Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Scumbag Novels

My best friend, Aria Sinclair, develops amnesia after killing my parents in a drunk-driving accident. Somehow, everyone forgives her. My own brother signs a letter of forgiveness on her behalf. The son I nearly died bringing into this world affectionately calls her "Ari". Even my lawyer husband of eight years stands in front of her and defends her. Because I insist on taking her to court, they join forces and have me committed to a psychiatric facility for an entire year. On the day I'm released, Grant Berton comes to pick me up. He says, "Aria has lost her memory. She's changed and turned over a new leaf. Do you really have to demand a life for a life? Can't we forget the past and move on together?" Voices rise around me from every direction, all urging me to let go and forcing me to forgive. I look at the people who are supposedly the closest and dearest to me. Then, I calmly utter one word. "No." This time, I don't scream and rage about sending her to prison. Even when I catch Grant and her together in the bedroom, I don't pick up a knife and drive them out. Instead, I silently speak to the system in my mind. "I give up on the mission." I don't want the wreckage of the past, and I have no interest whatsoever in a future without light.

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

In the three years we've been married, Colin Luther never touches me once. Living in the room next door is Rebecca Jennings, his adopted younger sister with no blood relation to him. She supposedly suffers from severe androphobia. Whenever she sees any man other than Colin, she trembles uncontrollably. Whenever she has nightmares in the middle of the night, Colin immediately leaves me and rushes to her room. So, the master bedroom is given to her. I sleep on a folding bed in the study, and Colin sleeps on the floor outside her door to stand guard. Every week, my mother-in-law, Alicia Brooks, comes by with the soup she made herself. The first thing she does is go into Rebecca's room. Only after that does she spare me a glance. She says, "Nat, remember to hand-wash Becca's underwear. Her skin is sensitive, so it can't go in the washing machine." My father-in-law, Isaac Luther, is even worse. At our last family gathering, he slaps his thigh in front of their relatives and says, "If Becca weren't sick, I'd want her to be my daughter-in-law!" I simply smile while serving the dishes and say nothing. For three years, I endure everything in silence. But yesterday, I find two items hidden beneath Rebecca's pillow. There is the silk camisole that went missing six months ago and a pack of birth control pills with only two tablets left. Androphobia? Well, today is our third wedding anniversary. It's time for a proper celebration.

On the day Christian Starr held his celebratory banquet to celebrate his company going public, I was forced to return to the country. I couldn’t afford my rent abroad anymore, so I had no choice but to take a job as a food delivery rider. Every single eye in the luxury private lounge snapped toward me. It wasn’t until the man sitting right in the center raised his head and his eyes met mine that someone broke the silence with a playful, mocking sneer. “Well, look who it is. Isn’t this Nova, Christian’s little sister who used to follow him around all day long?” “Back when Christian hit rock bottom, she took all her family’s money and fled abroad to live it up. I guess she got tired of the good life and came back to experience how the other half lives, huh?” The room erupted into a chorus of laughter. Feeling completely out of place, I nervously set the gastric medicine I had delivered onto the table and turned around, wanting nothing more than to leave. “Nova.” The deep and familiar voice rang out, forcing my footsteps to a sudden halt. “If you walk out that door right now, I will leave you a one-star review.” One bad review, and my three days’ worth of food delivery was practically for nothing. I could handle starving if I didn’t have money for food, but if I couldn’t pay my rent, I wouldn’t even have a roof over my head. I clenched my fists tightly and forced myself to meet Christian’s eyes once again. “Is there anything else you need, sir?” The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. With his long, slender fingers, he casually knocked over a glass brimming with wine. Then, he pulled out a black card and tossed it onto the table. “Didn’t you always love money? Clean up all the spilled wine on this table with your mouth, and all the cash on this card is yours.”

