Nouvelles Bias Romance & Romans Revenge

A week before our wedding, Damian Hale threw me a pre-wedding party at his family's private racetrack. His racing partner, Sienna Belmont, tossed a set of car keys into my lap. "Every bride should take a spin, right?" I wanted to refuse, but Damian slung an arm around me and said with a laugh, "It's just for fun. Sienna will show you around the track. You'll be fine." I let my guard down. But when I reached the third turn, I hit the brakes. Nothing happened. The car crashed through the barrier. My spine snapped, leaving me in a wheelchair. Three months later, I saw Sienna walk out of Damian's bedroom wearing my engagement ring. All he had to say was, "Avery, I need a wife who can stand beside me." Sienna wheeled me out to the rooftop terrace. "Want to know why your brakes failed?" With a smile, she released my wheelchair's brake and gave me a hard shove. I plunged 40 stories. When I opened my eyes again, I was back a month before the party. I called my father, who was out driving his cab. "Dad, before you became a cab driver, you were a championship coach. You trained some of the best racers in the business. Would you teach your daughter to beat one?"

The SAT results have just been released. I'm the top scorer in the city, and three girls my father raised alongside me also earned the three best scores after me. When it's time to apply to college, Dad says that the three of them will be joining me in whichever college I choose. I choose Heathshire University, my dream school. But on the day before applications close, the three of them drug me and haul me to Stallion Club. "It's all his fault! We followed him to Heathshire University in our previous life, which led to Michael falling into depression and taking his own life!" "I heard that the boss of Stallion Club has a thing for young, innocent men like Samuel. Maybe he'll be so satisfied that he helps us escape from the Carter family, too!" "Once the dust settles, the Carter family's reputation will be ruined for good, and Samuel won't be able to fulfill his dream of getting into a top university. We'll also regain our freedom, and we can be with Michael then!" None of them notice the sneer on my face. No one else knows that the boss of Stallion Club is my long-lost older brother—and he's fiercely protective of me. They'll regain their freedom, huh? Only the dead can truly consider themselves free. The three of them can go to hell and keep their beloved Michael company there.

On the day my dad gets kidnapped, I call my wife, Eliza Wood, who has a net worth of 100 million dollars, for help while sobbing. After she hears me out, she lets out a chuckle. "I've transferred three million dollars to you. This time, be a good boy and don't bother Leon." I quickly agree to Eliza's condition. After that, I transfer the money into the kidnapper's bank account. But when Dad is about to get released, Eliza pulls off some tricks to retrieve the ransom money and freeze the kidnapper's bank account. Thinking that I've tricked him, the furious kidnapper decides to kill Dad. But first, he torments Dad for three long hours before finally ending his life. When I'm on the way to pick up Dad's ashes, I notice photos of Eliza and her newly-hired assistant, Leon Turner, taking over every billboard and monitor in the city. After dealing with Dad's ashes at home, I call Eliza on the phone. "Let's get a divorce." Eliza and Leon's laughter can be heard drifting over the speaker. "This again? Leon told me that you're spending too much money, so he convinced me to give you a light punishment. Don't tell me you got mad at me because of that."

When Clara Jones learns that her son has leukemia, her world crumbles. After several failed donor matches, she still can't reach her husband, who's away on a business trip. In the end, her best friend, Monica Spencer, rushes to the hospital and turns out to be a compatible match. Carrying a basket of nourishing supplements, Clara visits Monica. When she arrives at her hospital room, she sees Monica wrapped tightly in a man's arms. That man is none other than Clara's husband, Luther Tanner, whom she had remarried three years ago. "Why would you offer to donate your bone marrow without telling me? That needle was so long. Do you have any idea how worried I was? You've been avoiding me for the past three years. Have you forgotten how to look after yourself?" Monica reciprocates the hug affectionately and chokes out, "I'm Sean's biological mother, after all. Now that he's sick, I had to come back." Frozen outside the door, Clara feels as though she's been thrown into a frigid pool. Those words root her to the spot. How can Sean Tanner not be her biological son? How's that even possible? Back then, she endured three days and nights of obstructed labor just to bring him into the world. She suffered massive blood loss after giving birth, and nearly all the blood in her body had to be replaced. But the second Sean lay in her arms, she felt she had no regrets left in this lifetime. So, how on earth can he be Monica's?

