Plot Twists Romance 短篇故事與 Family Emotions 小說

Our daughter was diagnosed with a genetic illness. To save her, my husband founded a charity in her name. To raise the funds, he pushed himself to the brink—working three hundred days straight, surviving on three hours of sleep a night. His relentless drive moved countless people. The media hailed him as "Father of the Year." Everyone congratulated me on having such a devoted partner. Then came the day he rallied the entire nation, securing pledges for millions in donations to fund our daughter's cure. At the gala, with over ten million dollars moments from being transferred, I suddenly hit the pause button. "And now, we'll take a brief intermission for a signing," I announced. The room erupted. They shouted at me, called me selfish, a monster. My husband stared at me, utterly stunned. "Have you lost your mind? Children around the world are waiting on this money to survive! What in God's name are you talking about?" I lifted my gaze to meet his. "A divorce agreement."

My CEO husband, Clayton Lockwood, was convinced I was a gold digger. Every time he went to comfort his first love during her depressive episodes, he would buy me a limited-edition bag. After half a year of marriage, my walk-in closet was filled with them. After giving ninety-nine bags, he noticed I had changed. I no longer cried my heart out or argued until I was hoarse when he visited his first love. I also did not brave the storm and cross the city anymore just because he said he wanted to see me. I only asked him for a rosary for our unborn child. When I mentioned our child, Clayton’s gaze softened. “Once Ruby’s condition improves, we’ll go to the hospital for a checkup first, then get a rosary.” I obediently agreed. Little did he know that I had a miscarriage ten days earlier. I had also prepared a divorce agreement that was ready for his signature.

On the third day of my business trip out of state, someone new joined the group chat formed for my son's class. It had been quiet for weeks when she suddenly sent a voice message. I tapped it, and an unfamiliar woman's voice played through my phone. "Hello, everyone. I'm the new language teacher at the school, and I'm also Tony Gardner's mother. Looking forward to getting to know you all!" My whole body went cold. I opened the group member list and checked it over and over. My son's name was Tony Gardner, and she said she was Tony Gardner's mother. Then, who the hell was I? I immediately called my husband. "Did someone get added to the parent group by mistake?" He paused on the other end before he laughed it off like it was nothing. "Oh, probably just a mix-up. The school has so many kids. It's not unusual for kids to have the same names. What's the matter? Did something happen?" I kept my voice light and told him everything was fine. The second I hung up, I booked the next flight home and headed straight to my son's school.

My husband has slept around thousands of times, yet he has never agreed to a divorce. His family calls me a low-class nobody who's unfit to be seen. Five years ago, the first time I asked for a divorce, Hugo Hudson said nothing. He simply locked me inside the villa for a full month. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant. Three years ago, I brought it up again. That very night, Hugo returned to his family's estate. Soon after, I was granted the right to see my child once a week. Today is the third time. And this time, I can finally leave. Because I've realized something at last: my child doesn't love me, and my marriage was never real to begin with. I'm no different from the women he keeps outside. When we met again later, Hugo's eyes reddened the instant he saw me.

I've accidentally worn a dress belonging to my deceased older sister, Gwendolyn Stokes, to a family banquet. Because of that, my husband, Thomas Torres, goes quiet with fury. He then sentences me to a punishment of kneeling in the snow for three long hours. The blizzard chills me to the bone. My son, Robin Torres, makes fun of me while hurling snowballs at me. "No matter how much you dress up, you'll always be a phony! Don't think you can go around replacing my mommy just because you've changed into her dress!" As I stare at Robin's face, which bears some resemblance with mine, I feel my heart breaking. He has no idea that I'm his actual mother. On the year Gwendolyn passed away, Thomas, who drank himself into a stupor, mistook me for her. That night, he kept moaning Gwendolyn's name and whispering sweet nothings to me. That was how I got pregnant with Robin. Thomas has forbidden me from telling anyone the truth. On the other hand, I can't bear to leave my own child alone. So, I beg Thomas repeatedly to let me stay in the Torres residence. During my stay here, Thomas gives me the cold shoulder all the time. Only when he needs to vent his desire does he seek me out. What I didn't expect is that Robin hates my guts as well. Not only does he keep pulling pranks on me from time to time, but he also curses at me. "Shameless women like you have no right to stay in my home! Once I grow up, I'll definitely kick you out!" Now, I can finally respond to him. "Oh, I don't have to wait for you to grow up at all." Tomorrow, I'll pack my things and leave. I no longer want to remain as someone else's replacement and continue living a life of humiliation. This time, I'm going to pursue a life of my own.

