Contos sobre Plot Twists e Romances com Mistress e Revenge

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

The risks of my mom's heart transplant surgery are very high. My wife, Wendy Lowell, is known to be a miracle doctor. Everyone advises me to convince her to perform the surgery on Mom. But when I arrive at the hotel Wendy is staying at, I witness her assistant, Hayden Sterling, changing her panties for her. I glare at Wendy angrily. "Wendy, if you agree to perform the surgery on my mom right now, I'll let you off the hook this time!" But Wendy slowly wraps her arms around Hayden's neck right in front of me. "What are you looking at? Are you threatening me?" She picks up her phone on the spot. "Switch off the oxygen machine for Finn's mother right now." My eyes go bloodshot as I grip the door frame tightly. "Wendy Lowell, that's your mother-in-law! Karma will definitely bite you in the ass!" Wendy goes into an outburst as soon as she hears me. "Shut up! If it wasn't for the fact that the hag found out about me and Hayden, our affair wouldn't have gotten leaked to the public! "All I did is turn off your mom's oxygen machine, Finn! I didn't refuse the surgery! Once I've cooled off, I'll go ahead and carry out the surgery!" Then, Wendy orders her bodyguards to throw me out of the hotel. I scramble up to my feet in a wretched manner, though my hands have already balled into fists. Soon, I send a newly drafted text as an unknown number. "Dr. Lowell has suffered from bone fractures all over her body. She's currently at…"

On my wedding day, my husband's female bestie showed up holding a torn bridesmaid dress and accused me of assaulting her in front of all our guests. I had no way to defend myself, so I turned to my husband for help. Instead, he looked at me with fake disappointment and publicly labeled me a lesbian. Then, to get his hands on my family's assets, he had me committed to a psychiatric hospital, where I was tortured and humiliated. I barely managed to escape, only to die in a car accident they'd carefully planned. It wasn't until my final moments that I found out the truth—the torn bridesmaid dress wasn't evidence of my crime. It was proof of their affair in the stairwell moments before the ceremony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my dressing room, minutes before the wedding. This time, I'm going to make sure those two pay for everything.

My fiancé Julian owed $50 million in gambling debts. He and my best friend Chloe drugged me. They sold me to an underground casino in New York. I woke up in a cell. I stared through the iron bars at the man I had loved for five years. My heart broke. Julian thought I would still fight back. He sneered at me through the bars. "Save it. No more tricks. I owe Don Victor $50 million. You’re my only way out." "Victor loves breaking stuck-up artists like you. You think you're so high and mighty? Crawl into his bed and beg. Let's see how he rips off your cheap lace!" "Once he's done breaking you, Chloe and I will get married. We’ll take over your gallery. It’s perfect!" The drugs still clouded my brain. My body went limp. I collapsed on the dirty floor. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Five years of pure devotion. This was my reward. Absolute betrayal. But they didn't know the truth. They didn't know Don Victor. The ruthless tyrant. The mafia boss who ruled the American underworld. He was my father. Ever since my mother died, my father guarded me like fragile glass. He was terrified the world would leave even a single scratch on me. Now, Julian was serving me up like a piece of meat. To please my own father. If he knew I was the one in this cage... Soon, the entire New York underworld would face the Don's absolute fury.

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

When I came home from a mission, I found that my wife had accidentally taken my military-grade truth serum. The supplements I had bought for her were still sitting untouched nearby. A thought crossed my mind. I bent down and gently hugged her. "How do you want to spend your birthday this year?" My wife answered without any hesitation, "I want to spend the whole day with Randy. I hope you disappear!" I slowly straightened up and stared at her in disbelief. "What... Do you mean?" Randy was my best friend. Whenever I was busy, I often asked him to look after things at home. My wife smiled sweetly. "Every time you go back to base, we spend the whole day in the master bedroom. It would be even better if you died on a mission. That way, I could take your death benefits and be with him." After that, she passed out. The next morning, my wife hugged me affectionately. "Honey, what kind of supplements did you buy me? I fell asleep right after drinking them, as if I blacked out or something." I calmly pushed her away. "Maybe they help with sleep. By the way, how do you want to spend your birthday this year?"

