CEO Romance 단편 소설 & Revenge 소설

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.

I was dumped because of my weight. My stepmother tried to comfort me, saying, "It's okay, it's okay. A little extra weight is good." I watched as my graceful sister took my place and married my fiancé. Meanwhile, I was sent abroad to be "fattened up like a pig." I barely escaped with my life and endured unimaginable hardships. Now, those who hurt me should, at the very least, face justice for their actions.

The morning after their night together, Harper Sullivan froze with a sudden, sickening realization—Ryan Delgado hadn't used protection. Fear coiled tight in her chest, sharp and suffocating. But Ryan just smirked, his voice smooth, teasing, as if this were some kind of game. "Our families are enemies. A baby changes that. Your father would have to accept me. Then I could marry you—properly." Heat rushed to her cheeks. She should have pushed him away, should have demanded answers—but his touch still burned through her resistance, and she gave in to him. Then, like a knife to the ribs, she heard his friend's voice from the next room, laced with cruel amusement. "Ryan, that's genius. Get her pregnant, then dump her. Harper would never recover from the scandal. And her family? Total disgrace." Ryan let out a cold, satisfied laugh. "Serves her right. She stole Olivia's spot as valedictorian, broke her heart, drove her overseas. I'll make sure she pays—this is for Olivia." Harper's body went rigid. Three years. Three years of stolen moments, swallowed secrets, letting him touch her in the dark while her family believed her loyal. And it had all been a lie. Rage and humiliation crashed over her, so violent she nearly choked on it. Her phone buzzed in her trembling hand. Fighting back tears, she answered. "Dad… I'll take the engagement."

On Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend gave me a rock he picked up off the street, while his one true love received a massive diamond. The moment I found out, I broke up with him. He immediately confessed his love to her. Three years later, we ran into each other at a luxury golf club. When he saw me snacking on desserts in the VIP lounge, my ex-boyfriend couldn't stop mocking me. “Millia, you dumped me because that rock wasn’t good enough. Do you ever regret it, especially now that you’re working as a waitress?” Even the staff joined in, spreading rumors that I was just trying to land a rich husband at the club. But the second my husband showed up, everyone was completely dumbfounded. My ex-boyfriend begged for another chance, desperate to win me back, while his so-called one true love ended up behind bars.

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

We're celebrating my son, Baby Selwyn, turning a month old. I'm walking past the pool with him in my arms when someone shoves me from behind. Colin Selwyn jumps into the pool like a madman. He saves us and immediately rushes us to the hospital. Baby Selwyn makes it out alive because of the timely rescue. When I open my eyes again, Baby Selwyn and Colin aren't by my side. I sit up while coughing and remove the needle inserted into my hand. I leave the hospital room and head for the pediatric department, wanting to see Baby Selwyn. However, as I walk past the emergency room, I hear Colin talking to a doctor. "We managed to save the child from drowning, Mr. Selwyn. Why has he now died of asphyxiation?" "I smothered him. Per the plan, he was never supposed to make it out alive!" "But why? He's your son!" "I promised Sandy that I would make our child the Selwyn family's sole heir. Lucille should never have given birth to Baby Selwyn." Colin's tone is gentle and calm, yet his words are cold and cruel. I've always thought I had a loving marriage, but it's just a joke! I've already lost my beloved son, and my heartless husband is the one behind his death. I don't want him anymore!

At the medical summit, my husband's precious first love thought the old professor's clothes were too shabby for such a grand occasion. So she dropped his conference badge into the trash. The old man shook with fury and threatened to pull his company's partnership with us on the spot. In my last life, I slapped her across the face right there, then bowed and scraped until the professor forgave us, and that was the only thing that saved our company. My husband, meanwhile, was heartbroken that his darling had been hit, and took her home to comfort her. Later, our company rode the professor's patented miracle drug all the way to its IPO. On the day of the celebration, indecent videos made with my face swapped via AI rolled continuously across the giant screen. And in front of a hall full of sneering guests, my husband pulled his first love tight against his chest. "You love slapping people in public, don't you? Today you get to taste what it feels like to be finished." I ran out of the hotel, sick with shame, and a runaway truck flattened me into the pavement. Then he turned around, threw the wedding of the century for his golden girl, and drove my parents into the street to die alone in the cold. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact second she tossed that badge into the trash. This time, I didn't fly into a rage to stop her. Instead I curled my arm sweetly through my husband's and laughed louder than anyone in the room. "Babe, Tiffany's got such a sharp eye. Security should've thrown this ragged beggar out ages ago."

