Contos e Romances sobre Plot Twists com Poor Student

During the outdoor orientation boot camp, Wanda Lawson, the daughter of the richest tycoon, suddenly suffered from a heart attack. She collapsed to the ground and went through a seizure, her complexion bluish-gray. My boyfriend, Joseph Jensen, the drill instructor of the boot camp, overheard my pretentious roommate, Ella Ziegler, murmur, "She's usually fine, so why is she suddenly suffering from some sort of attack when it's time for the drills to start? She must be faking it in order to laze around!" Because of those assumptions, Joseph kicked the medication that Wanda managed to pull out of her pocket into the nearby river. "Get lost if you want to play dead! Don't drag us down with you!" I quickly dived into the river and scooped the medication out. Thanks to my efforts, Wanda's life was saved. Her father was enraged when he found out about the news and wanted to hold someone responsible. With tears streaking down my face, I begged Wanda to not expose Joseph. She nodded quietly to me. Joseph narrowly escaped the judgment. But Ella was expelled by the university right away for her malicious and provocative words. She even had a permanent stain of poor conduct marking her record. On the third day after Ella returned to her village, her family forced her to marry an older man who had remained single for far too long because of his violent temperament. Wanda's father was grateful to me for saving Wanda's life, so he listed me into the list of beneficiaries of his family's trust fund. The amount of money I received was second only to Wanda's portion. On the night news of Ella getting beaten to death by her husband got out, Joseph lovingly invited me to the place we first met so that we could go hiking. When I stood on the steep slope of the mountain, Joseph suddenly snatched the backpack filled with supplies, which included a life-saving whistle, from me. Then, he shoved me off the slope. "Why must you be such a busybody? If you never saved Wanda, she wouldn't have been able to testify against Ella because she'd have died! A murderer like you should just die!" Having broken my spine from the fall, I ended up dying at the foot of the mountain. After my death, not only Joseph got to receive the trust fund thanks to his relationship to me as my fiance, but he also began sponsoring low-income students by using Ella's namesake. That was how he reaped both wealth and reputation in one go. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Wanda suffers from the heart attack.

In the month before my 20th birthday, Dad digs out the information on the oldest daughters of the four most prominent families in Jorvale and tells me to select one of them as my partner for our upcoming marriage alliance. I choose Grace Sutton without hesitation, which shocks everyone else. After all, everyone in Jorvale knows very well that Connor Foster, the sole heir of the Foster family, has always been crushing on Abigail Chandler since I was a kid. Only I know that I've gotten to marry Abigail in my previous life. But on the day after our grand wedding, Abigail told me that Louis Hayes, the low-income student Dad had been sponsoring, was the man she loved. She announced in public that she was only my wife in name, but she'd always be Louis' wife for real. But when Abigail tried to pick Louis up the next day, she found out that he had already disappeared after leaving a relationship-severance letter behind. Abigail was hell-bent on believing that I was the one who forced Louis to leave. Because of that, she treated me like her mortal enemy for the rest of her life. She went through a lover per week, and she'd always be intimate with them in front of me. All of those lovers resembled Louis one way or another. Finally, on the day Abigail officially took over Foster Group, I died in a car accident by "coincidence". Now that I've been reborn, I decide to marry another woman and avoid getting caught up in Abigail's affairs anymore. But once Abigail hears my decision, she goes absolutely berserk.