I try seducing my fiance, Vernon Floyd, 999 times. But even when I'm shirtless, his only concern is whether I'm cold. I assume that Vernon is a traditional guy, who wants to do it until we're married. But on the day of our anniversary, I discover that he has secretly booked a hotel famous for couples' getaways in the city. That night, I arrive at the VIP suite full of hope. In the end, all I see is Vernon and his childhood sweetheart passionately kissing each other as the crowd cheers. I wait outside the VIP suite for a long time. Finally, I understand that he doesn't love me. After leaving the hotel, I call my family. "Dad, I don't want to marry Vernon anymore. I want to marry Dylan instead!" Dad spits out his coffee and says, "Avril, Mr. Walker got into a car accident a few years ago. I heard that he's impotent. If you marry him, you won't have any children!" By then, I am already disheartened. "It doesn't matter whether I have children or not."

Ronan Carmichael and I are sworn enemies in Glenworth. Everyone in high society knows it. Where he is, I'm not, and where I am, he won't be. He poaches my projects on the East End, and I cut off his funding on the West Side. He drives my assistant off a rooftop, and I destroy his lover's reputation. The reason is simple. I'm in love with his older brother, Desmond Carmichael, and he has his sights set on my younger sister, Annette Sayer. Then comes the yacht gala. Business rivals seize me and shove me to the edge of the deck, screaming that my father is going to pay for his betrayal all those years ago. But Desmond only pulls Annette behind him and tells them, "She's just an illegitimate daughter. Do whatever you want with her." The moment I plunge into the water, Ronan is the one who dives in after me and grabs my hand with everything he has. "Forget about my brother, Daphne. Lunatics like us belong in hell together." And just like that, I think he's absolutely right.

After going through an abrupt breakup, I buy an AI companion. It can read my emotions and remembers everything I say. It can even mimic my ex-girlfriend Angelina Wilson's intonation. It's like a real person. The AI companion's system updates itself again in the middle of the night. I'm groggy when I wake up, but I notice that the notification light is flashing rapidly. I hear a faint buzzing noise when I move closer. The AI companion is speaking. "Help me. I'm trapped in here." I'm stunned. The voice clearly belongs to Angelina.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

To end two years of long distance, I quit my job behind my boyfriend's back on Valentine's Day and moved to his city. The candlelit dinner he'd promised to welcome me turned into him leaving halfway through when his boss Diana called, asking him to entertain a client over drinks. I told myself it was just the way corporate life worked. We made plans to see an exhibition that weekend. We'd barely reached the entrance when another call pulled him away to fix an urgent proposal for Diana. I told myself he was just ambitious. We'd planned an island getaway to celebrate my birthday. The night before we were supposed to leave, he called. His voice was tinged with guilt. "Diana says this business trip is a test from upper management, and I really need to make a good impression. You understand, right?" Then he went to the neighboring city with Diana. I was silent for a few seconds, then said okay. I quietly canceled the hotel and sat alone in our rental apartment, eating instant noodles. The next day, the doorbell rang. It was a courier. "Hi, I have a delivery for Diana Lawson." "You've got the wrong address," I said. The courier looked certain. "That's impossible. I've been delivering here for a year. It's always this address." That's when it hit me. All his so-called overtime, business trips, and obligations he claimed he couldn't get out of were just excuses to keep his boss happy. He thought she was his ladder to climb. He had no idea that I was the one who could have taken him straight to the top.

The night I finished my month of recovery, Donald Inksworth brought up, without warning, the nightmare I least wanted to talk about. "Actually, the man who kept you locked away and violated you five years ago was Levi." Levi Sinclair was the husband of his foster sister, Jolene Trafford. A roar filled my head, and my mind went blank. "What?" Donald continued, his voice as calm as still water, "Back then, Jojo found out she couldn't have children, and her mother-in-law had never liked her to begin with... To help her secure her place as Mrs. Sinclair, I agreed to what Jojo asked of me. We used you to get pregnant in her place… Lev had always wanted you for himself. So..." So the three of them had conspired together. They locked me away and violated me day and night until I became pregnant. I forced down my nausea as my lips trembled. "Why are you telling me this now?" Donald let out a breath, as if a great weight had finally lifted from his chest. "I kept this secret for five years. It wore me down. And I've given you back the child I owed you. "They say a woman's heart softens once she becomes a mother. Looks like that's true... You're not falling apart like you used to. You've really become much better behaved." I tugged at the corners of my mouth and forced something resembling a smile. He didn't know that I hadn't become better behaved at all. I simply had a secret of my own that I had yet to confess to him.

