Plot Twists Revenge Short Stories & Novels

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.

As I secured the safety rope, I discovered that the metal clip had been replaced with a flimsy plastic ring. My girlfriend, already on the soft ladder, dismissed my concern casually. "Ryan has got a ton of luggage. One clip isn't enough to keep it secure, so I gave him yours. Just wait for the next trip." In desperation, I pointed to the floodwaters surging past my chest. "But I can't swim!" "Cut the drama, okay?" she huffed. "You're a swimming champ. What's the big deal about treading water for a bit? Ryan is related to my boss, and if anything happens to him, my promotion is down the drain. Can't you be reasonable?" "Is his luggage more important than my life?" I shot back, lunging for the ladder. But she kicked me away. "I've checked. The water won't rise too fast. At worst, it'll reach your neck. You'll survive." Refusing to argue further, I watched the floodwaters rage higher and quickly pressed a special emergency beacon on my wrist.

I’m the Vettori family princess. The only one. It was our fifth anniversary. A big dinner party at the estate. A waiter spilled red wine on my husband Marco, heir to the Rossi family. My best friend, Sofia, slapped the waiter. Hard. Then she was all over Marco, helping him out of his jacket. Her hand lingered on his waist. A second too long. I just stood there, watching. Sofia saw me. "I was just closer, that's all. Helping him clean up. Don't overthink it." I just smiled. Grabbed my glass. I went to make the rounds with the old dons from the other families. I would finish this night with my head held high. Later that night, Marco crawled into my bed, stinking of booze. His hands were on my waist. He wanted sex. I pushed him off. "The alliance is over," I said, my voice dead. "We're finished." Marco sobered up fast. His face went cold. "I'm trying to apologize here. You're divorcing me because Sofia helped me with my jacket?" I laughed. He didn’t get it. Not until I threw the proof of his betrayal in his face. Not until I cut him off from my family. Then he was on his knees, crying, begging me to forgive him.

My stepmother, Mary, hated me to the bone. All because when I was little, I went to a classmate’s house to play and forgot to close the courtyard gate. Her son ran onto the road and was hit to death by a car. My father loved my younger brother the most. After learning what happened, he was heartbroken. “Were you jealous of your brother? That’s why you deliberately left the gate open?” I desperately explained that I had closed the gate, but Dad didn’t believe me. He locked me in the basement and raised me like a dog for the rest of my life. Until one day, when Dad went on a business trip, Mary didn’t give me any food for three days. Starving, I crawled upstairs to the kitchen to look for something to eat. That was when I saw Mary sitting on a man’s lap, saying softly, “If you hadn’t forgotten to close the gate back then, I wouldn’t be living in fear every day of my husband finding out… We’re the ones who killed Ethan.” Only then did I understand that I wasn’t the one who had forgotten to close the gate and caused my brother to run outside, but my stepmother’s lover. Just as I was about to sneak back to the basement, my stepmother noticed me. “What did you hear? No! I can’t let your father find out that I killed our own son!” In a panic, she grabbed me and threw me down the stairs, killing me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the car hit my brother. I blinked my innocent, childlike eyes and pointed upstairs, speaking in a soft, baby voice, “Dad, I closed the gate. It was the man in Mom’s bedroom who didn’t!”

At the annual company raffle, I had barely stepped onto the stage when my supervisor, Lily Smith, pressed a crumpled slip of paper into my palm. "A special reward for our top salesperson," she chirped. "Go ahead, open it. Let everyone see." Under the eager gaze of the crowd, I unfolded the note. Written in messy handwriting were the words: Clean the company toilets for three days. The room erupted in laughter. Lily folded her arms, cocked her head, and smirked at me. "Nice, right?" she said. "Everyone knows those sales of yours came from sleeping with old men. Dirty money. To keep things fair, the others get a break, and you pick up a little extra work. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" The laughter surged again, nearly lifting the roof. From the side of the room, my boyfriend, Seth Hoffman, the company's CEO, watched everything unfold. As usual, he said nothing in my defense. They all thought I would fall apart, cry, or make a scene. Instead, I simply gave a calm nod. The very next day, the company was hit with over three hundred property cancellations. Its cash flow collapsed overnight. That was when Lily and Seth rushed to me, demanding I go plead with the buyers. I smiled and said, "No thanks. I wouldn't want to help the company recover and end up with strong numbers again. That might make everyone even more uncomfortable."

