Plot Twists Short Stories & Independence Marriage Novels

Three years into my marriage to Vivian Rhodes, I've suffered three separate accidents. In the first year, my art studio mysteriously catches fire, and a falling easel crushes both of my hands. In the second year, I am involved in a car accident that damages my reproductive system, leaving me infertile. In the third year, I am attacked and suffer a severe head injury. When I wake up, I develop serious vision problems. The doctor tells me that my corneas are severely damaged and infected. To save my life, they have to remove one of my eyes. Devastated, I chase the doctors and nurses out of my room and flee from the hospital. But then I overhear my wife talking to her best friend, Hailey Dawson. "Vivian, you ruined Julian's hands and made him infertile for Andrew. Now you're working with the doctor to deceive him and take his eye. If Julian finds out, he'll hate you." Vivian's expression darkens, but her voice remains firm. "If Julian can still paint, Andy will never win any award. And I promise Andy that all my love and everything I own will go to Cece. So I can only have one child. Only by making Julian blind can I bring Cece home without arousing suspicion. She looks so much like me." So the happy marriage I think I have is nothing but a carefully constructed lie. All three "accidents" over the past three years are her doing. I can no longer accept a marriage that has cost me my life.

My wife, Alayna Watson, is childish as ever even though we've been married for eight years. From time to time, she'll use her prank toys on me just to trick me. Oftentimes, I just toss the toys into the store without thinking much about them. A few days later, when I'm cleaning the house, I suddenly remember the box that Alayna has pranked me with, so I decide to throw it away. When I open the lid, I smell a foul odor wafting from within the box. A severed arm lies quietly there. I slump to the floor instantly out of alarm and shock. With trembling fingers, I manage to call 911. When the DNA results are out, the police officer shows a weird and conflicted expression. "Sir, the DNA we've extracted from this arm… belongs to Alayna Watson."”

After being reborn, I quietly cut all ties with my husband, Nathaniel Cole. I go to work alone. I watch movies alone. Even when I cook, I only make enough for one. All because in my last life, I had married him only to be neglected for 40 years. At the very end, he coldly pulled the oxygen tube from me, spitting out words filled with hatred. "If I had a choice, I never would've married you!" I died in pain, filled with resentment. When I open my eyes again, my mother is speaking to me and my sister. "According to the marriage agreement, one of you has to marry Nathaniel. Which one of you will it be?" I'm just about to refuse when my sister, Catherine Brown, steps forward. She shoots me a contemptuous glance and says, "Mom, I'll marry him."

Eight years into the Cappello family, and only today did I discover there's a meeting room beneath the estate. Half an hour ago, my husband Julian put on his coat and said he was heading to the New Jersey docks to handle a smuggling shipment. Five minutes after he left, the estate's internal line rang. It was Julian's driver, asking if he should have the car washed. It had gotten dirty from yesterday's rain. Julian never rides in anyone else's car for long trips. If he'd gone to New Jersey, his driver should be behind the wheel right now. I went down to the second-level basement garage. His car was still there. The emergency stairwell beside it was inexplicably open. I followed it down and found a meeting room. Through the half-open door, I saw my mother-in-law Elena pouring whiskey for Mia, the girl I'd taken in from the slums out of pity the year I married into the Cappello family. "Mia, you're taking over the Brooklyn docks starting next week." "Julian will help you clean up all the dirty accounts." The Brooklyn docks. I'd taken two bullets for this family to secure that territory. And now my mother-in-law was handing it to Mia like it was nothing. And Julian, the Cappello heir, my husband, was standing right behind Mia, both hands resting on her bare shoulders. Around the long table sat my father-in-law Victor, Elena, Mia, the family's legal director, and two heads of the operations team. With Julian, that made seven. Every core member of the Cappello family was in that room. Everyone except me.

In my third year of marriage, Victor Lyon, the most prominent man in Sagedale's elite circle as well as my husband, goes viral on the Internet once again. This time, it's because he has decided to throw a grand wedding to be with Carol Braun, the low-income student he has been sponsoring. I don't kick up a fuss, nor do I throw a tantrum. In fact, I even have someone send them my wishes. Because of that, the rich wives of Sagedale's elite circle view me as a complete joke. After the wedding, Victor explains to me, "Carol's grandpa is very ill. His death wish is to see her marry a good man. I was just acting with her the whole time, Lilian. Don't take it to heart." I just smile and nod. "Yeah, I believe you." In my previous life, I had demanded explanations from Victor hysterically. But in return, he screwed over my parents' company to the point that they were forced to jump off a building by debtors. I got my legs broken before I got thrown into a mental asylum that tortured me endlessly. Thank goodness God took pity on me, for He gave me another chance in life. This time, I no longer want Victor's love. I just want his wealth. When he's busy going on a honeymoon with Carol, I secretly have his assets transferred under my name. When Victor's attending prenatal checkups with Carol, I trick him into signing a share-transfer agreement. Whenever he betrays me, I'll take some of his assets away. Once Victor betrays me three more times, he won't have anything under his name.

