Independence Short Stories & Novels

During a viral family mediation livestream, the notoriously difficult Dolores Bishop appeared on camera clutching her beloved toy poodle, Buddy, who was foaming at the mouth and suffering violent seizures every night. Convinced her daughter-in-law cursed the dog to death, Dolores demanded half a million dollars in emotional damages. The chat erupted with criticism, calling her a shameless bully trying to extort her own family. But after reviewing Buddy's test results, renowned veterinarian Dr. Alex Warren delivered a devastating diagnosis: irreversible neurological damage. The only humane option was euthanasia before the seizures became even more agonizing. Just as everyone accepts there's no hope, I heard Buddy's desperate voice. "Don't kill me! Please, Grandma, save me! I'm not sick! Every night that chubby three-year-old grandson uses me like a mop, dragging me across the floor after spilling peppermint oil everywhere. It burns so badly I can't stop convulsing!" My hand jerked, nearly shattering the teacup I'd just poured. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to Dolores. "Mrs. Bishop, is your grandson carrying a full bottle of peppermint oil in his pocket?"

After finishing the SATs, my class organized a picnic by the river. Just as everyone was enjoying themselves, Graham Spencer, our class president, suddenly suggested we go for a swim. "Let's experience the thrill of swimming in the middle of roaring river." Several clueless classmates eagerly agreed. Startled, I rushed to stop them. "This stretch of the river used to be an illegal sand-mining site. The riverbed is riddled with deep pits, hidden currents, and whirlpools." Graham only sneered. "You're a swimming champion, yet you're acting like a wuss. Did you buy that championship?" Zara Valentine, the school beauty, raised her phone and started recording me. "Can you believe this? Our school's swimming champion is actually a total coward. What a joke." Fine. If they were all so eager to throw themselves into the river, I'd see their end.

I'm the heiress of the Corleone family, with three childhood sweethearts who used to adore me and watch over me like I was their whole world. Then Daisy Washington, the little maid, showed up—and suddenly I didn't exist anymore. But my father, the don, didn't know. So at the family victory gala, right in the middle of the toast, my father said, "Freya, tell me, who's the one? Point him out, and we'll get you engaged tonight. Right here, right now." The whole room went quiet. Every pair of eyes swung to my three so-called protectors: Nico Gibson, Arlo Mcdonald, and Rhett Owens. But they acted like they hadn't heard a thing. One was feeding Daisy from his fork. One was whispering something that made her giggle. And the third just watched her with that soft, doting look I used to get. The room went dead silent. My father's face stiffened. I quickly jumped in, "Dad, my boyfriend's overseas. I'll bring him to meet you when he's back." The three of them snorted, shooting me mocking looks. I knew they didn't believe me. They thought I was just saving face. But I actually did have a boyfriend.

My fiance, Marcus Benton, has canceled our wedding seven times now because of his childhood friend's depression. The first time, she cut her finger and needed him to comfort her. The second time, her depression flared up, and she threatened to kill herself. Every single time something happens to her, he drops everything and abandons me. This time, he is finally supposed to keep his promise and fly me to Solaviera for our wedding. Yet on the day of our flight, he shows up with his childhood friend, Bianca Warner, in tow. "Bianca's biggest dream in life is to see the ocean in Solaviera. Let's put the wedding on hold. I'll take her to see the sea first, and I'll take you there for our wedding next time." Marcus assumes I'll just wait for him like I always do. What he doesn't know is that to be with him, I made a bet with Papa. If we fail to get married this time, I have to return to my mafia family and accept an arranged marriage. So this time, I am leaving him for good.

My husband Alaric became the Lord Vampire when his brother died. He inherited the estate and full authority over House Ashford. And Vivienne, Julian's widow. Because I was human, and she could give him the one thing I couldn't: a pureblood heir. "I only need to give her one child," he said. "Just one pureblood. Then I'll never touch her again. You're the only one I want." I nodded. Back then, I still believed him. But when Alaric went from visiting the east wing once a month to visiting me only once a month, I knew he was no longer mine alone. The day Vivienne announced her pregnancy—and the same day Alaric took the Ashford Crest off my neck and put it on hers—that was when I knew it was time to leave.