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

Campus food deliveries vanished so often that no one even commented anymore. Then it happened to me again and again. I never identified the thief, but by New Year's Eve I was finished with being an easy mark. I set out a bowl of soup as bait and soaked it with water wrung from an old bathroom mop. I meant to make whoever stole it regret touching my food. A week later, the police did not come for the thief. They came for me. The counselor slid a penalty notice across his desk—600 dollars for food costs and medical fees, due next week. The person who ate my food had been hospitalized for "poisoning." The school was already discussing a major demerit, the cancellation of my first-class scholarship, and the loss of my needs-based stipend. That stipend was the money keeping my sick mother alive. They planned to pin everything on me, shield the real culprit, and bury me under paperwork. Unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong target. I was the law department's resident argument addict, and I intended to turn their dirty little mediation into a public collapse.

I was the company's marketing director, but my salary had always been only sixteen hundred dollars. One day, Timmy Sunderland from finance accidentally sent the payroll spreadsheet to me by mistake. On it, I saw the lines: Technical Director–10,000 dollars. Marketing Assistant–5,600 dollars. Receptionist–2,000 dollars. It also clearly stated that my salary was ten thousand, but most of it had been deducted and given to Timmy! Only then did I realize that after a decade of service at this company, they still treated me worse than everyone else. I rushed into the office belonging to my boss, Jessica White. "I want an explanation." She said to me, "This is a business decision, and I'm not at liberty to explain anything to you. Haven't you always been the one who understood me the best?" Because I had feelings for Jessica, I gave in. A few days later, when the holiday arrived, I did not rest. I went out to negotiate an investment of five million for the company. I treated the client to dinner and drank with him until I suffered internal bleeding. When I took the receipt of 2,000 dollars to Timmy for reimbursement, he transferred only 100 dollars to me and even said I was just trying to take advantage of the company. Jessica also scolded me to my face. "Only incapable people need to spend that much on clients. Timmy's right, you're just trying to take advantage of the company." This time, I decided not to endure it any longer. In anger, I quit and joined another company. The first project that I was put in charge of was worth over ten million, and Jessica's company was the investment target…

At the company holiday party raffle, I'd barely stepped on stage when my superior, Victor Grant, shoved a crumpled slip into my hand. "Special prize for our top sales guy. Go on, open it. Let's show everyone." All eyes were on me as I unfolded it. Scrawled across the paper: [VIP janitor status unlocked—every toilet in the company, three days.] The room lost it—laughter everywhere. Victor crossed his arms, grinning. "Fair, right? Everyone knows you climbed the ranks hooking up with rich cougars. Gotta avoid hard feelings for the others, yeah? While the rest of us take a break, you can get busy. You're not gonna back out, are you?" The crowd cracked up. My girlfriend—and CEO—Rachel Sullivan stood off to the side, watching. Didn't say a word. Everyone waited for me to explode. Instead, I just nodded. Next day, over 300 refund requests hit. Cash flow flatlined. Victor and Rachel begged me to talk the buyers down. I shrugged. "Nah. Don't wanna save the company and make my performance too good. That'd just cause more ' hard feelings,' right?"

"You guys know what the situation is like in this industry this year. I need to cut our end-of-the-year bonus by half in order to overcome this difficult period." My boss, Peter Hurley, claims that things are difficult in the industry right now, yet his wrist still showcases the luxury watch that he's just bought. My 20,000-dollar bonus is reduced to 700 dollars. In addition, I also received a plaque that says "Award for Outstanding Contribution". "This plaque is worth a lot, Soren. It represents the acknowledgement this company has for you. Don't be so petty when it comes to money." As I stare at the plaque in my hand, I can't help but scoff furiously. "Fine. I won't be that petty when it comes to money. I hope you won't be that petty either when you're paying next month's rent." Peter is stunned momentarily. "What do you mean by that?" I toss the plaque into the trash can. "What I mean is, I'm the landlord of this building. From next month onward, the rent will be increased ten times. If you refuse to accept the new rent, you can pack up and scram."

The day my son gained the lifetime achievement award in research, I died alone on the street. On stage, he thanked his father, a professor, and his biological mother, who had just returned from abroad. He even thanked the nanny at home. But he left me out, his foster mother who had raised him. My husband, Charles Zimmer, learned about my death. He immediately disassociated himself from me. “We’ve long separated. I’ve got nothing to do with her.” I had worked hard to give them a decent life, but they regarded me as a stain that they could never remove. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the time of my life when my destiny changed. Holding the college admission letter, Charles smiled at me and said, “Yes, I’m divorced. But we can live in the city together if you marry me. I’ll let you discipline the kid if he makes any mistakes. I won’t complain about you.” During my previous life, he had me fooled by false promises. I naively thought that it would be easy to be a stepmother. I helped him care for his son and worked hard to support the family. In the end, they conspired with each other to drive me out and leave me penniless. It was because Charles’ ex-wife, who had abandoned them when he was poor, wanted to come home and remarry him. Since I had gained a second chance, I planned to dump such an ungrateful husband and son.

