Plot Twists Short Stories & Independence Regret Novels

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.

At my mom's 50th birthday party, the host suddenly invites my adoptive sister, Megan Fraser, and me onstage to take part in a "Who Knows Mom Best?" quiz. All the relatives assume it is a special segment my mom has arranged to officially introduce me to everyone as her biological daughter. The first question is about my mom's favorite flower. I write down "lily", the flower she always keeps in her study. Megan, on the other hand, holds up her board and says, "White camellia. Mom said it was the first flower Dad ever gave her." My mom nods and says, "Megan remembers it better than anyone." The second question asks what my mom takes for her stomach problems. I write down the medication her doctor prescribed. Megan writes down the soup my brother, Josh Fraser, makes. "Kathy, you've been back for three years, and you didn't even know Mom hates taking medicine?" Josh mocks. After that, Megan correctly answers questions about my mom's usual size, the opera she listens to when she can't sleep, and her favorite perfume. One by one, the lights beside me—symbols of our supposed bond—go out. The last question is who my mom wants to give the family heirloom brooch to. Megan doesn't write a word. Instead, she slips her arm through my mom's and says, "Mom would never let me lose." As laughter fills the room, my mom personally lights the final light for Megan. Then she looks at me and says, "Just because you're my flesh and blood doesn't mean you truly know me. We'll talk about acknowledging you as my daughter another time." I walk straight off the stage and send my lawyer, Peter Richmond, a message. "Proceed as planned. I'm leaving tonight."

30,000 emergency meals meant for the disaster-stricken area were all sent to the incinerator as hazardous waste. The order to destroy them came from the deputy chief of the Health Department, Joanne Shea, my wife. The whistleblower was her childhood friend, Kevin Stafford, who claimed to be a retired undercover journalist. This was already the third time he had targeted my company. The first time, he reported my truck for illegal parking. Joanne then forced me to issue a public apology. The second time, he conducted an undercover investigation and accused me of violating packaging label regulations. Joanne issued a fine without hesitation and ordered my company to undergo a month-long rectification. Each time, Joanne has sided with him, using me as an example for others to learn from. This time, with water and electricity cut off in the disaster area, I rushed supplies there overnight only to be blocked at the entrance once again. Holding the certification of compliance, I pleaded, “The front lines can’t wait. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take the blame with my life!” However, Joanne coldly waved me off. “Kevin is a journalist. He would never take the disaster area lightly! Destroy the supplies immediately!” Two days later, the lab report confirmed that the food met all standards. However, the emergency rations had already been destroyed, and the “‘Poisoned Meals for Disaster Relief” scandal had spread like wildfire online. The company faced a widespread online boycott, and major clients terminated their contracts overnight. Joanne looked at the lab report. She felt guilty but still kept her arrogance. “I guess Kevin misjudged the situation, but he meant well.” I found it all hilarious and slipped off my wedding ring. “I’ve given you three chances. Let’s get a divorce.”

At the annual Rinaldi family charity gala, I bent down to pick up a dropped pearl earring. When I looked up, my fiancé—the ruthless Mafia Don, Caspian—and my former best friend, Sienna, were already at the other end of the ballroom. I grabbed my dress to follow them, but my place by his side was already gone. They stood close, whispering about bloody business I couldn’t touch. I felt like a stranger. I always knew my marriage to Caspian was arranged. We grew up together. We even went to the same college. Until Sienna showed up. She used to be my best friend. Now, she was Caspian’s sharpest blade. His right hand. Caspian and Sienna were the family's golden duo. They thrived in the dark, ruling through bullets and blood. Me? I scrubbed their dirty money clean, yet I was just arm candy. A smiling trophy locked out of his dark world. Caspian always loved tracing my jaw with his calloused fingers. "Your innocence is charming," he’d murmur. Then he’d turn around and handle the bloody family business with Sienna, without a second thought. Watching them fade into the shadows, a bone-deep exhaustion hit me. I was done chasing Caspian.