My younger sister, Natasha Carter, is three months pregnant when she is delivered to a group of rich scions, who decide to play a special game with her that involves guessing her baby's gender. Unable to escape from them, poor Natasha chooses to commit suicide after suffering from a mental breakdown. Her naked body is later on discovered lying in a puddle of her own blood. I'm enraged, to say the least. My wife, Josephine Floyd, is equally furious, too. She claims that she will seek justice on Natasha's behalf. But when her childhood friend, Jacob Keller, flaunts the fact that he's the mastermind of that game, Josephine changes her tune instantly and advises me to be more gracious. "Jacob is a playful guy. Don't take what he did to heart, yeah?" Jacob remains nonchalant as ever. "Natasha got pregnant out of wedlock, after all. Yet, she pretended to be a chaste virgin." With reddened eyes, I sock Jacob in the face. I want him to pay the price with his own life too. But Josephine responds by smashing a wine bottle into my head. Then, she tosses a luxury watch she has intended to give to the winner onto my face. "Your sister is the shameless one here, Horace! Here, this watch should be enough to compensate for your loss! "Jacob is the heir of the Keller family, you know! A broke peasant like you should learn to be grateful with what you have!" With a sneer, I smash the watch into splinters. Trust me, this watch is incapable of saving Jacob and the other scions from the wrath of the family that has sired two generations of secret agents who've been carrying out classified missions for the nation.

At our engagement party, my fiancé’s so-called girl best friend showed up wearing a wedding dress identical to mine and stood next to him as they greeted guests. Everyone assumed she was the bride. I wasn’t angry. Instead, I calmly picked up the microphone that had fallen to the floor and tapped it twice. The next second, the LED wall lit up. The surround-sound system came alive. And every socialite in the city heard the unmistakable moans my fiancé and his “best friend” had made together on a mountain road the night before.

To repay my parents for raising me for 20 years, I donate one of my kidneys to Samuel Caldwell, their biological son, curing him of his uremia. After Samuel recovers, he returns to the stage, dazzling audiences with his piano performances. Meanwhile, I survive on hormone treatments. My body is swollen beyond recognition, and I look utterly disgusting. I lock myself up in the house, staring blankly out the window day after day. Through it all, my fiancee, Shelby Holloway, never leaves my side. She comes up with new low-calorie meals every day and patiently helps me rebuild my strength. "Nick, make sure you get plenty of rest and don't overexert yourself, okay? I have a meeting to attend, so wait for me at home." Before she leaves, she gently straightens my collar. I truly believe life is slowly getting better. Then, in the backstage area of a theater, I catch Samuel holding Shelby tightly in his arms. "Shelby, Nick's in such poor health. I shouldn't be taking you away from him." Shelby buries herself against his chest, her voice full of pain. "What are you talking about? If it weren't for saving you, I never would have married that impostor. Every time I look at him, I feel sick. He looks like a pig! He'd have done everyone a great favor if he'd died on the operating table that day!" Shelby casts aside the bond we've shared since childhood and even wishes for my death, all for Samuel's sake. Just as well, I have no desire to continue living anymore either.

My son, Ryan Fischer, gets into a car accident and urgently requires a blood transfusion. I get on my knees and beg my widowed sister-in-law, Serena Lowe, to donate her blood to him. However, my husband, Neil Fischer, stops me. "You can't use Serena's blood, because she's Ryan's actual biological mother," he says. I fail to understand the meaning behind his words. "Although Serena helps me take care of Ryan, he's still my child in the end!" I argue. After a momentary silence, Serena kneels before me. She reveals, "Now that things have come to this, I won't keep you in the dark any longer. Your actual son was smothered to death right after birth. Ryan is Neil's and my biological child. "We had you raise him because your family is well-off. They are capable of providing Ryan with a good education and job opportunities." I'm dumbfounded. I tug on the hem of Neil's shirt and beg him to tell me that Serena's lying, only to be coldly shaken off. He declares, "If not for this sudden turn of events, we would have kept this secret until your dying day." Consumed by rage, I suffer a sudden heart attack. And yet, Neil and Serena proceed to sign a Do-Not-Resuscitate order. Instead of saving me, they wheel me off to provide Ryan with a blood transfusion. As I lie on a hospital bed, dying in agony, their family hugs each other tearfully right next door. "That woman got exactly what she deserved. We can finally be openly reunited." When I next open my eyes, I find that I have returned to the moment before I gave birth.

