Contos de Romance sobre Plot Twists e Romances com Revenge

Late that night, I came across a post online. [I've been with my boyfriend for seven months. Out of nowhere, he dumped me, saying I got eliminated from the girlfriend selection. That's when I found out that in their rich social circle, it's normal to date a dozen girls at the same time, score them regularly, kick out the lowest, and pick the best one to marry.] It sounded so ridiculous. I couldn't help but jump into the comments and tear into the guy. Then I saw a reply from my boyfriend's secretary, Ayla Butler. [Well, considering his status, it's only fair. For high-value men like him, a selection process makes sense.] I rolled my eyes so hard that it almost hurt. I was just about to fire back when I heard the front door open. Fred Thompson and I had been together for five years. He had always been attentive, gentle, and endlessly patient. I had already made up my mind that the moment he proposed, I would tell him the truth about who I really was, the daughter of the richest man in the country. I never expected to catch a glimpse of his phone lighting up with a message. [You hooked up with Ayla again today? Gave her such a high score, too. Keep this up, and Hannah's gonna lose!]

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.

I put three hundred million dollars into building a business for my brother's first love. They were finally getting married. But two hours before the wedding, the maid of honor suddenly went AWOL. To keep the wedding on track, I dropped a major international deal, booked the next flight out, and flew back immediately. When I arrived, my brother hugged me gratefully and handed me the wedding ring along with a gift box — inside was a necklace, a token he'd promised Celeste. "Sis, I'm counting on you to take care of Celeste's side. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you step in as maid of honor today?" But the moment I walked into the bridal suite, my brother's bride slapped me across the face. "You've got some nerve showing up here, you homewrecking bitch." "You think you can steal my husband at my own wedding? Are you out of your mind?" "Celeste, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I’m Alexander’s sister…" I tried to explain. "Who the hell are you kidding?! My sister-in-law runs a billion-dollar empire. A tramp like you could never." "You want to steal my husband? Fine. Let's see how tough you really are." And just like that, I was tied up and thrown into a pen with a vicious dog. Celeste Davenport — if that's how you want to play it, then enjoy your one-way ticket to the hell.

Seer Corvyn once foretold that House Ashveil would produce a daughter who could see the future. I hid the birthmark I was born with on my forehead, yet my younger sister painted a vivid mark on her forehead every single day. Then, a royal decree came, naming her the Crown Prince, Prince Caelen’s fiancée, and I married Prince Aldric, just like I had wanted. For the next five years, I used my ability to foresee the future to help Aldric rise to power. On the night he ascended the throne, I finally wiped away the layers of makeup and told him my secret. However, instead of relief, he flew into a rage. He carved the flesh from my forehead and had me executed. “Leanora, how dare you imitate Rosalind’s birthmark? If you hadn’t chosen me first, she would never have been forced to marry Caelen! She should have been my true queen! For five years, every moment I touched you has disgusted me. You shall die in her place.” When I opened my eyes again, Aldric burst in, cutting off Seer Corvyn mid-sentence. “How can a mark prove that Rosalind is the chosen one?” “I’m willing to use the blank royal decree Father once granted me to marry the Lord Chancellor’s illegitimate daughter, Rosalind Ashveil.”

Three years ago, during a critical moment of a business negotiation, the proprietary data I personally compiled ended up becoming the weapon that secured the victory for my business rival. I was taken away on the charges of leaking corporate secrets—and my girlfriend, Kelly Stone, smugly flashes the proprietary data at me, mocking me for my foolishness. After being given a five-year prison sentence, I suffered endless torture behind bars and died from the internal injuries. However, I got to witness everything that happened following my death. Whitney Evans, a college senior of mine who had a thing for me, did everything in her power to clear my name. She sold her company and pursued every avenue she could. In the end, after losing everything, she cried herself unconscious at my grave. Then, suddenly, my eyes opened again. I saw Kelly sneaking a USB drive into her handbag before turning to leave. I grabbed the USB drive from her and looked her in the eye, warning, "What you're doing is against the law, Kelly. I advise you to watch yourself from now on. Also, it's over between us. Don't even set foot inside my office again." Immediately, I went looking for Whitney. Three years have passed since then. In that time, I've managed to secure success in both career and love. It won't be long before I complete the acquisition of my company's business rival, Havenshire Group. Yet, the night before the official signing, I drink a glass of milk that Whitney gives me. My body swiftly goes weak, and I collapse on the couch. When I regain consciousness, I find myself lying on the floor with my hands and feet bound in metal chains. I can hear Kelly's and Whitney's voices ringing loud and clear. "No one will be able to see that you forged Caleb's signature for the share transfer agreement with Sam as the recipient, right?" "We'll just keep Caleb locked up here, so who's going to know that the signature is forged? His company has been expanding too quickly. We can't let him ruin Sam. It's all your fault, anyway, Kelly. I wouldn't have had to waste all those years on Caleb if you'd just stolen the data back then!" Taking in my restraints, I let out a self-deprecating smile. All along, I believed that Whitney and I loved each other. Turns out I've just been deluded this whole time. If Kelly and Whitney care about Samuel Gibson that much, they'd better spend every moment of their lives guarding him from now on. I'm going to do everything in my power to destroy him!

