Plot Twists Pregnancy Short Stories & Novels

The day Lorenzo got kidnapped by a rival family, I found out I was three months pregnant. I took the million dollars his father offered, and I ran. The next time we met, I looked him in the eye and told him I'd been a mole for the rival family the whole time. He was chained up in a cellar, staring at me through the iron bars utterly despairing. He said he'd kill me himself, and then grind my bones to dust. Seven years later, when I saw him again, there was a beautiful woman on his arm. They were getting married. And I was so far down I had to beg him for a loan. He pulled out a thick stack of bills. Lit it on fire right in front of me. He said he'd rather burn it than give it to some whore feeding another man. He didn't know I was begging because my son was dying. His son too.

My name is Clara Kelly. I was born in Brooklyn, into an Irish-American cop’s family. My father spent his whole career walking a beat out of the 84th Precinct. My mother volunteered at the parish. I was the first girl on our block to get into Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I was volunteering at a charity gala. I picked up the wrong glass of wine and ended up dumping it down the front of a man’s Brioni suit. That man was Adrian Francesco Moretti. Fourth-generation Don of the Moretti Family of New York, and one of the five families of Cosa Nostra. He chased me for four years. I said no six times. The seventh time, he stood outside my law firm in the rain until three-fifteen in the morning. I married him. Two decades in, he’d handed me the keys to the entire Moretti Family. In our world they called me “the Irish Donna,” a woman with no Italian blood who somehow held the seat. Childless by choice, the two of us. Famously in love. Until that Wednesday afternoon, when my college roommate of twenty years, my best friend Vivian Sinclair, walked into my living room with a five-year-old boy. She said the boy was Adrian’s son. She said that five years ago, she’d taken a used condom out of the wastebasket in my upstairs master bedroom, kept it frozen for three years, and done IVF. She said she was the real mother of the Moretti heir. She was the real Donna Moretti. “Be smart. Pack your bags and walk out. You might even get to keep your life.” “You’re barren. The Moretti Family doesn’t need you.” I looked at the woman I’d called my best friend for half my adult life. I didn’t say a word. She thought she was holding the winning card. What she didn’t know was that she’d just stepped onto a board Adrian and I had been laying for twenty years. I needed exactly one sentence to shatter every piece of the Donna fantasy she’d spent five years building.

Just when I was about to step through airport security for my Around-the-World trip, I heard the twins in my womb, a boy and a girl, shouting. 'Mom! Can you stop thinking about going to have fun? The whole world is going to become a frozen block of ice in a month! You're still thinking about flying around at a time like this? Don't be silly!' 'My brother's right! Hurry home and stock up on food and medicine already! Renovate our mansion! Turn the garden into food storage! Turn the swimming pool into a reservoir!' My heart skipped a beat, and the milk in my hand spilled all over the floor. The passenger behind me urged me impatiently, "Can you hurry up? You're holding everyone up." I ignored him. Instead, I turned around and called my assistant. I also gave him another order. "Get me ten thousand pounds of grains and five thousand pounds of pork belly. The ones with the skin on. I want them now!" From that moment on, Kirsten, the woman in Harbor City who only knew how to burn money and fly all over the world, changed. She became Kirsten, ruler of the frozen wasteland.

I begged my husband for weeks before he finally agreed to come with me to my prenatal appointment. The whole time, he just stood there with his hands buried in his pockets, watching me coldly as I handled everything on my own—paying the bills, checking in at the front desk, running around like crazy until I was completely overwhelmed. The second I walked into the exam room, he vanished into thin air. And to top it off, he took off in my car, leaving me to take the bus home by myself. As soon as I got on the bus, my phone buzzed. He'd sent me a screenshot of a receipt: [Companionship fee: 50 dollars] [Round-trip gas: 7 dollars] [Total: 57 dollars] There was also a voice message attached. "Our marriage is strictly fifty-fifty. What does your pregnancy checkup have to do with me? Why should I give up my day off to go to the hospital with you?" Listening to that icy message, I suddenly remembered the way he once got down on his knees in front of me, begging me to help pay for his education. I was so angry, I just started laughing. Fine then. If this was a fifty-fifty marriage, it was time to settle the score!

