Plot Twists Short Stories & Mistress Awakening Novels

My girlfriend, Esther Cahill, and my best friend, Lionel Fox, are both ESTPs. They send each other thousands of messages every day, but the second I say something, they both go completely silent. "Gabriel, it's not that we don't want to reply. You just wouldn't get what we're talking about." I have always assumed that I'm just too quiet and that I don't really fit in with them. One day, I get hit by a car outside the school and end up bleeding badly. The driver speeds away, and I call Esther ten times, but she doesn't answer. I enter the three-person group chat, only to find that she's having the time of her life chatting with Lionel. The messages keep coming in so fast that I can barely keep up.

Kelly and I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years. After working overtime for a month to make time so I could see her, she could not be reached. I waited alone in that unfamiliar place for ten whole hours before I finally got a reply from her. My best friend, Hayden, called me and said gleefully, "Zachary, surprise! I've already explored Stranton for you. It's amazing. Kelly is a great tour guide!" He excitedly shared his experiences, as if he had not noticed the 30 missed calls I left on Kelly's phone. I listened quietly until he mentioned feeling cold. Kelly took the phone and said bluntly, "I'll take him back to the hotel first. Give us a minute." After she finished speaking, I asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Kelly paused, her tone turning cold. "He's your friend. Are you really going to make a fuss out of this?" The blatant rebuke completely extinguished my desire to reply. After hanging up, my ride back to Jazzville arrived. The driver glanced at me and could not help but say, "Young man, it's the middle of the night. This area is quite dangerous. What urgent matter kept you waiting until now?" Looking at my shoes, which had been soaked by the snow, I softly replied, "It was urgent at the time." Then, I smiled and continued, "But not anymore."

My husband lies to me about working late on Christmas Day. I know he wants to give me a surprise—I saw a jewelry set worth millions of dollars in his pocket. However, all I receive is the news of him pretending to be Santa Claus as he delivers a gift to his female secretary. She flaunts it on social media. "You're the most precious Christmas gift I've gotten." My husband changes the background photo on his social media to a photo of them together. I smile and like the post. Later, the secretary comes to me and smugly says she's pregnant. Meanwhile, I pull out a diagnosis report verifying that my husband is sterile. "Checkmate!" She visibly panics.

I found out I was the villainess of a romance novel called Sunshine Donna when I was already pregnant. For twenty-two years, I'd chased Renato Gatti without a shred of shame. Then came three years of marriage, just the two of us, wrapped up in each other. I'd thought it was everything. Then his true love showed up. According to the story, I was supposed to fall apart. I'd torment the girl, sabotage their relationship, and in the process, destroy myself. A bullet through the forehead. That was how it ended for Gianna Milano. I looked up. Renato was across the room, phone in hand, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He'd met her. Fine. This time, I'd step aside. But when I asked for a divorce— He cried. He begged me to stay. He threw the entire East Coast at the problem, just to keep me from walking out the door.

I'd spent six months saving every penny for prenatal care, but the money vanished overnight. Panicking, I called my fiancé, only to see him on another woman's social media. The man's busy silhouette radiated excitement, with a luxury handbag sitting at the edge of the photo. The caption read: "Mr. Wellington is such a gentleman! Today's happiness starts with snagging the last designer bag at the boutique~" When I came out of surgery, my furious fiancé finally showed up. His first words were an accusation. "Can you stop treating me like I'm on a leash?" "My friend was feeling down, so I bought her a bag and kept her company. What's wrong with that? Why are you so petty!"

On the day I sold my house, my best friend asked me. “Aren’t you getting married soon? Why are you selling your new home?” I signed the transfer agreement and replied, “Because I’m breaking up with him.” We were supposed to buy a particular couch for our new home. Caleb Graham said he had not managed to snag it yet, so he asked me to wait a little longer. Then, I saw that very couch in Claire Silva’s Stories. She had specifically tagged Caleb. [It’s the one I’ve been waiting for so long! He still knows me so well!] In the comments section, Caleb simply replied, [Don’t mention it.] That was followed by a bunch of trivial chatter between the two of them. I stared at that Stories post for a long time. Then, I canceled the order for the matching pajamas. I scrolled back through my order history. I had ordered over a hundred packages. They were all for furnishing our new home. At first, Caleb would enthusiastically pick things out with me. Later on, he did not even bother to reply to my messages. It was because Claire, his first love, had gotten divorced. His attention toward me and our new home had shifted elsewhere. “If a buyer contacts us, I’ll let you know right away.” The real estate agent slid his business card across the table. I reached out to take it. Then, I cast one last glance at this place. ‘Caleb, I admit that I regret it,’ I thought. Seven years had passed, and I no longer wanted to build a home with him.