My boyfriend, Terry Bolton, comes from a rich family. He has a female childhood friend. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven, but he swore he only loved me and Sarah Horst was just his simp. He asked her to buy us condoms in the rain, but when he saw her soaking wet, he kicked me out. "Why did you take so long to open the door? You know she gets sick easily." My graduation thesis was ruined by Sarah's clumsiness. I asked her to apologize, but he yelled at me. "She's just a little clumsy. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" In the four years that I dated him, I endured again and again until, one day, a DUI hit-and-run case made headlines. Terry kicked my door open while hugging the distressed Sarah. "If you take the blame for her, I'll find the best doctors from all over the world for your mother. After all, you still have me, but if she goes to prison, her life is ruined." Looking at his anxious face, I chuckled. Did he forget that I'm a Harvard law graduate? Screw this relationship. I decided not to endure it anymore. She's going to prison for sure.

The mountain has gotten sealed due to the heavy blizzard. As the only driver who has cleared the winding mountain road with 72 bends repeatedly without a casualty under my belt, I've received a ten-million-dollar rescue order to rescue someone at the end of the treacherous road. Ten years ago, I had been there once. Back then, my daughter, Hannah Reed, and her classmates were met with a storm turbulence when they went parachuting. Left without a choice, they activated the emergency landing protocols. But Hannah, my darling daughter whom I had doted on and loved for 17 years, ended up dying there due to the search and rescue team not arriving in time. Later on, I found out that my wife, Grace Ellwood, completely disregarded Hannah's safety. Instead, she chose to dump a million dollars into rerouting the entire search and rescue team to another route, where they ended up rescuing Grace's first love, Elias Quinn's daughter, Kiara Quinn. The thing was, Kiara had merely twisted her ankle from climbing the mountain that day. After Hannah's death, I give up on my prestigious career as a professor and retreat all the way to this place willingly as a low-income driver. Since then, I keep driving down the road of death over and over again, with my life hanging on the balance. I take the time to remember every single bend of the road. For the next ten years, no one else dies on this mountain. Today, my best friend, Julian Hayes, issues me the ten-million-dollar rescue request. Apparently, I am to set off immediately.

Lily Thornton was the underprivileged student I'd sponsored for a full ten years. From middle school through college, I covered every penny of her tuition and living expenses. I treated her like my own little sister. When she was diagnosed with a rare disease, I even begged my husband, Graham Forsythe -- Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery -- to personally operate on her. But on the day of her college graduation ceremony. I went to her apartment early to surprise her. And found Graham pressing her into the sofa, tenderly kissing her slightly swollen belly. "Graham, if Serena finds out about our baby, do you think she'll cut off my medication?" Graham pulled her into his arms, his voice laced with that condescending patience of his. "Don't worry. Serena is the kind of woman who's so rational she's practically cold-blooded. She'd never understand the soul-deep connection we share -- two people saving each other." "But to protect my reputation as department chief, she'll fall in line." "Once I get that one-of-a-kind clinical trial slot for the new drug, I'll divorce her and give you and the baby a real home." I stood outside the door, staring at the freshly stamped Phase-I clinical trial authorization in my hand. I didn't push the door open. I didn't make a scene. I simply, with perfect calm, tore it to shreds and dropped the pieces into the trash can beside me. Graham Forsythe. You couldn't have imagined this in your wildest dreams. That clinical trial slot your entire hospital had pulled every string to secure. Its lead research scientist was none other than your wife. The one you mocked for being so rational she was cold-blooded.

