Historias cortas y novelas de Male POV System

To support my wife, Natalie Strickland, in her work, I stayed behind in our first-floor apartment during the hurricane, caring for our son, Tyler, as he burned with a high fever. But as the director of the neighborhood committee, Natalie gave our family's last remaining life buoy to her childhood friend, Hayden Walker, on the tenth floor. When I confronted her about how unfair it was, she snapped at me over the phone. "Emerson, you're my husband. You should put the bigger picture first. Our family has to set an example. "Hayden's situation is different. He's raising his daughter alone, and she has asthma. Both professionally and personally, they have to be our priority." Once again, I let her convince me with her talk about the greater good. Then the floodwaters swallowed the first floor. Holding my barely breathing son in my arms, I frantically called the emergency command center. The dispatcher apologized before delivering the news, "Sir, Director Strickland listed Mr. Hayden Walker and his daughter in the first evacuation group. You and your son were assigned to the final group." I looked down at my son as the last traces of breath faded from his tiny body. My heart filled with despair. "System, I accept your offer to leave this world with my son." 'Natalie, Tyler and I will never need you to save us again.'

I drove rideshare for five years to support my girlfriend. Then a car put me in the hospital, and she pointed at me and said: "We're just friends." Overseas, hanging off her rich new boyfriend, she looked down at me and said, "Blake didn't mean to hit you. Quit while you're ahead, take the money, and get lost." I smiled, grabbed him by the hair, and put his head into the wall. After they deported me, the Ride-to-Real-Estate System woke up in my head. A few years later I was the richest man in the world, living off rent, and the gold digger came crawling back. "You got even more handsome." My new little sister laughed out loud. "Honestly, I'm jealous of her complexion. She lays it on so thick."

For three years, Hallie Larson has managed to keep her affair so carefully hidden that I can't find a single trace of the other man. Once, I find a pair of men's underwear in the back seat of her car, still warm, as if someone has only just taken them off. Other times, I notice fresh, suspicious marks behind her ear. Every time, I lose my temper. I tear through the house, demanding to know who the man is. Hallie only furrows her brow, looking more exhausted than guilty. "Sebastian, how long are you going to keep imagining things? If you're going to accuse me of cheating, then at least show me the man you claim exists." So, I start following her everywhere, 24 hours a day. I even call every relative and friend I can think of, asking them to stake out hotels with me so we can finally catch her in the act. But every time we force open a hotel room door, we find nothing. Mwanehilwe, Hallie is sitting calmly on the couch, a faint, mocking smile playing on her lips. "Go ahead," she says. "Search the room." On the way out of the room, my mother takes my hand and sighs. "Sebastian, trust is the most important thing in a marriage. You keep making a scene like this every day. What do you think you're doing to Hallie's reputation?" Even my best friend tries to talk some sense into me. "Maybe you're under too much stress. Maybe you're imagining all of this." But I can't forget what I see on Hallie's collarbone—a faint trace of moisture she hasn't completely wiped away. It's so out of place, so suspicious, that I can't bring myself to dismiss it.

On the final day of our graduation trip, an extreme heat wave struck without warning. I was unfortunate enough to suffer heat exhaustion, but my girlfriend, Claire Whitmore, gave all the electrolyte water to her male best friend, Alex Sterling. “You’re usually in good health, and you know first aid. Just drink some bottled water and take a break. “But Alex is different. He’s always been physically weak. If he doesn’t replenish his electrolytes, something could go wrong.” Too dizzy to argue, I had no choice but to ask the other members of our group for help. Instead, they rolled their eyes at me. “Daniel Hayes, there’s a limit to how jealous you can get.” “Claire is just taking extra care of someone who’s sick. You’re a grown man. Do you really have to act like you’re dying?” When the group continued ahead, Claire frowned at me sitting on the ground. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s mood right now? “Fine. Stay here and think about what you’ve done. When you realize your mistake, catch up with us yourself.” What she didn’t know was that I had already begun showing symptoms of heatstroke. And she certainly didn’t know that the moment she left, a system notification echoed inside my mind. [Host’s life is in critical danger. Would you like to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. “I accept.”

I've just booked a restaurant for my seventh wedding anniversary with my wife, Melanie Rowland, when several lines of text suddenly appear across my vision. "Would you like to take part in a loyalty test? "We'll randomly give your wife a system. If she tells you about it, you win, and the two of you will receive one million dollars." After seven years of marriage, I have no doubt Melanie loves me. As far as I'm concerned, that million dollars is already in the bag. Still, I'm curious enough to ask one question. "What if we lose?" "If you lose, it proves your marriage has failed. In return, you'll receive a mystery prize big enough to let you start your life over. "The price of participating is allowing people from another dimension to watch you. Choose carefully." I couldn't care less about the mystery prize. I'm already planning to use the million dollars to buy Melanie the condo she's had her eye on for ages. After I agree to join the game, I hurry home. The moment I walk in, I catch a flash of panic on Melanie's face. She brushes me off with a few vague excuses and hurries into the study. Through the closed door, I hear her talking to Hayden Locke, the guy she grew up with. "Hayden, I just got an apocalypse system. It says the end of the world is coming. I'm going to find somewhere to build a safe house, and I promise I'll keep you safe. Don't worry. I won't tell Alex a word. "When the world ends, it'll be you and me together." I freeze. Her apocalypse system is fake, but the countdown to my mystery prize has probably already begun.

I was attending my daughter Wendy's autumn camp when I overheard her whispering to her best friend, "Don't be picky with your food, or Ms. Adams will kill you. That's why she killed Carl." Shocked, I scooped her up in my arms and ran to Carl's mother. However, she pointed at a healthy Carl who was hopping around, grinning, "What? But Carl is no longer a fussy eater. He eats everything I cook these days!" Relieved, I was about to turn and scold my daughter when she hissed, "That's not Carl! Carl is allergic to shrimp!"

My CEO girlfriend promised to marry me if only I handed over my billion-dollar-worth project to her first love. I agreed without hesitation. Yet on the day we were supposed to make things official, she never showed up. I called her 99 times, but she didn't pick up once. Just when I was about to give up, I saw a post from her first love on social media, featuring a picture of them holding their newly issued marriage license. [From school uniforms to wedding vows. A love that never changes.] I quietly liked the post without making a scene. Moments later, my long-lost girlfriend finally called back. "Cyrus got into a car accident trying to save me, and he lost his memory. The doctors say he needs emotional stimulation to recover. Don't worry, though. Once he gets better, we'll get married. You're the one I love most." What she didn't know was that there would be no future for us. The moment she stood me up at City Hall, the system I'd bound myself to declared my mission a failure. I had seven days left. After that, I would be completely erased from existence.

On Christmas Eve, my wife, Abigail Balmer, publicly announced her relationship with her forty-ninth boy toy. [My forever love, @Dwayne Porter.] [My forever love, @Abigail Balmer.] Then she turned to comfort me. "He just lost a dare game, that's all. Don't take it to heart." Everyone mocked me as the man who'd married into money, too spineless to fight back. But I never made a scene. What they didn't know was that I'd struck a deal with the System. Every time Abigail was unfaithful, one year of her lifespan would transfer to me. By my count, of the eighty years she should have lived, she now had exactly one left. All I had to do was survive until the New Year, and she'd meet her natural end. And I would walk away with our three children and inherit the Balmer family's trillion-dollar fortune.