I won eight million overnight. The first thing I did was rush to the hospital to pay for my son's surgery and treatment. That was when my phone rang. Ian, a coworker from the company, called, "Something urgent came up! You need to get back here right this instant!" My wife, Mara, took the bank card from my hand, and said with an gentle and understanding voice, "You can give me the PIN. I'll take care of our son's hospital bills. Go. Work is important. Don't worry about us." In my previous life, I didn't hesitate one bit. I trusted her completely and hurried back to the office. My son never made it into surgery. Instead, the police came for me. It turned out that Mara and Ian had conspired together to frame me, pinning the crime of embezzling company funds on me. The very money Ian had stolen. With no money for treatment, my son died in the hospital. My parents, shattered by grief, suffered fatal heart attacks one after the other. And I, rotting in prison, ended my life in despair. After my death, my soul drifted to the holiday villas of Moldeves, where Mara was on vacation. I heard her laughing as she spoke to Ian, "That idiot won a fortune and wasted it on that useless sick kid. He dragged me into a miserable life." Laughing even harder, she added, "Now, their whole family is dead, and we get to enjoy wealth for the rest of our lives. Consider it compensation from that idiot! Haha!" Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the hospital corridor, at the exact moment my wife reached out and took the bank card from me. This time, I still told her the PIN.

At the pack's anniversary dinner party, the Alpha, Matt White, told us to write down the gifts we wanted. He would make sure every request was fulfilled. When it was my turn, the newly arrived intern suddenly snatched the paper and pen out of my hands. "Mr. White works so hard managing the pack. We can't let him spend money on us! You shouldn't write down your dream gift," she said. I ignored her, grabbed the list back, and calmly wrote down one item: a washing machine. Peyton immediately flew into a rage and splashed the champagne on the table straight onto me. "I told you not to write anything down! As a Beta, how can you be so inconsiderate of Mr. White?" My coat was completely soaked, and I looked utterly disheveled. I couldn't hold back my anger anymore. I flung the list straight at her face without mercy. She instantly covered her face and screamed, "How dare you hit me! Do you know who my father is? He's the Alpha King! Even Mr. White has to be polite to him. I'll have you kicked out of the pack for laying a hand on me!" I froze. I was the Alpha King's biological niece. My uncle didn't even have a partner, so how would he have a grown daughter?

Someone started a thread on a forum asking, [Do men become stingy with their wives after marriage?] The replies were full of women complaining about how cheap and calculating their husbands were. My husband, however, went in the opposite direction. After we got married, he handed me his payroll card to manage and kept only a few dozen dollars a month for his own expenses, as though he had truly given everything to me and to this family. I shook my head and was about to respond when my mother-in-law's call interrupted me. "Chloe, Josh's god sister is sick. She needs $4,500." My husband immediately slipped an arm around my shoulders and assured me, "Don't worry. We'll use my salary. You won't have to pay a cent." "Alright," I said. Seeing how certain he was, I transferred one dollar to him on the spot and added a note: Medical expenses transferred. When my mother-in-law saw the transfer, she flew into a rage, sharply accusing me of being jealous and petty, even withholding money meant to save a life. I remained unmoved. "That's all there is on the card." She completely lost her temper, threatening to come over and audit how many kickbacks I had supposedly pocketed over the years. I agreed to settle the accounts. That was when my husband suddenly lost his enthusiasm.

My cousin, Erin Johnson, is passionate about testing my boyfriends. Although I keep turning her offer down, she keeps insisting on doing so for me. Once she successfully seduces a boyfriend of mine, she'll dump him instantly. Then, she'll announce in our family's group chat that said boyfriend isn't a good match for me. When Erin does the same thing once again, she doesn't realize that she's stepping into a trap I've specifically set up for her. There's no way she won't step into it.