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.

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.

To help my wife, Mia Lowell, through labor, I blew a fortune on the latest paternity-linked pain transfer device. Right before she went into the delivery room, Mia grabbed my hand. Tears streamed down her face. "Honey, if it gets too painful, turn it off. I can't stand watching you suffer." A nurse gave me one last reminder. "Sir, the device automatically transfers the pain to the baby's biological father through DNA matching. Please be prepared." The device switched on. I felt nothing. Not a twinge. Just as I started wondering if I'd gotten scammed, a scream ripped through the hallway. Ryan Duffy. My best friend dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach. "Aaaagh!" A second later, my boss Andy Drake, who'd stopped by with a fruit basket, staggered out of the elevator with both hands between his legs. Then came Luke Foley, a yoga coach seeing a doctor across the hall. He was flat-out rolling on the floor, howling. Inside the delivery room, Mia's weak voice drifted out. "Honey, thank you for taking all this pain for me!" I looked at the three guys writhing in agony. Then I quietly turned the device all the way up. Max load. Holding my breath, I shouted toward the delivery room. "I-I'm fine. I can still... take it."

I've infiltrated into a private group chat called "The Domestication Project". The group owner is in the middle of spamming her experience of her destroying her husband's mental willpower. "I've secretly swapped out my husband's anti-depressants for something else. Every day, I keep telling him that he's a useless, pathetic loser. Once he's hopelessly dependent on me, I'll have him thrown into a mental hospital and take over his company naturally." All the group members keep praising the group owner for being a total professional in gaslighting her husband. Soon, they start asking for her methods and experience. I tap on the photo of an experimental journal that the group owner has just sent. To my shock, the name listed on the mental health report with a diagnosis of severe depression is actually my own! As for the haughty group owner, she's Sophie Hayes, my wife of ten years! Yesterday, that woman told me with red-rimmed eyes that she'd rather go bankrupt just to cure me of my depression! It turns out that her devotion and love toward me for the past ten years is nothing but a grand yet cruel plot to murder me slowly! Since Sophie wants me to get reduced into a lunatic who has lost all of his marbles, then I shall put on an insane show for her. After that, I lock the doors in the mansion and dump the gasoline that I've just bought all over the living room.

In order to save up money for my marital home, I go to great lengths to book five surgeries in order to treat my array of ailments and illnesses on the same day just so I can save up on the money meant for my painkillers. Because of that, I become a living legend in the hospital. But one day, I see my girlfriend, Jayne Atkinson, who's a penniless nobody like me, chatting with someone else in the VIP area of the hospital. For some reason, I decide to trail behind Jayne secretly. Jayne and her friends keep chatting with each other without a care in the world. "Why is it that rich women like you love acting in a drama where you fall in love with the commoner? Both you and Bianca do the same thing! Seriously, Jayne, when are you telling that guy the truth?" Jayne merely shrugs back. "Honestly speaking, Bianca is the only one who's ever fallen for Edison. The reason why I decided to date him is that I was worried that Bianca would break my childhood friend's heart by seeking Edison out." The answer leaves me rooted to the spot. My mind begins buzzing loudly. Bianca Lambert is my ex-girlfriend who has dumped me all of a sudden. Back then, everyone mocked me for punching above my weight and called me a pathetic loser trying to climb the social ladder. Bianca kicked me out of her life by dumping a glass of red wine onto me. Since then, I just want to be with a regular woman, whom I can spend the rest of my life with. Who would've thought that I've gotten tricked by another woman instead?

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.

