Bias Romance Short Stories & Redemption Novels

On my twenty-third birthday, my brother, Zackary Dixon, became the wealthiest man in the country. He threw a grand birthday party for the nanny's daughter, saying that she would be the Dixon family's favorite. At the same time, something went wrong with my artificial heart. I couldn't find a suitable one, only one month left in my life. Due to the torture of illness and great pressure, I had no choice but to call him. Hearing my cough, he coldly said, "At that time, you were afraid to get involved, and now you regret it?" My throat was sore. I stared at his expressionless face through the phone and laughed bitterly. "Zackary, three hundred thousand dollars is no big deal to you. Help me, OK?" Zackary sneered. I could hear his warm voice comforting Lillianna, "Voice phishing. It's fine." Of course, he was fine, because his sound beating heart was mine.

I loved Stella for five years, and we were even engaged. However, she never helped when my grandfather was dying, all because the adopted son of my family suggested that she should use the opportunity to put me through adversity—so that I would toughen up. After my grandfather died helplessly, I toughened up just as she hoped for, no longer relying on her for everything. Naturally, I no longer loved her anymore either.

In her past life, Dylan Xander was forced to marry Zoe Stone. On their wedding day, his first love died in a plane crash. After the wedding, Dylan fell into a deep depression and grew to despise Zoe. For seven long years, she humbled herself just to win a sliver of his affection. But all she ever got in return was the same cruel question, over and over again: “Why wasn’t it you who died instead?” And yet, when the tsunami struck, Dylan gave up his only chance of survival to save her. On the lifeboat, she desperately reached out to grab his hand but he pulled away with all his strength. As he sank into the dark depths of the sea, he smiled in relief. “I’m finally free. I can be with her now.” After his death, the entire Xander family turned their hatred toward Zoe. Consumed by grief and guilt, she took her own life by jumping into the ocean. But when she opened her eyes again, she had returned to seven years ago. This time, she would cut the toxic bond between them and let him be with his true love.

My parents died in an accident when I was 16 years old. That leaves me and my stepbrother, Freddie Sanford, to rely on each other. At 20 years old, I get drunk and confess my feelings to him. But instead of being gentle as usual, he lashes out in fury. "Rosalie Hunter, do you have no shame at all? I'm your brother!" From that day on, he gets back together with his first love, Bianca Reed. His attitude toward me plummets and turns cold as ice. What Freddie doesn't know is I'm sick. To me, every day feels like a countdown. On the day of their wedding, I quietly reach the end of my life. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to two years ago. At the same time, I learn an unbelievable piece of news. Freddie has been dead for three years.

Scott Maynard and I were in love for eight years. I once believed he was my soulmate. We joined Doctors Without Borders together and ventured into war zones side by side. But everything changed the day Piper Ellison appeared. To protect her, he shoved me into danger during a rebel siege, using me as a scapegoat. Then, he fled the country with Piper, and left me to rot in the prison. Three years later, Miles rescued me. Yet upon returning home, the first thing I saw was Scott staging an elaborate proposal, surrounded by nine thousand roses. He twisted the truth about what had happened in Asternis, and those around us believed him. I revealed my wedding ring, and Miles stepped forward to shield me. Despite that, Scott still refused to let go. He became obsessed and relentless, even threatening his own life to force me back. This love, riddled with betrayal and cruelty, finally came to a complete end with his death.

Bertrand Callum was a well-known lawyer in our circle and my fiancé. We had agreed to go on our honeymoon right after registering our marriage. But he broke that promise again and again. He took his secretary to every place I had dreamed of visiting. On my birthday, he brought her to Saltorlini, the place we had planned to go together. Later, he gave up our marriage registration just because she had sprained her ankle. Even when I was in a car accident and on the verge of death, he hung up on my call for help because of something she said. After I recovered, I went alone to Acreatic, a place I had always longed to see, and moved out of the home we once shared. A week after I left, Bertrand called to scold me. "Annie, you need to stop overreacting. Are you really going to divorce me over something so trivial?" I wanted to remind him that we had never actually registered our marriage. But ultimately, I shut up and said nothing. After all, there was nothing between us anymore.

