Cerita Pendek & Novel Ruthless Romance

In the third year of her marriage to Anthony Lancaster, Simone Nolan is still the envy of every woman in Avenport. "Mr. Lancaster treats Mrs. Lancaster so well! Last time, she just coughed once, and he immediately gave her a full physical." "She married the nation's most authoritative doctor, after all. May I be this blissful in my next life!" Simone smiles, long used to the nurses' chatter. She's about to push the door open when she hears an argument inside. She falters. "Mr. Lancaster, are we still going to terminate Mrs. Lancaster's pregnancy later? This is already the third time!" "I've already told you that whenever Simone gets pregnant, an abortion has to be performed, no matter how many times." Anthony's cool voice pierces Simone's ears. Her face instantly becomes ashen. "But why? She has always wanted to have your children." Anthony's tone is icily sharp. "It's because of that surgery three years ago. I removed one of Simone's kidneys and gave it to Winona."

On my son’s birthday, my husband had asked his first love to pick our son up from our home. While I stubbornly refused to let him go, a huge fire broke out in the hallway during our standoff. I was struck by falling debris, and blood started streaming from my head. However, my son was unharmed as he lay beneath me. My husband, who was a firefighter, came forward to rescue us. But he handed the only gas mask he had to his first love. “Miss Leia has a weaker constitution. Dad, please get her out first. Mom, wait for the other firefighters to save you!” I watched them leave with a faint, bitter smile. It appeared that they had both forgotten my severe asthma and the fact that I would die without a gas mask.

My family has always seen me as a lunatic. The day I catch Tiffany Egan cheating on me, I jump from the fifth floor with her in my arms. She survives, while I become a coma patient. From then on, that man makes a point of getting intimate with her right beside me every night, all to get back at me. In the first year, whenever Tiffany mentions me, her voice will catch with resentment. She says dying together would've been letting me off too easily. In the second year, she bites down on him in the heat of the moment and says she wants to set the three of us on fire and let us all burn to death. By the third year, they barely talk about me anymore. They spend most of their time calculating her ovulation cycle and picking a date for their wedding. The day they finally get married, I wake up. Under the harsh sunlight, Tiffany, visibly pregnant, rises onto her toes to accept a kiss from my best friend, Dominic Green. I lift my thin, frail hands and clap along with my old friends. The applause is so out of place that it startles everyone. My older sister, Sophia Young, is the first to rush over and block my way. She warns me coldly, "Don't start going crazy again, Zachary. Tiffany and Dominic registered their marriage years ago. If it weren't for you, they wouldn't have had to wait until today for their wedding." Dominic is Mom's prized student. She has always favored him. "Zachary, just think of Tiffany as having died three years ago when you jumped with her. Please, let them be happy." My eyes pass over Tiffany's anguished face, and I slowly nod. But the moment Dominic speaks, my empty stomach clenches on instinct. I grab the knife from the cake beside me. Three years of suffering is more than enough. I want something sweet for a change. I'm ready to let them go this time, but unfortunately, they don't believe I'm sane.

On the eve of my wedding, I was run over by my fiance's childhood friend. My life was in danger. My best friend tried to call my fiance, but he hung up directly. He sent her a text message. "Ruth is sick. I don't have time." My best friend then called her boyfriend who happened to be a well-connected celebrity. However, he said, "Ruth is sick. She needs me by her side right now." After a night of resuscitation, we looked at each other in the ward and spoke at the same time. "I don't want to get married." To our surprise, both our fiances went crazy when they found out we called off our weddings.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

I catch the eye of a talent scout on the street and am sent abroad for training. However, as soon as I land, my passport is snatched away. I'm even locked into a cage. The people who beat me up tell me death is the only path for people who disobey orders at Elder Corporation. But if my memory serves me correctly, Elder Corporation is the name of my fiancé's company abroad.

I was pregnant and due any day. Austin Revelstone, my husband, had a sugar baby named Tawny Sully. Each time they renewed their arrangement, money came into my mother’s special care account. One day, he stayed a little longer to talk to me. Because of it, he was one minute late for his date with Tawny. Tawny was upset. She threw a tantrum and threatened to terminate their agreement. She would only stay if I aborted my baby. So, Austin slid the abortion form and a check for three million dollars across the table to me. “Please, just sign it. We can always have another kid. If Tawny cries anymore, she’ll get wrinkles.” He looked calm and unbothered. It was as if he were just talking about the weather. I raised my head and looked at him in disbelief. I trembled for a long time. Then, I finally signed my name on the abortion form. I wiped my tears and gave the check back to him. I made one additional request. “Let’s make that fake divorce certificate real this time.” I no longer needed his financial support for my mother’s surgery.

