Mistress Superpowers Short Stories & Novels

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

The cataclysm was upon us. The world was besieged by a wave of deadly frost, covering everything it touched in an icy coffin. We were trapped in a cave of ice, but fortunately, Joshua Frost came to our rescue just in time. I thought I was saved, but I thought wrong. Joshua didn't even give me a moment of his time. Instead, he went to my best friend's side. "Irene isn't good with the cold, and she's not in the best of health. Just hang on for a bit, Sera. The rescue squad's coming soon." When the rescue squad did come, I had passed out from the extreme cold, my body numb. While I was weakened, Joshua stripped me of my Ability and gave it to my best friend.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

My husband Norman had always hated how his childhood friend Julia clung to him no matter the occasion. He even cut her off for my sake. One morning, I woke up and realized that I had mysteriously swapped bodies with Julia. I wanted to find my husband and figure out what to do, fearing he'd turn me away because of Julia's appearance. I cooked up a hundred explanations in my head until I finally arrived at our home. When Norman opened the door and saw me, he frowned and quickly shut the door, pushing me away. Just as I was about to explain that I wasn't Julia, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. "What are you doing here? Can't stand being apart from me for even two days, huh?"

In my fifth year with the fallen heir, Connor Garrett, I make 99 wishes for him. As a result, I age and turn into an old woman. He, on the other hand, rises to become the richest man. However, he immediately turns around and proposes to his first love, Nadine Zeigler. He says to her, "Nadie, you have no idea how much I went through to marry you." Nadine toys with a diamond ring worth billions and asks, "What about that follower of yours who grants wishes?" Connor gives a carefree scoff. "She's just a tool who traded her youth for my fortune. Does she really think I will marry an old woman?" I stand in the shadows and silently make my final wish. Without my help, I would like to see how he will rise again this time.

After a two-week business trip, I pushed open the front door. After greeting my in-laws, I dragged my suitcase toward the bedroom. But just as my fingertips were about to touch the doorknob, a string of floating comments appeared before my eyes: [Don't go in! Your husband and your best friend are all over each other in your bed right now! If they find out you've seen them, they'll silence you for good!] I froze in terror. Just as I was about to turn around and run, I suddenly heard my baby's voice from inside my womb: [Mommy, don't believe that! Daddy passed out from low blood sugar while setting up a surprise for you. He sent you a message before he collapsed. Hurry and save him!] In my first life, I was too frightened to go inside. My husband froze to death on a floor covered with roses. My in-laws blamed me for not checking my messages, and in the end, they went mad with grief and pushed me off a building. In my second life, I tremblingly pushed open the door. My best friend instantly drove a knife through my heart. My husband sat on the bed the entire time, a smile on his face. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of the bedroom door once more. The floating comments and my baby's voice appeared at the same time.

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are made of sheepskin. I can't get them wet, so come pick me up right away." Just as I send a WhatsApp message to my wife, Cora Harden, a barrage of floating comments explodes in front of me in the downpour. "I really can't stand a high-maintenance second male lead like Allen Brandt. Cora, the female lead, is a billionaire CEO, and yet she lets him boss her around like a lapdog." "The male lead has already joined the company. Once Cora sees how sweet and thoughtful he is, she's dumping that loser Allen for good." "This is hilarious. After the divorce, Allen can't do anything, so he'll end up as some cheap thirst-trap live streamer." Staring at the screen of venomous insults, I clench my fists in anger. Just then, Cora arrives with an umbrella, half of her bespoke dress soaked from the rain. Noticing my whitened knuckles, she pauses for a moment, then timidly tugs at my sleeve. "Sorry, darling. If I had driven any faster, I would have been speeding."

I, Darlene Cooley, have an ability. Whenever I touch an object, I can see the scenes it has experienced over the past day. I've been married for five years. Every time I help my husband, Bernard Hoffman, tidy up his suits or organize his briefcase, what I see are conference rooms, whiteboards, and workstations. Once in a while, I appear in those scenes. He'll be secretly reading my messages under his desk, the corners of his mouth lifting unconsciously. Bernard is so gentle that it feels almost unreal. In winter, he places my slippers by the heater to warm them up. No matter how busy his business trips are, he video calls me right on time. When I casually mention I feel like eating caramel popcorn, he drives halfway across the city to stand in line for it. My friends all say I'm blessed, and I feel the same way. That is, until yesterday, when he comes back from a trip. I go to help him unpack, and the moment I touch that gray cashmere sweater, a flood of images rushes in. Bernard is sitting across from a short-haired woman. Her eyes are bright, and a shallow dimple appears when she smiles. He listens to her speak, earnest and focused, with his head tilted slightly to one side. A faint smile lingers at the corner of his mouth. It's been a long time since he has listened to me speak like that. The vision ends. I crouch in front of the suitcase, my hand still resting on the cashmere sweater, unable to snap out of it for a long while. Then, I stand up and walk over to the cabinet, where I pull out my own suitcase.

