Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Novels

The paralyzed heir of Deshonte City's elite social circle demanded that my sister marry him as a bride to "ward off bad luck." But she was already pregnant—with my fiancé's baby. So the so-called "marriage arrangement" disaster ended up landing on me. My father was so furious he smashed his teacup right then and there. "Absolutely not! Even if Catherine is adopted, she does not deserve to be humiliated like this!" My fiancé, though, grabbed my hand. "Catherine, how could I ever fall for someone else? It's just that Veronica is carrying my child—I can't let her walk into her doom. You'll just take your sister's place for now. Once things settle down, I'll come get you." Watching him put on this whole show of devotion, it suddenly hit me that marrying a paralyzed heir might actually be more peaceful than staying here. I pressed my father's hand down and said calmly, "Dad, Mom… I'll go." On the day of the wedding, I wore a stunning white gown and sat beside my groom in his wheelchair. My ex-fiancé sent me a message: [I'm sorry you're going through this. Wait for me.] I handed the phone to the man next to me and smiled. "Honey, looks like my brother-in-law is awfully concerned about me."

I had always been what you would call a slow person. Case in point: When I saw the stern-looking female CEO appearing in the financial news who looked just like my wife, it took me ages to finally realize it was truly her. Immediately after, a stream of comments highlighted in different colors overlaid my vision. [Oh my God! Julian Vance, the shameless supporting male lead, has finally shown up to stir the pot! Imagine dragging a child into this just to scam Ms. Eunice Latour, how disgusting!] [Didn’t he already make away with two million as compensation? Why is he back again? He must be sick in the head if he thinks that he can use his child as a pawn to get ahead in life!] [I can’t wait to see Mr. Carter put him in his place! Let the real male and female protagonists shine!] It took me half a minute before I finally wrapped my head around what they were saying. It seemed I had been in the world of a novel, one where I was cast as an evil supporting male lead whose main goal was to make the male and female protagonists look good. My wife was Eunice Latour, the female protagonist in question. One day, she went out to buy food for the baby, only to never return.

I've been married to Austin Salazar for five years. Every time I accidentally touch him, he'll force me to kneel in a pool of disinfectants while reciting verses from the Bible. But there was once when I noticed a bright red hickey on Austin's collarbone. Instincts propelled me to touch it for a fleeting moment. While Austin did lose his temper at me before storming out of our home, for once, he didn't tell me to get down on my knees. Naively, I thought that he's starting to get used to my touch. But the next day, my virginity is set to be auctioned off at the auction house where the rich and the powerful of Bannerton regularly visit. The auction will officially start in two days. While Austin's buddies calculate the price they can afford to bid with lewd expressions, he remains unmoved as he keeps cleansing his collarbone with disinfectants repeatedly. "How dare she touch the spot Carol has kissed before! Who does she think she is? Just the sight of her taints my vision!"

At our company's tenth-anniversary party, my four childhood friends, who were also my business partners, slid a contract in front of me. "There's a serious PR crisis in Dayaka, and we need the whole team out there. "Pull this off, and we'll own this industry. "Cora, you've always been decisive. You're not going to back out just because there might be fighting, right?" Jared Blake wore his usual confident smile. Standing behind him was Faye Sterling, the illegitimate daughter the Sterling family had only recently brought home. I signed it right in front of them. As everyone cheered, Jared made me a promise. "Cora, once this is over and we're back, we'll get married." Later, I pushed open the conference room door. The projector was still hooked up to Jared's laptop, and on the screen was a group chat they'd forgotten to close. "Dayaka's settled?" "Done. One empty promise was all it took to get her to that hellhole. Now Faye can stay in Nova City and take over as senior partner, fair and square." "Jared's taking the biggest hit, though. He has to keep playing fiancé to that control freak." I stood in front of the screen, holding my files. Behind me, the door opened, and I heard the four of them laughing and talking as they crowded around their little princess. I turned around. The moment our eyes met, every smile in the room froze.