I'm New York's top fashion designer. Everyone says the industry is a swamp, but nobody ever dared lay a hand on me. Nobody knew my secret bed partner was the most dangerous, ruthless Alpha in the city. He used his power to pave my path, and asked for nothing. As his fragile human mate, he hid me away in his downtown penthouse. Every night after we were intimate, he would kiss my palm over and over. He'd bury his face in my shoulder, whispering that hiding me was the only way to keep me safe. He claimed his pack was torn by civil war and he needed time. He told me to wait until he could make me his true Luna in broad daylight. For seven years, it never missed a beat. Every single night, he only left after I fell asleep. I honestly thought he was obsessed with me. Until I overheard his right-hand man trembling as he asked: "The Council approved the vote. When are you bringing our real Luna home?" The Alpha sneered, his voice dripping with disgust: "Those old bastards trying to run my life again? Ava is just a toy. Make a human food my mate? I'm not out of my mind." And now? When my heart turned to ash and I finally walked away to let him have her... why is he losing his mind?

Legend has it that if you venture deep into Moon Forest, find a moonstone that symbolizes love, and give it to your beloved, the two of you will be together forever. In the seven years since I became Sebastian's mate, owning a moonstone necklace had become my obsession. He once promised me that the very first thing he would do after becoming Alpha was give me a moonstone himself. For that promise, I waited year after year. I once asked him, "Could you get me a moonstone necklace? It shouldn't be that difficult for you." But he didn't even look up. "I've been busy lately. I'll go find one for you once things settle down." But he was always busy, and I never brought it up again. Until one day, I saw an elegant little box on his desk with a moonstone inside. I was overjoyed, thinking the day I had been waiting for had finally come. But the next day, I saw that very moonstone on his Beta's Instagram. Her caption read: "I just casually said I wanted one, and you actually got it for me. So this is what it feels like to be someone's first choice." I gripped the hem of my shirt and silently turned off my phone. I went to a witch and asked for a potion to break the mate bond. I boarded a plane and left the place I had called home for seven years. I was no longer fixated on that little stone. I had my own wilderness to explore.

On the night Lucas Wright proposes to me, I take off with the ten grand his family broke their backs to pool together. In my previous life, I marry him with a heart full of happiness. However, in our second year of marriage, I'm diagnosed with cancer. From then on, he runs himself ragged, wasting away the best years of his life. In this life, I watch him fall apart, and I vanish from his world without ever looking back. … Seven years later, I work as a wedding planner. Right after I bring another dream wedding to a perfect close, Lucas suddenly appears in front of me. The woman walking arm in arm with him is Selene Beaumont, the daughter of a real estate magnate who has always had a crush on him in my previous life. Lucas sizes me up before sneering, "I heard you're working yourself to the bone these days just to make a living. Is this the life you chose after taking off with my money? If you get on your knees and beg me, I'll let you plan my wedding. "How about it? I know how much you love money. Don't worry, I'll make sure my offer is worth your while." Picking up on the mockery in his words, I calmly wipe away the blood from the corner of my mouth and part my lips slightly. "Sure. How does 45 grand sound?" With 45 grand, I can at least afford a nicer burial plot for myself.

My sister Sofia and I married into the Moretti family, New York's most feared dynasty, and got pregnant less than a month apart. I married Dante Moretti, the eldest son and youngest trauma surgery chief St. Vincent's had ever appointed. Sofia married his younger brother Luca, a Major Crimes detective with a badge and a Moretti army at his back. One carried a scalpel. The other carried a gun. Behind them stood a family that owned docks, unions, private clubs, and half the secrets in Manhattan. Everyone said we'd won a life women would kill for. On my first anniversary, I left a maternity clinic with our daughter's fetal heart scans. Sofia hopped out at a bakery for a cinnamon-apple tart. That craving saved her life. The black Cadillac carrying me cut through an intersection and drove straight into an armored truck. Metal folded around me. Glass filled my mouth. Beneath the screaming brakes, I felt my baby stop moving. I called Dante with a bloodied hand. He rejected me three times before answering the fourth. "Enough with the loyalty tests, Elena. Valentina's old gunshot wound triggered an arrhythmia, and I'm treating her. You and Sofia don't get to invent emergencies every time we help her." Sofia called Luca in tears. He was at Valentina's townhouse investigating a triggered alarm. "A false report leaves a record," he said. "Stop helping your sister put on a show." In the end, my eight-month-pregnant sister smashed open the warped car door and dragged me through broken glass and leaking gasoline. She commandeered a hotel SUV and drove me to the ER herself. I survived. She went into premature labor and lost her son the same night I lost my daughter. After surgery, we lay in neighboring beds while dawn bled through the windows. "Elena," Sofia whispered, "I'm done with my marriage." I reached across and took her ice-cold hand. "So am I."

