Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Age Gap Novels

The year was 1983. The sun had set. It was dark outside. Only one dim light was in the Foster family’s living room. “Dad, Mom, I’m willing to live abroad with you.” When they heard their daughter’s words through the phone, Philip York and Angela York were moved to tears of excitement.

I had just become an adult when my neighbor, Connor Grayson, started flirting with me. We kept our relationship a secret year after year. After a wild night of intimacy, Connor whispered into my ear that he loved me over and over again. The next morning, I could barely stand as I got out of bed. Then I saw Connor bring another woman home. "Selena, this is my fiancée. We're getting married." I thought Connor would let me go. I didn't want to ruin anyone's relationship. However, he wouldn't leave me alone despite my shameful predicament. "Yes, I'm getting married, but did I say you could go? It took a lot of effort to make you fall for me."

As soon as I leave the hospital after my abortion, I send my husband, Rykel Heffer, a message. "I terminated the pregnancy." I get an instant reply. "Okay." I stare at that single word and suddenly find it almost funny. For years, whenever I gave him a heads-up before heading into a high-risk assignment, the only reply I got was "okay". And whenever I reminded him that if he was unable to reach me for 24 hours, he should come looking for me, I also got a simple "okay". When I was trapped under the rubble after a building collapsed and lost contact for 72 hours, I sent Rykel 309 desperate messages, consumed by fear. He replied with 309 "okay"s. Only now do I realize that every reply I have ever received has been an automated response. Since Rykel never reads my messages, naturally, he has no idea that half a month ago, I told him I would be taking an overseas assignment and terminating the pregnancy today. His attention and affection have always belonged to the woman who fills his social media feed—Joey Mugbrey. "It's our thousand-day anniversary, and it's Joey's birthday too!" The post is accompanied by a screenshot of their chat history. Above the countless messages is a 1,000-day streak, celebrating their thousand days together. I tap "Like" on his post and leave a comment. "A wonderful day indeed." Today marks the anniversary of the day I narrowly escaped death in that collapse years ago. More importantly, it is the day I decide to leave Rykel for good.

I, Daphne Thorn, am an impoverished woman from the slums. William Blackburn, on the other hand, is the son of the richest man in Wylland. Unexpectedly, the two of us who share such vastly different identities end up being together. So far, we've tried out various difficult positions in our bouts of passion during our secret rendezvouses in secluded areas. Like the madman he is, William often torments me in every session. I'm so exhausted that I'm about to fall asleep. That's when a notification pops up on William's phone, which is sitting next to me. So, I take a peek at it. "William, my stomach hurts a lot! I'm suffering so much right now!" It's a text from someone named "Ellie". All the exhaustion in me disappears. I can feel my chest tightening up in discomfort. Once William is done with his shower, he leaves the bathroom and picks up his phone. "You should sleep first. I'm heading out," he says. When I see William turning his back on me, I blurt out, "Are you going to meet that childhood sweetheart of yours?" William wheels around to look at me. Suddenly, he moves to lift my chin. There is a trace of wariness in his eyes. "Don't go around sticking your nose in my business, Daphne. I like my woman docile and obedient." But I end up stalking William all the way to Royale Hotel, where I witness him visiting Elaine Moore, his childhood sweetheart. He coaxes her as though she's the most precious treasure in the world. I don't have the courage to question William in person. But still, I want to know who he thinks is more important to him—me or Elaine? So, I give him a call. "William, my gastritis is acting up again! It hurts so much! Can you drive me to the hospital?" I said. I use the same tactic that Elaine had used earlier. That night, I keep waiting for William, and yet he never returns to me. That's when I decide to not love him anymore.

At twenty, Riley Nolan married Yale Sullivan, a close friend of her father's, despite the considerable age difference between them. Eight years her senior, Yale was notorious in their social circle for his cold, ruthless nature. He was merciless in business and had never shown the slightest interest in women. Yet with Riley, he was almost impossibly gentle. All she had to do was casually mention that a necklace was pretty, and he'd have the million-dollar piece delivered to her the next day. When menstrual cramps left her curled up in bed, he'd put aside business projects worth tens of millions of dollars to make her ginger tea with brown sugar, patiently coaxing her to drink it one spoonful at a time. In moments of passion, he'd grip her waist and call her "baby" in a low, husky voice, telling her how good she was and how he couldn't get enough of her. He even used "For Elise" as his display name across all his social media accounts. Riley had always assumed it was a tribute to the piano piece she'd played the day they first met. Then one day, she came across an old photo album in his study. Every picture featured the same girl, who bore a striking resemblance to Riley, smiling in front of a piano. On the back of one photograph, someone had written: "For Elise. My beloved Selise."

