Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Homewrecker Workplace Novels

On my way home after a night shift, my wife, Lilian Jones, the associate chief of neurosurgery, suddenly called. "Honey, Garrett Lowe in Room 9 has suffered a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. You're the only surgeon in the hospital who can perform this operation. Come back now!" In my previous life, I did not hesitate. I made a U-turn and sped back to the hospital. However, by the time I burst into the operating room, Garrett was already dead on the table. Right in front of his family and the entire surgical team, Lilian slapped me across the face and insisted that my surgical error had cost Garrett his life. The hospital immediately suspended me from clinical duties, stripped me of my position as an attending neurosurgeon, and suspended my medical license for six months. Three days later, Garrett's family ambushed me outside the emergency department and stabbed me to death in broad daylight. Only after I died did I learn the truth. To give surgical resident Ethan Smith a chance to gain hands-on experience, Lilian violated hospital protocol and allowed him to take the lead in the operation. His inexperience cost Garrett his life, and I was nothing more than the scapegoat they sacrificed to cover it up. Less than a week after my funeral, the two of them moved in together openly. A few years later, they even became the hospital's model couple, admired and envied by everyone. "The patient's already under anesthesia, and the OR is fully prepped. Where are you?" Lilian's voice came through the phone again in this life, her barely concealed panic impossible to miss. I fell silent for a moment before answering in a hoarse voice, "Okay. I'll be right there."

I struck a deal with the richest corporation on behalf of my company. My wife was the CEO, Natalie Ford, and she hurriedly said she would give me a villa as a reward. However, what I got was just a children's drawing of the villa. "Honey, the company is about to go public this year, and we're having trouble with capital turnover. I'll give you a large villa next year." Later, I came across the TikTok account of her male assistant. Morgan Shaw was showing off how Natalie had spent 300 million dollars to buy him a large penthouse in the business district. The caption was: [Those who truly love you will give you a warm home.] It turned out it was not that the company was short of funds; it was that she did not think it was worth it to spend that money on me. I saw that the commenters were full of envy for Morgan, so I liked and reposted the video. Immediately, people flooded his post with more comments. Less than a minute later, Natalia called anxiously. "Honey, have you misunderstood something? I bought Morgan a house just to make it easier for him to get to work. Hurry and remove your like and repost. "If you help him clarify things, I promise to go to your family's house for Christmas this year, okay?" She always broke her promises. This time, I refused to believe her again. "Forget it. Let's get a divorce."

After I became pregnant, I gave up the biology research project I had devoted years to. Vanessa Basch, a student I had personally mentored, took over my work. Ever since then, Vanessa began showing up at my home more and more often. At the dinner table, she and my husband would become engrossed in heated discussions about the research data, barely acknowledging my presence. That project had once been my life’s work. Yet there was not even room for me in the conversation. On the day of my prenatal appointment, they stood outside the consultation room debating what to name my baby as if I were not even there. My husband, Scott Clement, glanced back at me and said casually, “Vanessa thinks these two names have more character. Pick whichever one you like.” I said nothing. I just turned away and signed the consent form for an abortion. I thought to myself, ‘Since you’re so perfectly in sync, I want neither this baby nor you anymore.’

At a charity gala in Manhattan, a reporter asked the final question of the night. "Mr. Hayes, whose name will be on the $200 million trust you announced tonight?" The question had barely left her lips before knowing laughter rippled through the crowd. The answer was obvious. It could only be me —— his wife and the heiress to Lockwood Holdings, Chloe Lockwood. I was about to stand and share in his moment. But my husband, Eric Hayes, dropped a bombshell. "It will be named for the most important person in my life: the girl I once shared a bed with." "When I was broke and had nowhere to go, she gave me half her bed. We split the rent on a $350 attic room." "Her warmth was the only reason I could sleep at night." "Without her encouragement, I wouldn't be who I am today." The reporter scrambled to recover. "Mr. Hayes is clearly a man of deep loyalty. What a beautiful story you share with Ms. Lockwood!" "Not Chloe. Another woman." Eric corrected her without hesitation. Every pair of eyes in the room landed on me. Three seconds of silence passed. I leaned toward my assistant Vivian and gave her two quiet orders. "Find her." "Then... strip Eric of everything."

Three years into our marriage, my husband, Derek, confessed that he'd met his true love. He sat across from me, eyes brimming with sincerity. "I was too young back then. You were the only person I ever dated, and I rushed into marriage. "It wasn't until I met Vivian that I understood what real love is. "Just sign the divorce papers already. Set me free." I glanced at the scar on his temple. Without a word, I signed the papers.

It was my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. The whole family kept it from me and took my adopted sister Evelyn to the most expensive Italian restaurant in New York. My older brother Luca raised his glass. "Evelyn wants to study business management. I'll introduce her to the right people." My younger brother Noah handed her a gift. "This bracelet suits you, sis." My mother put the sapphire earrings my grandmother had left me in her ears, smiling. "Evelyn, with us here, you'll never have to be afraid of anything again." My father nodded. "You need these more than Leah does. She's had it good her whole life. It's only right that she gives way to you." I stood in the cold wind outside the restaurant, looking down at the family photo on my phone. In it, all five of them were beaming. No one noticed that one person was missing. Me. Suddenly I understood. They hadn't forgotten me. They had simply never seen me as someone who needed to be chosen. In that case, I didn't want them either. I applied to the school farthest from home. From now on, they were them. And I was me. Later, when I'd made a name, made money, and found my footing on my own, they came looking for me with their bills.