During the audition of the animal show that will be held on the National Day Gala, Yvonne Quinlan, the self-proclaimed genius animal trainer, instructs the pigeons to go into formation and soar around the skies. But the next thing everyone knows, bird poop begins raining down on everyone's heads. Awkward can't even begin to describe the situation. Having lost her composure, Yvonne blames me for copying her as a fake animal trainer. She claims that I was the one who pulled a prank on her. In my previous life, the python, which I've painstakingly nurtured with my family heirloom and my blood essence, suddenly went berserk. Just when it was about to strangle me to death and devour me whole, Yvonne, who was a low-income student I'd been sponsoring, let out a shrill whistle. The ferocious python immediately coiled around her waist, looking very docile and sweet. My boyfriend, Brandon Jenner, accused me of stealing Yvonne's python just because I had money and power on my side. He also jeered at me for shooting myself in the foot after everything I had done. Almost immediately, I became the thief everyone hated. My python went berserk once again and attempted to devour me. This time, no one tried to save me. Just like that, Yvonne gained popularity after putting on a performance with my python. Brandon even proposed to her on the spot. They became a famous couple on the Internet after that. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the timeframe of three days before my school announces the audition of the upcoming animal show.

After completing my studies overseas, it's time for me to marry Cynthia Norton, my childhood sweetheart. But on the day I'm supposed to pick up the wedding tuxedo, I see my tuxedo, which is a custom-ordered suit that's worth a million dollars, being worn by Theodore Hasting, the low-income student Cynthia is currently sponsoring. When I demand that the tuxedo be returned, I get called the homewrecker instead. People even mock me for being a boy toy who wants to take the shortcut by clinging to a rich woman. Cynthia tells me Theodore has never experienced wearing a wedding tuxedo before, so she wants me to graciously give him the chance. I like doing charity work the most. Since I can give a million-dollar wedding tuxedo away, I should just give the marriage contract away too. Then again, not anyone can simply accept the marriage contract meant for me, the heir of the Emerson family.

I'm the heir of the York family in Yarrowdale. My parents request that I choose either June Langley, my female bodyguard or Jasmine Turner, the low-income student that my family has been sponsoring as my wife. I had had a crush on Jasmine for a long time. On the day I was supposed to draw lots, I tampered with the box and chose her as my wife. But after we got married, Jasmine plotted to let the butler's son, Marcus Lockwood, take my place as the new heir. Just like that, I fell from grace and became the impostor that everyone looked down on. Then, I was cast out of my own home. Jasmine then introduced Marcus and their illegitimate child into the York family. Her actions gave my parents heart attacks, leading to their deaths. Before my death, I witnessed Jasmine gifting the Yorks' shares to Marcus. She even shattered my parents' urns just to appease him. "Tristan, you had spent your life in luxury. Now, it's Marcus' turn." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm meant to choose my wife by drawing lots. This time, I've changed the names on both lots to June Langley, my loyal bodyguard.

Ten years after graduation, I funded a scholarship for underprivileged students at my alma mater. During the ceremony's interview segment, one of the scholarship recipients suddenly grabbed the microphone. "That night at the karaoke bar, you forced yourself on me! Aren't you going to take responsibility?" Her words cut through the room, and every student and faculty member turned to look at me. In an instant, I was branded a rapist. The company's stock fell immediately in response. Amid the chaos, I simply stared at the girl in front of me. Had students really become so ruthless just to get what they wanted? Only a few days ago, I had helped her fend off a gang of troublemakers, so how could she turn around and spread lies about me then? Besides, I was a woman. What could I possibly have done to her?

Oliver took a job with the city's top hockey team to find out who murdered his father. He did not plan to sleep with Alexander Whitman. Alexander is the famous hockey captain. He is huge, cold, and strictly closeted. Their secret one-night stand changes everything. Alexander's touch is hot, rough, and totally addictive. But Alexander is hiding a dark secret. His real name is Alexander Montgomery. He is the billionaire heir to the exact family that killed Oliver's dad. When Oliver finds out the ugly truth, he runs. But the Ice King will not let him go. "I will give you my money, my fame, my whole life," Alexander whispers, pressing his hard chest against Oliver. "But I will never give you your freedom."