On my ninety-ninth rebirth, I stopped fighting with the real heiress, Lily Hart. I accepted every false accusation she threw at me and let my relationships with my two childhood friends fall apart. I told myself it was fine. At least Wayne Fall was still on my side. That lasted until Lily's birthday gala, when her gown suddenly slipped and nearly left her exposed in front of everyone. Wayne pulled her into his arms and, for the first time, turned his anger on me. "Do you even remember who you are? You're not a Hart by blood. What makes you think you can compete with Lily?" What he didn't know was that every time I tried to expose Lily, everyone I cared about died in horrifying ways. In the first life, my childhood friend, Adrian Cole, was crushed beneath a freight truck, his skull shattered. In the second, my cousin, Ryan Hayes, fell from a skyscraper and was torn apart on impact. In the third, my fiancé, Wayne, was trapped in a blazing fire and burned alive... Adrian and Ryan threw me into the estate's artificial lake. I couldn't swim. Water flooded my lungs until tears streamed down my face, but no matter how desperately I begged for help, neither of them reacted. By the time my consciousness finally faded away, someone dragged me out of the water. Then I heard them talking. "Looks like she's finally learned her lesson. At least you won't have to keep hypnotizing her anymore, Wayne. I was starting to worry all those pills would fry her brain." "There'll definitely be some cognitive damage... But we didn't have a choice. Lily's the Harts' real daughter. If she refused to give in, she'd end up being pushed out of the family sooner or later." So, the countless "rebirths" I'd experienced were nothing more than an illusion. I'd simply been hypnotized. But I never needed to cling to a place in the Hart family. I had a family of my own too.

Just because I accidentally broke my adopted sister’s bracelet, my brother threw me into the black market to “learn my lesson.” By the time I was rescued, I had been tortured so brutally that I was barely recognizable. It was Elijah York who risked his own life to pull me out of that hellhole. When we finally escaped, his blood had soaked my clothes, yet he held me tightly against his chest and whispered that he would never regret it. For three years after that, I drifted between moments of clarity and bouts of pure madness. I despised myself, constantly feeling dirty and broken, but Elijah always treated me like a princess. Until this day, my mind was, for once, clear. Caressing the tiny new life I had just discovered growing inside my womb, I was overflowing with joy as I hurried to surprise him. However, right outside his office door, I overheard a conversation between him and my brother. “Did you actually catch feelings after playing a part for so long? Don’t forget that in three months, it will be the optimal window for Chloe’s bone marrow transplant.” Elijah let out a low, amused scoff, his tone indifferent. “I’ve been drugging Nora for three years. Everyone thinks she’s completely lost her mind by now. Legally, she is my wife, and I hold full guardianship over her. That’s the only way the bone marrow extraction process remains completely legal and compliant.” I froze right where I stood, the blood freezing in my veins.

On my first day at a new hospital, I treated a pregnant woman in critical condition. With the nurses’ help, we stabilized her condition and safely delivered her baby. As soon as she could speak, she reached for her phone. Her voice was filled with pride as she said, “Honey, I gave birth to a son!” The voice that came through the speaker made me freeze. “Baby, you’re amazing!” Those few words were enough to send me spiraling into despair. I had known that voice for ten years. It belonged to my husband, Liam Stretton.

An app had been making the rounds online lately—one that let you text your future self. Right before the final paper of the SATs, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and fired off a message: [Future me, do I end up marrying Liam Tinsley?] The screen flickered, and a reply from an "Unknown Number" popped up almost instantly: [Yes. You had a big, grand wedding.] I clutched my phone and typed back fast: [And Mia Thompson was my maid of honor, right? She's my best friend!] The response came just as quickly: [She was. But she wasn't just the maid of honor, she slept with Liam on your wedding night.] My smile froze mid-expression. Then a second message hit: [Truth is, you didn't need to go through all that trouble tanking your scores just to match his. He bombed the math section on purpose—so he could end up in the same city as Mia, who was at the bottom of the class.] [He pushed you to turn down that top-tier university—not for your sake, but because he didn't want Mia to feel inferior next to your grades.] The pre-exam warning bell cut through the air. But I was frozen, my body ice-cold, unable to move. One last message slammed into my screen: [If you don't believe me, head straight to the motel behind the school after the test. You'll see the truth for yourself.]

I spent three years on a medical aid mission in Afrikad. During that time, my husband and I could only video call twice a year. In our third year, I missed him so much that I secretly flew home, hoping to surprise him. The moment I opened the front door, I froze. A wedding portrait I had never seen before hung in the living room. In the photo were my husband and another woman. Then, I heard a burst of chatter. As I looked closer, I realized the plants in the house had started talking again. The pothos stretched its vines toward the living room. “She’s back! She’s back! That woman is wearing the doctor’s pajamas again!” The spider plant snickered, “She claimed they were a gift from her best friend last week. That old hag comes up with a new story every few days.” The cactus grumbled, “Quit arguing. She’s bringing that other man over for dinner today. How do you think she’ll explain this to her husband this time?” The pothos replied, “She’ll probably call him her cousin. That’s what she said last time.” Just then, a woman walked out carrying a child. She was startled for a moment when she saw me. “Who are you?” I gave her a faint smile. “I'm Justin's mother.”