Kyson Hale, the regimental commander, finally agrees to let me live with him on the military base. But in return, our son isn't allowed to address him as "dad". Kyson and I have been secretly married for eight years. I've taken care of his parents in the countryside for that long as well. After the death of his parents, my son, Darryl Hale, and I request Kyson to let us live with him on the military base. He agrees to our requests, but he has a condition of his own. "Once you've reached the military base, you shall declare to everyone else that you're just my relatives from the countryside." Only then do I realize that Kyson has another family of his own in the military. Some time later, I leave the army with Darryl without looking back. But Kyson, who's always been cold and distant, is alarmed by our disappearance.

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've gone to the church to pray for my son, Robert Scott. On the way home, my carriage is overturned because the horses suffer from a shock. When I wake up, I look at my family gathering around my bed. Then, I decide to pull a prank on them. "Sorry, but who are you?" I do my best to suppress the smile that threatens to appear on my face. I want to see how my family is going to comfort me now that I have "amnesia". Will Mom and my husband, Jeremy Scott, take my hands comfortingly? Or will Robert lunge at me while crying out to me? What I don't expect is to see my family breathing sighs of relief after their initial shock has faded away. Mom is the first one to speak up with a hint of relief coloring her tone. "Since you've already forgotten all about us, then it's fine. Maisie, you're actually the adopted daughter of the Liddell family. Amber is the actual heiress of the Liddell family." Jeremy points at me while telling Robert, "Robbie, you must address her as Aunt Maisie." Before I can recover from my shock, I see my own son, whom I'm willing to sacrifice my life to protect, running over to hug Amber Liddell, the fake heiress, happily. "Mom, I've spent the whole day playing outside! Oh, I miss you so much!" So, it turns out that my case of amnesia is exactly what this family wants. In that case, I might as well abandon this farce of a family.

On the seventh year after we moved overseas, my 13-year-old daughter, Anna Jackman, is hailed as the internationally renowned piano prodigy. No matter how difficult the song is, Anna is capable of weaving beautiful melodies with it. But there's only one song that Anna refuses to play. It's a seemingly ordinary lullaby. She's worried that she might end up forgiving that despicable man again once she plays it on the piano. So, when said man, Micah Jackman, turns up on our doorstep with a piano that's handcrafted by a master craftsman and asks Anna to play him the lullaby, she just shakes her head calmly in return. "I don't know how to play that song, sir." Micah's eyes redden immediately. He grabs Anna's hand and navigates it to the piano keys. "That's impossible! Aren't you a piano prodigy, Anna? Haven't you always wanted to have a piano of your own? I've already bought you your own piano this time! From now on, if you have any wishes, you should tell me, and I'll grant them for you." Anna draws back her right hand coldly. "It's fine, sir. I can earn my own money to buy my own piano. You should take the piano back to your daughter." Micah feels as though his heart has plunged into the abyss. He immediately pulls Anna into his arms. "What are you talking about, Anna? You're my only daughter!" But Anna looks a little puzzled. "Didn't you say that Ms. Sinclair's daughter is the only one worthy of becoming your child? Didn't you give the piano you promised for me to Ms. Sinclair's daughter?" Having reached that point, Anna just smiles nonchalantly at Micah. "It's fine, sir. Since you like Ms. Sinclair, you can just raise her daughter. I'm already content enough with Mom by my side."

Ever since I tied the knot with Connor Steele, he ditched his playboy ways and cut off all his side flings. Everyone thought I had him wrapped around my finger, with our perfect little family. But that all came crashing down on our ninth anniversary when I accidentally saw his group chat with his friends. [Connor, how was that Bentley ride with Ashley yesterday? Pretty wild, huh?] [We tried every spot imaginable. She's totally obsessed with me and can't get enough.] There was a steamy photo of them attached, and the group was blowing up with cheers and congrats, wishing them happiness ever after. I stared at the screen, feeling a sharp stab of pain hit me right in the chest. It turned out that all our happy moments were just a carefully staged performance. I sat there in a daze all night, waiting for him to get home. When he finally walked in with a cake, I let out a cold laugh. "I know everything now. Aren't you sick of faking it?"

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

I lost my dear son, Henry, to a traffic accident. He had been on his way to one of his part-time jobs. Despite working a lot, my son was still a top scorer on the SATs. “Mom, I don’t want treatment,” he begged with his last breath. “I just want Dad.” In my despair, I called Matthew Foster, my husband, more than one hundred times, but he never answered. We had been married for eighteen years, but one day, he spent all of our savings in order to pay for the treatment of his deceased comrade’s son. That got us into a debt worth one million dollars. To help him pay for it, both Henry I and worked hard to earn money. My son went as far as working five part-time jobs a day! That accident cracked his head open and tore his stomach. He was in urgent need of money for treatment. Since Matthew was not responding, I had to leave Henry’s side to rush to his workplace, where I ended up hearing that he was throwing a party for someone else’s son because he had gotten into a prestigious school. “Mr. Foster gave Zack a seaside mansion, a luxury car, and a limitless black card in hopes that he will succeed in his future studies and have a smooth and healthy life.” As I watched my “poor” husband hug his comrade’s widow and son, I called him for the 101st time. “Henry wants to see you one last time.” “I’m busy right now, Wendy. Be good with Henry and wait a little while longer.” When Matthew hung up impatiently, I put down my phone in silence. I whispered, “Matthew, Henry can no longer wait for you.” At that moment, I decided that I was not going to wait for him anymore either.