Since my daughter, Lucy Shepherd, is an only child, my husband, Felix Shepherd, and I have decided to find her a live-in son-in-law. I ask on an online forum, "If my future son-in-law has a master's degree from a top university and earns over 10,000 dollars a month, what kind of wedding gift would seem appropriate to welcome him into the family?" Someone jokingly replies, "You'd probably have to be loaded to get a son-in-law like that. Why not give him ten million dollars as a wedding gift?" Without any hesitation, I take the person's advice and give Paul Cranston, my future son-in-law, and his family ten million dollars, along with a riverfront apartment. However, to guard against the possibility of Paul and his family seizing Lucy's inheritance for themselves once we're gone, I make Paul sign a prenuptial agreement. It clearly states that all their children must take the Shepherd family name and that the family's assets will not go to anyone with a different last name. Paul agrees to it and even thanks me profusely for everything. Yet, when Lucy gives birth to her second child, he immediately grabs the baby and changes his tune. "Even though I married into the Shepherd family, that doesn't mean I'm no longer my own person! My son must take my family name! This affects my dignity as a man!" I scoff in anger, but before I can say anything, Lucy, who is completely blinded by love, tearfully takes Paul's side. "Just go along with it, Mom. We're all a family anyway. Why must you harp on whose last name is used?" I hold my ground and refuse to back down. But the very next day, Lucy flies abroad with Paul, bringing along her two children. They have no qualms about moving into the property that Felix and I had bought abroad, as if it were their own. Despite being 58 years old, I am so enraged by her foolishness that I drag Felix to a fertility clinic. We start the IVF process. After turning 59 years old, I give birth to a son. Just as the nurse brings him to me, the door to the hospital room flies open. The family of four, who have just rushed back in a hurry, freeze in place.

At the supermarket, a child slams into my pregnant belly. The pain is so intense that I collapse to the floor and cannot get back up. I groan, "My phone... Call my husband..." Only after giving the child a slap does the woman pick up my phone. Apologizing repeatedly, she searches my contacts for "Husband". She calls several times, but no one answers. "Don't panic. I'll have my husband come handle this," she says, taking out her own phone and calling her husband. He answers after the very first ring. "Honey, our son got into trouble again! Adjourn your meeting and get over here. He knocked into a pregnant woman!" Ten minutes later, Shawn Leake, who is supposed to be working in another city, arrives at the scene. The first thing he notices is the child's swollen cheek. A look of concern crosses his face as he frowns and searches the area. He grumbles, "Was it really necessary to hit him? Who exactly did he run into—" The moment our eyes meet, his voice cuts off abruptly.

My best friend, Clara Wilder, has baked an apple pie for me. But I don't hesitate to give it to my pregnant dog. That's because I've gotten reborn. In my previous lifetime, Clara had bound the Fertility Transfer System to me. If I were to eat the food she made, the baby I was pregnant with would be transferred into her womb, and she would be the one giving birth to them. Clara had married into the wealthy Gray family. For three generations, the Grays were only able to produce one heir each. That was why her in-laws desperately needed her to bear them grandchildren. Since Clara couldn't get pregnant at all, she decided to target me, her newly-wedded best friend. I went to great lengths just to get pregnant every time, but right after I ate the food Clara made, I'd go through a miscarriage by accident. Just like that, Clara was able to give birth to four sons in a row. She became the apple of her in-laws and her husband, Colton Gray's eye, which made her ego swell like mad. In the end, Clara and Colton hatched a plot where they accused me of cheating on my own husband. With my reputation flushed down the drain, I got kicked out by my in-laws. In the end, I starved to death on the streets without a penny under my name. At the end of the day, Clara wants children very badly, doesn't she? After I get reborn, I decide to give her some special "babies".