On the day my bond with Alpha Claus was finally severed, I walked out of the Mooncrest Packhouse wearing nothing but the simple linen tunic I had on the day we mated. The Luna mansion, the sports cars, the infinite pack wealth, and our three pups—I left them all behind for Alpha Claus. He stared at me with a genuine shock before his usual mocking sneer returned. "Have you truly thought this through, Elise? You carried our three daughters in your womb, raised them with your own two hands, and now you’re abandoning them too?" "If you are truly walking away with nothing, I will even grant you a clean break from the pack treasury. No alimony, no pack protection. That way, it’s fair." Without a word, I picked up the silver pen, quickly signing my name on the scroll to sever our legal ties. "Yes," I said, my voice eerily calm. "It is incredibly fair." Claus hesitated for a fraction of a second, his claws lightly scraping against the desk before he slowly signed his own name. The moment his signature left the page, the faint, golden shimmer of our mate-bond began to fade, leaving only the deep, spiritual Pack Bond pulsing in our chests. "Elise, if you regret this, we don't have to—" I raised my hand, cutting him off mid-sentence, and walked out of the Alpha's office without a single glance backward. For seven long years, Claus had claimed that I only used my fated-mate status to steal his power and that I weaponized our three daughters just to tie him down to a weak, sick she-wolf. But none of his insults mattered anymore. By the time he finds the cold ashes of my dying wolf… He will finally understand the cost of his cruelty.

On our third Valentine's Day since marrying the Don Arthur, he set the three places at the dining table. With the same hands he used to wield a gun, he carefully peeled shrimp. Shrimp was Lora's favorite, the first love he'd never gotten over. I was allergic to shellfish. He dismissed every hurt he'd caused me and sided with Lora every time. He was certain I loved him so deeply that I would swallow every insult and step aside forever. Everything changed when I discovered Lora's role in my father's murder and learned how completely Arthur's blind trust in her had buried the truth. That was when I finally saw him clearly. I was done with Arthur and the love he claimed to have for me.

The day after our wedding, my wife claimed she didn’t know me. I’d spent years working myself to the bone and saving every penny before I could finally marry the woman I loved. Between the house, the car, and everything I’d paid toward the wedding, I’d spent three million dollars. But the very next day, my wife stared at me in terror and insisted she was single. Worse, the county clerk’s office had no record of us ever getting married. The house and car were both in her name. Half a lifetime of savings had vanished overnight. Furious, I tracked down her friends, certain they could prove the truth. Instead, every one of them claimed they’d never seen me before. I stormed into the county clerk’s office demanding answers. The staff thought I was delusional and called the police. “You’ve gone crazy from wanting a woman that badly, haven’t you? You probably got married in a dream. What bride refuses to recognize her husband the day after the wedding?” After trying to mediate, even the police decided there was something wrong with me. Desperate to recover my house and car, I fought to take back what was mine. Instead, my wife accused me of running a marriage scam and trying to steal her property. Whenever I showed up, the building’s security guards beat me and threw me out. My wife posted videos of my breakdowns online, and the entire internet mocked me. Everyone believed I was insane. In the end, exhausted and tormented beyond endurance, I wandered into traffic and was struck dead. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we were supposed to get our marriage certificate.

The day I received my provisional acceptance into a graduate program, my mom came home carrying two shopping bags with the Apple logo on them. She said with a smile, "Since you're both heading to graduate school, I bought each of you a new laptop. It's only fair." My sister eagerly tore open her bag. Inside was the latest MacBook—sleek, lightweight, and beautiful. Then, Mom handed me mine. It was an older model from several years ago, with basic specs and not even a single accessory included. I looked down at the two laptops, the difference between them impossible to ignore. Before I could say anything, Mom gently ruffled my hair. "Sunny, your field doesn't require that much computing power. This one's durable, and it was a great deal. I went to several stores before I found the right one for you, so don't overthink it." She smiled as she spoke, almost hoping I would praise her for all the effort she had made. She did love me. To prove she did not play favorites, she spent a sweltering summer afternoon driving from store to store to find my laptop. However, she had forgotten one thing. My sister and I were in the exact same graduate program. That was when I realized something I should have understood long ago. The love she gave me was always just a little less. From that day on, I stopped hoping it would ever be enough.