The day I was reborn, I came across that anonymous post again. “My sponsor is like a sister to me, but her husband gives me butterflies. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself from feeling this way. Yesterday, we got down and dirty on the couch she bought.” Back in my past life, this very post broke me. In a fit of rage, I exposed their filthy secret to the world. The girl I once gave my heart and soul to help succumbed to cyberbullying and took her life by jumping off a building. After the funeral, my husband, Taylor Rogue, became a devoted and gentle man, only to lock me up in a mental institution the moment I put down my walls. “You should spend the rest of your life atoning for ruining Ivy!” With three years of pills and electric shock stripping away my sanity and dignity, I climbed to the roof and leaped. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the moment everything began.

My fiancé had a thing for girls who were tiny, pale, and fragile-looking. A month before our wedding, he demanded that I slim down to 80 pounds. So, I starved myself, counted every calorie, and spent my days at the gym. Alas, the harder I tried to lose weight, the heavier I got. … Meanwhile, the girl I'd been supporting stuffed herself with burgers, milkshakes, and late-night takeout every day. Yet, she kept getting thinner. On our wedding day, my fiancé became disgusted the second he laid eyes on me and promptly decided that I was too fat to be his bride. Then, he dumped me and replaced me with the scholarship girl right there at the altar. Not long after, the rapid weight gain wrecked my health. One complication led to another. As I lay on my deathbed, she finally came to gloat. "You idiot," she cooed at me mockingly. "I linked you to a weight-swap system. It doesn't matter how hard you diet because the weight loss always goes to me." Then, everything went black. … When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the time before the wedding. As my eyes focused, I saw the same girl standing in front of me, nagging me to lose weight. I smiled, but scoffed internally. 'If you want to be skinny that badly, fine. However, I'll make sure you end up weighing five pounds this time around, ashes and all.'

My husband, Henry Gibbons, is a man with a heart of gold. He has sponsored Felicity Lambert, an impoverished female college student who has come from the mountains, and yet I've never seen this person before. During the New Year holidays, Henry has traveled to the mountains to give Felicity some well-needed resources, but he ends up getting trapped there because of a blizzard. My heart aches for him, so I've shared the local news while praying for his quick return. But that's when I come across a video clip featuring a comic convention on the trending list. Henry, who claims that he's trapped in the mountains, can be seen wearing a cosplaying outfit. In the video, he's kneeling on the floor while helping a scantily-dressed young woman tie the bells to her ankles. The woman titters as she pats him on the head. "Thank you, Henry!" The caption of the video reads, "Daddy's love is the salvation meant for me and me only." I tap into the uploader's profile picture. The pinned post is a photo of the luxurious goods meant to be flaunted to the Internet. A pregnancy report sits next to those goods as well. "Daddy has told me that once that hag of a wife dies, these things will be mine!" In the comment section, Henry's smurf account has responded, "Be patient, my little minx. Her time will be up soon." At that moment, I find myself staring down at the New Year's dinner that I've just whipped up. Then, I dump everything into the trash can without hesitation.

After returning home from abroad, I took a job as a driver to broaden my horizons. However, I got hired to drive a car with my dad’s car plate, and the location I was sent to was the city’s largest nightclub. I was suspicious about the location where I would pick up the car and the client. When I arrived, I found a bunch of people buttering up the poor student my family used to sponsor. “Have you had fun today, Mr. Morgan?” they asked. “If you’re unhappy with the ladies tonight, we’ll make sure there are better ones tomorrow night!” It was only when he called me that I realized he was my client. I went and questioned him about why he was driving my dad’s car, but he kicked me to the ground. “How dare a mere driver try to scam me? Get down on your knees and kiss my feet!” Then, he ordered his bodyguards to hold me down. They made me do as he asked. He went so far as to press cigarettes into my face, burning me. I withstood the pain and sent a photo of my dad’s car to my family’s group chat. [Dad, why are you going to Dreamscape behind Mom’s back and hiring girls for a night out?]