To ransom my husband from the black market, I threw myself into relentless work, earning every penny I could. My son suffered alongside me, sharing in my exhaustion and deprivation. Years of malnutrition had left him vulnerable, and eventually, he was diagnosed with leukemia. I wept as I scraped together money from relatives and friends to pay for his chemotherapy. But on the way to the hospital, a sudden, unbearable pain wracked him. In his struggle, he accidentally bit off his own tongue and died in agony before we even reached the doors. I clutched my son's ashes and went straight to the black market, determined to use the borrowed money to bring my husband back. The moment I stepped in, I overheard a conversation between Joe Masseria and his men. "Boss, Sandra comes every month with her payments. She's suffered a lot just to ransom you," one said. At that moment, a widow—Joe's sister-in-law, long mourning her late husband—appeared beside him. "Joe," she said, her voice calm but cutting, "all these years, you've protected me from harm, even giving me the title of a mob boss's wife. But you've kept Sandra in the dark the whole time. Isn't that… terribly unfair to her?" Joe's eyes were cold, devoid of any pity for me. He scoffed. "Fairness is ruthless. She's had all this love from me. What's a little suffering compared to that? "But she's waited for me all these years. It's time I returned—before she loses her mind and comes after you. "If she's still sensible, I'll make sure her and her son's quality of life improves a bit." I understood everything in that instant. Holding my son's ashes to my chest, I wept until it felt as if my heart would shatter. Joe—your so-called fairness killed my son. And I am done waiting for you.

The day before we are supposed to go abroad to get our marriage registered, George Anderson slips a five-carat diamond ring onto my ring finger. "Geri, once you wear this, you'll be Mrs. Anderson for the rest of your life." Before I even have time to feel moved, his tone suddenly shifts. "But I've already canceled tomorrow's flight and asked for a refund. Let's put off the registration for now." He slowly turns the rosary beads on his wrist, speaking as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Mia's depression has relapsed. She's threatening to jump off a building. The only thing that can calm her down is getting a marriage certificate with her. "I have to go register my marriage with her right now. If she finds out I married you abroad, she'll lose her mind." I freeze and stare at him in disbelief. However, he ruffles my hair with eyes full of indulgence and helplessness. "Be good. It's just a piece of paper. Once her condition is stable, we'll have our wedding. If you really want to go to Frosh Isle, just join a tour group yourself." I watch as his figure retreat in a hurry and touch my lower abdomen. Then, I tear the prenatal checkup report for the twins in my bag into pieces. Next, I make the call for my final confirmation of starting the overseas study program. I no longer intend to see the aurora in Frost Isle with George.

The morning of my wedding, my own sister locked me in a bathroom stall. The boy I had sponsored out of poverty couldn't bear to see my fiancée standing alone at the altar, so he stepped up and married Lillian Gates in my place. My sister was so moved that she claimed him on the spot as a brother and let him complete the marriage alliance with the Gates family in my name. My fiancée said, "Silas, you healed my legs. I love you. I respect you. But Liam and I have already registered our marriage. From here on, one of you is my husband, and the other is my boyfriend. Things between us can stay the same… alright?" I slapped her across the face. What she did not know was that her legs were never fully healed. In seven days, without my brace, she would be unable to walk again. What she also did not know was that my sister–so certain of her schemes–had never even seen our parents' will. So what made her think the company had been left to her?

Seven years ago, in order to accompany the fake heiress abroad for her recovery, Timothy Gibson casually signed the divorce papers I handed him. Without even turning around, he sneered at me. "Naomi, don't use such underhanded tactics to keep me around. Esther can't live without me abroad." Seven years later, he blocked my path with his car, and he spoke to me with an air of superiority. "Grandpa is critically ill. His only dying wish is to hold his great-grandchild. "Come back with me, behave yourself, and give birth to an heir. You will still be Mrs. Gibson." I looked down at my shoes. I recalled the time I stood in the rain and begged him not to leave. I even collapsed in the rain. In the end, all it got me was a dismissive 'you're making a scene' from him. Timothy still thought my life revolved around him. He had no idea that without the title of Mrs. Gibson, I had lived very well these past seven years. The very day after he signed the divorce papers, I married someone else. Gently touching my stomach, which wasn't even showing yet, I smiled and said, "Mr. Gibson, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you. I am having a baby, but it isn't yours."

