Plot Twists Short Stories & Male POV Marriage Novels

“I know you’re the best divorce attorney in the city. Please…I need your help.” A young man holding a small child suddenly rushed into my law firm and fell to his knees in front of me. Just as I reached out to pull him up, a barrage of bullet-chat comments suddenly flashed across my vision: “Classic tragic romance trope. The male lead gets tortured relentlessly before he dies.” “Once he gets dragged back this time, both he and the kid are done for. The female lead is going to live the rest of her life in regret.” “He’s so naive, thinking a lawyer can solve this. The female lead is literally the wealthiest woman in Crestwood City. There’s no way she’s letting him get a divorce.” Then, the very next comment struck me right between the eyes: “Too bad this lawyer is just cannon fodder. Not only does he refuse to help, but he doesn’t even realize this guy is his long-lost older brother!”

As Nicole Thatcher gave her speech at the kidney disease charity gala, I was backstage on my knees, sorting cables. She stood at the podium and said, "As a former kidney disease patient, I'm grateful every single day to the donor who gave me half their life." When she stepped offstage, she looked down and saw me. Without a second of hesitation, she unscrewed a water bottle and poured it over my head. "You treated me like dead weight and divorced me. Now you're here, volunteering like you actually care?" I wiped my face and looked up at her with a quiet laugh. "Perfect timing. You're all better now, so how about we get remarried?" Her hand stiffened around the empty bottle, then shook. She spat, "Shameless!" before storming off. Nicole would never know that the donor she had just praised on that stage, the one who gave her half of his life, was me.

The first thing I do after regaining my memories and finding my family is share the good news with my wife, Christine Blackwell. However, I discover that the woman who has shared my bed for three years is already someone else's wife. The marriage certificate she registered with me three years ago is a forgery. The real marriage certificate is the one she secretly registered with Edison Whitman, the factory director's son. She tells me that Edison comes from a far better background. As a distant relative of the Carrington family in Regalton, he can provide opportunities that I never could. She tells me to stop making a scene. What she doesn't know is that the Carrington family in Regalton which she speaks of… is actually my family.

After my daughter was admitted to the ICU for liver failure, the doctor said she had at most seven days to live. My wife, Jessica Holland, grabbed my hand tightly. "Kevin, Tanya can still be saved!" The doctor handed me the organ donation consent form, but I didn't take it. Instead, I pulled out three documents and laid them in front of Jessica. "Sign these, and I'll donate." She glanced down and completely froze. The first was a divorce agreement, the second was a waiver of joint assets, and the third was a share transfer agreement. Jessica held a 12% stake in Eterspring Pharmaceutical. She earned that by building the business with me for eight years. I wanted her to transfer every single share to me. "Are you out of your mind?!" My mother rushed up and slapped me. She looked at me in disbelief. "Tanya's in there, fighting for her life, but you're using her to force your wife to divorce you without taking any assets?" I pushed the pen toward Jessica. "Once all the paperwork is done, I'll do the surgery immediately. All three documents must be signed." Jessica grabbed the divorce agreement and threw it in my face. I walked out without looking back.

On the day of the wedding, my fiancee, Bianca Newton, approached me with a bright smile, handing me a glass of wine. I drank it down in one gulp. Suddenly, her male best friend, Xander Lynch, raised his phone and burst out laughing. "See! I told you this idiot wouldn't even notice that it was my piss! Pay up, everyone! Don't forget to follow my account! Pay up!" I started puking uncontrollably, but Bianca merely looked at me with disgust. I demanded that Xander apologize, yet Bianca placed herself in front of him and stopped me. "It was just a joke! Why are you taking it so seriously?" At the same time, Xander said smugly, "Come on, say hello to the views in my livestream! Tell them how it feels to drink piss!" I smashed a wine bottle right on his head. Bianca demanded that I kneel and apologize to him. Then, she hurriedly escorted Xander to the hospital, still in her wedding gown. Looking at the wedding venue in utter chaos, I calmly took my phone out and dialed a number. "Are you interested in marrying me?"