When a kidnapper forces my husband, Liam Waltz, to choose between saving me and our son, he sacrifices me without a second thought. I'm pushed off the cliff, but somehow, I survive. Still, I have lost all my memories. Liam looks absolutely devastated in front of the media. He holds a public funeral for me, only to marry a woman who looks exactly like me a year later—Clara Brown. Four years pass before my memories return. I return to Ardenix, hoping to see my son, Lucas, only to find that he now sees Clara as his mother. And Liam? After four years of thinking I was dead, he only cares about protecting her. "You were gone for four years. I thought you were dead. You didn't think I'd be widowed forever, did you? I'm now the CEO of a publicly traded company. "I can allow you to stay home, but you can't ever show your face in public. After all, Clara is now my legal wife." Instead of heartbreak, all I feel is relief. During those four years of amnesia, I married the one and only heir of Hurrix Corporation.

Everyone in Vallermoore knew I was Cole Mitchell and Finn Archer's most treasured princess. At 12, Cole saved me from my abusive dad's grip and gave me a second shot at life. He vowed to protect me always. At 13, Finn rented out an entire amusement park for my birthday and whispered that guarding my smile was his mission for life. Now I was 23, and they locked me in a pitch-black, freezing attic for three winter days. As I slowly lost consciousness, they were busy fawning over Zoey Hart, their long-lost childhood friend. "Everything you have is mine, so it's time to give it back." After hearing what Zoey said, I left without making a scene or shedding a single tear. However, for years after, they tore the city apart and tried to find me like mad.

I've planned seven wedding ceremonies in total, and not once has my fiance, Zachary Gardner, ever shown up for it. The first time, his adopted younger sister, Louise Foster, bursts into tears because she lost her passport at the airport. It was the dead of winter, but he dumped me by the side of the road and left me. The second time, Louise's dog sprained its ankle. Zachary stuffed the ring back into its box and rushed to the animal hospital to accompany her. Every time I argue with him about it, he declares nonchalantly, "We can get married anytime, but I can't let Louise be upset." Everyone around us agrees with him, saying that we're all family anyway, so I shouldn't be so petty. None of them has seen Zachary and Louise kissing fiercely on the dance floor. Today is the seventh wedding ceremony. Once again, he turns to leave after getting a call. I grab the corner of his shirt and say in a choked voice, "If you leave this time, Zachary, I won't marry you anymore." He stops in his tracks and peels off my fingers. "Wait for me," he says before rushing off. What he doesn't know is that this time, I won't be waiting for him any longer.

Ian Tost was the prince of the notorious underworld. Everyone in Harbor City knew he spoiled me rotten. He even went so far as to hire ninety-nine female bodyguards to keep me from harm. It did not prevent a kidnapping attempt on me. One of those bodyguards, Cece Yates, ended up with nothing more than a scratch. Ian immediately brought in the nation’s top medical specialists to treat her. To comfort her, he even took her to the Maldives for a vacation and gifted her an island. Not long after they returned from their trip, Beatrix Kazinsky, my mother, suddenly suffered a stroke and was hospitalized. Then, Michael Kazinsky, my younger brother, died in an accident during a competition. I burst into the morgue while in tears, only to overhear Ian comforting Cece. “All right now, it was my fault you got hurt last time. I’ve made Mira’s family pay for it. You’ve got too much grace to hold a grudge against her.” With my nails digging into my palms, I finally realized everything that had happened to my family was Ian’s doing. It was all just because his precious bodyguard got hurt because of me! I stumbled out of the hospital with my brother’s death certificate in a daze. On my phone, messages from that person kept coming. It added up to ninety-nine share transfer agreements, along with his promise. [As long as you want me, my arms will always be open for you.]

Whenever I was on a video call with my online boyfriend, I carefully angled the camera, terrified he might see my shabby rental. One day, the ‘curtain’ behind him slipped, revealing an original Picasso. I said, “Nice edit. It looks like the real thing.” He angled the camera and showed my doodle next to the Picasso. “Yeah, my dad said that this one’s worth the most.” When the day came for us to finally meet in real life, I lugged two sacks of potatoes, ready to help him out. The butler, dressed in a sharp suit, opened the door. “Ma’am, Mr. Rigsby has been waiting for you to pick out an engagement ring.” My knees gave out. “Um… Are these potatoes enough to make a pot of stew?”