During the holidays, my boyfriend, Felix Zimmerman, insists on bringing his female best friend, Cassidy Crowther, home for dinner. Everyone keeps fussing over Cassidy. Even Felix's mother, Helen Danes, takes Cassidy's hand and asks her about her life. Her eyes are already crinkling from how wide her smile has become. But when Helen notices me being ignored by everyone else, she's quick to frown at me. "Sienna, if you have nothing to do, you might as well help out in the kitchen." At the dining table, Felix keeps placing food on Cassidy's plate. When I mutter to Felix to help grab me a piece of crab due to how far the crabs are from me, he goes impatient immediately. Heck, he doesn't even bother glancing at me. "Can't you see that I'm busy? You can go get it yourself!" Left without a choice, I can only rise to my feet. But Felix's dad, Andrew Zimmerman, quickly stops me when he spots me reaching for the plate of crabs. "The act of peeling crabs is very unlady-like, Sienna. That's why you shouldn't have any." I'm pissed, to say the least. So, I dig out my phone and upload a post on my social media feed. "Does anyone want to invite me to their family dinner tonight?" Numerous text messages blast up my phone the next moment. Countless scions from various wealthy and influential families in Hillsbury quickly leave comments on my post. "Ms. Winslow, may I have the honor of inviting you to dinner with me?" "My home works too! My parents keep telling me that they haven't seen you in such a long time!"

On my wedding day, the groom, Robert Jensen, is nowhere to be seen. All that's left of him is a letter and a baby who's born with a heart disease. "I love you, Winona, but I've also fallen in love with Claire. Since I can't give her a proper title at all, I decided to go on a world trip with her in order to make it up to her. "I'll also give you a chance to raise my and Claire's baby. While we're enjoying our trip, you can spend some quality time with our baby." The thing is, I don't have any blood relations with this baby. Why the hell should I raise Robert and Claire's baby, to begin with? Six years later, I take my son, Anson Jensen, to the airport so that we can see my husband, Joshua Jensen, off to his business trip. When I turn around, I spot Robert, who's pushing his suitcase toward me. As he stares at Anson in my arms, he exclaims in surprise, "Winona, is this my and Claire's child? You raised him well! "Unfortunately, we're already married overseas, so I can no longer marry you. But don't worry, Winona. To me, you're already my wife." As I look at Robert's face, which is rather similar to Anson's features, I let out a soft chuckle. "Don't go around mistaking other people's children for your own, Robert. Anyway, this is your younger cousin."

At Opaline Corp, the lowest-performing employee had to eat a plate of pasta mixed with live worms. This time, Tristan Crocker lost three clients and landed dead last. To keep Tristan from feeling singled out, my wife, Wendy Kline, hit me with a nine-million-dollar performance penalty because I showed up one minute late while sick—even though I'd brought in three million in revenue. Just like that, I became the first employee in company history with negative earnings. Grinning, Tristan shoved the plate toward me. "Wendy updated the company rules last night to keep everyone in line. Anyone who's late gets penalized three times their performance. You always said mistakes deserve punishment. Now that it's your turn, you're not backing out, right?" Every eye in the room locked on me, waiting for me to lose it. Wendy quickly sent me a message: [The nine million is only on paper. It's not a real fine. With your talent, you'll earn it back in three months. Tristan's allergic to worms. If he ends up in the hospital over a punishment, it'll damage the company's reputation. And if people hear we punished an outsider, that'll look even worse.] [You're my husband. You're one of us. I love you, which is why I'm giving you the chance to show some leadership.] [Once this blows over, I'll give you an extra twenty dollars a month, okay?] When I didn't reply, she finally snapped. "Company rules apply to everyone, even the top performer. If you don't like it, you're free to leave." I nodded, unclipped my badge, and set it on the table. "Fine. I quit." I looked at her. "And while we're at it, let's get divorced."

At my mom's funeral, my lecturer wife, Vivian Carter, decides to have a rendezvous with her student, Noah Myers, with ten packs of condoms in her bag. Once they are done with their passionate lovemaking, Noah uploads a photo to his social media feed. It features a red-faced Vivian lying on his bed. Meanwhile, the clothes of mourning that she's worn to the funeral are strewn all over the floor. The caption reads, "The only who's not loved is the actual homewrecker here. My relationship has finally borne fruit!" His feed goes wild with comments. Everyone mocks me for being a shameless simp for Vivian, and that I've been ruining Noah's relationship with her this whole time. My mentor, Avery Sanders, is sick with worry. But I, on the other hand, merely brew myself a cup of coffee. Then, I say lightly, "Since he likes uploading his intimate photos that much, I might as well upload photos of his and Vivian's bastard child as well as their paternity tests. Here's the caption—I, the legal husband, am now defending my pride as a married man. "Now, I'd like to see if Noah and Vivian are capable of bearing the consequences of pissing off my prestigious and wealthy family!"