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.

On my wedding day, I had just stepped onto the aisle when a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. "Take it all off, and she's got a body on her! Look at her face, like she's enjoying it!" I turned toward the voices and saw my ex-husband's photos of me blown up across the giant screen. They kept changing, one after another, explicit and impossible to ignore. All around the room, phones were already coming up as people started taking pictures. My hands began to shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother collapse. Behind Leon Coleman, Allison Fleming slapped her thigh and raised her voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh, wow. Leon showed these to the guys yesterday, just messing around. Guess they accidentally put it on the big screen. Gemma, you're not gonna make a big deal out of it, right?" The groomsmen laughed. "Come on, Allison. Leon always lets you get away with anything. Gemma had to beg for this wedding. There's no way she'd dare complain." With all those eyes on me, Leon reached for my hand and held it, his tone easy. "Allison's one of my closest friends. We joke around like that. She didn't mean anything by it, so don't take it personally. It's just a few private photos. I'll have someone take them down. It's our wedding day, so just bear with it for now."

The day before the wedding, my fiancé did not show up for the rehearsal. That night, I received a few text messages from him: [Ruby is pregnant. The child isn’t mine.] [But I have to marry her first so that the baby can be registered properly.] [Let’s postpone the wedding for another three years. Don’t contact me during this time.] [Figure out how to explain it to both our families. Whatever you do, don’t damage Ruby’s reputation… Just tell everyone you don't want to get married for now.] I only replied with one word: [Okay.] I no longer wanted this marriage anyway.

At our engagement party, my fiancé’s so-called girl best friend showed up wearing a wedding dress identical to mine and stood next to him as they greeted guests. Everyone assumed she was the bride. I wasn’t angry. Instead, I calmly picked up the microphone that had fallen to the floor and tapped it twice. The next second, the LED wall lit up. The surround-sound system came alive. And every socialite in the city heard the unmistakable moans my fiancé and his “best friend” had made together on a mountain road the night before.

Nicholas Jordan, my fiance, throws a bachelor party three days before our wedding. It is then that his best friend, Clara Gunter, rushes over in a panic, yelling, "You can't marry her, Nicholas!" The people around Nicholas look completely confused. Clara gasps for air before snatching Nicholas' glass and downing its contents. "You said your fiancee has a mysterious background, but I asked my uncle to look into her, and I found out she's a gold digger who cons people into marriage! She has been married thrice and has slept with three other people. "You'd better not behave like a fool and take responsibility for someone else's discarded baggage, Nicholas!" Nicholas' expression shifts for a split second, but he still tries to defend me. "There are so many people with the same name, so it's definitely not my Lillian!" Clara pulls him close against her chest and asks coldly, "Has she brainwashed you? There are only two people by the name of Lillian Naughton around here—one is a gold digger, and the other is the billionaire heiress of the Naughton family. "Do you really think your freeloading fiancee could possibly be the latter one?" I merely sneer at Clara's false accusations. From this moment on, nobody from Gunter Group is ever setting foot inside any retail counter owned by Naughton Group.

I was Johan's secretary for seven years. After another night together, he tossed me a check. "I'm bored with you." I gave him a teasing smile. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" He frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place." My smile froze. He had no idea. I never joked about that. Later, he panicked. By then, it was too late.

My husband, Shawn Payne, goes bankrupt overnight. That very night, he ships me and our son, Tommy Payne, off to a deserted island, claiming it's the only way to keep us safe from his creditors. Worried sick about leaving him to face the danger alone, I sneak back home halfway there, only to find him throwing a wild party, his arms wrapped tightly around a beautiful woman. His best friend, Ryan Foster, needles him. "You dumped your wife and son in the middle of nowhere. How are they going to survive out there?" Shawn shrugs like it's no big deal. "Yvonne's closing down her dog food factory anyway. I had all the surplus kibble repackaged and shipped to the island. It's more than enough to keep them fed for a few years." The woman, Yvonne Sullivan, purrs and snuggles deeper into his chest. "Oh, babe, you're so good to me and the baby," she coos, gently stroking her belly, which isn't even showing yet. He taps the tip of her nose affectionately. "You're so innocent and soft-hearted. If I don't look out for you, who will?" He pulls Yvonne closer and continues, "For your sake, I had to ship that shrew off to some godforsaken island. If she ever found out you were pregnant, she'd tear you apart. Once you have the baby and she turns two, I'll bring them back. By then, it'll be a done deal. There's nothing she can do about it." His words hit me like a ton of bricks. A cold sweat soaks me to the skin. Three years later, right on schedule, he calls. "Hey honey, how are you and Tommy doing? I'm ready to come pick you guys up." I glance at the man beside me, and a rush of satisfaction washes over me. "We're doing great," I reply. "My new husband treats both me and your son incredibly well."

