Feel-Good Story Short Stories & Mistress Transmigration Novels

The real heiress, Alicia Grant, gets reunited with the Grant family and is scheduled to marry Cory Dawson, who's supposed to be my fiance. On the very same day, I, the vile fake heiress, get kicked out of my home. When I'm about to take my own life out of despair, I go through an awakening all of a sudden. It turns out that I'm just a vicious supporting character in a sappy romance novel whose tragic fate is already penned by the author. After I die, Alicia decides to adopt my daughter out of "kindness", only to let her get bullied from a young age. In the end, my poor daughter dies tragically in an alley. I throw the knife away immediately. With stumbling steps, I whisk my daughter into my arms and quickly immigrate elsewhere. As a supporting character, my life is already filled with misfortune. I mustn't let my daughter go down the same path as well. Initially, I thought I wouldn't see the Grants anymore. Unexpectedly, when I step into Carmont five years later, I end up bumping into them again.

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 had always been what you would call a slow person. Case in point: When I saw the stern-looking female CEO appearing in the financial news who looked just like my wife, it took me ages to finally realize it was truly her. Immediately after, a stream of comments highlighted in different colors overlaid my vision. [Oh my God! Julian Vance, the shameless supporting male lead, has finally shown up to stir the pot! Imagine dragging a child into this just to scam Ms. Eunice Latour, how disgusting!] [Didn’t he already make away with two million as compensation? Why is he back again? He must be sick in the head if he thinks that he can use his child as a pawn to get ahead in life!] [I can’t wait to see Mr. Carter put him in his place! Let the real male and female protagonists shine!] It took me half a minute before I finally wrapped my head around what they were saying. It seemed I had been in the world of a novel, one where I was cast as an evil supporting male lead whose main goal was to make the male and female protagonists look good. My wife was Eunice Latour, the female protagonist in question. One day, she went out to buy food for the baby, only to never return.

After waking up in the pages of a novel, I married the loyal second lead—the man who could never win the heroine's love. Blessed with exceptional fertility, I gave him two children in three years, and what began as a marriage of convenience slowly ripened into something like love. However, during the New Year's Eve ball at the palace, strange lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [The queen heroine is faking her pregnancy. She's just waiting for the fertile side character to give birth so she can steal the child!] [The second lead is truly devoted. To secure the queen's position, he'd even offer up his own wife to the king's bed.] [Once the side character "dies in childbirth," the baby becomes the heroine's by right. What a perfect scheme.] The silver spoon slipped from my fingers and rang against the floor. So, the deeply devoted second lead was always meant to protect only his unattainable first love. In that case… Why shouldn't I take the crown for myself?

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.