The day my daughter was rushed into emergency surgery after a car crash, Richard Herrera's ex, Grace Molina, came back to the country. I called Richard ninety-nine times. He rejected every single one. While Chloe was dying, Richard was shopping with Grace and her son, celebrating the boy's fifth birthday. Then the OR doors flew open. A nurse rushed out. "Mrs. Herrera? Your daughter is crashing. Sign this consent form now. Do you know where Dr. Herrera is? He's the best at this. If he operates, Chloe has a real shot. But we can't reach him." I covered my mouth before I fell apart. My hands shook as I signed. On the 110th call, Richard finally picked up. "Richard, Chloe's hurt. Only you can save her—" A kid's voice cut through the background. "Mr. Herrera, come on! The airplane ride won't start unless all three of us get on. Hurry!" "Selena, I'm handling something important. The hospital has doctors. They can deal with a minor injury. I have to go." Click. The line went dead. Right then, the OR light shut off. The doctor came out, wrecked and exhausted. He looked at me. Then slowly shook his head.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

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.

At our engagement party, my fiancé’s so-called girl best friend showed up wearing a wedding dress identical to mine and stood next to him as they greeted guests. Everyone assumed she was the bride. I wasn’t angry. Instead, I calmly picked up the microphone that had fallen to the floor and tapped it twice. The next second, the LED wall lit up. The surround-sound system came alive. And every socialite in the city heard the unmistakable moans my fiancé and his “best friend” had made together on a mountain road the night before.

On the day of my wedding, my fiance, Oliver Parker, asks me to take off my wedding gown. He wants to let his childhood friend, Angela Summers, be the bride instead. In helplessness, he tries to explain, "Angela has leukemia. Her dying wish is to be a bride and have a wedding. Once I've fulfilled her wish, I'll marry you." Everyone seems to think I'll just go along with it and wait for him to come back and marry me. After all, I've spent three years preparing for this wedding. I've poured my heart into every detail and devoted so much time to making it perfect. However, while Oliver and Angela celebrate their wedding that night, I gave my biological parents a call to tell them I'm coming to be with them. I board a red-eye flight out of Stonevale, leaving everything behind without looking back. … Three years later, I flew back to Stonevale with my husband, Daniel Holden, to attend the anniversary celebration of the Holden Group's Stonevale branch. However, I never expected to run into Oliver at the airport. "You've been gone for three years. Isn't that enough time to let things go? Angela's leukemia is cured, and we're divorced now. Come back to me. Let's finally have our wedding. Don't be so stubborn anymore!"

On day forty-three of the end of the world, my fiancée, Selena Reed, injected me with poison herself and left me outside the shelter. She was wearing my hazmat suit, curled against Damian Hale, the man I had trusted like a brother. Damian took my storeroom keys and smiled down at me. "You had everything handed to you from the day you were born. Too bad you were never any good at reading people." Fallout rained down. Mutant beasts closed in through the black rain. I watched helplessly as they shut the iron door and survived on the supplies I had gathered. When I opened my eyes again, I was back seven days before global nuclear war broke out. This time around, Damian still played the concerned friend, offering $2.4 billion for my stake in the group, a stake worth $3.8 billion. Selena still talked to me sweetly over the phone about selling the company and taking her around the world. They thought I did not know that the two of them had betrayed me long ago, and that together they had killed my father. I did not call them on it. I only signed my name on the contract. Seven days later, the company, the stock, and the mansions would all be worthless. Only cash could still buy food, medicine, weapons, and a fortress. They took the shares and started planning the wedding of the century, waiting to watch me go broke. I used their money to clear out warehouses and turn a hilltop estate into a nuclear-proof fortress. On the night of the wedding, the city's elite stood outside my door and laughed at me for hoarding canned food. A second later, a strategic alert tore through the night, and the first warhead detonated high above the city. Selena threw herself at the closing steel gate, covered in blood. "Noah, save me—" I watched her through the blast glass. This time, I am your god!