It was common knowledge that the Marsh family was the family with the strictest household rules in upper-class society. They adhered to the rules unyieldingly, and there were so many of them that the rulebook was thicker than ten legal codices. One of the rules was: If any woman wanted a divorce, she had to roll on a bed of nails for half an hour before she was allowed to leave. In the past, Violet Stane insisted on marrying River Marsh and never thought about getting a divorce. After all, she had spent ten years pursuing this aloof ice prince. Once she married him, she gave up on her flourishing career, stopped being so aggressive, obeyed the ridiculous number of house rules, and became the perfect wife for River. But she no longer wanted to do that.

To cash in on a massive life insurance policy, my wife Vanessa Rowe pushed me into the Demon Pit. She had been seeing someone behind my back for a long time, and killing me had been her way to buy her lover a gold sports car. I stood at the edge of the abyss and looked at her one last time. “You are sure about this? Killing me for him. No regrets?” Vanessa laughed and held on to Troy Merritt’s arm. “Regrets? Why would I have regrets? Troy is one of the Demon King’s most trusted men. He only has to put in a word for me, and I get to stay young forever. “You are only a mortal. You age, you get sick, you die. What made you think you ever deserved me?” She shoved me over the edge without a second thought. She did not know that I had been the Demon King. The Demon Pit had been my domain. As for this so‑called trusted man of mine, I had never heard of him.

Over the weekend, my wife, Madeline Puth, invited her coworker, Kenneth Wilson, over for dinner. When the three of us reached the front door, Kenneth casually pressed his finger to the fingerprint lock. The door clicked open. I froze and stared at him. Madeline glanced at me and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "He's been here a few times before. He registered his fingerprint for convenience." Kenneth smiled at me. I returned his smile without a word. Then I walked inside, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the door. Madeline hurried after me. "Where are you going?" I pulled the door open. "I'm clearly not the man of this house anymore, so of course I'm leaving."

My girlfriend used to answer every call I made. Then her first love came back to town. Since then, she’d begun ignoring my calls. The first time, she rolled out a red carpet at the airport to welcome that man home. With cameras flashing around her, she glanced at my name on her phone and let it ring. The second time, she was throwing him a birthday party while I sat alone at the restaurant where we'd agreed to meet. I waited until the staff locked up for the night. And then came the hundredth call. Acute appendicitis had left me in so much pain I could barely stay conscious, but I managed to dial her number one last time. All I heard was the same automated message: "The number you dailed is busy now..." I later learned she'd been celebrating a major contract win with him at a restaurant overlooking the city. He even posted a picture of them together. "Thanks for making me your top priority," his caption read. Someone commented, "You two are practically a couple already. When are you making it official?" He replied with a blushing emoji. By the time she reached the hospital, my surgery was over. She smelled of another man's tobacco smoke. "Sorry. I couldn't get away from the business dinner," she told me. "You know he just moved back. He needs my help getting established. I promise it won't happen again." The anesthesia hadn't fully worn off, but somehow I managed a polite smile. "Okay," I said. Don't worry. There won't be a next time. Not for us.

Caine Black and I were in love for seven years. From our first meeting at the Imperial Academy to being officially recognized by both packs as promised mates, I thought we would be together forever. That certainty lasted until the day before our marking ceremony, when I canceled it. The priest stared at me in shock. "Eileen, the marking ceremony is in twelve hours. Are you sure you don't want to wait for Caine to come back?" I gently unclasped the pendant from my neck, the one that symbolized the Luna's status, and shook my head. "No. "He's under the northern lights on the Ice Plains right now, completing a marking ceremony with his first love."