Everyone in New York knew my name—Bella Moreau. I was the one person Theo Romano, the city's most feared mob boss, would kill to protect. Anyone who defied me or so much as looked at me the wrong way never escaped his wrath. But when his first love, Eve Laurent, returned, he turned me into a tool to please her, showering her with all the affection that had once been mine. Eve casually claimed I'd slapped her. The very next day, an assassin came after me, leaving me with two broken ribs. Eve claimed I'd smashed the jewelry Theo had bought her. The next day, I was kidnapped, stripped naked, and humiliated. Eve accused me of pushing her down the stairs and breaking her leg. Theo threw me into the basement and left me there for three days without a single drop of water. Day after day, he watched me grow quieter. I stopped arguing with him and making a scene. He thought he'd finally broken me, sanding away every rough edge until I became the obedient, understanding wife he'd always wanted. What he didn't know was that today was the 1,826th day we'd been together. Our secret marriage agreement would expire today. At last, I was finally free.

At my engagement party to Matthew, the Don of the Gambino family, he said he had business to handle. Two hours later, he still wasn't back. I went to look for him. Around the corner of the hallway, his men were whispering in Sicilian dialect. "Poor thing. The future Donna has no idea Don's been screwing Ruth." "The Don's out of his mind. Can't even keep it together on his engagement night." Ruth Martin. His childhood friend. His business partner. I stood there, frozen. Then I walked back to the ballroom. A while later, Matthew pushed through the door. One button missing from his shirt. Sweat on his forehead. Someone clapped his shoulder, asked in Sicilian. "Ha! So? How was it with Ruth? Fucking intense, right? You're a madman." Matthew laughed and answered. "Of course. Couldn't get enough." What Matthew didn't know—I used to be Sicilian. I understood every word. What he also didn't know—I was about to tell him I was carrying his child. I took a sip of my juice. Didn't call him out. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened the confirmation from the lab in Paris. Hit Confirm. Seven days from now, I'd be on a flight to Paris. Gone from his world for good.

Keane Mercer was the captain of the Boston Blades, one of the biggest teams in professional hockey. We'd been together for five years, and I hadn't missed a single one of his games. I could never get seats near the glass. Every game, I settled for the best spot I could find in a corner, lifting my camera to capture every moment he was on the ice. I asked him once. "Could you save me a seat in the friends-and-family section just once? The view is so much better from there." He didn't even look up. "I'm the captain. I can't play favorites. Maybe another time." He never said when "another time" would be. I never asked again. The friends-and-family seat remained empty season after season. Until the semifinals this year. For the first time, someone was sitting there. She was a young woman with a warm, bright smile, standing with the help of a crutch. Every time Keane scored, his eyes found hers. When the final buzzer sounded, he skated straight to the stands, lifted her effortlessly into his arms, and carried her out, shielding her as they disappeared into the crowd. I lowered my camera, packed away my gear, and walked out of the arena alone. Then I reopened the transfer offer I'd deleted and clicked "Accept". If I was never going to have a place in Keane's friends-and-family section, then I was done waiting on the sidelines. It was time to build a life that belonged to me.

When I arrived at the engagement party, I bent down to pick up my dropped purse, only to find my fiancé and my best friend had already walked into the banquet hall side-by-side. By the time I gathered up my dress and hurried after them, Susie had naturally linked her arm through Charles'. They were chatting and laughing together, casually discussing how to take over an international drug trade route that day. It was as if I had never existed. Growing up, Susie and Charles were the two most brilliant prodigies in Sandelford's mafia families. As adults, they both became the most capable members of their respective families. Charles even became the Don of the Anderson family several years ago. Meanwhile, I was constantly stuck playing catch-up behind them. Even after all these years, I had never been given access to our family's core business operations. Charles used to comfort me by saying, "Innocence is a strength, too. You don't need to worry about the dirty work. Susie and I have it covered." He gave my forehead a gentle kiss, then turned around and flew off to Southeast Usia with Susie to negotiate business deals, keeping his phone switched off for days on end. Watching the two of them raise their glasses to celebrate another victory, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit me. I was tired of playing this game. Since I could never catch up to them, I wasn't going to chase after them anymore.