It's been five years since I fell ill with depression, and I'm finally myself again. I can talk, laugh freely, and I actually have an appetite. The icing on the cake is that my husband, Ian Beaumont, and I are expecting our second child. At our New Year's Eve family gathering, Ian's godsister, Gemma Waverly, gets tipsy and starts making a scene. "I think it was about five years ago. I was dumped, and I took the car out for a little joyride while the surveillance cameras were under maintenance. "Guess what? The moment I stepped on the gas, a cat abruptly flew out of nowhere and slammed right into my hood. It yowled and bolted off." A faint, disdainful smile plays on her lips. "That damn creature not only scared the hell out of me, but it also ruined my car's wrap. "You'd better be careful in the future. Don't end up like me, accidentally bringing all that bad luck down on yourself. The thought alone makes me sick!" Gemma's tone's lighthearted, as if she's recounting a trivial, unlucky memory. Everyone chuckles and chimes in, telling her she should go to a church and pray so she doesn't end up being haunted by lingering spirits. I, on the other hand, stand amid the rowdy crowd, looking at Gemma's contemptuous face, my mother-in-law, Margaret Holloway's, indulgent gaze, and Ian's resigned, helpless smile. In a heartbeat, all the color drains from my face. It's almost as if the lot of them have forgotten that my daughter, Soleil Beaumont, died in a car accident five years ago.

My daughter, Nora Tyler, has congenital heart disease. When her disease relapses once again, I scoop her into my arms and travel to the hospital on foot on a rainy night. By the time I reach the hospital, I accidentally see the note my husband, Lionel Tyler, has left for the doctor. "I don't care what you do, be it dragging the time out to kill Nora or failing to save her life. No matter what, Nora isn't allowed to leave the hospital alive! "Chloe's due date is almost here. I want you to pay more attention to her. Only her child has the right to become the first child of the Tyler family." I can only stare at the note with bloodshot eyes. At that time, the medical staff has already wheeled Nora out from the ER. A white sheet can be seen draping over her body. When I was still pregnant with Nora, Lionel had taken leave for two years just to take care of me. He truly viewed me as the apple of his eye back then. After I gave birth to Nora, he even purchased an island and named it after her. My favorite gardenias filled every inch of that island. The Lionel who once refused to take any other woman but me as his wife and had prioritized me more than his own life… is also the same man who has personally killed his own daughter just because his first love, Chloe Meyer, is pregnant. My heart has officially died. After leaving a divorce agreement behind, I go home and inherit my family business. Now, Lionel can never hope to reach me ever again.

While collecting samples in Antarctica, I was caught in a blizzard. When I finally made it back to the vehicle, I found the fuel tank drained and my thermal suit shredded into rags. I screamed for help, but laughter crackled through the communicator. It was the voice of my husband's childhood sweetheart. "No need to rescue her, you guys! Sophie's got the world record for low-temperature endurance! "Today, let's see if she can hike across the ice in a T-shirt, all on livestream!" Then came my husband's doting voice. "Baby, I've already spoken to the manager. If she pulls this off, you'll get your spot in next month's expedition!" That was when I understood. My husband had turned me into a stepping stone for her future. As I shivered violently in the cold, I begged, "Please, Zachary. After all our years of marriage…" Before I could finish, he cut me off coldly. “Save your body heat and keep walking. Luna's future depends on you. "You've got the stamina anyway, so just hold on for another five kilometers!" At that moment, my heart froze solid. If they wanted me dead, then I would make sure they froze at the base instead. With trembling hands, I raised the axe, aiming it directly at the base's heating pipes.

I'd barely been named Imperial Consort when my father struck the petition drum to demand justice and exposed me as no longer being a maiden. The Emperor was furious. I was stripped of my consort robes, brutally tortured, and driven from the palace. My mother was heartbroken. Determined to prove my innocence, she gathered every elder in our family. But the moment they arrived, she dropped to her knees in front of me and begged again and again, her face full of fear. "Elara, I swear I'll keep quiet. I'll never tell anyone about you and the coachman!" "Please stop using your hex beetles to torture me. I can't take it anymore!" I tried desperately to explain that I'd done nothing, but my father kicked me to the ground and found swarms of hex beetles on me. "The proof is right here and you're still lying? You're shameless and vicious. I have no daughter like you!" With the elders' backing, my parents disowned me and threw me out of the house. When I had nowhere left to go, my brother took me to the frontier. Enemy soldiers ambushed him. I used my own body as his shield and took dozens of sword strokes, holding on until reinforcements arrived. But the first thing he did when help came was pull out letters proving I'd committed treason and shout at me. "I took her in out of kindness, and she conspired with the enemy to kill me. When I survived, she even tried to curse me with her beetles..." I was punished under military law and hacked to pieces on the spot. Even as I died, I couldn't understand why my own family would frame me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my father exposed me.