By the time I'm done interviewing the final guest, the blister on my ankle has been rubbed raw, turning the spot into a bloody mess. Sadie Jensen, whom I've been secretly dating, appears with a plaster. However, she brushes right past me and walks up to Connor Lewis, my best friend. "You've been standing in those dress shoes for over ten hours now! Are you trying to destroy your feet on purpose? Don't come complaining to me about the pain later!" Laughter ripples through the crowd. "Ms. Jensen is so stubborn. If she's worried about him, she should just say it! Why's she hiding her concern behind her sharp tongue?" "When it gets cold, she brings him a jacket. When his blood sugar level drops, she brings him chocolate. The second he says he's tired, she immediately cancels everyone's overtime!" "I'll bet a month's worth of breakfast that she's hopelessly in love with Connor. I'm positive the two of them are secretly involved with each other." The entire department erupts in teasing hoots and whistles. Blushing, Connor waves them down. "Oh, you guys… Stop being so ridiculous!" He hands me the plaster. "My feet are fine. You can have this." I withdraw my outstretched hand and force out a weak smile. "It's fine. I don't need it." To avoid raising any suspicion about our relationship, Sadie shoves me aside. She pushes Connor down onto a chair before crouching down in front of him. Then she takes off his shoes and socks and, in one swift motion, puts the plaster on for him. By now, our colleagues are practically hollering with glee. As their cheery voices echoed all around me, I'm hit with a realization. All that talk about not wanting to arouse any suspicion? That's just a lie. The truth is, Sadie's heart belongs to someone else now.

Samuel Pierce is the man every guy in Crown City wishes he could be. His career is on the steady rise, and he has Scarlett Bennett—a woman who loves him like he's her whole world—by his side. She's a spoiled heiress who never spares anyone a second glance, yet her love and devotion to him have stayed rock-solid for decades. When his career hits a wall, she drops a multimillion-dollar deal just to help him land a six-figure contract. When he collapses after pushing himself too hard, she stays by his bedside day and night, refusing to sleep as she cares for him. When he's trapped on a mountain by a mudslide, she ignores the rescue team's warnings and risks her life to climb up there and drag him out. Throughout their 40-year marriage, Scarlett insists on not having kids. Still, even without children, she and Samuel remain as in love as they have been from day one. Then all of that ends the year Scarlett dies.

After my mission failed, I linked myself to the Perfect Partner Program and became Gloria's perfect husband. When rumors about her and Damian blew up, I stepped in and shut them down. When Damian framed me and Gloria said nothing, I rushed to take the blame and apologize. Even after she got pregnant with Damian's child, I didn't fight. Didn't make a scene. I just signed the divorce papers and handed Damian the title of "husband." But she wasn't happy. She shoved me onto the bed, anger burning in her eyes. "Mason, I told you to behave. I didn't tell you to push me away. Are you blaming me now?" I went still, staring up at the woman above me. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

On my birthday, Genevieve Rothwell posted a photo with her male executive assistant, Ethan Kline. They were wearing matching rings. [Partners at work. Partners in life.] I commented: [You two make a great couple.] Genevieve called me right away, yelling that I was sick in the head and couldn't take a joke. Before she'd even hung up, she was gently comforting Ethan, who was tearfully blaming himself. Before, I'd have stormed over there and thrown a hysterical fit, making a fool of myself in front of everyone. But this time, I felt nothing. I couldn't have cared less.

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband came home with a woman who was six months pregnant. He introduced her as his cousin, someone who had fallen on hard times, and asked me to take care of her. I was just about to agree when fragments of imaginary commentary floated through my mind: [She's just my 'cousin'. Uh-uh, that's a cliche.] [Poor supporting female character! A maid by day, the husband's bedwarmer by night.] [But she totally deserved it! If she hadn't broken up the main couple, they'd have a whole soccer team of kids by now!] Wait—what? Supporting female character? Me? And what's this about breaking them up? So now these two get to cheat under my roof, and somehow I'm the villain? Before I could process it all, my husband was already dragging her luggage inside. "Alice doesn't like fried food," he said matter-of-factly. "And nothing too salty or spicy. Make sure you keep that in mind when you're cooking. "Oh, and pregnant women love sweets. Go out now and buy a cherry cake. The one from that bakery in the suburbs."