A week before our family wedding, my fiancé, Matteo, suddenly changed the location to a luxury yacht in Boca Raton. I only found out when the wedding coordinator called me. Over the video call, I heard Matteo's careless voice in the background: "It's just a wedding. It's the same anywhere. Don't bother asking Sienna. She does whatever I say." "Besides, Camilla always dreamed of a fairytale wedding at sea. I'm just making her dream come true. Sienna will understand." Just because his childhood friend, Camilla Moretti, said she liked ocean views, he ruined the wedding I spent months planning. And he didn't even bother to tell me. He knew damn well I nearly drowned as a kid. He knew deep water terrifies me to my very core. Matteo thought I was crazy in love with him. After all, I once took a bullet to the head for him, damaging my vision. He was dead sure I'd back down again and smooth things over with my family. He thought wrong. I'm done taking his garbage. I tore up the wedding contract and walked away without looking back. Screw this wedding. And screw him.

In my last life, a girl named Sophie came to see the house right around graduation season. She said she'd just landed a job with low pay and begged me for a cheaper rate. I felt sorry for her and dropped the rent from eight hundred to four hundred a month. I even let her pay month to month instead of months upfront and only charged half the deposit. Three months in, I went to collect rent. She hid inside and wouldn't open the door. That same night, I came across a video she'd posted online. The footage showed me standing at her door, knocking. The caption read: "Heartless landlord jacks up rent to drive out a fresh graduate. Eight hundred a month, and she just raised it on a whim." I called her, furious. "I cut your rent in half! Why are you lying and saying I raised it?" She sneered. "You're the rich landlord. I'm just a poor student. People will believe whatever I say." "Pay me thirty thousand in emotional damages, and I'll take the video down. Otherwise, I'll make sure you never rent this place out again." The video went viral overnight. My phone number and home address were dug up and posted everywhere. Strangers called day and night to curse me out. The house sat empty for six months. I lost thousands of dollars. The stress was so severe I hemorrhaged, miscarried, and ended up in the hospital. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the afternoon Sophie first came to see the house. Ha. Everyone believes you, huh? This time, you won't get a single dollar off the rent. And you're going to pay for everything.

I am the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack. On the day I gave birth, I drank the birthing tonic that Elena, our pack healer, had brought me. My wolf convulsed violently, and the moment I delivered my pup, I fell into a coma. When I woke again, I was bound by thick silver chains, trapped for five years in a lightless forest prison. It wasn't until Caleb, the Alpha of the Silver River Pack, was hunting down a rogue that he caught my scent by chance and freed me. I dragged my weakened body all the way back to the Silver Moon Pack. Only to hear my Alpha mate Killian announcing before the whole pack that Elena, the very woman who had poisoned me, was about to become the new Luna. And the son I had nearly died to bring into the world was nestled in her arms, sweetly calling her mommy. Eyes burning, I rushed forward and exposed the truth in front of everyone: she had poisoned me. Killian cut me off, impatient. "Lila, as Luna you vanished for five years without a word. Elena carried your burden for you, and instead of being grateful, you make up some pathetic lie to smear her?" Eric's face twisted with disgust. "Daddy, throw this liar out. She's scaring mommy!" And Elena, hiding behind them, gave me a taunting little smile. Something in me let go. That very night, I drank the potion that would sever the mate bond from my side alone. Fine, then. This mate, this son, I no longer wanted either of them.

Marcus Dawson put a price on everything. If he decided something wasn't worth the money, he refused to pay for it. I had broken my right leg saving his life. Even then, he refused to buy me the custom orthopedic brace that would protect my healing leg. "You won't need a brace for that long. It's such a waste of money." "Be reasonable, Ren. I'll get you the best crutches instead. Walking more will help you recover, and they won't cost nearly as much." I was quiet for a long moment. Then I whispered, "Okay." But minutes earlier, I'd seen a new Facebook post from my best friend, Jessica Vance: a five-thousand-dollar designer handbag with one breezy word in the caption. "Surprise." The hand holding the bag was blurred, but I would have known the fresh scar on that forearm anywhere. Marcus had gotten it in a car accident only weeks ago. It was Marcus. A five-thousand-dollar brace was a waste. A five-thousand-dollar bag was a surprise. The same number was excessive when it was spent on me and romantic when it was spent on her. I'd always assumed he was just being frugal. Now I realized he'd done the math a long time ago. My leg wasn't worth five thousand dollars. And neither was I. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "Nathan, I want to come home."