After my girlfriend of seven years checked in from the foreign third-world country, Bayndemar, she suddenly vanished without a trace. That same night, I received a video from her phone. In the footage, a man wielding an electric baton sneered at the camera. "Bring five million dollars to the compound if you want her back alive." Beside him, my girlfriend's clothes were torn, her body covered in blood. Trembling, she begged through tears, "Ryan! Save me! They promised they'd let me go once the money's paid!" Without hesitation, I went alone. But the moment I landed, I was drugged into unconsciousness. In the end, I was tortured to death. Meanwhile, my girlfriend returned home with one-third of the ransom money and married the student my family had sponsored. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day she disappeared.

After transmigrating through three novels in a row, the hardest thing I ever suffer through is drinking iced long black. But when I open my eyes again, I somehow become the pathetic simp side character in a trashy romance novel. Just as I debate whether to file a complaint against the system, the trembling system hurriedly explains something to me. Although this is a trashy romance novel, it is also an unfinished abandoned novel. I ask, "So you're saying I decide how the story develops?" The system replied, "Yes. Everything is completely under your control." Satisfied, I lazily stretch and begin checking the original Jacob's background. He has a trillionaire father and a billionaire mother. On top of that, he has seven rich and beautiful older sisters. With such a ridiculously overpowered setup, how can he go around simping for a broke college girl with no money? What a complete waste!

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

During my third year as president of Kingsfield University, I heard that a student I had sponsored had earned the top score on the state exam. On the eve of the SAT, I went to the university's affiliated high school to personally deliver Kingsfield University's only guaranteed-admission spot to him. The moment I reached the door of the senior-year Honors Class, the school belle, who was surrounded by admirers, walked up to me carrying a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red from crying. "You're the working-class girl who's been waiting for him outside the school gates every day lately, aren't you? He won't even look at the study notes I gave him, but he's willing to accept things from you. I'm starting to get jealous…" Before I could say a word, she suddenly grabbed my hand and violently tore apart the highly coveted recommendation form for Outstanding Graduate that she was holding. The document split cleanly in two. "H-How could you destroy my recommendation paperwork for Kingsfield University?" She dropped to the floor in the hallway, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was so loud that it drew teachers and students from the entire floor. "If you're worried that I'll get into the same university as him, then I'll give up my guaranteed admission. But how can someone like you, a girl who never even went to college, ruin my future?" The dean and the surrounding students quickly gathered around, pointing at me and looking at me with open contempt. I was flabbergasted. What did she just call me? A girl who never went to college? I was the youngest female president in Kingsfield University history! I was someone she wouldn't even dare look in the eye based on my achievements alone! When I was personally revising the nation's exam papers three years ago, this so-called recommendation form of hers hadn't even been printed yet. As I regarded this school belle, who continued playing the victim, I grabbed a thick test-prep book from the teacher's podium and slammed it right into her face. "A fool who can't even solve a parabola thinks she's worthy of a recommendation from Kingsfield University? If you dare smear my name again, I won't just ruin your future. I promise you I'll remove the principal from his job, too."

After my son finished his final exams, I ordered him a limited-edition supercar as a gift. But not long afterward, I came across a video of him riding an electric scooter and delivering takeout orders. I was deeply moved. I thought he was trying to learn how difficult life could be. Just as I was about to tell him not to overwork himself, I stumbled upon a post from a struggling student my wife was sponsoring. "Thank you for the gift. I'll work even harder from now on." Cyrus Young looked nothing like his usual modest self. He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, wearing handmade leather shoes and a luxury dive watch as he posed beside my wife for a photo. And parked behind them was the limited-edition supercar I had carefully picked out for my son. A surge of anger rose in my chest. Unable to hold it back any longer, I called my wife. "Olivia Quinn, if this is the best you can do as my wife, then we're done. I'll find someone better."