When Ivy Yarley learned that Jason Hough had been in an accident due to speeding and lost a massive amount of blood, she rushed to the hospital without hesitation and donated a full liter of blood for him. His friends all urged her to go home and get some rest. Reluctantly, she agreed, but the moment she reached the exit, worry hung heavily in her heart, so she turned back. That was when she saw the nurse dumping all five full bags of blood that had just been drawn from her into the trash can. Before she could even process what was happening, a burst of laughter erupted from a nearby room. "Hahaha! That idiot Ivy Yarley fell for it again!"

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.

"Are you sure you want to change the bride's name to Jasmine Shaw, Quinn?" Quinn Sullivan's voice was resolute. "Yes, I'm sure. Do as I say." She sat in silence for a long time after hanging up. She recalled what she saw after her engagement party. Her fiancé had his arms wrapped around another woman in a swaying car. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, looking like he couldn't bear to leave. Quinn didn't understand. She and Nicholas York had gone through so much to get to marriage. How could he cheat on her? Well, it didn't matter. She was willing to give him her blessings since he was in love with another woman. He could marry someone else, then. She would give him the wedding of his dreams.

It is the ninth time I bring up marriage with Shane Yardley, my boyfriend, and he finally gives in. "You know I don't believe in marriage. Do you really need a marriage certificate just to have peace of mind? Haven't I treated you well enough over the years to prove my sincerity, Jasmine?" Shane is truly wonderful. He is gentle, caring, and wealthy. He has never once complained even though I can't bear him any children. Those around envy how lucky I am to have such a great partner. He seems ready to give me everything aside from a marriage certificate. Shane wraps his arms around me after noticing my silence and tries to sweet-talk me. "If it means that much to you, I'll go with you to register our marriage tomorrow." Yet, when the next day comes, Shane suddenly tells me he has to leave on a business trip because something came up at work and rushes off. I watch him leave without saying a word. I suddenly notice the documents he left on the desk. I can't get through to him, so I have no choice but to bring them to the hotel where he's staying. Yet, the person the front desk calls down turns out to be a young pregnant woman instead. She rests her hand on her baby bump and smiles gently. "I'm Shane Yardley's wife. And you are?" I am shaken to my core. Shane rushes over before I can answer the young woman. He immediately steps in front of her, gestures toward me, and says, "I'd like you to meet Jasmine Quinton, m-my cousin."

Everyone on both sides of the law knew two things: Valerie Pelt, the Pelt family heiress, loved to play around, and her husband oved to threaten divorce. So the last time Valerie and I got divorced, she signed the papers without batting an eye and asked, "So how long are you going to sulk this time? A week? Two?" Everyone assumed it would go the way it always did, that before long, I'd come crawling back with my tail between my legs. But this time, I moved, changed my number, and vanished without a trace. A year later, I ran into her by chance while representing my company in a partnership pitch. I presented the proposal for two hours, and she sat there in silence the entire time. Only when my expression darkened did she finally speak, her voice lazy. "Are you done? My patience is running thin. How about dinner tonight?" I glanced at the time and shook my head. "I have to pick up my kid from my mother-in-law's. If you'll excuse me." After all, my wife had been investigating her all along, and I was in no hurry to see her caught just yet.

When Jeremiah Jenner, an academician from a research lab, has bombs strapped to him by a malicious criminal, I know that I can save his life by cutting the right wire. But my husband, Callum Johnson, keeps pinning my hand down with all his might. He tells me that I should wait for his crush, Shirley Gibson, to arrive so that she can save the day for once. This was what happened in my previous life. Thanks to Shirley's mistakes, the timer's countdown decreased from ten minutes all the way down to ten seconds. I was the one who had to shove her away and cut the triggering wire based on my experience. That was how I saved Jeremiah's life. Shirley, on the other hand, was so frightened that she passed out on the spot. She became the laughingstock of the entire squad, which led to her leaving the squad due to depression. Callum didn't say a single word. Instead, he dispatched me to the border as a spy. On the day my mission was supposed to be wrapped up, Callum got in contact with me via a secretive channel. Then, he leaked my coordinates to my enemies on purpose. "Couldn't you just let Shirley play the hero for once? Since you like showing off that much, then you might as well stay as a heroine forever in this place!" The next thing I knew, I felt a bullet piercing through my chest. My enemies had me surrounded immediately before burning me alive, resulting in my death. As I breathed my last breath, I saw Callum embracing Shirley while watching me being licked hungrily by the flames from a long distance away. There was nothing but satisfaction in his eyes. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the scene where the bombs are set to be removed. Slowly, I put down the pliers in my hand. Fine. I won't steal Shirley's thunder this time. I'd like to see how the golden couple can maintain their bombastic, passionate relationship in a place that's about to be blown apart.