In my previous life, Timothy Yance's female best friend, Selina Sunther, provoked me during my and Timothy's anniversary dinner. "Rosalie, Timothy got super drunk two days ago, and I was the one who helped him change his underwear. But we're really close buddies, so don't think too much about it." I completely lost my composure at that time, resulting in me hurling my wedding ring away and tearing the marriage certificate into pieces. Later on, I gave up on all of our joint assets just so I could stay away from the shameless pair. In the end, I died in a rehabilitation center located in another country. No one bothered to reach out to me at all. After I got buried, Timothy and Selina worked together to build their business empire. Everyone sang praises about their ethereal love for each other. While people were envious of them for being such a perfect couple, they showed nothing but disdain and mockery toward me when I was mentioned. "Timothy's ex-wife never knew how to appreciate him. No wonder she wasn't worthy of him." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the anniversary dinner. This time, I just smile serenely at Selina instead of breaking down. Then, I turn to link arms with my male best friend, Calvin Solt, whom I've specifically invited to dinner. I even rest my cheek on his chest. Timothy's expression changes drastically, whereas Selina's smile freezes on her face. Calvin merely smiles faintly before he raises his glass to Timothy as a toast. "Don't misunderstand our relationship, Timothy. Rosalie and I have known each other for 20 years, so we're used to taking care of each other. "Heck, I was also the one taking care of Rosalie the whole time on our first night together, be it in bed or the aftercare."

The risks of my mom's heart transplant surgery are very high. My wife, Wendy Lowell, is known to be a miracle doctor. Everyone advises me to convince her to perform the surgery on Mom. But when I arrive at the hotel Wendy is staying at, I witness her assistant, Hayden Sterling, changing her panties for her. I glare at Wendy angrily. "Wendy, if you agree to perform the surgery on my mom right now, I'll let you off the hook this time!" But Wendy slowly wraps her arms around Hayden's neck right in front of me. "What are you looking at? Are you threatening me?" She picks up her phone on the spot. "Switch off the oxygen machine for Finn's mother right now." My eyes go bloodshot as I grip the door frame tightly. "Wendy Lowell, that's your mother-in-law! Karma will definitely bite you in the ass!" Wendy goes into an outburst as soon as she hears me. "Shut up! If it wasn't for the fact that the hag found out about me and Hayden, our affair wouldn't have gotten leaked to the public! "All I did is turn off your mom's oxygen machine, Finn! I didn't refuse the surgery! Once I've cooled off, I'll go ahead and carry out the surgery!" Then, Wendy orders her bodyguards to throw me out of the hotel. I scramble up to my feet in a wretched manner, though my hands have already balled into fists. Soon, I send a newly drafted text as an unknown number. "Dr. Lowell has suffered from bone fractures all over her body. She's currently at…"

On my wedding day, my husband's female bestie showed up holding a torn bridesmaid dress and accused me of assaulting her in front of all our guests. I had no way to defend myself, so I turned to my husband for help. Instead, he looked at me with fake disappointment and publicly labeled me a lesbian. Then, to get his hands on my family's assets, he had me committed to a psychiatric hospital, where I was tortured and humiliated. I barely managed to escape, only to die in a car accident they'd carefully planned. It wasn't until my final moments that I found out the truth—the torn bridesmaid dress wasn't evidence of my crime. It was proof of their affair in the stairwell moments before the ceremony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my dressing room, minutes before the wedding. This time, I'm going to make sure those two pay for everything.

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.

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.

Five minutes before the ceremony, I called off the wedding. In my last life, right in the middle of our vows, Sandra Crowe suddenly demanded another 300 thousand dollars as a "marriage guarantee." She pulled out her phone in front of everyone, chin tipped up, a payment screen glowing. "Three hundred thousand! Not a dollar less, or I'm not putting on that ring." Ten years together, and we were right at the finish line. I forced myself to go through with it and transferred the money. It was what Dad had scraped together over two years for his kidney transplant. That same night, his condition crashed. I went to Sandra and asked if she could lend me the money back for his treatment. She yelled at me instead. "You're asking me for money on our wedding night? Seriously? That 300 grand is mine! Don't even think about touching it!" Dad missed his window and died in the hospital hallway. The day he died, Sandra was out shopping with her friends, dropping thousands on a Chanel bag without a second thought. "Good. One less burden. At least he won't drag us down anymore." When I filed for divorce, she brought her guy friend to the funeral and made a scene, knocking over Dad's urn and damaging the headstone. Then she turned around and accused me of sexual assault, demanding 500 thousand in damages. Mom couldn't take it. She drank pesticide and died. On my way to pursue the case, I was hit by a car. When I opened my eyes again, I called off the wedding. Then Sandra stepped closer, already pulling up her payment screen. "Transfer me three hundred thousand as a marriage guarantee, or we're not getting married." I tossed the ring into the trash. "Works for me."