A flash flood swept down from the mountains, causing me to become caught in a car crash. As five steel bars pierced through me, I could feel my blood pouring out in torrents as my life hung by a thread. My husband rushed to the scene. Instead of coming to me, he cradled his true love from the passenger seat and walked away. He didn't even glance in my direction. I was in and out of the ICU three times, clinging to life. Not once did he visit me. His attention was wholly fixed on the girl, who only had a mild concussion. After nearly ten years of deceiving myself, I couldn't keep playing the fool any longer. The day I was discharged, I asked my husband, Dominic Davis, for a divorce. I had survived by sheer luck, and I wasn't about to waste any more time with a husband who didn't love me.

To cure our daughter's pancreatic cancer, I made a deal with the System, trading the rest of my life for a miracle drug. My husband called me insane to my face, but secretly gave the medicine to his mistress to treat her facial scar. When I was falling apart in despair, he had the audacity to explain: "Vicky has dreams of becoming a star. She's already 24, she can't wait any longer. "Besides, didn't you get that drug by sleeping around? How could a housewife like you possibly get such high-end medicine on your own? If you want to save our daughter, why don't you go whore yourself out again? It's not like it'll kill you, right?" But the truth is, I really don't have another life to trade for another dose.

The day I agree to marry James Hunt, he is eager to announce our love to the whole world. Later, when I get pregnant, he even acquires a hospital so that I can rest easy and focus on the baby. But during a checkup in my sixth month, I overhear a chilling conversation. "Mr. Hunt, the baby's developing well, but it's too large. The delivery could put the mother's life at risk." James only laughs, cold and unbothered. "So what if she dies? I only married her to give me children." The smile on my face freezes, and it feels like I have been plunged into ice. His next words cut me even deeper. "She pushed Natasha into the water, and now Natasha can never have children. This is nothing but her retribution." The perfect happiness I think I have is nothing more than a lie. So, I quietly register at another hospital and schedule an abortion. James, I hope you live to regret this.

Hadden's sister had merely choked on some water at the pool while she was swimming, and for that, he shoved me into the pool after tying me up. He left me with only a small hole for air that was barely an inch. He said I would have to pay double for every grievance Julia suffered. I never learned how to swim. There was nothing I could do but try my best to breathe as I sobbed and begged him to let me out. Yet all I received was a lecture. "You'll never learn if I don't teach you a lesson now." I struggled to stay afloat, but… It took five days before Hadden's anger dissipated and he put me out of my misery, but it was already too late. "I'll let you go this time, but you'd better not make the same mistake again!" I had already drowned to death.

I died the night before my wedding to Christopher. But on the wedding day, a giant screen showed photos of me in bed with another man. In a fit of rage, Christopher smashed the screen and got engaged to my sister, Elizabeth. When my father informed him of my disappearance, Christopher sneered. “Disappeared? With the disgusting things she has done, she’s probably too ashamed to show her face!” My brother joined in with a scornful yell. “She hurt Liz, and now she has done such shameless things. I refuse to acknowledge such a wicked sister!” The shock and anger led to a fatal stroke, and my father died right there. Since then, I was despised by everyone in Cloud City. What they did not know was that it was the seemingly gentle Elizabeth who had brutally stabbed me to death and dumped my body in the river. Two months later, a fisherman found my body washed ashore.

To cure my husband Samuel Harding's condition, I chose to major in urology, specifically male urology, when deciding on my field of study in college. After graduating, I became an andrologist. Yet, even after successfully treating Samuel, he wasn’t grateful. Instead, he secretly mocked me, calling me the ‘Master of Fixing Men’s Private Parts,’ and admitted that the thought of me made him feel sick. So, I calmly decided on divorce. However, on the eve of our divorce, he changed his mind.

Mark Carlson and I had been a secret couple for three years. He was nothing but my boss at work. But at home, he treated me however he pleased, with no regard for my feelings. One day, I noticed him researching marriage. My heart leapt with joy. I prepared my proof of identity and other relevant documents, thinking he was finally ready, but he went to the marriage registration office with another woman. "You're married now. You should clean up things at home quickly,” one of his friends said, grinning. "Yeah, I should. But honestly, she does not have to leave entirely,” Mark replied with a smirk. I watched as everyone laughed, their faces filled with delight. Tears streamed down my face as I turned away. I pulled out my phone and called my childhood friend, Andy Selton. "You wanted to marry me, didn't you?” I asked, my voice trembling. Later, two weddings were held on the same day. Mark's face filled with regret as he stared at my wedding photo with Andy. In the middle of his ceremony, he left his bride behind and drove to find me. But by then, I was already married to my husband!