At the family dinner over the holidays, Elias Barrett has given all of our relatives and their children thick wads of cash. When it's my turn, he just frowns at me. "We've been together for so long. What's the point in going through the motions? You're the one managing the finances, so you can just withdraw what you need from the account." I merely nod without saying anything. But soon, I notice a text message from his bank popping out on the notifications' list. "You have transferred 1,430 dollars to Jamie Sutton. Remark: Babe, happy holidays. XOXO Elias." It turns out that Elias' anti-formalism rule is meant for me, not others. I don't bother starting a fight or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I just cancel the booking on my wedding venue that will be used next month. After that, I shred the kidney donation consent form meant for Elias into pieces. Once the holidays are over, I'm not going to extend Elias' life for him anymore.

My CEO wife, Emily Stewart, loved using her money to humiliate her ex-boyfriend, Ivan Perkins. On the day her company was listed, Emily made a rare public move by openly announcing our relationship and even getting Ivan to toast me. She even rewarded me with 10% of the company's shares. Ivan could not stand to be humiliated. He said unhappily before leaving, "Why must you do this to me, Emily? You know I want you, not your fame and fortune." When Emily went after him and brought him back, she gave Ivan my company shares and my position at work, saying she could not go back on her promise. When I asked her for a mere $5 to get some painkillers, she would suspect me of being a gold-digger who only wanted her money. Thus, I did not make a fuss and gave Ivan everything I had. Emily was happy about it. "I knew you were different. You never wanted me for my money. “Don't worry! Once I have my fun with him, I'll give you a grand wedding." She had no idea that I was tired of watching her play games with Ivan, and I no longer wanted to be a part of it.

When I found the hotel booking receipts on my husband's phone, I asked for a divorce. I didn't yell. I didn't cry. My husband, Mark Sterling, thought I was just throwing another childish tantrum. He tossed a black credit card onto the counter. "The PIN is your birthday. Go buy yourself something nice and stop being so paranoid." When I didn't touch it, he sighed and pulled a limited-edition action figure from behind his back. "Look, I even got a gift for Leo. I'll pick him up from preschool tonight. Happy now?" My hands shook as I stared at the toy. Our son died in a car crash two months ago, on the day Mark skipped his parent-teacher conference. He didn't even know that our boy was dead.

Three years into our long-distance relationship, my daily conversations with Evan Crawford turned into a three-person group chat. He said the company was busy preparing for its IPO and that he didn't have time to check his phone. If I needed anything, I should tell his "buddy," Nicole Pearce, and she'd pass it along. From then on, everything came through Nicole: what time he left the office, when he traveled for work, what he took for his stomach pain. She knew every moment of his day. Every message I sent him just sat there on "unread." On my birthday, I asked in the group chat if he could spare ten minutes for a video call. Nicole replied, "The launch event is right around the corner. Don't distract him." And yet somehow he had time to like her latest Instagram post. The night the company went public, I took an overnight bus to the celebration dinner and arrived in time to hear him raise a toast. "I owe these past six months to Nicole. She took care of all the little things for me." When he spotted me, he frowned. "Why didn't you check in through the group chat first?" Nicole took the gift from my hands. "He's exhausted. Whatever you need to say, I'll pass it along." A wave of helplessness hit me. I pulled my hand back and left the group chat. If even missing him had to go through her, I had no reason to report my life to him anymore.