In the fifth year of my marriage with Lionel Kruger, I suddenly develop an ability to see everyone's ranking system. To my mom, I'm ranked first. To my best friend, I'm ranked second after her daughter. Even the owner of the breakfast cart in the neighborhood views me as his sixth favorite person in his life. Delighted, I rush off to see Lionel's ranking system. His mom ranks first, whereas Natalie Cooper is ranked second. That's me! I'm ranked second! That piece of news makes me smile throughout the day. That is, until I see an unfamiliar name taking up the sixth spot—Lindsay Sloan. I tell myself that it's fine. I'm ranked second, while she's ranked sixth. But the next few days, I witness Lindsey's name climbing slowly up the ranks to the point she's almost reaching my rank. That evening, Lionel comes home and hugs me as usual. "I missed you." As I stare at the ranking system above his head, I notice that Lindsay, who's now ranked third, is slowly climbing upward as he speaks. "Lionel, who's Lindsey Sloan?" At that moment, Lionel freezes up while hugging me.

In my last life, right after I found out I was pregnant, a fire broke out in the mansion where I lived. My husband, Don Austin Marchetti, took most of the Family up into the mountains that night to search for his missing childhood friend instead. My calls for help went straight to voicemail. All I could do was watch the fire spread and swallow the entire house. He wept regretfully over what was left of me. After I died, he still went on to marry her. On their wedding day, guilt finally caught up with him, and he took his own life. His last words were that if he ever got the chance to live again, he'd choose me without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the fire. And I found him leading everyone up into the mountains to search for her before the flames had even started. This time, I wasn't waiting around for him to save me. I was saving myself.

There are only 12 minutes left until the lucky moment for me to leave my family home as a bride. Charles Lumley finally makes it past the games and hands me my bouquet. My relatives crowd around the doorway, urging him on. "Hurry up and take your bride to the car! The lucky moment is almost here!" With red-rimmed eyes, Mom carefully straightens my veil. Just as we're about to leave, I hear my bridesmaid, Winnie Simpson, cry out behind me. "Wait! My eyeliner is smudged. I need a quick touch-up!" I stop in my tracks, and Charles comes to a halt too. "Sure. No rush," he says. As Winnie rummages through her makeup bag, she smiles at me. "Don't worry, Nat. I'll be quick. I wouldn't want to embarrass you at your wedding by showing up with ruined makeup." Then, as casually as if it's the most natural thing in the world, she hands her bag to Charles. "Hold this for me." He takes it. The room falls silent. Mom's face grows paler by the second. I look at him. "Charles, the lucky moment for me to leave is 8:58 am. If we leave now, we'll make it just in time." But he frowns and argues, "I'm already here. A few more minutes won't make a difference." I look at the pink makeup bag in his hand and suddenly smile. Turning around, I pick up my phone and send a message to a number. I text, "Weren't you going to steal me away? Come get me at 8:58 am."

My wife was in a car accident and barely clinging to life, but I calmly stood outside the operating room listening to a sales agent introduce a new apartment to me. The doctor, covered in blood, came up to me. "The patient was impaled by a hard object in her lower body. There are two options. We can remove her uterus immediately, or we can try to preserve the organ, but that will require extremely precise equipment and the cost will be very high. "Please decide quickly. She doesn't have much time." I answered impatiently, "Then remove it. Don't waste the effort." When my mother-in-law heard that, she broke down in front of me, wailing. "Jason, I'm begging you. Use the money to save my daughter. If they remove it, how is she supposed to hold her head up for the rest of her life?" My father-in-law pleaded through tears too. "She's your wife. Can you really bear to watch her lose the chance to be a mother? Aren't you going to think about your own future?" I quickly stepped back and said, "If you want to save her, pay for it yourselves. I don't have any money." "Didn't we give all our money to you two? Take out the four hundred fifty thousand dollars you saved to buy a house and save her first!" My voice shot up instantly. "What? Spend four hundred fifty thousand dollars to save a piece of rotten meat? Are you kidding me?" As I spoke, I tossed my card to the sales agent and paid in full on the spot for the new apartment I had just chosen.