Back when I was young and dumb, I slapped some college guy working a side gig at a nightclub. My boyfriend had just ditched me for my best friend, Vanessa Shannon. Then, not even five minutes later, I caught her in the corner, sliding her hand under another guy's shirt. He bit his lip and just took it. Something in my brain short-circuited. I stood up and walked over. If Vanessa wanted him, why couldn't I? But the second I reached for him, he smacked my hand away. Vanessa cracked up. The whole private room turned to watch. Mortified, I slapped him. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." Later, my family went broke, and I ended up working at a nightclub just to get by. The private room was loud as hell. I lost a game, and everyone at the table started chanting for me to take my bra off. My face went hot. I stood there, completely frozen. Then a low voice cut through the noise with a cold laugh. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." I looked up. Our eyes locked. His stare was icy, full of pure mockery. It was the college guy I'd slapped years ago.

Back when I was 20, I supported a girlfriend. I paid for her education and even found the best doctors for her mother, who had cancer. The sweet, brilliant girl stayed with me for four years. However, my family went bankrupt after my parents died. I even injured my eyes and broke my legs. I watched her have a heart-to-heart talk with her childhood friend, tears in her eyes. I left without a word, and she never sought me out. Years later, I saw her again while picking up trash outside a hotel. She had become a wealthy CEO and was about to marry her childhood sweetheart. Her gaze at me was cold and indifferent. I bitterly asked, "Do you still hate me?" Yet, with tears streaming down her face, she replied, "Yes… I wish you were dead."

Word on the street in the city of Hereshire was that Roy Chester had a penchant for eighteen-year-old girls. Yet, Willow Croyton was twenty-one when they started dating, and she stuck by him for nearly three years. She was a well-known simp to Roy, her only merit being her docility and good behavior. Later, when Willow left, Roy was spotted multiple times near her apartment block, his eyes teary. 

After suffering a devastating blow to the head, I unexpectedly regained my memories. Before I could share the good news with my wife, I overheard a conversation between her and the doctor. "Ms. Morgan, Mr. Johnson is showing signs of recovering his memory again. Do you still want us to inject him with the neurotoxin? This is already the tenth time. Mr. Johnson's father already went to prison after taking the blame for you, and his sister was forcibly committed to a psychiatric hospital. I know you want to protect Liam, but there's no need to do this to Mr. Johnson." "If Damien regains his memory, Liam's role in the hired attack will be exposed. His life will be ruined. Liam is innocent. He just wanted to prove himself. "Besides, Liam and I are about to get married. I won't allow anything to go wrong. "I promised Liam that he and Ben are the only family I have. I will never let them down. It doesn't matter if Damien becomes a fool. I'll hire the best caregivers and look after him as a cripple for the rest of his life. "Let me spend the rest of my life making it up to him." My entire body trembled in agony. So the people who destroyed my family had been right beside me all along. My father was sent to prison on false fraud charges. While trying to clear his name, I was attacked and left with memory loss. Since everything was nothing more than my own wishful thinking, I'll give them exactly what they want.

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

Calvin and I had been married for seven years. While packing up some clothes, I found a cheap lighter in the pocket of his jacket. Everything he wore, from the inside out, had been carefully chosen by me to highlight his refined taste and status. However, in that girl’s Twitter photos, he looked like a college boy, dressed in cheap clothes and wearing a digital watch that cost only a few dollars while kissing her. Using a throwaway account, I casually liked the post and commented, "A perfect match." Then, I turned to Calvin and said, "How did I never realize you had such a thing for bargains?"

The day Arthur Reed and I signed our divorce papers, his stepsister, Chloe Bennett, watched me with red-rimmed eyes. "Lilith, I'm sorry. Once I get better, I'll step aside and give Arthur back to you. You have to believe me." I could recite that apology in my sleep. Whenever Chloe cried, Arthur gave in. To keep his depressed stepsister happy, he would put another set of divorce papers in front of me. We had married four times and divorced four times. Everyone praised Arthur as a caring brother, while I was the one who had to suffer for it. Every time the paperwork was done, Arthur would kiss my cheek and say, "It's just a piece of paper. It's temporary. Once Chloe is stable, we'll remarry. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." I believed him. I kept waiting for him to come back to me. Then last month, I was rushed to the hospital after a car accident. The doctors needed my emergency contact before they could operate. I called Arthur. He sounded annoyed. "Chloe's in a terrible state right now. She needs me. You're so strong. Can't you look after yourself?" So today, when he put the divorce papers in front of me for the fifth time to calm Chloe down, I signed without hesitating. Arthur assumed I would do what I had done the other four times and go home to wait for him to marry me again. He was wrong. This time, I meant it. He would lose both me and his fortune!