To test whether he could resist temptation, my stepsister, Chloe Bennet, drugged my childhood friend, Ethan Vance, with an aphrodisiac. Then, she shoved me into his room in the Silverwood Pack. Unable to watch Ethan suffer, I willingly helped him through the night. In a fit of pique, Chloe ran off and married the cruel Alpha of a rival pack. I got pregnant, and Ethan was forced to marry me. At that point, he started to despise me. During the ten long years of marriage, he treated me and our daughter coldly. But during a Rogue attack on Oakhaven, he sacrificed his life to get me and our daughter back to safety. I failed to keep my grip on him. As he collapsed, mortally wounded by the Rogues, he looked at me and said, “If we could redo everything, make sure you don’t help me that night.” Those words stung me greatly, and I fainted right away. When I next opened my eyes, I found that I had gone back in time. I had traveled back to the night when Chloe had drugged Ethan and locked me in his room.

In my last life, my boyfriend’s adoptive sister, Lexi, asked to borrow my jacket at a class party. I lent it to her. The next day, she bullied another girl and pushed her off a rooftop to her death. The security cameras didn't catch her face, but the limited-edition custom jacket she was wearing—my jacket—made me the prime suspect. I tried to explain, but Lexi just threw herself into my boyfriend Preston’s arms, looking utterly wronged. "Vanessa, I know you're upset that Preston pays more attention to me, but you can't just frame me like this." Then Preston pulled out a video. The person pushing the girl off the roof and running away in a panic… it was my face, clear as day. "Vanessa," he said, his voice laced with disgust. "You're a monster." Consumed by grief, the victim's family pushed me out of a window to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lexi asked to borrow my jacket. This time, I wasn't just going to say no. I was going to send Preston and Lexi straight to hell. What they didn't know was that I am the only daughter of the Falcone family, the most powerful mafia in New York.

The apocalypse hits, and my entire family awakens superpowers, except me. I'm a total dud. What they don't realize is that I'm actually the family's Wi-Fi hotspot for powers. They're only superpowered as long as they stay within 500 yards of me. So, I stick to them like glue, and they cherish their one "powerless" family member like gold. Then my brother, Dylan Brewer, rescues a woman from a zombie horde who looks identical to Mom. That's when I learn I'm the fake heiress who has been swapped at birth. Once she joins the family, she awakens a spatial ability that lets her hoard endless supplies. During a supply run, she suddenly yanks me out of the safety circle and shoves me toward a supermarket packed with zombies. "You freeloading dud! Everyone's risking their lives! What gives you the right to hide behind us and leech off our hard work?" I break free from her grip and try to explain. "I can't go! If I die, your powers will—" Before I can say "disappear", a cold gun barrel presses against my forehead.

Although I'm the ace translator of my company, I let the receptionist, Janice Cartman, take charge of a translation project that's worth over 100 million dollars of my own volition. In my past life, Janice is the childhood friend of my boyfriend, Nicholas Sanders, who has dropped out of middle school. Yet, she suddenly masters eight languages overnight. Not only that, but she claims that she simply taught herself the languages. I need to research the technical terms beforehand every time I take on a translation project, but Janice is able to easily translate anything that she hears on the spot with 100% accuracy. Everyone praises Janice for being a translation genius while calling me a worthless loser in private. Janice stops me when I'm about to go on stage to fulfill my duties as the translator for the 100-million-dollar project. I've spent the last two weeks preparing for it, sacrificing sleep to ensure that I'm completely ready. "This isn't the time for you to show off, Giselle. This project will determine whether the company will become publicly listed. Your foundation isn't as good as mine, so I'll take your place!" Nicholas and my other colleagues fully support Janice's suggestion. I do everything I can to change their minds, but in the end, I'm still forcefully replaced. Janice's translations are flawless. She's lauded as the hero of the company. Meanwhile, I'm demoted to a cleaning lady under the pretext that my skills are lacking. I don't understand. I've spent the last decade working myself to the bone to hone my skills, yet I still lose to Janice, who becomes a translation genius overnight. In a daze, I accidentally lose my footing and drown to death. Seconds before I breathe my last breath, I find out that Janice's translations are a hoax. She simply repeats the words that she hears in my heart. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've been transported back to the day when Janice claims that she's a translation genius who knows eight languages. This time, I don't stay up all night to prepare my translation materials. Instead, I start memorizing a funeral speech!