Five years ago, Gary Cooper proposed to me 99 times just to marry me. Five years later, to cheer up the secretary he adored, he handed me 99 divorce papers. "Relax. I'm not actually divorcing you. I'm just humoring her. Just pretend like you always do. There's no need to sign." When Gary said it, he was even smiling. As for me, the heartbreak I once felt had long since faded. Now, there was barely a ripple left. I suddenly remembered what day it was and asked quietly, "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" He paused for a moment, then casually shook his head. "Probably not. Today's kind of special. I don't want her to get jealous." I nodded and watched him walk out the door. Then, I picked up a pen and carefully signed my name on the 99th divorce agreement.

I had proposed seven times, but Winnie Smith continued refusing to marry me. This was because the Smith family had a special test. To marry their daughters, their sons-in-law had to refrain from sleeping with their fiancees after being drugged. I tried seven times. However, every time after I regained consciousness, Winnie would be sleeping naked next to me. She would cry and throw herself into my arms. “It’s fine. We can try again. I trust you.” It was not until the eighth time that I overheard her instructing the butler, “Switch the aphrodisiac to sleeping pills, and make sure it’s a high dosage. “After he falls asleep, I’ll take it from there as usual.” While I kept my eyes shut tight, I could hear her taking off her long dress. Then, she came over to unbutton my shirt. I heard her sigh. “I’m sorry, Benjamin Lowe. Joe Anderson’s been diagnosed with cancer, and his last wish is to be with me. “Don’t worry, though. After he passes, I’ll marry you immediately.” Right then, I realized that her family’s test had been a lie she told just to marry her childhood best friend. The next day, my parents pressured me again to leave the country and inherit the family business. So, I agreed to their request. Since she wanted to marry Joe, I would wish the couple well.

I just set up my husband's best friend, Abigail, with a guy. Then he looked at me and said, “You’re nasty.” I froze, unable to process the words. From the backseat, my son, Liam, doubled down. “Mom, Dad and Aunt Abigail have been together for two years. He gave you so many hints. How did you not notice?” I turned pale. My hands were still peeling the snacks I’d bought for them. “Why...?” Danny’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. He looked completely bored. “I didn't want to say anything. But now that you set Abigail up with someone else. Do you have any idea how hard she cried today?” He paused. “Divorce or separation. Pick one.”

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."

Three years into our long-distance relationship, my daily conversations with Evan Crawford turned into a three-person group chat. He said the company was busy preparing for its IPO and that he didn't have time to check his phone. If I needed anything, I should tell his "buddy," Nicole Pearce, and she'd pass it along. From then on, everything came through Nicole: what time he left the office, when he traveled for work, what he took for his stomach pain. She knew every moment of his day. Every message I sent him just sat there on "unread." On my birthday, I asked in the group chat if he could spare ten minutes for a video call. Nicole replied, "The launch event is right around the corner. Don't distract him." And yet somehow he had time to like her latest Instagram post. The night the company went public, I took an overnight bus to the celebration dinner and arrived in time to hear him raise a toast. "I owe these past six months to Nicole. She took care of all the little things for me." When he spotted me, he frowned. "Why didn't you check in through the group chat first?" Nicole took the gift from my hands. "He's exhausted. Whatever you need to say, I'll pass it along." A wave of helplessness hit me. I pulled my hand back and left the group chat. If even missing him had to go through her, I had no reason to report my life to him anymore.

Throughout our four years of college, Derek would always book train tickets for me and my best friend, Giselle, whenever we traveled home for semester breaks. He always claimed he was too late in getting the tickets, so we never ended up sitting together. Every time the tickets were issued, Giselle would tear him apart in our group chat. "Seriously, Derek? You booked three tickets and somehow managed to put us in three different cars. "Next time, you’d better at least make sure you’re sitting next to Iris, or I’ll be coming after you." Derek fired right back. "Who the hell do you think you are? I’d sit at her feet if she asked me to. It’s none of your business." I bought their story. Even when I spent hours sitting alone, or when I came down with a fever during the night ride and tried Derek’s number more than a dozen times without success, I told myself he was probably asleep in another part of the train. Then came our graduation trip. Someone asked if I would switch seats with them. I grabbed my suitcase and made my way down the aisle, only to find Giselle, my jacket propped over her shoulders, and her head resting on Derek’s shoulder. The two of them were sharing a pair of earbuds. Spotting me, Derek pulled out his earbud and straightened his back. "Just so we’re clear, we’ve been careful about boundaries. "I was worried you’d feel uncomfortable knowing we were sitting next to each other, so I kept it from you." Giselle patted the seat next to her. "I’m your best friend. Wouldn’t you rather have me sitting next to your boyfriend, making sure he behaves, than some random girl?" Before I could say a word, a conductor came over carrying two matching luggage tags with a smile. "According to our records, you always booked two seats together on all of your sixteen trips in the last four years. Here is a little something to commemorate your journeys with us." The conductor noticed me and reviewed the booking information again. "You must be the friend who always travels with them. "That’s strange. Why do you always book a seat separate from them?" The entire car went silent. The truth dawned on me when I saw the discoloration on Derek’s face. They had never once been apart during the train trips. For four years, the single seat left apart from theirs had always been mine.