A split second before I swipe my card at the Hermès boutique, I hear my unborn son's scream inside my head. "Mom, don't buy this useless designer bag! The zombie apocalypse is only a month away! This is inedible, and it can't be used as a weapon either. What's the point of buying it? Buy essential food! Sell that limited-edition sports car at home and trade it for a bulletproof armored vehicle!" My hand trembles, and the purchase order worth millions scatters across the floor. The sales associate looks at me with disdain and says, "Ms. Webb, if you don't have enough funds, you can always come back another day." I ignore her and immediately turn around to call the owner of the wholesale market. Without wasting any time, I order, "I need 10,000 pounds of potatoes and 5,000 pounds of beef. Make sure it's the kind with the fatty parts! I want it delivered immediately!" From this moment onwards, the socialite Phoebe Webb who only knows how to shop is gone. In her place stands a survivalist obsessed with preparing for the end of the world.

My infertile wife, Quinn Hart, finally gets pregnant after seven years of marriage. But our baby boy is diagnosed with a rare disease shortly after being born. In order to treat our child's disease, Quinn and I have sold everything we own. Alas, we still aren't able to gather enough money to save him. Left without a choice, I can only take on jobs far away from home. Since Quinn is left penniless, she and our child are forced to room with other people. One day, I receive a work order that comes with lucrative rewards. Apparently, I'm required to clean windows on a tall building. Coincidentally, the address points to the building where Quinn is rooming with others. I slowly descend to the window, hoping to give Quinn a surprise. But that's when I notice the boisterous atmosphere inside that particular room. I notice Quinn holding our baby boy with one hand while her other hand is intertwined with another man. "Everyone, meet my husband whom I'm secretly married to for many years, Chester Langston. Today is our moving day as well as the celebration party for our son. "Thank you for attending the grand occasion. We'd like to toast to you in order to show our gratitude." I feel my blood freezing in my veins at that moment. Meanwhile, Quinn is typing away on her phone a short distance away. The next thing I know, I hear my phone chiming once. It seems that a new text has appeared on the screen. "Honey, I'm already pinching pennies just by sharing the same bed with other people with our son. But the thing is, I don't have enough money to last the month…" I can hear Quinn's "husband" teasing her with a soft chuckle through the open window. "So, this is how you've been lying to him, huh?" Quinn just smiles at him casually. "I did everything out of love for you, didn't I? In fact, I've been pretending to be infertile for seven long years just so I can keep my promise to you. And now, I'm pretending to be poor to the point that I keep telling Nicholas that I'm sharing a bed with strangers every day."

On the day my husband's dying first love gave birth, his father, the Don of the Lupo family, posted ten armed men outside my door. They were on high alert, terrified I might storm the delivery room and disrupt the birth of the first heir to the Lupo family. But I never even touched the door, not even when the newborn's cries echoed down the hall. Luca's mother, the family's Donna, let out a long sigh of relief, her hand tightly gripping the woman's on the hospital bed. "Bianca, we're here. That barren woman, Stella, won't lay a finger on you or my grandson." Luca leaned over, gently wiping the cold sweat from Bianca's brow, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Don't worry, Father's had his men lock down the entire private hospital. If she dares to cause a scene, I'll have her struck from the family records myself." Only after confirming I wouldn't show up to make trouble did he finally relax. He didn't understand. In his eyes, he was just honoring a debt, giving a dying woman a child to carry on her name, helping his first love fulfill her final wish. Why couldn't I just be graceful about it? Why couldn't I see the bigger picture? A satisfied smile touched Luca's lips as he gazed at the swaddled infant. He was even thinking that if I would just swallow my pride, admit I was wrong, and show Bianca a little kindness, he would forgive my previous coldness completely. He'd make it up to me, even offering me the hollow title of the child's mother, allowing me to keep my position as the Underboss's wife. But what he didn't know was that I had already signed the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up. In a week, I would cut all ties with the Lupo family, take the twins growing inside me and walk away. We would never see each other again, not in this life or the next.

After I was diagnosed with cancer, my family stopped visiting, and the man I had been dating disappeared. Even when I had almost given up on myself, only Dante Russo stayed. He was my childhood friend, the boy who emptied his savings, sold his apartment, and spent ten years dragging me back from the edge of death. By some miracle, I recovered. Soon after, I became pregnant with his child. On the anniversary of our first kiss, I planned to tell him the news and ask when he was finally going to marry me. Instead, I found another woman's pregnancy report in his car. When I confronted him, Dante only sighed. “Serena De Luca is the Godfather’s daughter. She helped me secure the Russo family. If people find out she’s pregnant before marriage, her reputation will be ruined.” “You’re the only one I love. I’ll hold a fake wedding with her first. Once the child’s situation is settled, we’ll get married immediately.” At that moment, the pain was worse than any treatment I had survived. I only wanted to ask him one thing. What was love supposed to mean? Later, while Dante and Serena stood at the altar, Serena’s parents forced me to have an abortion. By the time Dante found out, I had already left.