A woman showed up at my cabin door, claiming to be a Beta's mate. She said she wanted to rent my herb field for three hundred dollars a month, to grow medicine for her injured mate. Three hundred? Seriously? That land is the only one in the entire pack—blessed ground that drinks in the Moon Goddess's power. Herbs grown there could pull a dying wolf back from the dead. I turned her down. But she wouldn't let it go. So Sun, my dog, barked and chased her off. Figured that'd be the end of it. Wrong. The next day she came back with two Gammas, busting right through my door. They screamed at me, called me a worthless human who had no business touching pack land. Then they tied me up and made me watch as they burned my herb books, beat Sun, and tore out every single plant I'd grown. What they didn't know? I'm human, yeah. But I'm the adopted human daughter of the Bloodmoon Alpha and Luna. That herb field? Their gift to me on my eighteenth birthday. And those herbs they burned? The only cure for her mate's dying breath.

On my fifth wedding anniversary, I find an old phone inside Jayden Luther's safe. The password is his first love's birthday. The phone has records of all their sweet moments in the past. In contrast, he doesn't even have a single photo of me in his current phone gallery. "Shirley Lovell, don't you know it's rude to invade someone else's privacy by peeking?" I turn to look at the man standing outside the door. I don't scream or throw a tantrum. Calmly, I say, "Let's get a divorce." Jayden reformats his phone on the spot. His expression was so indifferent that I can't quite discern any emotion. "Are you happy now? Are we still getting a divorce?" he asks. I nod seriously. "Yes."

When it's almost time to get off work, Mason Lakeworth's coworkers drag him over to the window and point excitedly at a gorgeous woman downstairs. She's shown up outside their newspaper's building at exactly the same time for seven days in a row. "I did some digging! That's Lindsay Statham, the heiress of Heronvale's richest family. No wonder she drives a supercar with a custom vanity plate!" "And she looks good, too… Too bad she was set up and forced into getting married at a young age five years ago. I wonder which guy hit the jackpot and landed a woman like that." "But seriously, she's been coming to our crappy building for a full week. What is she even here for? Mason, you're always the last to leave. Have you seen who she's waiting for?" Mason stands off to the side in silence, saying nothing for a long time. His coworkers don't really expect him to answer anyway. They all start talking over each other, throwing out ideas. "Wait, Mason—you've been desperate for cash lately, right? Here's your golden ticket. Our new finance column is still short on a star interview. If you can land an exclusive with Lindsay Statham, the boss will definitely give you a huge bonus. You won't have to worry about your son's medical bills anymore!" Mason still doesn't respond. After a while, he withdraws his gaze from the window and finally speaks, his voice so calm it's almost numb. "My son died two weeks ago." He pauses, then adds, "And Lindsay… is my wife—the one I've been secretly married to for the past five years and the woman you're all so curious about."