My adopted sister, Jasmine, lost a million dollars in a bad investment scheme. On that fateful day, a disgruntled client showed up before us, furious that his entire life's savings had disappeared overnight and desperate to exact his revenge. When my boyfriend, Connor Sanders, showed up to rescue us, both of us reached a pleading hand to him in fear, but he swatted mine away and snarled, "Rosie, cut the crap! I know you're just faking, and you better stop, or else karma will come back to you! Jasmine has a heart condition, so I'll need to send her to the hospital right away!" Faking it? If only he knew the truth—that the unfortunate daughter born with a congenital heart disease was, in fact, me! On the day of my funeral, my boyfriend Connor wept upon my grave and blinded himself out of remorse. From that day onwards, Connor "Hawk-Eye" Sanders would live in eternal darkness.

My billionaire wife had just given birth when I was abducted and trapped in a sick, underground survival game. While I was sprinting through the woods with our newborn strapped to my back, Scarlett’s best friend’s voice boomed through the PA speakers. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your newborn and Damian? What are you doing here? Is your lover boy starting drama again?” Scarlett chuckled, her voice full of resigned affection. “Yeah. Jayden demanded some real entertainment. Damian thinks I have urgent work to take care of at the office, so he practically pushed me out the door while the kid was having surgery. He’s a sweet, naive idiot.” I tapped against the security camera lens, desperate to get Scarlett’s attention, but Jayden’s terrified scream distracted her into hitting the shock button on her remote control. The high-voltage electricity ran through me, and our newborn choked up blood, staining the earth. I curled around our son, sobbing in despair. As footsteps crunched closer, the high-rollers raised their stakes. It was a bet to see who would survive to the very end.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?

My husband and I go on a road trip back to my hometown before Christmas. I want to ride shotgun, but he chases me to the backseat so his female colleague can sit in front. He says, "Isabel gets carsick easily. You are my wife, so you should be more considerate of her." He seems to have forgotten that I'm pregnant—my morning sickness is at its peak. Halfway through the journey, he and Isabel Slater start smoking. They make me throw up. The smell disgusts them, and my husband wants to teach me a lesson. He and Isabel leave me at the rest stop. Unbeknownst to them, my family is already waiting there. This time, I'm going back with them and getting an abortion and divorce. Later, my husband is filled with regret when he learns the child is gone.

I'm waiting for my wife, Sophia Young, to pick me up. My colleague, Tony Shaw, who habitually hitches a ride with us, stays with me. He complains incessantly, "Why isn't your wife here yet? It's freezing cold! I'd prefer to be home by today!" He lives in the western part of the city. Every time we drive him home, Sophia has to make a large detour. However, my stomach is killing me that day, so I politely break things to him while cradling my stomach. "Tony, I'm not feeling well today and would like to get home early to rest. You should take a taxi home yourself. I'll let you hitch a ride next time." Tony snorts coldly and walks away. I wait downstairs for another 30 minutes, only to receive a call from Sophia. She informs me, "Traffic along the street outside your office is unusually congested. I've stopped the car at the intersection up ahead, so come find me there." I venture into the rain to find her car while struggling to keep the umbrella up and open. When I open the car door, I realize it's already filled with her colleagues and there's no space for me. Sophia rolls the window halfway down and points at the blond-haired man drying his hair with a towel in the front passenger seat. She explains, "Ian saw his friend at the intersection just now. The handsome young man looked rather pitiful soaking in the rain, so I gave him a lift. Your company's close by anyway, so why don't you head back in there first? I'll come back to pick you up once I've sent them home." The storm ruins my umbrella, and rain gets in my eyes, making them sting painfully. As I gaze at Sophia's packed car, I find that my marriage to her suddenly feels incredibly meaningless.

The day before the World Piano Masters Competition, I was kidnapped, and my tendons were deliberately severed. Endorsements were swiftly terminated. Advertisers, once eager to work with me, turned instead to my rival. Crushed under the weight of betrayal and despair, I spiraled into a deep depression. Just when I was at my lowest, Carl Manos appeared. He not only paid off all my breach-of-contract penalties but also sought out top specialists to treat my damaged hand. Later, he knelt on one knee and solemnly proposed. I saw him as my salvation, the light that pierced through my darkness. Without hesitation, I let Carl slip the ring onto my finger. Two years later, my hand had fully recovered. I rushed to the study, eager to share the good news, only to overhear a chilling conversation. "Carl, if you hadn't arranged for someone to sever Reily's tendons, my sister never would've had the chance to win the competition and land those endorsements. I'll never forget what you did for us." There was a pause. Then came Carl's indifferent reply, "I simply helped Lucy achieve her dream. Breaking a woman's tendons in exchange for that is nothing." So this was the truth. The marriage I took such pride in… was nothing but a cold, calculated nightmare. Since that was the case, there was nothing left for me here. It was time to leave.