My husband, the Don, never acknowledged me as anything more than his political bride. From the day we married, I knew there was someone else in his heart, a woman from the slums named Elena. But for the sake of my family's honor, and for that small, pathetic scrap of love I still held onto, I endured everything in silence. Until two months ago. He came home drunk and reckless and lost all control. He kicked open my bedroom door and took me like a man possessed, and the whole time, the name he breathed into my ear wasn't mine. It was hers. But that night left something behind. I was pregnant. I thought maybe this child could be the thing that finally turned us around. So I walked to his study door, pregnancy report in hand, heart full of something dangerously close to hope. That's when I heard his voice through the door, soft and tender, speaking in a tone I had never once heard him use with me. "Don't worry, Elena. Once you have the baby, I'll bring him into the family personally. He'll be the only heir I recognize. As for Jessica..." His voice turned cold and contemptuous. "She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone slip the highest dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's nothing but a political arrangement. Why would I let her carry my bloodline?" The door opened. He stepped out and saw me standing there, frozen. He assumed I'd do what I always did, scream and cry and demand answers. He had no idea this time was different. This time, I was really leaving.

My boyfriend had just gotten home from a long day at the construction site when I demanded that he go out in the pouring rain and buy me a box of premium cherries. His voice was tired. "We're running low on money. Rent's due tomorrow. How about strawberries instead?" I grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at him. "Get out, you loser!" After throwing him out, I curled up on the couch and sulked. Then a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This woman has no idea she's calling a billionaire heir a loser! He only ended up working construction because he lost his memory after being set up!] [His fiancée will find him soon. Once he regains his memories, he'll discover this woman has been lying to him all along!] [This spoiled brat is already pregnant. Later she'll use the baby to cause trouble, but she'll be killed right after giving birth, and the child will be abused too!] I froze. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach. Pregnant? At that moment, the front door opened. Landon Pierce stepped inside, soaked from head to toe, a box of premium cherries clutched in one hand. He looked at me nervously and spoke with careful hesitation. "I spent the last two hours delivering food orders so I could afford the box of premium cherries." He held it out to me. "Please don't make me leave, okay?"

My wife, Sophie Souza, cheats on me when she gets drunk. That's when she gets pregnant with her assistant, Dylan Hart's baby. By the time I come across Sophie's pregnancy report, she's already three months into her pregnancy. I tell her outright that I will choose to forgive her as long as she aborts the baby. But Sophie asks me coldly, "Which one will you choose? Me or your dignity?" I remain silent for a very long time afterward. In the end, I leave a divorce agreement behind and completely vanish from Sophie's world. But that's when she claims that she regrets making me choose.

A text message popped up in the class group chat. A student had been in a car accident and had been rushed to the hospital. She urgently needed a donor with a rare RH-Negative blood type. Wanting to help, I went to the hospital and donated 800 milliliters of blood. Afterward, I passed out from blood loss. When she woke up, she claimed she was pregnant and said the baby was mine. Everyone accused me of crossing a line despite being an educator and professor in college. They said I had slept with a student and got her pregnant. I went to confront her, but she acted like she was the victim. "Your blood is in my body now, and in the baby's body too. What's wrong with saying the baby is yours? From now on, my baby and I are depending on you. You'd better take good care of us and make sure we don't suffer, or I'll sue you for seducing me and dumping me!" Furious, I shoved her. She rammed her stomach into the corner of a table on purpose and miscarried. The internet decided I was a scumbag who had killed the baby on purpose. "How can someone like that exist? How can someone like that teach at all!" I lost my job. I was doxxed and harassed over the phone. Someone even threw acid on me and destroyed my face. I lost everything. My wife, who was eight months pregnant at the time, believed me and defended me, only for the internet to turn on her too. They accused her of helping a monster to hurt others. The stress caused her to have a serious hemorrhage, and she and the baby both did not make it. Crushed by guilt and grief, I jumped off a building and killed myself. That student, however, profited from my tragedy and became an influencer with a million followers overnight. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the day I saw the message in the group chat.  