Victoria Blackwood was a completely different person after being reborn. She no longer woke up before sunrise to make breakfast for Sebastian Blackwood and deliver it to his military unit so he could enjoy a home-cooked meal. She no longer picked up their son from daycare every evening, holding his little hand as he excitedly told her about the new songs he had learned that day. Even after their son, Ethan Blackwood, was injured in a car accident and rushed to the hospital, Victoria ignored Sebastian's repeated calls. It wasn't until his 38th call that she finally answered, taking her time as if nothing were wrong. Sebastian's voice was filled with worry, but he was clearly holding back his anger. "Do you even know Ethan was in a car accident?" Victoria held the phone to her ear while looking over the documents in front of her. She replied calmly, "I know. Haven't you already called me dozens of times?"

Before the wedding began, Rosien Valmont, the vampire prince, chained me to the blood altar. A dagger carved with a blood curse was pressed against my heart. "Give Bertha your blood one more time and I'll honor the blood pact. Otherwise the wedding is off." Rosien and I had loved each other for 200 years. He swore in front of the whole clan that he would make me his princess. Then, three years ago, everything changed when he brought Bertha Bell, a dying human, home. Whenever her illness flared, Rosien cut open my chest to draw my blood. On every full moon, pain ripped through my body as though my flesh were being torn apart. Bertha Bell lay pale in his arms. "Rosien, let it go! Katherine has waited a long time for this wedding. If she doesn't want to, I don't mind dying." When he looked at me again, there was nothing in his eyes but impatience. "Bertha saved my life. You're only giving up a few drops of blood." He pushed the dagger in another inch. "You begged for this wedding in the first place. I can call it off whenever I want. But if you're willing to give Bertha your blood, I'll still make you my princess." I looked down at the ring on my finger and laughed softly. "One last time." Rosien had no idea that this was the 99th time he had taken my blood. In three days, when the blood moon rose, the Founder bloodline sealed within me would fully awaken. I would take control of the clan.

The battery on my front door smart lock died, so I called a locksmith to come over. While he was working on the lock, he made small talk. "Dude, this lock comes with six spare keys. Did you lock all of them inside the apartment?" I froze. I've lived in this apartment for three years. My wife and I each have one spare key. The other three were always kept in the hallway drawer. That makes five total. So where's the sixth key?

In my last life, I died three days after Layla Vale became a "savior." Even as she injected concentrated wolfsbane into my IV, she practiced her funeral face in front of a photograph of Seraphina Blackwood. "Once she's dead, I'll be remembered as her savior. Adrian will fall for me sooner or later. Rowan, why did you have to call the police and ruin everything?" I tried to pull the needle out, but my wrist was pinned to the bed. The Vales reminded me that they had taken me in from an orphanage, paid my tuition, and given me a home. So writing Layla's fraudulent interview copy, covering up the wolf-luring resin, and finally dying in her place were all debts I owed her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back two hours before the charity night run began. Layla kicked her white boots over to my feet and ordered me to crouch down and tie the laces, then write the interview copy for her "heroic rescue." She had no idea that two hours later, she would deliberately release maddened wolves to play the hero on camera and leave Alpha Adrian Blackwood's wife critically injured. In my last life, I worked myself to the bone covering every crack in her plan, only for her to kill me to keep me quiet. This time, I warned her: "The east emergency door isn't locked. Something is going to happen tonight." Layla sent the order to the team chat, impatient. "We go as planned. Nobody changes anything." I saved a screenshot, started recording, and for the first time did not clean up after her. Later, her arrow wounded Seraphina. I pulled the child to safety, triggered the alarm, and staunched Seraphina's bleeding. When Adrian arrived, he gave Layla only one look. Yet she told me, her cheeks flushed, "Did you see that? He's fallen for me." I looked at the wolf-luring resin that hadn't been wiped clean off her glove, and I smiled. She had no idea Adrian wasn't looking at a woman he desired. He was watching the woman who had hurt his wife.