The day I give birth, I hear my newborn daughter, Kayla Green's voice. "Mommy, Daddy is going to see Ms. Knightley today." Christian Green is standing beside my hospital bed when his phone lights up. A new text message flashes across the screen. The sender's name is Summer Knightley. His thumb hovers over her name for several long seconds before he quietly turns the phone over, hiding the screen from view. "Mari, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go." "He's lying." Kayla's voice doesn't come from the tiny bundle in my arms, but it echoes directly inside my mind. "It's not work, Mommy. He's going to see Ms. Knightley. Her flight lands in two hours. Next month, he'll start transferring all of his assets. The apartment, the savings, the cars. He won't leave us a single thing. "A year from now, you and I will be discarded with nothing." I pick up my phone. "Alistair, I need you to investigate two people—Christian Green and Summer Knightley. I want everything on them."

We were having a gathering before graduation. My girlfriend and best friend were getting congratulated by the whole class. They had gained guaranteed spots into the campus' top course's postgraduate program. I was sitting in a corner, staring at the Hertford University offer that would ensure I went straight to my doctorate. I hesitated on making a decision for three days just for my girlfriend. Howard Herbson, my best friend, turned to me. He had a look of pity and condescension in his eyes as he said, "How about your job hunt? Don't worry. Not getting into the postgrad program isn't the end of the world. The lab's requirements are ridiculous. "It's going to be near impossible for you to progress there even if you work yourself to the bone." Beatrice Shaw, my girlfriend, handed Howard a glass of water. Then, she chimed in matter-of-factly, "Yeah. Research just isn't for everyone. You should get a nine-to-five. When Howard and I are swamped with us, you can help us out and do our errands." They exchanged a smile and kept me out of their so-called intellectual circle. These two thought they were better than everyone else just because they got a spot in this campus' postgrad program. How droll. So, I went back to that offer and accepted it. These people were so vastly beneath me that it was really about time for me to stop playing their games at their level, especially when I was obviously not welcome.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

My mate and I have been together for five years, but he always said he wanted to save up $500,000 before marrying me. To help him reach that number faster, I secretly became the most sought-after fidelity tester in the city. One day, I landed a big case. The client complained to me, "We've been together for four years, and he's very generous. He's even planning to propose because he's worried I feel insecure, and he bought me a house." "But I heard he had a mate before me, so just want to make sure he really loves me." She was complaining, sure, but the happiness on her face was impossible to hide. She even showed me photos from their date last month. The moment I saw the photos, I froze. The couple in the pictures were vacationing at the most popular resort in pack territory, their faces pressed close together. They looked blissful and sweet. If only the man in the photo hadn't been Alexander.

At a private spa retreat, my husband’s assistant brought me a glass of iced coffee. I was parched and about to drain it when a stream of comments appeared before my eyes. [Drink it, you wicked villainess! The coffee is laced with enough sleeping pills to knock you out. Don’t ruin the leads’ big moment!] [I’m dying. The male lead is sleeping with his sister-in-law right under the villainess’ nose.] [The leads are all over each other in the sauna! This is getting spicy!] Suspicious, I lowered the glass, and the comment stream erupted. [Why isn’t the villainess drinking it?!] Were they calling me the villainess? I glanced toward the sauna, then walked straight over to it. I pulled a floor cushion over, sat down outside the steaming wooden door, and called to a staff member, “Excuse me, could you turn up the heat? I want to sit here and sweat it out.” [What?! No! Our precious leads are going to be cooked alive!]