On my daughter, Arlene Bale's tenth birthday, I miscarried in a horrific car accident. Before I can even tell my husband, Camden Bale, about my pregnancy, my unborn child has already left me. Devastated, I attempt to call Camden. But after spamming more than a dozen calls, none of them get answered. When I open a social media app, the first thing I see is Camden's first love, Ruth Carroll, celebrating her safe delivery online. The accompanying photo features Camden's tender-looking side profile as he cradles the newborn in his arms. Camden's mother, Patricia Stone, even leaves a long comment there to celebrate the birth of Ruth's baby. "Oh, Ruth! You really are a hero to the Bales! To think that your firstborn is a son who can inherit our family's legacy! That woman who has married into our family for ten years only gave birth to one inferior spawn! "I swear, I will kick that useless woman out sooner or later! Once that happens, you can marry into the Bale family proudly!" With trembling fingers, I click the phone shut. After that, I forcibly get discharged from the hospital and rush home so that I can demand for answers. But that's when my nightmare has just begun. I receive the news of Arlene's unfortunate death. It turns out Camden has left Arlene at home all by herself, which leads to her accidental death. The entire Bale family is too busy celebrating the birth of Ruth's son. No one bothers shedding a tear for Arlene's passing. With hatred brimming in my heart, I fly to another country. Camden Bale, you're the one hurting me from the start till the end. I will make you and your family pay the heavy price.

My contract with the company is about to come to an end, and I'm already planning to renew it. But a few days before that, my boss, Dustin Kline, requested that I lower the percentage of my bonus in the project. The reason he gave is that I'm still young. Even if I were to take over other projects, I'd also do a good job. Dustin even made empty promises to me just so he could get me to give the projects I'm in charge of to Sandy Richmond, the new department manager in the company. When I refused to do so, he threatened to not give me my salary in order to get me to comply. The next day, the company is reduced to a laughing stock at the product launch event. Our client thinks the company's technological skills are too weak to back up the big talk, so they refuse to pay the remainder of the contracted sum. When Dustin begs me for help, I just look at him in amusement. "I refuse to get manipulated by anyone in this workplace. You're more than capable of dealing with your own problems. I believe in you, Mr. Kline."

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

Walter Stone has built a utopia for his private brothel with a ton of money with the proclamation that he wants to collect 100 wives. After kidnapping and forcing himself on 99 women, Walter has his eye on me, Caleb Ingram's pregnant wife. On the day I'm supposed to be sent to Walter, my housekeeper sinks down to her knees and pleads for me. "Please think your decision through, Mr. Ingram! I heard that Mr. Stone Senior is very brutal when it comes to bedroom matters! If Mrs. Ingram were to be sent to him, I'm afraid that she wouldn't be able to protect her unborn baby…" But Caleb remains cold and aloof. "Since Mr. Stone Senior has personally asked for Nala, she has to go to him no matter what. If she loses the baby, then that's that. At most, I won't file for a divorce from her. Once she returns, she'll still remain as the missus of the Ingram family. We can have another baby in the future." In my previous life, I refused to travel to Walter's residence. In the end, Caleb's private assistant, Sadie Riverson, offered to go in my place. But the moment she came back, she slit her wrist and died. The coroner's autopsy report showed that she was pregnant as well. Caleb kept his emotions bottled up since then. But on the day I gave birth to my baby, he walked to the rooftop of the hospital and threw our newborn down the building. Only then did I realize that he had been hating my guts the whole time since Sadie's death. Now that I've gotten reborn, I no longer resist against the chains of fate. Instead, I get into the luxury car Walter has sent for me coolly.

When war broke out in Irestan, my fiancé, Everett Jones, caused a scene at the airport and refused to let the evacuation flight take off. He was determined to wait for his precious first love, Annie Scott, who had taken advantage of the chaos to loot a cosmetics counter for luxury goods. By then, the insurgent forces were already closing in. The shriek of explosions grew louder, drawing nearer by the second. With an entire plane full of people in mortal danger, I had no choice. I knocked Everett unconscious and dragged him aboard. After we returned home, far from the battlefield, we lived a period of quiet, comfortable happiness. I truly believed he had finally put that woman behind him. I was wrong. On our wedding day, he tied me up, drove me away, and deliberately crashed the car, killing me. As my life slipped away, I heard his twisted laughter. "Daniela, you're the one who killed my Annie. Because of you, she was killed by an insurgent missile. "She was just a young girl who liked to look pretty. What was so wrong with that? "This is what you owe her. I'm going to make you suffer far more than she ever did." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the boarding gate, at the exact moment he blocked the plane. This time, I chose to grant his wish and let him stay behind with his beloved first love, together, forever.