Brandon Hayes had too many enemies, so he asked Hannah Foster to be his public girlfriend until every last one of them was dealt with. "Eleanor, I know this isn't fair to you. I promise we'll get married after I've taken care of all my enemies." I looked at Hannah with concern. "But won't this put her in danger?" Brandon's expression darkened. "I saved her life. She owes me this." The day Brandon proposed to me, I was just about to slip the ring onto my finger when a bullet came flying toward me. Hannah threw herself in front of me. The bullet tore into her abdomen, and blood immediately poured from the wound. The man who had been looking at me with such tenderness shoved me aside without a second glance. He scooped Hannah into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. I looked down at the blood running between my legs. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain as I hailed a cab. "Take me to the hospital."

On the day Owen Mercer and I get married, I place our marriage certificate beside our candlelit dinner. Just as I'm about to take a picture and upload it to social media, Owen suddenly says, "This certificate is fake." I freeze. A woman's startled voice comes through his phone, "Hey! Why did you tell her so soon? You ruined all the fun!" Owen frowns in frustration. "She's been completely clueless this entire time. Is there really any reason to keep pretending? Fine. You win the bet, Ms. McCoy. Are you satisfied now?" But my post has already been shared on social media. Everyone is sending their congratulations to Owen and me, celebrating that we have finally tied the knot after seven years together. The woman on the other end leaves a sarcastic comment, just like how she used to bully me back in the day. "Wow, look at you two finally making it official! So when's the reception? Hehe!" After a moment's thought, I respond, "Next week."

The year I became one of the country's top defense attorneys, I received a case request from my ex-boyfriend, Julian Sterling. We'd loved each other for four years, yet I couldn't marry him, couldn't have children with him, and couldn't even meet his family. All because the Sterling family had a rule: whoever cast nine blessed oracle blocks in a row would be the daughter-in-law recognized by their ancestors. I begged for that blessing a thousand times. Every cast came back cold. Everyone in Harbor City laughed and said I was born without the fortune to marry into wealth. Then my adopted sister returned from overseas, casually cast nine blessed blocks, and became engaged to Julian Sterling. At last, he told me the truth. "I weighted those oracle blocks with lead. No matter how many times you cast them, they were never going to bless you. "Celia had a difficult background. I had to do this to win her the dignity and status she deserved." So the humiliation I endured for four years had all been his way of paving a road for another woman. On the day of the Sterling family's century wedding, I left Harbor City for Capital City and joined a law firm. Now I was a top attorney with a perfect win rate. Julian Sterling, trapped in a legal crisis, sat across from me and pushed over a check. "You're the only one who can win this case. "Take it, and fifty million is yours." I gave a soft laugh. Then I opened my drawer, took out a pair of oracle blocks, and set them in front of him. "The Sterling family has Sterling rules. I have mine. "If you can cast nine blessed blocks in a row, I'll take your case."

At the mall, I bent down to pick up my phone. By the time I stood up, my boyfriend and best friend were already thirty feet ahead of me. I had just wanted to call out, but the place that once belonged to me was slowly being closed. They walked side by side, still discussing investment terms I could not understand. It was as though there had never been anyone between them. In college, Sean and Wendy had been the brightest students in the business school. After graduation, they became the youngest deputy CEOs in the investment banking industry. No matter how hard I worked, I could only manage an administrative job at a small company and barely touched the edge of their world. Sean liked to pinch my cheek. "It's okay. Being a little slow is cute, too." Then, he would turn to Wendy, and the two of them could sketch out an entire merger plan with a single glance. Watching them walk away, I suddenly felt exhausted. I didn't want to keep chasing Sean down a road where I'd always fall behind.