To help my "destitute" husband pay off his debts, I scavenged for scraps for five years. My son and I survived on expired canned food. That changed on my son's birthday. I saw him in a bespoke suit, spending millions to celebrate the birthday of the woman he truly loved. That was the moment I realized he was actually the most powerful billionaire on Wall Street. To please the love of his life, he let our child be injected with unknown drugs, leaving him on the brink of death. He even forced me to drain my own blood to save her son. Later, I became someone he could no longer reach. I linked arms with a man far more powerful than him and walked away. That once arrogant man ended up kneeling in the Arctic snow, clutching a photo I had burned, weeping like a stray dog.

After years of bullying me and even causing my grandmother's death, Jenna Sanders has finally had her life torn apart by Raymond Campbell. She can no longer hurt me, and I slowly move past my trauma with Raymond's guidance and help. I think it's finally time for me to be happy when I overhear his conversation with his friend. "You and Xyla are going to get married soon. When are you going to break things off with Jenna?" Raymond sounds disdainful. "She's nothing but something for me to pass the time! She's so evil that merely ruining her life isn't enough. I want her to be my filthy plaything and wish she were dead. That's my punishment for her!" His eyes gleam with anger and hatred toward Jenna, but my hand falls to my side. I no longer want to open the door, and my blood runs cold. The love I thought was pure turns out to be tainted by filth and cruelty. If that's all it is, I don't want it anymore.

In front of the orphanage gates, Rebecca Schwartz, the impoverished student I had been sponsoring, stood glaring at me with a face full of disdain. "If you don't let Freddie come along, I'm not going to your house either," she declared, her tone sharp and unyielding. In the past, blinded by love and hopelessly infatuated, I would have caved to her demands, humbling myself just to keep the peace. But things were different now—I had been reborn. Staring at this despicable pair, who had once caused my tragic demise, a tidal wave of fury surged within me. Yet, it settled into nothing more than a faint, icy smile on my lips. "Then stay here," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Rot in this place alongside your precious Freddie. After all, trash like you belong in the garbage heap."

When Tanya Spencer was eighteen, she was sexually assaulted by a stranger who was drunk. She went straight to the police. Despite the fear and enormous pressure she faced, she refused to back down and made sure the powerful, well-connected man who had assaulted her ended up behind bars. But the trauma he left behind ran deep. For years afterward, even having a man come too close would make her tremble uncontrollably. Sometimes the nausea was so overwhelming that she would throw up. Tanya thought this was simply what the rest of her life would look like. She felt ruined. Tainted. Like she'd never be able to love someone or live a normal life again. Then Preston Hayes came along. He was the head of one of the most powerful families in Harbor City, a man who could have had almost anyone he wanted. Yet for some reason, he chose to pursue her, an ordinary woman carrying scars she believed no man could ever accept.

For all four years of college, my girlfriend Vanessa Moore never once let anyone know we were together. "Dating someone in your own class is asking for trouble. If we break up, it'll be humiliating." To keep our distance, I never dared say a single word to her in front of other people. But Marcus Hale, the guy she grew up with, got to be glued to her side. On the way to the graduation party, a white sedan swerved out of nowhere and slammed into my car. Glass sliced open my face and my arm. When the dizziness cleared, I saw Marcus in the other car, smiling like he had just pulled something off. Blood kept dripping from the cuts. I was pinned, and I couldn't move an inch. Then Vanessa's car came down the road toward us. I called out for help until my voice went raw. She walked straight past me to Marcus. "Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" Leaning on my girlfriend's arm, Marcus limped over to her car and got in. She didn't come for me first. Ten minutes later Vanessa finally walked back, but she stopped three feet away. "It's the graduation party today. Everyone will be there. We have to keep our distance even more carefully. "I heard someone already called an ambulance, so just hang on. I'm taking him to the hospital first." Then she drove off without looking back. She had never intended to save me. My white shirt was soaked through red, and the pain shooting through my body cleared my head completely. A love that never answers back is a love you should put down.

Jake Carter called and asked to meet. We settled on the small hometown diner we used to hit up. He couldn't look me in the eye the entire time, and we didn't exchange a word during the meal. It wasn't until we were about to leave that he finally pulled a property deed from his bag. "This is for you," he said. "I accept my defeat. Consider it compensation for your emotional distress. Your name is already on it." I didn't bother with polite refusals. I took the deed, mumbled a quick thanks, and got up to leave. Jake scrambled to his feet, calling out from behind me with the one question he'd been burning to ask all along. "If you loved me back then, why did you let Brenda get to me first?" I turned around, looking him in the eye for the first time all day. "Are you really going to pretend you never knew how I felt? You were just playing dumb the whole time." "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "Can we still get dinner together tomorrow?" "Forget it. I don't need your apology," I said blandly. "You were a victim in this mess, too. As for dinner, don't bother. I'm resigning from the company tomorrow, and it's best if we don't see each other again." The iron wire ring I once treasured as proof of love had turned out to be a cage. Stepping out of the diner, I threw the rusted ring straight into the trash. From now on, I would live for myself.