“The queen wants more children. Since you conceive so easily, have another.” Simply because the queen said so, Lynette bore another girl. As soon as the baby was born, the midwife cut the umbilical cord and took the child away before Lynette could even see her. That was the second one… The maids said that if the queen had not lost her ability to conceive when she followed the king to the front lines, the royal harem would consist of her alone. As the preceptor’s daughter, Lynette was simply a convenient tool to continue the royal line.

I'd upset my fiancé again, the men I'd grown up beside. All because I wanted to borrow thirty million from him to buy back a ruby brooch. Adrian was heir to the Vampire Prince. To him, the money was nothing. But in front of every servant in the house, his face went cold. "Elena. Don't be greedy." Disdain filled his eyes. "Yes, your mother died saving me fifteen years ago, yet I agreed to marry you." "You're only human. Don't presume on that." My throat closed. I'd been about to explain that the brooch was the only thing I had left of my mother. But Adrian had already looked away, impatient. "Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm back. Stop making a scene." I ran my thumb over the few thin bills in my pocket and lowered my head. A whole year of quiet work for the manor's servants, and that was all I'd saved. I was still wiping my eyes when I got back to my room, and my father called again. "Elena, have you decided? This is for your own good. No matter how long you wait, young Master Adrian will never marry you." "Why don’t you take your stepsister's place. Marry into the North instead. You'll have an easier life." This time, I didn't argue. "Fine. I'll do it." "But I want thirty million in return."

My wife once told me she never wanted kids. Then one day she came home with a four-year-old child. I did some digging on my own and found out she was pregnant again, and she was using an overseas study program as a cover so she could carry the baby somewhere else. Once the truth came out, she and I argued for days without getting anywhere. When my parents caught wind of it, they wouldn't stop pushing me to let it go. "It's not that big of a deal. Why make such a scene and embarrass everyone? She's a woman, and her health isn't good. Just let her have this." Sadly, I looked at my wife, who'd gone quiet. Ten years of marriage, and she was still just as beautiful, her eyes carrying the same light they always had. "Send the child away, and get rid of the one in your belly. I'll pretend none of this ever happened." She hesitated for a moment, then stood up to leave. I thought she was agreeing to my terms. Instead, on her way out the door, she tore our marriage certificate clean in half. "The child is innocent. I can't do that to him. And I don't want to get rid of the baby I'm carrying now, either. He was a dream I gave up on once before. "He's terminally ill now. I don't want him to die with regrets, so I'm going to give him a family. "Don't worry, it's only a divorce on paper. I'll still come back and be with you all the time." I looked down at our wedding photo lying on the floor and let go of any hope of spending the rest of my life with her. "Don't bother," I said. "Once we're divorced, let's not see each other again."

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her award, I ask her for a divorce. The room instantly falls silent. Tearing off the medal on her chest, she complains in a wounded tone, "I'm working myself to the bone even when I'm pregnant, and I'm doing all this to give our child a better life. You're worried that I'll outperform you and overtake you as the top mortician in the industry, aren't you?" I look away from her, a cold smile forming on my lips. "Spend the rest of your life with those bodies, then. I don't want the child anymore, and I'm definitely divorcing you."

My ex-boyfriend was banished from his pack. He begged me to let him hide out at my neutral clinic for five days. We had been together for four years. For old times' sake, I gave him a temporary access code. The day I wrapped up an emergency house call for another pack and rushed back to the clinic overnight, I couldn't get the door open no matter what I tried. I rang the doorbell. Slippers shuffled inside, followed by a woman's impatient voice. "Who is it? Don't you know pregnant women need their rest at night?" The door cracked open, the chain lock still in place. A heavily pregnant stranger stood there wearing my white coat, glaring at me with undisguised contempt. "You must be Evelyn. "Ronan told me all about you. He already rejected you in front of everyone. How shameless can you be, chasing him all the way here to harass him?"