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter. She raised me elsewhere. I'm 17."

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

On the first day of New Year's, my good buddy, Vincent Wales, sent me a video. “Leon, take a look. Does this woman look like your wife? It’s all over.” In the video, a man and a woman were making out passionately. As the car rocked violently, the woman’s face came into view. It was unmistakably my wife. My blood rushed straight to my head. My hands shook as I dialed her number. “Hello, honey… What’s the matter?” Her breathing was uneven, like she had just been doing something intense. I was about to speak when she suddenly let out a few loud cries. “A-Ah… It’s nothing. I’ll hang up now. I’m just playing cards with friends." With that, all I heard was the dial tone. Playing cards? She had clearly told me she was working overtime!

My wife has a severe sex addiction. But in the seven years we've been married, she never lets me touch her. To suppress her urges, she spends all day submerged in ice-cold water, and her arms are covered in needle marks. Several times, I try to initiate intimacy out of concern for her, but her reaction is terrifying. She even threatens to kill herself. "I told you, I only want a Platonic relationship in this lifetime. Can you stop being so selfish? If you insist on making me do that, I'd rather die!" she exclaims. She maintains this unusual obsession for seven years. Even after ending up in the hospital multiple times from suppressing her desires, she refuses to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a man comes in for a pre-check of his phalloplasty enlargement for the ninth time. After the anesthesia takes effect, he begins rambling incoherently. "Honey, I love you so much." Looking at the surgical scars, I shake my head, thinking this guy is really willing to go to extreme lengths for his wife. Then, I hear his final murmur. "Tasha, aren't I so much better compared to your useless husband?" My hand jerks, and I nearly drop the scalpel. It is because my wife's name is Tasha Snyder.

The New Year's Eve dinner is almost ready when the doorbell rings. I wipe my hands and answer the door, thinking it's a relative stopping by. "Justin Lowell." I can never mistake that face. I slam the door shut and press my back against it, my heart racing. "Who's that? Why didn't you let them in?" My wife, Lily Fisk, pokes her head out from the kitchen. "Don't open…" My throat goes tight. It's too late. Lily's already turning the doorknob. The woman outside smiles at Lily and says, "Hello. I'm Justin's wife, Katy Dugan." The rolling pin slips from Lily's hand and hits the ground. She immediately turns to look at me. "Justin." Lily's voice is trembling. "Is she telling the truth?" I stiffly walk over to them. "It's true, but I… buried her three years ago."

Seven years into my marriage, my wife’s assistant Jonah Johnson showed off a multi-million dollar racecar on his social media. The caption was, “I love my job, but I love my boss even more!” As soon as I liked his post, I was blocked from it. My wife immediately called to yell at me. “Jonah just signed a huge contract, so I gave him a little reward. Did you have to scold him on social media over something like that? Don’t push your limits just because I’m kind to you!” I heard Jonah blaming himself and my wife Nia comforting him on the other side of the phone. Before I could say anything else, she hung up on me and blocked my number. The next instant, Jonah posted a screenshot of a million-dollar transfer. I knew that was Nia’s way of consoling and compensating him. This time, however, I did not care anymore.

After I was rescued from a staged kidnapping, my wife, Vanessa, moved out of our bedroom on her own. No matter how I explained, she insisted I had been attacked because I had cheated. Even when I tried to touch her, she screamed and threw up on me. Friends and relatives looked at me with more and more pity. Everyone told me, "Vanessa's a good woman. Stop tormenting her." Even my son snapped, "You're so filthy. Why do you have to force Mom?" From then on, I was branded a cheater and a lunatic. I spent the rest of my life in misery and despair, and in my old age, I ended that wretched life by throwing myself into a lake. Only after I died did I learn that the kidnapping had been staged by Vanessa herself. She used my guilt to make me take care of our son and her father. Meanwhile, she kept herself "pure" for the man she'd never gotten over and lived a carefree life with him. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I was rescued.