Leon Vincent, the shark of Warren Street, is the one who raised me. Twelve years ago, a fire tore through the orphanage and took everything from me. He was the one who pulled me out of the flames and gave me a second chance at life. To repay him, we make a weird deal—a 99-debt contract. I have to either obey him or be abandoned 99 times. After that, the debt will be cleared. Every time he goes on a date with some high-society socialite, he'll toss another insanely expensive piece of jewelry into my safe. In just two short years after turning 18, I've accumulated 96 diamonds in my safe, each one marking the 96 times he's cast me aside. One day, his fiancee, Elena Harrington, sends me a provocative email. "Dearest Isabelle, Leon and I are finalizing the wedding invitations. Do you think velvet with gold foil or matte leather would be more elegant? The ceremony's early next month. Can't wait to see you there! Love, Elena." Right after that, Leon calls, asking me to pack his bags for the summit in Parienne tomorrow. I simply send the wedding gift I've prepared in advance—a seven-figure emerald necklace—straight to his darling Elena without any words. That night, Leon returns to the apartment and finds out what I've done. He praises me for being considerate. Late into the night, he pulls me into his arms with rare tenderness. Nothing is left between us; no clothes, no holding back. He whispers that he wants to give me a special kind of reward, one that only I can carry. Somehow, Elena discovers my pregnancy. She stands on the balcony of Vincent Estate, screaming like her life depends on it. "Leon, I'm begging you! Don't let her have that baby! If you do, I'll jump!" The cold and proud Leon begs me, for the first time, to get rid of the baby. Everyone at the party awaits my breakdown, but I just smile softly and nod. "Alright. I will." He whispers in my ear, "Our marriage is just a business arrangement. I don't even like her. Once we're divorced, I'll give you another baby." What he fails to realize is that it was never in my plans to keep this one. There are only three more times left before I pay off this life debt from when he pulled me out of that fire all those years ago. After the 99th time, I board a ship bound for Azara to join a medical research mission. From that moment on, my life will be mine alone to live for.

On Benedict Bradford’s birthday, he posted a link on social media with a taunting offer: [$1.99 buys you a prank—target: Sansa Stormcloud.] So when I arrived at his party, the guests drenched me in water, hurled glasses, smashed cake in my face, and shoved me down the stairs. Benedict sneered as he stood over me, arm slung around Lina Kipling. “You think you’re fit to marry into the Bradfords? Pathetic. “You’re not even in Lina’s league. You’re worth nothing more than a couple of dollars!” I picked myself up, dusted off my dress, and handed him an invitation. “You know, Benedict, the Bradfords have another heir. “And shortly afterwards, you’ll address me respectfully as your sister-in-law.”

I married a guy thirty-two years older than I am. Reason? Money. We got divorced, I got all his money and became the city's richest person. Just when my luck was starting to turn, I was hit with devastating news. My ex died. Drowned, they said. The cops think I'm the killer.

When I missed the passing grade by one point, my best friend dragged me to a bar. She said there was nothing a drink couldn't fix. I drank until I blacked out. When I woke up, a man lay beside me, all cool eyes and tightly leashed control. I left two hundred dollars on the nightstand and ran for my life. I thought I'd never see him again. Then, on the first day of the new semester, the class I'd failed had a new professor. I looked up at the podium. The man from that night stood at the lectern, opened the roster, and read my name in a cool, even voice. "Vivian Harper, come see me in my office tomorrow." The color drained from my face. Convinced he was here for payback, I stayed up all night writing a transfer application. The next day, I clutched my transfer application all the way to his office. Before I could work up the nerve to speak, he pulled out a sheet of paper and studied me with an unreadable expression. "I've read the assignment you turned in." "Care to explain why a positive pregnancy test was bound into your term paper?"

On the eve of my engagement banquet, news broke that my fiancé had fathered a child with his mistress, and it spread like wildfire. Before I could confront him, Jayden Ford brushed it off casually. "It was just an accident. Focus on organizing the engagement banquet first. Besides, your dad’s in the late stages of stomach cancer. Calling off the engagement now won’t do either family any good." That night, he skipped the banquet but posted a photo of a swaddled newborn on social media. When I video-called him, he was bottle-feeding the baby. "I’ve been busy taking care of the kid. You know how it is. Our family lineage has always been sparse and dwindling, and the child takes priority." He wiped milk from the baby’s mouth. "But don’t worry. Once he’s a month old, I’ll send him to the overseas. Just show up on holidays and pretend to be his mom. The title of Mrs. Ford will always be yours." I stared at the matching diamond ring on his finger and couldn’t help but laugh. "Jayden, this engagement is off." He scoffed, "You're really throwing a tantrum over something like this? Don’t be so childish." I hung up on him and called his father—Charles Ford—directly. "I heard you’re looking for a new wife? Why not consider me?" I ran a hand over my belly and smiled. "After all, I’ve got a naturally fertile body. I can give you as many sons as you want." So much for being the sole heir. I’ll make sure he has plenty of brothers to keep him company.