The night I finished my month of recovery, Donald Inksworth brought up, without warning, the nightmare I least wanted to talk about. "Actually, the man who kept you locked away and violated you five years ago was Levi." Levi Sinclair was the husband of his foster sister, Jolene Trafford. A roar filled my head, and my mind went blank. "What?" Donald continued, his voice as calm as still water, "Back then, Jojo found out she couldn't have children, and her mother-in-law had never liked her to begin with... To help her secure her place as Mrs. Sinclair, I agreed to what Jojo asked of me. We used you to get pregnant in her place… Lev had always wanted you for himself. So..." So the three of them had conspired together. They locked me away and violated me day and night until I became pregnant. I forced down my nausea as my lips trembled. "Why are you telling me this now?" Donald let out a breath, as if a great weight had finally lifted from his chest. "I kept this secret for five years. It wore me down. And I've given you back the child I owed you. "They say a woman's heart softens once she becomes a mother. Looks like that's true... You're not falling apart like you used to. You've really become much better behaved." I tugged at the corners of my mouth and forced something resembling a smile. He didn't know that I hadn't become better behaved at all. I simply had a secret of my own that I had yet to confess to him.

When the rebellious and flamboyant Sylvia Carter returned to her home country, she discovered that her family had already married her off to someone. Her husband was Jason Porter, the head of his family, who was eight years older than her. Naturally, Sylvia was reluctant to accept it. During their first meeting, having heard that Jason was disciplined, reserved, and a clean freak, she deliberately showed up in a black, form-fitting halter dress. She even hired eight male escorts to fuss over her with refreshments. Her parents were embarrassed. Just as they were about to apologize, Jason calmly leaned forward. He held them steady with his strong hands and spoke in a deep, clear voice. "This arranged marriage has put Ms. Carter in an uncomfortable position. I should be the one apologizing to her." Sylvia froze. She slowly raised her head and met Jason's intense gaze. He had such alluring amber irises.

It was three days before New Year's Eve when a court summons arrived. The court ruled that I had defamed Ethan Tanner and his mistress when I insulted them in the homeowners' group chat and ordered me to issue a public apology every day for fifteen days straight. Ethan was beside himself with delight as he waved the judgment in my face. "I told you. This is a society governed by law. Shrews who hurl abuse have to pay the price. You better get cracking on those 15 days of apologies and not a day less!" I stared at his smug face. Instead of crying or making a scene, I turned around and set up my phone stand. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll apologize right now." "I'm gonna make sure that you go viral and watch as your whole life goes up in flames," I thought to myself.

It's been five years since I fell ill with depression, and I'm finally myself again. I can talk, laugh freely, and I actually have an appetite. The icing on the cake is that my husband, Ian Beaumont, and I are expecting our second child. At our New Year's Eve family gathering, Ian's godsister, Gemma Waverly, gets tipsy and starts making a scene. "I think it was about five years ago. I was dumped, and I took the car out for a little joyride while the surveillance cameras were under maintenance. "Guess what? The moment I stepped on the gas, a cat abruptly flew out of nowhere and slammed right into my hood. It yowled and bolted off." A faint, disdainful smile plays on her lips. "That damn creature not only scared the hell out of me, but it also ruined my car's wrap. "You'd better be careful in the future. Don't end up like me, accidentally bringing all that bad luck down on yourself. The thought alone makes me sick!" Gemma's tone's lighthearted, as if she's recounting a trivial, unlucky memory. Everyone chuckles and chimes in, telling her she should go to a church and pray so she doesn't end up being haunted by lingering spirits. I, on the other hand, stand amid the rowdy crowd, looking at Gemma's contemptuous face, my mother-in-law, Margaret Holloway's, indulgent gaze, and Ian's resigned, helpless smile. In a heartbeat, all the color drains from my face. It's almost as if the lot of them have forgotten that my daughter, Soleil Beaumont, died in a car accident five years ago.

Serena Sutton was my fiancee, but she wanted to marry my bodyguard, Evan Brooks. The man was a cheat. I didn't want her taken in, so I took her to see for herself what he really was. While the two of them were fighting, a car came through at speed and killed him. And Serena hated me for it with everything in her. In the third year of our marriage, she killed our son. I was in so much pain I was coughing up blood, and she put a knife in me. "Adrian, this is what you owe me for Evan." Only then did I learn that she had never forgotten him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the second before I meant to expose him. This time, I'm staying out of it.