Tristan Moore, the low-income student whom my wife, Yvonne Zeller, has been sponsoring, tells her that he wishes to repay her for her benevolence. So, they end up spending long hours of passion in my laboratory. Because of that, the fluids they've left behind have tainted my experimental samples. On top of that, Tristan specifically texts me and makes me witness everything. I waste no time in barging into the laboratory. "Oh? Are you that poor that you can't afford a hotel room anymore, Ms. Zeller? Is that why you brought your side piece to my lab?" Yvonne wraps her top around her chest, her expression devoid of any guilt. "Get out. I'm the one who has invested in this lab, so I'm free to use it however I see fit. A leech like you don't get a say in this matter." I turn on my heel and walk away. That night, I hand over my new patent to Yvonne's older brother, Joshua Zeller. I'd like to see how Yvonne, who's still in the middle of fighting for the position as the heir, will still be able to stay calm after finding out about this.

I sold my $3,500 top-spec laptop for scrap for seventy dollars. In my last life, my roommate Caleb's laptop crashed right before his senior thesis deadline. "Noah, the submission portal is about to close. Please lend me your laptop!" I agreed without hesitation. Then he forgot to save his work, downloaded malware by mistake, lost his entire thesis, and had to repeat the year. Afterward, his parents and relatives stormed the university, accusing me of sabotaging his laptop because I was jealous of his graduate admission slot. The story blew up online. Everyone called me a vicious, scheming college guy. My father tried to clear my name and was beaten to death by extremists who thought they were defending justice. Because of that stain, every job search collapsed. In the end, I jumped from a building in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of graduation defense. I had just sold the laptop cheap when Caleb came running in, covering his face and crying. "Noah, my laptop died. Lend me yours!" I kept playing on my phone without looking up. "If you're writing your thesis, go use the computer lab. Why come to me?"

I'm the ultimate soft touch. My dirt-poor roommate used to survive by digging through trash cans for food. Pity got the better of me, so I covered his tuition, his living expenses, and slipped him fifty dollars a day out of my own pocket. My only condition: he had to tag along whenever I went to my private tutoring sessions. I thought he was grateful for it. Then, junior year, he strutted into the classroom head to toe in designer labels and hurled fifty coins in my face in front of the whole class. "Fifty a day, and you treated me like your personal slave for three years—dragged me along to sit through lectures I couldn't even follow, humiliated me every step of the way! "Well, guess what? My real father just tracked me down. He's a billionaire, and he handed me a black card with no spending limit. Here's your fifty back. I'm done being your errand boy. "And I'll never turn into some arrogant jerk just because I've got a little money—unlike you!" Then he handed out luxury bags to everyone in the class except me. The whole room fell for it instantly, chanting, "Long live Elmer!" I stared at the forty-three purchase notifications that had just popped up on my phone and went quiet. I checked again. My black card—the one my father had given me—was gone. Everything clicked into place. The rich long-lost father? All fake. He'd simply stolen my black card, played dress-up as a billionaire's son, and stomped on me on his way up. Without a word, I made one phone call. And transferred the black card into his name. He'd clearly watched too many soap operas—he thought a black card was some kind of savings account. He had no idea it was just a credit card with a higher limit, and every cent he spent on it, he'd owe back.

My family was the wealthiest in Brightwater, Bellweather. Yet my parents never stopped praising the scholarship student they sponsored. According to them, he was brilliant, disciplined, and a thousand times better than their own daughter. I refused to believe it. Using a fake name, I contacted him online, pretended to be a struggling student just like him, and flirted with him for months while searching for something I could use against him. Instead, I discovered that Elliot Pierce was almost painfully honest. Determined to expose the act I was sure he was putting on, I enrolled at Brightwater University through its competitive dance program. On move-in day, I pulled my sports car beside him and deliberately splashed muddy water across his shirt. I lowered my sunglasses and smiled at the mess. "I'm Sienna Wilde, the daughter of the people paying your scholarship. "And you're Elliot Pierce? You're not much to look at. I have no idea what my parents see in you." He calmly wiped the mud from his face, said nothing, and walked away. That night, my phone lit up with a message. Elliot: "Molly, I met the Wildes' daughter today. Compared with her, you're an angel."