To marry Lorenzo Vincenzo, I gave up my photography career. A dream I had held for ten years. But on our fourth anniversary, I asked my sister Greer to draft the divorce papers. She kept asking, over and over. "Why would you leave Lorenzo? He's the top surgeon at St. Vincent's. Rich, gorgeous. Half the city is dying for a shot at him." I swallowed the bitterness clawing up my throat. "Because of a gift." Greer followed my gaze to the music box on the table. The card was in Elara's handwriting. Lorenzo's junior from med school. [Thank you for flying out to do my aunt's surgery, senior. I know it was a long trip. You worked so hard. The little dancers on this music box remind me of us at graduation prom. Hope you like it, Lorenzo.] That day, my father was in a car accident. I rushed him to St. Vincent's. Only Lorenzo could do the surgery. I searched every floor of that hospital, every corridor. Nowhere. I told myself he must be on a business trip. But no. He had left his post for Elara. The same man who once swore he would never abandon the OR for personal matters. Finally, my father died on the table. Greer pulled me into her arms. "The Vincenzo family owns this city. Their reach is everywhere. Where could you possibly go that he would not find you?" I glanced at the flight confirmation on my phone. "Three days. I am flying to Paris, to a photography studio there. And I will make sure he never, ever finds me."

The first time I was supposed to meet my boyfriend, Grady Cabrera's parents, he stopped me at the door. The reason? His childhood friend, Mallory Pierce, had just drawn a tarot card. According to the reading, I was cursed with bad luck today and shouldn't step foot inside the Cabrera family home. Before I could say a word, Grady reached for the gifts in my hands. "Wait in the car for a while. Once dinner's over, I'll drive you home." I didn't let go. "I've spent over a month getting ready to meet your parents, and you're not even going to let me inside?" His expression hardened. "Brenda, this is for your own good." Before I could protest, he shoved me back into the car and shut the door. Mallory smiled at me through the window. "Don't overthink it, Brenda. I'll go in and keep Linda Cabrera company for you." Grady stood beside her. From beginning to end, he never looked back. Because of a single tarot card drawn by his childhood friend, I—the woman who was supposed to be meeting his parents—had somehow become the one person who wasn't welcome in the house. In that case, maybe there was no point in joining this family at all.

I'd been with Daniel Bonanno for five years. On our anniversary, I was the one who processed his marriage license application— but the bride wasn't me. It was Emma Miller. He told me it was just a merger. A fake arrangement between families. Once he became the Don, he'd marry me for real. I'd heard that line so many times I'd lost count. But I watched him grow closer to that woman. Day by day. Even when I was kidnapped, he was in bed with her. And finally, it hit me. Five years of loving him, and it was all just a joke. So I faked my death. I made sure everyone thought I jumped off that cliff. But after that, Daniel started haunting the base of that cliff. Two years, pacing back and forth, murmuring under his breath: "I was wrong. Please. Just come back."

My boyfriend was Alexander Sterling, Alpha of the Sterling Pack worth over a hundred billion. Mistaking me for a fragile human, he "tested" my character by never buying me a gift in five years. We even split the bill on condoms. Then my foster mother fell critically ill. I borrowed from every friend, scraping together all the money for her surgery except the last $1,000. No matter how desperately I begged Alex, he refused to lend it. "Clara was right," he said coldly. "Getting down on your knees for one grand? That's textbook gold-digger behavior." "We've only been together three years, and you're already this eager to bleed me dry?" Turned out, his three-year "test" was just a suggestion from his childhood sweetheart, Clara Hayes. I broke up with him on the spot. He sneered that I'd come crawling back. He had no idea my biological parents had found me. I returned to my true lineage to marry the most powerful Lycan prince, Vito Marchetti. Five years later, we ran into each other at the Grand Royale Hotel in Los Angeles. His pack enterprise was going public, and Clara Hayes was on his arm in luxurious haute couture. He caught me covered in mud and digging through a dumpster, curling his lip in disgust. "Mia, you rejected me over a thousand bucks back then. Look at you now—you've turned into a beggar!" "For old times' sake, I'll give you one chance. Crawl back to me, and I'll give you a decent place in my pack." I didn't even glance at him. My little boy was sobbing because his stern, powerful father, Lycan Prince Vito, had accidentally knocked his prized crystal into that dumpster during training. I had to get it back, fast.