My wife, Tina, was notorious for giving away money and possessions. She often held barter fairs at home. One free-range egg could be traded for three jars of premium Manuka honey. One pasture-raised chicken could be traded for a 32-inch LED television. She had even opened a free-for-all store in our home, all for the sake of trading with the neighbors for a piece of fabric no larger than the width of her palm. Watching the high-end gifts I had bought for clients disappear one after another, I stormed off to confront Tina. That was when I saw something that stopped me cold. The woman who usually did nothing but sit back and enjoy herself at home was actually holding a piece of fabric while carefully stitching it together one needle at a time to make a patchwork quilt. "So that's why you opened that free-for-all store. Does this neighbor upstairs really mean that much to you? "Didn't you know that those gifts were meant for my clients? Now that they're gone, I'll have to pay for them myself!" To my surprise, my wife became furious. "It's because you never give me any money! What else was I supposed to do? I had to trade things from our home with the single dad upstairs just to get him some necessities! "Besides, are those things really more important than a child's safety and happiness? You're a father too. How can you be so heartless?" With that, she angrily slammed the door and walked away. After watching her leave in an oddly flustered manner, I followed her to the neighbor's apartment almost without thinking. I never expected that the moment the door opened, I would freeze in shock.

I've just given Eugene Howard a lavish monetary wedding gift at his wedding when I see him passing me an instant cup noodle with a look of disdain. "You can just eat it at the entrance. You can just broaden your horizons from this spot. Why don't you take a look at yourself in the mirror, Nicholas? Do you really think you have the right to sit at the same table as the bigwigs in the wedding venue?" I suppress my rage for the sake of my fiance, Esther Howard. After all, Eugene is her younger brother. "I'm a wedding guest, so why can't I enter the venue?" Today is the day Esther will be announcing our upcoming marriage. If I get blocked outside the venue, who's going to be there with her when she makes the announcement? But Eugene scoffs at me in return. "You're worth nothing! Just because Esther flashes you a smile after seeing how good-looking you are doesn't mean you have the right to marry her! "Soon, my family will be receiving a ten-billion-dollar investment from the Warner family of Cantonia! That means we'll become the richest family in Geronton! "Plus, my future brother-in-law, Ray Atkinson, is an illegitimate son of the Warner family! A pretty boy escort like you can never compare to him!" Ray Atkinson? Wait, does Eugene seriously think that this nobody, whom I've never heard of in my life, is capable of calling the shots when it comes to my family's investment? I call Esther's number on the spot. "I heard that you want to call off our marriage and marry a bastard child hailing from the Warner family? Well then, I suppose I can retract my ten-billion-dollar wedding gift now."

Everyone in Aurelium says Stella Budzyn is a rose with thorns, ruthless toward everyone except her husband. What they don't know is that being Stella's husband means putting up with an endless parade of other men. I watch numbly as she brings home one lover after another. Then she becomes infatuated with Gatlin Hewton, her prized new house manager, and gives him free rein to set the rules for the entire Budzyn household. Gatlin freezes my cards, throws out my clothes and car keys, limits me to just ten dollars a day, and forbids me from leaving the house after 8:00 pm. So when I receive an emergency call from the hospital at 8:01 pm, the bodyguards refuse to let me leave. "My mother is having a heart attack. I need to get to the hospital. Now." Gatlin doesn't budge. "Those are the rules, Mr. Hawke. No one leaves after eight—not even if your mother is dying." Shaking with fury, I turn to Stella and beg her to let me go. Stella barely looks at me. "As long as you're my husband, you follow Gatlin's rules." I stare at the woman I've loved for a decade and realize I hardly recognize her anymore. Fine. If this is what being her husband means, then I don't want to be her husband anymore.

