn enemy, an Omega named Sienna accused me. The charge? Embezzling five million dollars from the pack's treasury. She spoke with self-righteous fury. "Are we really going to let a selfish thief continue as our Head Beta? I propose we strip her of her title immediately and exile her!" I stared at Caleb. The Alpha of the Iron Moon pack. The man I had loved for ten years. He should know better. Those funds were paid out of my own pocket years ago when the pack was broke but desperate for weapons and territory expansion. Now that the pack's treasury was overflowing, I was simply taking back what was mine. Yet the man who had held my hand just days ago, promising to officially make me his mate-to-be, now glared at me. "What do you have to say about Sienna's accusation of stealing pack funds?" I curled my lips into a smirk. "I have nothing to explain." They really thought I was some easy pushover. But they didn't know I was the only daughter of Magnus, the Alpha King of all North American packs. If they wanted to mess with me, they better be ready to be torn to shreds.

After Alfie Lawson, the young heir of an elite family, is dumped by his sweet, innocent girlfriend, he develops selective mutism. His mother announces that whoever can get her son to speak will be rewarded with 100,000 dollars. I push my way through all the women trying to coax him out of his shell. "Hey, remember how you were calling me 'Mommy' in bed last night?" "I did not!" Alfie blurts out. Immediately, his mother wires 100,000 dollars to my account. I'm elated. From then on, I follow him around every day, teasing him and collecting my money. I rake in a fortune without even lifting a finger. Alfie won't speak, and he can't exactly hit me either. So whenever I push him too far, he resorts to shutting me up with his lips. Overnight, I go from being his study companion to his girlfriend. Every time I make a dirty joke, he makes sure I regret it by punishing me in bed until I'm too scared to say another word. Then, just before our wedding, Alfie's innocent old flame, Wendy Brown, returns after getting a taste of the real world. That night, he never comes home. I take the remaining half-box of condoms and the savings I've scraped together over the past decade, then drag my suitcase out of our marital home. I deliver the condoms to them. As for the savings, I use them to buy myself a ticket back home.

I was the Blackwell family's real heir, lost as a child and recovered only five years ago. After Grandfather's will left me the controlling shares, the adopted son, Damian, jumped into the pool himself and swore I'd pushed him. My parents never bothered to check. They shipped me overnight to the poorest mining belt in Kembala. Three years later, my father called me for the first time. "Damian isn't angry anymore." "Blackwell Forge Holdings is short on cash." "Crawl back here and marry into Gloria Dane's household in Damian's place, so she'll invest in us." I laughed. Gloria Dane was an old woman pushing sixty. What a devoted father he was. But they didn't know that during those three years, I'd quietly built the largest private financial network in the world, the Obsidian Crown Consortium. Now they were days from bankruptcy and still wanted to trade me for money. Fine. I'd been looking for a reason to go back and settle every account.

I get home from a business trip over Thanksgiving and find out Mom came all the way from Larkwyn to visit me. She was made to sleep in the storage room. I'm just about to lose my temper when my mother-in-law, Deborah Garner, rolls her eyes. "Next time your mom comes, give us a heads-up. What will the neighbors think if they find out we have relatives from the sticks?" Mom looks down, so humiliated she doesn't know what to do with her hands. My wife, Ella Shaw, finally looks up from her phone when she sees the look on my face. "Come on. Mom's just looking out for us. Everyone in this building is either rich or well-connected. Next time your mom visits, she should stay at a hotel. It's such a hassle having to get the place professionally cleaned every time she leaves." She grabs the pecan pies Mom brought and throws them straight into the trash. "And don't bring stuff like this from the sticks into our home. It's full of germs." Mom apologizes over and over, clutching the few things she brought to her chest. Then she lowers her head and walks out the door. I don't argue or make a scene. I grab the deed, call a real estate agent, and put the condo on the market. Mom paid for the place in full when I got married. If they're so embarrassed to have relatives from the sticks, they can stop living in the condo Mom paid for. After all, I wouldn't want to embarrass them.

I'd been married to Calvin Lennox for five years, but he'd never let go of his ex-wife, Ella Vance. When I passed out with a 104-degree fever, he kissed my forehead and said he had to work late at the office. Then he went straight to Ella's apartment. When our daughter, Lilith Lennox, asked him to stay and help her blow out her birthday candles, he apologized again and rushed off to Ella's son's birthday party. Then came the day Ella's son, Felix Vance, pushed my daughter down the stairs. My daughter lay in the emergency room, covered in blood. Calvin rushed in and went straight to Ella and her son, who didn't have a scratch on them. "Are you two all right?" he asked anxiously. When I told him through tears what had actually happened, the man who'd once sworn he loved only me looked at me with disgust for the first time. "Adela, your lies make me sick. Ella is so gentle, and Felix is autistic. How could they possibly hurt you or Lilith?" In that moment, as I looked at the cut on my daughter's forehead, the last of my love for him died.

For five years, Yale Xander worked as a lowly servant in the Xavier household, all to help his girlfriend, Moon Xavier, who lost her memory, remember him. He treated every man she dated with respect and humility. He let her take her anger out on him whenever she was in a bad mood. Even after her childhood friend kicked him down the stairs and broke both his legs, Yale still forced a smile and told her it was fine. All he asked in return was that she visit him more often. Just when Moon finally agreed to seek treatment for her memory loss, Yale went to the butler and asked to end his employment and leave. His best friend, Cody Xavier, rushed over. He grabbed Yale by the shoulders and shook him. “You’re leaving now? Yale, have you lost your mind? “Is this because Moon is marrying Justin? She has lost her memory! Just hold on a little longer. Once she remembers you, she’ll regret everything she’s done to you.” Yale fell silent for a moment. Then, he let out a bitter laugh. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Ever since I was little, my taste buds seemed off. Whenever my family shared a watermelon, the others all raved about how sweet and refreshing it was. Yet no matter how many times I tasted it, the watermelon always struck me as bland, with a faint trace of sourness. I could never bring myself to enjoy it. Eventually, I stopped eating watermelon altogether. That was until the new summer break, when I dragged my heavy suitcase home, drenched in sweat, and spotted several slices of watermelon sitting on the table. To quench my thirst, I picked up a slice and popped it into my mouth. A burst of rich, sugary juice immediately exploded across my tongue. Just as I caught myself wondering when watermelon had ever tasted this amazing, my sister saw it and snatched the tray right out of my hand. "Why are you eating Buster's watermelon?" "What? Who is Buster?" She pointed to the number labeled on the tray. "Buster is the puppy I got this year. You're not Number 5 in this house anymore. Buster is!" In our family, everyone had a designated number. My dad was Number 1. My mom was Number 2. My brother was Number 3. My sister was Number 4, and I was Number 5. Before I could even process that my number had been handed off to a dog, my mother stepped into the living room. Spotting me, she said cheerfully, "Oh, you're eating watermelon again? That's great! Now those rinds won't go to waste anymore." Looking down at the watermelon rinds tossed in the trash can, I finally understood. There was never anything wrong with my taste buds. It was simply that over all these years, the sweet, tender heart of the watermelon—and the love tucked inside it—had never once been given to me. That very evening, I signed the agreement to join the Mistolstone Research Institution. I'd never return home where I was treated worse than a dog.