Historias cortas de Feel-Good Story Romance y novelas con Scheming

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"

Before the wedding, my fiancé disappeared while camping with friends. I searched for him for an entire month, nearly losing my mind. But on Valentine's Day, a week before our wedding, I saw him at a romantic restaurant, hugging and kissing his childhood sweetheart. Jayden Corrick held the woman in his arms and said softly, "If this goes on, I don't even want to go back and marry Leah." Sophie Muller asked if he regretted disappearing—if he truly didn't plan on going back. He hesitated for a moment. "No regrets. Let's stay one more week. Our parents will cover for us anyway. When she's completely driven mad with worry, I'll show up again." I stood hidden among the crowd, watching their closeness, and gave a bitter smile. The next moment, I called home. "Don't bother looking for Jayden anymore. I'm never marrying him."

After my 99th confession, my childhood best friend, Michael Leight, finally says yes. I am overjoyed, believing that my years of unrequited love have finally paid off. But when I walk past the pantry, I overhear him speaking tenderly to our family chef, Tahlia Duvey. "Once I take everything from the Kingstons, I'll kick that idiot Ariel to the curb and throw us a grand wedding. Everything here will be yours." My heart feels like a sword has been plunged into it. That night, I storm into Grandpa's study and point at a photo of the Gordon family's heir—Charles, known for always keeping his distance from women. "Grandpa! I want to marry him!" I announce.

On the day of our engagement, as we were driving to the banquet hall, a man holding a few-month-old baby stepped in front of our car. My first thought was that it was some kind of scam. I was about to get out and deal with him when I saw the panic on his face. "Cassidy," he said desperately, "our baby won't stop crying. Do you think something's wrong?" The moment she heard that, my fiancée shoved me out of the car. She took off with them without a single glance back. I just stood there in shock. So this was the truth. She'd been hiding a child with her ex all along. Alone, I went to the banquet hall to handle what remained of our celebration. Later, she called. "I feel terrible about this," she said. "I thought if I gave him the baby and gave you the marriage, it would balance things out. But when Stanley showed up today, I realized—he's the only one I want." I was done with her games. If that's how she felt, I'd walk away. So I made a simple phone call. "Grandma, I'm coming home. I'm ready to run the family business now."

My fiance's precious childhood crush, Amber Sweeney, was in a political union with the infamous Julian Grant, heir to the Grant family empire and a notorious playboy. Unable to stand the thought of Amber being "sacrificed", Ryan Carter barged into her wedding to stop it. They registered their marriage that day, making headlines across the city. The whole of D.C.'s elite waited to watch me and the Grant family become the city's biggest joke. What they didn't expect was that on the very next day, Julian would roll up to my company in his high-key sports car, leaning against the hood like he had all the time in the world. "Your fiance stole my bride. You'll be repaying that debt by marrying me. Fair trade, right?" I stared at his blazing red hair and wild grin, and smiled back coolly. "Sounds fair to me."

Everyone in the business world knew that Jessa Darling was Sawyer Pitt’s ace. With Jessa around, the Pitt Group could win any business negotiation. Sawyer loved Jessa and would give up his life for her. At least, that was something even Jessa believed. She had unhesitatingly shot herself five times for the Pitt Group when stuck in the Golden Frontier. In Mejika, she drank with a supplier until she ended up puking blood. Every time, she thought that Sawyer would be waiting for her return. That was until she found Sawyer looking at a bodyguard with intense love in his eyes. He said that it was sympathy for the woman, but he did not know that every look gave lie to that sentiment.

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."