On the fourth day after our son died, I decided to end my military marriage. Before that, I spent three days taking care of what remained of him. On the first day, I tricked my wife into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to my son's school and collected the textbooks he never had the chance to use. On the third day, I prepared a table full of his favorite dishes and begged my wife to come home so we could celebrate his birthday one last time. She agreed. Then she turned around, claimed she had a mission, and spent the entire night setting off fireworks with her childhood sweetheart. That night, I sat beside my son's memorial photo and ate alone. The next day, she came home looking guilty and handed me a brand new backpack. She said it was a gift for our son to use at school. She did not know that our child would never live to see his first day of school.

I'm watching TV with my family at my parents' house after having our Thanksgiving dinner when I get a call from a delivery rider. "Sir, the brand of men's disposable underwear in size M you ordered is out of stock. Would it be okay if I replaced it with one of the same size from another brand?" I'm stunned. I haven't ordered anything from the store, and all my underwear is right where it should be in my wardrobe. More importantly, the delivery is supposed to go to the apartment my girlfriend, Leah Suthers, and I rent downtown. But I returned to my parents' house two days ago, and Leah flew to Brockdale on a business trip yesterday. There shouldn't be a soul in our apartment right now. I'm just about to tell the rider he's got the wrong address when a message from Leah pops up on my phone. It's a selfie with the caption, "Just finished dinner with a client and got back to the hotel. It's so unbearably hot here in Brockdale. I miss you, honey." In the photo, she's wearing a white blouse and leaning against a white hotel wall. I stare at the picture for a couple of seconds before replying to the rider, "Sure. Just leave it at the door. Thanks." After hanging up, I grab my car keys, tell my mom that something urgent has come up at work, then drive straight back to our apartment downtown in the middle of the night.

My girlfriend, Madison Carter, claims that men's hearts will rot when they start gaining wealth. Out of love toward her, I give her all of my money. But on my birthday, my severe illness has relapsed due to me not bearing to spend money on medication. So, I can only borrow money from Madison, who's also a CEO. But she begins berating me without asking me the reason why. "You really are an ingrate! I've been sustaining you for so long, and yet you never pledge your loyalty toward me! All you care about is money!" Naturally, Madison refuses to lend me even a single cent. But the next day, she doesn't hesitate to give her first love, Lucas Whitfield, a few million dollars just so he can start a business of his own. I feel my blood turn into ice as I stare at the woman I've loved for ten years. Only now do I realize that she has never loved me before.

My wife, Ruth Quarmby, had a twenty-year-old male apprentice named Craig Smith. He secretly turned off a diver’s scuba tank underwater. This caused an accident. He then posted three posts on his social media feed. The first post said, [I played a little prank underwater by shutting off my instructor’s mother-in-law’s scuba tank. Now, she’s in a coma and heading into surgery. But hey, I’m innocent!] The second post said, [Toast one: from a broke mountain kid to a certified diver. All by myself! Toast two: I confessed my love to someone I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t cross that line. Toast three: here’s to every lonely night I suffered through.] The third post said, [Best instructor ever. Without her, who else would cover for my pranks?] I told my wife to pay for the surgery to save the person quickly. But in front of the operating room door, she told me solemnly to give up on the surgery. “Your mother is old and fragile. Saving her is a waste of resources. Even if she makes it out alive, she’ll be bedridden. She’ll wish she were dead. Just let her go.” She quickly signed the Refusal of Treatment form. Then, she threw the signed form in my face. I kept quiet. The person lying in the operating room was her own mother.

When the ship went down, my wife and I were both thrown into the freezing water. Her whole body was underwater, but she used every ounce of strength she had left to hold me above the surface. Watching her lips turn blue and her face go pale, I knew her life was slipping away fast. "Let me go," I sobbed. "I want to die with you." She held on even tighter. "Gideon, hang on a little longer. Help is coming. I need you to live." I was crying so hard I could barely get the words out. "What's the point of living if you're gone?" "Help is almost here," she said weakly. "Once you're safe, tell Elliot... the baby I'm carrying is actually his..." It hit me like a bolt of lightning. Elliot was my best friend. His wife did classified aerospace research, so I'd never even met her. Never in a million years did I imagine the baby my wife was carrying wasn't mine. It was his...