Three days before my wedding, I find out that my fiancee, Ivy Carlton, has changed the wedding venue from my grandfather's home—that's located up in the south—to Jonah Jennings, her childhood friend's favorite castle in Staravia. When I'm about to confront her, I overhear her complaining to her friend, "Thank goodness Jon's a man with taste! Otherwise, everyone's going to make fun of me for the rest of my life!" Her friend asks, "Didn't you agree that you'd hold the wedding ceremony in Theo's grandpa's house? Aren't you worried that he might not marry you out of fury when he finds out?" Ivy chortles in response. "The Sterlings are on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying me is Theo's only ticket out of poverty. He can't risk losing me at all. "I've already arranged for the wedding planner to call him and inform him about the change. He's most likely rushing to change his flight." Rage and resentment swell in my heart. I clench my fists tightly, but in the end, I turn on my heel and leave. Three days later, the wedding is held in the castle, just as Ivy has planned. I never changed my flight, nor did I show up at the castle. Instead, I choose to exchange rings with another woman in my grandpa's courtyard. Till now, Ivy still doesn't understand that I want to marry her because we've been dating for ten long years, not because I view her as a ticket out of poverty. But now that I've woken up from my dream woven of fantasies, it's time for me to make choice.

The delivery-app price war ended up being the smoking gun that proved my husband was cheating. A man who drank nothing but premium craft coffee somehow had a Dunkin’ iced coffee bag sitting in his car. After catching me staring at it, he explained, “The new receptionist at work gave it to me. She said there was some promotion going on and the drinks were ridiculously cheap, so she bought too many and offered me one. I only accepted it because I didn’t want to be rude.” I looked at him with amusement. “Is she pretty?” Hearing the sarcasm in my voice, Carter Freeman snapped. It was out of character. “If you’re going to keep acting jealous for no reason, get out of my car!” It seemed that so much time had passed that he had forgotten that the “Freeman” behind Freeman Group was not Carter Freeman, but me.

My husband and I scratched off a five-million-dollar lottery ticket at a lottery shop. Before we even had time to celebrate, the rosary I had worn since childhood suddenly snapped, a single bead cracking clean off the chain. Without another word, I grabbed him and tried to buy tickets that very night to flee back to the southwestern mountains. The lottery shop owner stared at me in shock. My husband clung to the metal shutter and roared, "Have you lost your mind?" But I gripped that broken wooden bead tightly. "We leave now." My husband flung my hand away, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm claiming this prize today. If you dare run, we're getting divorced!" I nodded without hesitation. "Fine. The five million, plus the used car at home, all go to you. I'll leave with nothing... "But tonight, I have to leave this city."

I had personally trained Damiano Vestri and brought him up the ranks to become the mafia’s Don. The family’s inner circle accepted him, and he was loyal only to me. Whenever bullets went flying, he would always shield me and take many of them for me. The night before our wedding, I waited for his return, but what I got was news of his death. A week later, I received an email with a pregnancy report and a photo. The photo showed Damiano caressing another woman’s belly. It turned out he had faked his death so that he could be with his first love. The due date for her pregnancy was approaching. I scoffed and clicked the safety off on my gun. If he wanted to fake his death, I would help him turn it into a real one.

It is the third year of the apocalypse. All water sources have been thoroughly polluted, making even a single bottle of clean water extremely rare. Every base has to send out search teams to find new water sources for all. My husband, Jasper Curran, is a geologist, and so, he is able to locate water sources that are still pure and unpolluted. However, when someone holds a knife to my throat for the last bottle of water—thinking that he will do anything to stop them—he hands the only bottle of clean water to Avery Grayson, the person who claimed she was my parents' real daughter instead of me. "Ave is thirsty. She's been suffering since she was little and she even had her parents taken by you, Arianne Grayson," Jasper says. "Just let her have the water." Jasper's expression is too calm and collected, as if my life is not on the line because of him. "They're just trying to scare you. You've enjoyed so many years of being spoiled with a luxurious lifestyle anyway. So what if you get bullied a little?" The people then kick me to the ground in a fit of rage as I watch Jasper huddle Avery into his arms and disappear into the desert. I get beaten up so hard that my chapped lips crack and start bleeding once again. I look at the menacing faces around me and quickly exclaim, "Wait, wait! I can help you find clean water too!"