An ambulance rushed in during my night shift, carrying a pregnant woman in critical condition due to severe bleeding. I was about to head into the operating room when I suddenly saw a stream of comments appearing in front of me. "Don't go in there! That pregnant woman is your wife. She had sex with her side dude in the wilderness, and that's what caused the bleeding!" "Your wife is even planning to fake her death and run away with him. She's also setting you up for medical malpractice so you'll end up in prison!" "That baby isn't even yours. And your in-laws are already on their way with the police to arrest you!" After reading those comments, my expression turned dark. At that same moment, I heard the nurse urgently calling me to hurry.

For ten years, I raised the finest bodyguard money could buy, and for a nanny's daughter, he turned his blade on me. I didn't spare a thought for the years between us. I had his tendons cut, his skills stripped away, and I threw him out of Meridian City. The live comments practically caught fire. [Somebody help, Celeste Ward has gone too far! Julian protected her for ten years, and the one time he didn't put her first, she's going to ruin him?] [This is the kind of love that terrifies me — if she can't have him, she'd rather destroy him. What did Julian even do wrong, trying to save the woman he loves?] [Run, Julian! A viper like her doesn't deserve your loyalty. Go to Amber — she's the one who can actually save you!] Me? Going too far? A traitor who turns on his own mistress for an outsider — if anything, I went easy on him. I gave a cold laugh, tore up his lifetime contract in front of everyone, and had every last one of his belongings burned. Then I went straight to the underground fight club and picked out the meanest, most reckless guy I could find. A month later, word reached Julian. He fought his way through every guard at my gate, half-dead by the time he made it to the door. He dropped to his knees in front of me, eyes rimmed red, clutching the hem of my skirt. "Miss Ward," he said, "that mongrel covered in tattoos — what does he have that I don't?"

As the heir to a bloodline of diagnostic empaths, I was born with an extraordinary gift. The instant my fingers made contact with a patient’s skin, I could hear every organ speak its mind. When I examined a drunkard, his liver had screamed from inside him, “Half a bottle of whiskey and two beers every day! Look at me! I’m so dark and shriveled, I practically look like beef jerky soaked in bourbon!” When I examined a woman who had been struggling to conceive, her uterus had lamented, “Her husband’s swimmers can barely move, yet he has the nerve to blame me for not doing my job?” One night, after returning from a business trip, I accidentally touched Andy Croft’s wrist while pulling the blanket over him. A weak voice immediately came from his kidneys. “I’m running on fumes here. Three times a day, every day, for two straight weeks. Even a machine would have broken down by now!” His heart chimed in right after. “Every time he receives a check-in call, I start pounding so hard from panic that I feel like I could break through his ribs!” His skin was even more indignant. “That awful woman really went wild with her nails! His back looks like he lost a fight with a wildcat. She even bit him on the shoulder. Does she have a thing for biting?” My hands shook as I pulled back Andy’s collar. A fresh bite mark stood out clearly on his shoulder. That same night, I called a number I had not dialed in years. “You once made me an offer long ago. I accept.”

My long-lost older sister, Natalia, was pregnant when she was brought home. The moment my fiance, Duncan, saw her, he let go of my hand and strode to her side. He then confessed, “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Jacklin. The baby in Lia’s belly is mine. I will call off the wedding with Felicity.” I stood frozen in place. Then, a barrage of words floated before my eyes. Apparently, Duncan was the male lead, I was the villainess, and Natalia was still my sister. [Duncan returned to the past, didn’t he? He and Natalia were secretly seeing each other back then, but they never came clean because they didn’t want to hurt Felicity’s feelings. So, he got forced into marrying Felicity instead.] [After they got married, Felicity found out about their affair. She forced her parents to send Natalia overseas. Then, at the airport, she had a baggage cart crash into Natalia. The impact caused uterine rupture and severe hemorrhaging, and she died.] [Duncan despises Felicity. To get revenge for Natalia, he killed Felicity by letting her bleed out.] I bled out? I shot a glance at the man I had loved since childhood.

When I found out about Kenneth Hale, I didn’t argue with Claire O’Neill. I simply handed her the divorce papers. Her eyes turned red as she sat there. After struggling with the decision for a moment, she tore them up. "Give me ten days. I’ll send Kenneth far away, and he’ll never appear in our lives again." So over the next ten days, Claire went whitewater rafting with him, climbed snow-covered mountains, bungee jumped, and went skydiving. They did every thrilling thing they could think of. They watched the sunrise together by the ocean and went to Silver Pines Retreat to meditate, filling those days with every romantic experience imaginable. Then, on the ninth night, after I had packed all my belongings, I accidentally answered a video call from myself ten years in the past. "You really are me ten years from now! Then Claire and I must already be married with kids, right?" Pain flickered in my eyes. I walked straight onto the balcony and pointed the camera down at Claire and Kenneth, who were holding each other tightly, unable to let go. "This is what happens." Finley Morton looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. "That’s impossible…" My voice was exhausted, as though every last bit of strength had been drained from me. "Finley, please. Don’t marry her."