When I wake up, I find out that my childhood friend, Brandon Moore, is the one lying next to me instead of my husband, Jake Watson. Angrily, I berate Brandon for betraying his wife, Rachel Schneider. But he asks me in confusion, "Aren't you my wife? Are you rambling drunken nonsense, or are you having a fever? "Rachel is already married and has a child of her own. Don't go around pinning the bigamy crime on me for no reason!" I'm stunned, to say the least. Brandon and Rachel are a loving married couple, and yet here he is, telling me that they aren't married at all. Just as I'm about to call Brandon a jerk, I raise my head to see the wedding portrait. It features me and Brandon. Cold sweat soon rolls down my forehead. I ask Brandon tentatively, "Then… do you still remember my husband, Jake Watson?" In the past, Brandon used to be best friends with Jake. Both families even have a betrothal pact with each other. But Brandon angrily accuses me of cheating on him with another man. He even claims that he doesn't know Jake at all. The thing is, Jake and I have been married for ten years. How the hell is it possible for Brandon to not know Jake at all? Thinking that Brandon is lying to me, I show Jake's photo to my parents and everyone around me. They all tell me that they've never seen Jake before, and they even claim that Brandon is the one I've been married to for ten years. I refuse to accept this reality, which causes me to go dazed all the time. Gradually, I go crazy overtime. Because of that, Brandon files for a divorce from me. My parents soon admit me into a mental hospital. After dying a terrible death from the electric therapy, I open my eyes to see that I've returned to the day Brandon becomes my husband.

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."

After I get abducted to Paradise Island, I've attempted escape twice so far in order to avoid becoming the rich's plaything. The first time I get caught, on that very same night, I receive a video of my fiancee, Lucille Hoffman, getting torn into pieces by a school of piranhas. The second time I get caught, my older sister, Edith Cox, whom I've relied on since I was young, gets mutilated by the kidnappers on a cruise ship. Driven by despair, I agree to bind myself to a system. "As long as you earn enough points, you can revive your lover and your sister." From that day onward, I shed my pride and ego. I allow the electrified collar to dig deep into my neck. I keep getting tormented time and again until I lose consciousness. After undergoing yet another organ transplant that's forced onto me, I stare at the points, which are enough for me to revive Lucille and Edith. That's when a trace of hope emerges from my heart. Just as I'm about to hit the "confirm" button with a trembling finger, I hear a burst of laughter coming from a corner. "That idiot actually thinks he's bound to a system! He's still working hard to gather points just to revive his sister and his fiancee! Little does he know that Paradise Island, their deaths, as well as the system, are all big fat lies!" "I know, right? The rich really have a way of grooming people, huh? Apparently, Ms. Cox and Ms. Hoffman faked their deaths and created a fake system for this guy just because he had slapped Mr. Trenton back then and refused to apologize to him or admit his mistake. That's why they put on this act in order to teach him a lesson and make him yield to them." "Shh! Drop this topic for now! Ms. Cox and Ms. Hoffman are here to check on the training progress…" I feel as though I've plunged into an icy abyss. My ears begin ringing from shock and disbelief. That's when the poison I've taken in advance starts kicking in. Before I know it, blood begins streaming down the corner of my mouth uncontrollably. Just as my vision is going dark, someone kicks the door open.

When my husband from the arranged marriage lost his memory, I couldn't resist messing with him. “Adrian. Say 'Boss.'“ The man in the hospital bed hugged his pillow and looked up at me like a good little boy. “Boss.” I nodded, satisfied. Perfect. A whole year of marriage, and he never once called me his wife. One car crash, and he'd been demoted to calling me Boss. Adrian and I had an arranged marriage. I did it for my family's dying factory. After the wedding he was colder than the fridge. We slept in separate rooms. He wouldn't eat my cooking and wouldn't take my calls. He even saved my number in his phone as “the Bell girl.” I lived in the Crane house more carefully than the hired help. His mother thought I was poor. His aunt thought I was trash. Adrian thought I was an eyesore. Then came the crash. A clot pressing on the nerves in his brain. The doctor said his mind had rolled back to about six years old. I looked at the man in the bed, clutching my sleeve and refusing to let go, and on the inside, I was glowing. Payback. My moment had finally come. I wanted money. I wanted revenge. I wanted a divorce and a clean getaway.