When our small pack joined the Northern Alliance, my father drained the pack funds to build a massive Pack House. On moving day, I realized: in that main building, meant only for the Alpha bloodline, there was no room for me. My brother Jace got a tactical simulation room with weapon racks. My sister Chloe got a sunroom with a meditation pool. Me? My mother pointed to a cramped storage room under the stairs. "Freya... we accidentally forgot your room. Just make do for now. You won't need a key—we can always open the door for you anyway." I smiled and said okay. I thought if I was obedient enough, they'd eventually see me. Later, I earned the only scholarship to study advanced potions at the Royal Werewolf Academy. But my ID was locked in my father's study in the main building. Deadline: 2 PM. I sprinted back at noon. The doors were locked. The place was empty. My mother was at a boutique helping Chloe pick a dress for the Full Moon Festival. "Your sister has her High Healer Trials next week. We haven't picked her ceremonial robe yet." My father was at the training grounds with Jace. "Can't you figure out how to open the door yourself?" I sat on the cold stone steps and waited. Patrol guards walked past, glancing at me. They came back at 8:30 PM. Chloe was thrilled, clutching boxes of silks and jewelry. Jace played with a new obsidian hunting knife, not looking up. My father walked past me sitting on the ground and said coldly: "Why are you on the floor? Come help carry this." No one cared about my fate. That night, I dragged my dusty suitcase out from under the bed. Three rooms, carefully prepared. Just enough to make a perfect family. As for me—it was time to find a place that would leave a light on for me.

Five years into our marriage, everyone s aid I'd married the perfect husband. Noah was gentle, attentive, and endlessly patient, the kind of man romance novels are built around. He pampered me until I hardly had to think about the practical details of life. But the one person he couldn't stand was my best friend, Kayla. Once, Kayla came over for dinner and ordered two extra dishes. "Do you have to be so picky about dinner? Isn't Leah doing enough already?" His expression frosty, he took the apron from my hands, then served the roasted cod and creamy butternut squash Kayla loved. When Kayla got caught in a downpour on her way home from a business trip, she asked me to pick her up at the airport. "Can't she call a cab from the airport? Why does she have to make you drive all that way?" Scowling, he snatched the keys from me, pulled on his coat, and went to get her himself. There were too many moments like that. I told myself he cared too much about me to let my best friend take advantage of me. That was what I believed until the day Kayla and I were installing a wall sconce in the new apartment and I fell from the chair. Noah, who'd just gotten home, rushed straight to Kayla. His voice trembled. "How could you be so careless? Where else does it hurt? Don't move, I'll take you to the hospital." I lifted my right arm, mangled and bloody where the broken glass had cut it. But he'd already scooped Kayla up and rushed into the elevator. I stared around our newly furnished bayside apartment. The space beside the fireplace was still bare, the dining room chandelier not yet installed. There was no point finishing it now.

The day I went for my final wedding dress fitting, I scrolled past a new video posted by Linsey Hart—my fiancé’s childhood friend. She held up her left hand to the camera, and there was the ring—the one that signified the donna of the Lucciano family. The one that was supposed to be mine. She tilted her head toward the camera and asked, "Salvatore, you’re really giving this to me? Are you sure your fiancée won’t mind?" His voice came from off-screen, lazy, unhurried. "It’s just a ring. Chiara won’t care. I’ll get her something better. As my donna, she’ll need to learn to be generous." My heart sank at those words. All those months of planning, all that anticipation I’d carried—it suddenly felt like nothing. I didn’t want this wedding anymore. I tapped the screen and left a like. Then, I typed a single comment: "Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness." Then I logged out.

I had just gotten back from the hospital when Mom pulled me into the walk-in closet and held a pale pink couture gown against me. "Try it on. It's from the designer's new collection. We have a major event this weekend, and as the Wellman heiress, you need to look your best." Heat crept into my cheeks. The pregnancy test results were still tucked inside my bag. How could Mom already know? I smiled and nodded. "But Mom, wouldn't white be better?" I ducked my head, a shy smile playing on my lips. The news of my pregnancy was right on the tip of my tongue. "White does look prettier. Soren has such good taste, picking that white wedding gown for Daisy. You're the maid of honor, so pale pink is perfect." The smile froze on my face. Just then, Daisy called up from the living room. "Vivian, are you home? I brought my fiancé!" I picked up my phone and stared at the good-morning message Soren had sent me yesterday. "My dearest Vivian, you are the only bride I will ever have." I turned around and saw Soren and Daisy standing in my doorway, wrapped in each other's arms. Tears spilled down my cheeks. Soren, you lied to me.