At one in the morning, I stumbled upon a viral forum thread. The question was simple: If you had to choose between love and your future, which would you pick? Thousands of replies clashed furiously in the comments. Some argued that those who chose their career always ended up full of regret. Others countered that being a hopeless romantic was a one-way ticket to total ruin. I rolled over in bed and glanced at Ethan, who was fast asleep beside me. His brow was slightly furrowed, and his fingers tightly gripped the edge of my shirt. Even in his sleep, he seemed terrified that I might slip away. Without a second thought, I fired off a string of comments: “Choose love, absolutely. We’ve been together for five years.” “He gave up his entire family legacy and inheritance just to be with me.” “Every single evening after work, he goes two miles out of his way just to pick up my favorite coffee.” “We might have nothing to our names, but together, we have everything.” Satisfied, I locked my phone and drifted off to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning, a few new notifications caught my eye. Someone had replied to my comments. The avatar and the username were identical to mine. The only difference was the timestamp: Five years from today. “Choose your future! You have to choose your future!” “His ‘sacrificed legacy’ was nothing but a sob story to manipulate you—he took over his family’s multimillion-dollar enterprise a long time ago!” “He stays up all night waiting in lines just to buy Seraphina limited-edition designer collaborations, all while telling you that your coffee craving is cheap and wasteful!” “Even the daughter you gave birth to, Lily, will be forced to call that other woman ‘Mom’!”

Ten minutes before the ceremony, my phone lit up with a photograph that made my stomach turn. A woman with sunken eyes, thin down to the bone, crawling across a floor on her hands and knees like a dog. My fiance, Harrison Blake, stood over her, looking down at her with disgust. I was about to block the number and write it off as a prank when two more messages came through. "Run. Right now. Whatever you do, don't marry Harrison Blake." "That woman on the floor is you, ten years from now."

One afternoon, I received a text from seven years in the future. The sender was me, Delilah Hanson. I assumed it was some new kind of scam, so I didn't even bother reading the message before firing off an angry reply. [Drop dead, scammer!] The sender responded with a photo of an empty bottle of sleeping pills. [I'm not a scammer, but I really am about to die. Break up with Caleb. Today is the first day he cheats on you. His first love just came back from overseas. Her name is Savannah Gordon.] I froze. The whole thing was so ridiculous that I almost laughed. I was Caleb Wheeler's first love! Right then, the door opened behind me. Caleb walked in with a woman beside him, smiling as he introduced us. "Delilah, there's someone I want you to meet. This is Savannah, my foster sister. She just got back today."

I was in the middle of saving a heart attack patient's life, so I didn't drop everything to save my foster sister's dog. The next moment, I got a message from my fiancé, Felix Callier. Felix: [Because you let it die and did nothing, Tiffany's dog ended up in the animal hospital!] Felix: [Let's push back the wedding. Consider it your punishment.] This was the ninth time Felix had postponed our wedding because of one of Tiffany Kamp's tantrums. This time, I didn't want to play along anymore. Then the comment feed drifted across my vision. [Go find him on the rooftop, girl! He's actually in love with you. He already saw through the impostor's whole act.] [He's postponing the wedding to surprise you. He's secretly planning the wedding of the century for you!] My heart ached with guilt, and I ran straight for the rooftop to find him. The moment I reached the door, I heard Tiffany's teasing laugh. "Do you really think Roxy will come crawling back to beg forgiveness once she sees those words?" Felix's tone turned playful. "Of course. That's the AR technology my company just developed. Besides, she loves me so much that even a fake message won't make her suspicious. "This was her fault to begin with. She deserves a lesson." I froze where I stood. So even the comments that claimed to love me were just another game he was playing to humiliate me. I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat and turned to leave. Felix had no idea. The moment his fake comment feed vanished from my sight, the real one appeared.

Our SAT results came back, and our parents booked a private room at a Michelin-starred steakhouse to celebrate. Over dinner, they began discussing how we should apply to the same university so we could keep looking out for each other. I looked across the table at Derek and asked politely, “Derek, which university are you planning to apply to?” The moment the words left my mouth, comments suddenly flashed across my vision. [Here she goes again. Is this desperate side character going to apply to the same university as the male lead?] [I feel so bad for him. Just to keep the close ties between the families, he has to be okay with her clinging to him for three whole years!] [Don’t worry. He’s promised the prom queen, Eliza, to go to Columbo University together. He's definitely going to name a school thousands of miles away just to brush her off. I can’t wait to see her breakdown!] Derek stared at me, his brow furrowed as he sneered. “Sofia, what business is it of yours where I go? I’m applying to Southwest University, all the way to the South. Could you please stop following me around?” I met his gaze and nodded calmly. Then, I turned my attention toward the quiet young man standing near the entrance of the private room, holding the heavy coats and car keys for Derek’s family. He was the driver’s son. “Julian, which university are you going to?” I asked. “I’d like to go to the same one as you.” The sneer on Derek's face froze, and both of our parents stared in utter disbelief. None of them had any idea that the humble, quiet boy wearing a cheap hearing aid, whom Derek mocked as “the deaf boy” day in and day out, was actually the long-lost son of New City’s wealthiest tycoon, missing for eighteen whole years. And all those years I spent shamelessly dropping by the family's estate had nothing to do with clinging to Derek. I had only done it so that I could catch a few extra glimpses of Julian.

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”