The day I'm diagnosed with cancer happens to be the birthday of my wife's adopted son, Logan Smith. Before the party starts, I end up coughing up blood and ruining the cheerful atmosphere. My wife, Rosalie Smith, doesn't take me to the hospital. Instead, she locks me up in the basement. She looks down at me bleeding out on the ground and says coldly, "Xander Kastel, you really know how to pick your timing. Of all days, you had to cough up blood on Lolo's birthday. How dare you do it today?" I beg her to take me to the hospital, but she says she has already consulted the doctor and knows that early-stage cancer can't cause me to cough up blood. She's convinced I'm deliberately putting on an act to get back at Caleb Anderson, her first love. I pleaded desperately. "I am your husband! Rosalie, please take me to the hospital. I promise I'll never show up again." Rosalie's face darkens, and she grabs me by the throat. "Don't play these push-and-pull games with me. As long as you stay here quietly until midnight passes and Lolo's birthday is over, of course, I'll take you to the hospital. Once you've recovered, you'll still be the Smith family's live-in son-in-law." I keep screaming from the agonizing pain I'm in. Rosalie thinks I'm being annoying, so she takes Caleb and Logan to a hotel to celebrate instead. Some time later, she suddenly thinks of me, so she asks her secretary if my surgery has gone well. Her secretary's face pales as he answers in a trembling voice, "Mr. Kastel has… has left with Ms. Kastel."

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."

Three months after my fiancé disappeared, I saw him at the airport, his arm around a girl. He laughed smugly, "Thanks to my buddies, coming up with that plan. Otherwise, how would I get to spend every day with you? Won't go back until you're pregnant. Let that old ball-and-chain keep searching." I didn't rush over to confront him; I just watched them in complete silence. Back home, I wrapped my arms around his brother's neck and whispered bitterly, "Harry is gone, but your family needs an heir."

"Ms. Clark, I'm calling from the assisted-dying center in Montrevia. We received a request for assisted dying on December 25. Can you confirm that you submitted it yourself?" Hailey Clark's lashes flutter, but she answers calmly, "Yes." "Alright. Your application has been approved. You have 15 days to get your affairs in order." The call has barely ended when the bedroom door opens. Spencer Latham steps inside, bringing the cold with him. He smiles as soon as he sees Hailey and holds up a beautifully wrapped present. "Happy birthday, Hailey." Hailey smiles back. "My birthday was yesterday." Spencer stiffens, looking briefly flustered and embarrassed. "Sorry. Work's been crazy lately."

I was forced into an arranged marriage with Brandon Fuller, and he escaped 99 times. The first time, I was left alone at the beach as I waited for the whole night. The second time, he switched places with a homeless man and left me alone on the stage in humiliation. Brandon finally gave in on the 99th time. However, when I went to him with my wedding dress in my arms, I overheard his conversation with his friends. “Brandon, are you really going to marry your true love seven days later? What about your arranged marriage, are you going to escape that?” Brandon snorted. “I must marry Poppy! As for arranged marriage, I’ll just simply host a fake wedding for her! “She’s the one who caused my older sister’s death! Even though I was in love with her for seven years, she deserves to be stood up!” I froze. It turned out his promise was fake. I turned around without any hesitation. Then, I called home. “Mom, I’m still having that wedding, but please find a new husband for me.”

The next time I saw Chase Reed, it was at a little guesthouse in the Rockies. I'd just finished feeding my son breakfast and was wiping his mouth when Chase came out from the kitchen carrying a tray. Our eyes met. I saw his pupils dilate in shock. Three years had passed. His skin was weathered and reddened from the sun, his face covered in stubble, with new lines etched around his eyes from the harsh elements. Then his gaze landed on my son. He froze mid-step, his eyes going wide with disbelief before flooding with joy. He hurried over, his eyes locked on my little boy. "Sweetheart... can you say 'Daddy'?" I lowered my head, turned sideways, and pulled my son protectively into my arms. Three years ago, when I was five months pregnant, Chase had felt trapped. He decided to hit the road with his buddy — a female friend — and bike across the Rockies. He told me to cut off all contact and give him three years of freedom. From that day on, I cut everything about him out of my life. Including our child.