After getting tormented by electrical shocks for five years, I've contracted severe brain atrophy. Once the psychiatric hospital kicks me out, I rely on the posts that are recorded in my old Facebook account in order to survive. Rosalie Vaughn, my childhood friend and former girlfriend who has sworn to torture me till I die, takes her rich fiance, Sebastian Crowe, back to the old, rundown complex. The moment she sees me curling up on the moldy couch while clutching my phone tightly, she lets out a scoff. "Oh? Now that you've escaped from the hospital, are you still waiting for some rich woman's text? Weren't you very quick and decisive when you stole my life-saving money back then? Why are you still pretending to be some devoted man?" As soon as Rosalie's voice falls, she snatches my phone from my hands. After keying in the wrong password three times in a row, she chooses to recover my password. The moment she sees the security question, her mocking expression freezes momentarily. The question shows, "Who's the only one I've loved in this life?" I blink hazily, my eyes cloudy and dull. Then, I tug at Rosalie's sleeve. "Miss, do you know who she is? I remember I used to love someone with all my heart, but I think she locked me up in a psychiatric hospital." After that, I turn around and try to scavenge the trash can for a piece of expired bread just so I can offer it to the "nice lady".

My twin sister Celeste and I shared the same face, but little else. She believed in forgiveness. I believed anyone who hurt her should pay. Three years ago, Celeste was set to marry Adrien, Crown Prince of Valeria. But an old succession law forbade identical twins from both retaining legal identities once one entered the royal bloodline. So I chose my sister. My parents staged my death, erased Cassandra Montclair from public records, and promised to protect Celeste after I disappeared. I left her my fortune and the Crescent Guard, then vanished to the northern border. I believed my death had bought her safety. Then our dormant twin bond suddenly returned—and pain told me Celeste was being tortured. I reached the capital to find our cousin Vivienne wearing Celeste’s crown beside Celeste’s husband. My parents watched her coronation from the front row. Celeste had vanished. Inside the palace, everyone mistook me for the disgraced former queen. Servants wore her jewelry. Adrien dismissed every plea she had made as jealousy. Even our parents threatened to disown her. They said her wicked sister had died long ago. They said Cassandra would be ashamed of her. Surrounded by royal guards, I picked up a sword and turned the hilt three times—the way I always had before protecting my sister. My mother went pale. My father staggered back. “Cassandra?” I raised the blade. “Now that you recognize me, tell me where my sister is.”

At the auction, my fiancé's secretary raised the bidding paddle twice on his behalf. The first time, she outbid Lady Margaret Vesta by a single silver coin, snatching away the emerald brooch meant as a coming-of-age gift for her daughter. She brandished the house seal of my fiancé, Cassian Severus, with a brazen grin. "Her husband can afford to keep a woman on the side, but he won't pay what he owes Cassian. I'm just collecting a little interest for him. What's the problem?" Cassian thought I was still at sea. He just smiled and told her not to be so blunt in front of a crowd next time. The second time, she set the seal into the gold tray, activating an irrevocable, open-ended bid. This time, she was after my mother's heirloom: a silver dolphin necklace. She sat in the seat that should have been mine, wearing the custom crimson gown I had paid for, and looked across half the hall at me. "It belonged to a dead woman. Anyone can wear it. Lady Helena has plenty of jewelry already. Why not let me have it?" Cassian still had his back to me. He didn't know I was already back.

A month before our wedding, I couldn't sleep. I picked up my fiancé's phone and found a password-protected album. I hesitated for a moment, then opened it. The album was packed with hundreds of photos, all of the same person. There were shots of her posing at Yosemite, drinking coffee outside the office, even one of her... asleep. My heart went cold. I didn't just know this woman. I knew her well. She was my best friend, Mia Porter. Tears were already streaming down my face. Eight years together. I'd been by Julian Hale's side from when he was a photography assistant all the way to becoming an established photojournalist. He never once took a photo of me, and even when I asked, he always refused. I thought he was sticking to some kind of professional principle. Turns out, the person he wanted to photograph just wasn't me. Just then, my phone buzzed. An account I'd turned on post notifications for had updated. Mia had updated her Instagram: "My favorite photographer finally agreed to take me to France! Can't wait for all the gorgeous shots. Any ideas for cute matching outfits with a European vibe?" I sat there in a daze for a long time before I quietly got up, slipped off my engagement ring, and booked a flight home. Eight years. I was finally free from walking on eggshells, terrified of crossing his so-called principles. Finally free from waiting at home, ready to cook him a hot meal the moment he walked through the door. If there was no room for me behind his lens, then I would step into a world without him and live a life that was truly my own.