Plot Twists Short Stories & Ruthless Marriage Novels

My wife doesn't love me. She doesn't love our child either. On the day our son is born, she doesn't even look at him. She just drops him into my arms. Later, her first love returns. For the first time, the cold, distant woman drinks herself drunk at home. She laughs as she holds our son in her arms, and he wraps his arms around her neck in surprise. "Daddy, what's wrong with Ms. Sutton?" he whispers afterward. I kneel and hold him close. My eyes are red as I explain, "Someone Ms. Sutton loves has come back. We shouldn't bother her anymore. It's time for us to move out."

My fiancee tossed me onto a remote island just because I accidentally smashed the cup of my adopted brother. "Please, let me go home, Yvonne Johnson! There are beasts here! I'll die!" I kept pleading until my phone was dead. The only response I got was, "I'll let you go after Harold's not angry anymore." A month later, Harold joked with his friends, "I bet Christian's looking real primitive now. How about we check him out?" The only thing left on the island was a skeleton that wore my clothes.

My husband is the Don of the entire New York East Coast Mafia. For ten years, I dimmed my own light to be his perfect silent partner, the dutiful wife who gave him the perfect heir. I thought we were the lovers who wou ld die for each other. Then came a mere associat. My husband and son had formed an alliance with the woman who seem want to take my place. But they just said, "Elena, you have the crown and the kingdom. She has nothing but us. Be generous." So, to make her smile, my husband trampled on my dignity again and again. To please her, my son affectionately calls her "Mom." In their eyes, I was the iron wall, the woman who would swallow any insult for the sake of the family honor. Until the fire. My husband locked me inside the burning room, to let me "reflect" on my jealousy. He didn't know that the fire didn't kill me. But it burned away the last ash of my love for him.

I had been with Lars Carter for six years. The head of Midas Capital in Eastwind City, he was a rising star in Riverton's Silver Street—the heart of this nation's financial world. Few knew his true roots. Within him flowed the Vitalus bloodline. Lars descended from an old mafia clan from the city of Virgil in Vitalus, the Viktors. Midas Capital was ours. We built it from the ground up together; Lars would haunt private clubs, ironing out business deals amid drinks. I would stay by his side, doing the accounts, steering the direction of the negotiations, and memorizing every detail of the high-stakes contracts. We did everything together—a tight team. Or so I thought. In my naivete, I was convinced I would rule the city alongside him. The woman behind the man, so to speak. …Until Pearl Ross arrived two months ago. His childhood sweetheart moved from Virgil to Eastwind City. It was then that I knew—she was the one he was waiting for all along. It had always been her. "Lars, I want to get married." Lars' face tightened; hesitation veiled in businesslike concern. "Bianca, you know the company's at a critical stage… We're mid-fundraising. I can't right now." I smiled, calm and composed. "That's fine." He misunderstood. I was getting married—just not to him.

In my previous life, my husband, Lucien Walker, tells me he wants to take care of his widowed sister-in-law, Lina Morgan, and take her as his second wife. After I refuse, Lina throws herself off a cliff while pregnant, killing both herself and the pups. As the Wolf King, Lucien chains me on a clifftop and lets vultures tear at my flesh day after day. He gouges out my eyes and snarls, "You lied about your fertility to trick me, then drove Lina and her unborn pups to their deaths! This is your punishment!" My son, Pierce Walker, whom I pour my life into raising, stabs me 9,999 times. "If Lina were my mother, I would be strong. This is all your fault!" They never know that without my gift for bearing children, Lucien has no heir at all. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Lucien proposes taking Lina as his second wife.

My wife's first love kills me without a shred of mercy. But my wife, a world-class surgeon, doesn't try to save me. Instead, she comforts her first love. "He's so ruthless! How could he hurt you this badly?" She even tells the police that I've severely injured her first love, claiming she wants to press charges for attempted murder. Then she points at my body and demands that I get up and apologize to her first love. "Charles, stop pretending! You just want me to pity you, right? Get up and apologize to Steven!" she yells.

While pregnant with twins, I'm abducted three days before I'm due to give birth. My husband, Sheldon Jackson, refuses to deliver the ransom money himself. Instead, he wants to save Madison Smith, his sister-in-law, who was also taken at the same time. In order to guarantee Madison's safety, he leaves the task of saving me to someone else. "I have to protect my brother's unborn child. Harry is my most trusted subordinate. He'll definitely bring you back home safely!" However, Sheldon doesn't know that Harry Smith wants me dead. "The children she's carrying are bastards!" he says to the abductors. "We can't let them live—both the twins and the woman." I beg the abductors to let me talk to Sheldon one more time to reveal the truth, but he hangs up on me because of Madison. When he finally remembers me, he receives a phone call from the abductors. "We've dealt with your wife for you, Mr. Jackson."

This is my 18th time coming to City Hall, yet Tessa's still nowhere to be seen. Right as I'm about to call and ask her how much longer she'll be, her childhood friend's post popped up on my screen. "Celebrating 1000 days of marriage with my wife. May we always be this happy." The photo highlights a marriage certificate, and Tessa Cross' name is right there under "wife". As for the license date, it shows February 14th, three years ago. So this is why she hasn't shown up the last eighteen times. It turns out that she's already somebody else's wife.

A curse is cast upon everyone in this village, reducing us to mutes. But once a villager's lover takes three laps around the back mountain and marries said villager successfully, the curse on that villager will be broken. My childhood friend, who's the same age as me, has already gotten married and embraced his life as a regular person. Even my cousin, who's just turned 18 years old, has her curse broken as well. I, on the other hand, am about to turn 30 years old soon, and yet I'm still a mute. Whenever I'm about to get married, all of my ex-fiances, who kept telling me that they'd love me with all their hearts, would do anything just to terminate our engagements right after they came out of the back mountain. In order to proclaim his deep love for me, my tenth fiance, Isaac Jameson, tells me confidently that he'd definitely marry me once he's done with his laps around the mountain. But as soon as his words fall, his expression changes the moment he sets foot into the mountain. To my horror, Isaac picks up an axe from the ground and begins hacking at me with it. "Why are you still alive in this world? Why can't you just die already?" I can only lie on the ground while suffering from intense pain. I have no idea what's in the back mountain and why the same outcome will happen every time. Why is it that the entire village can break their curse so easily, and yet I can never get married despite having gone through it ten times in a row?

My husband was a senior military officer and a hardcore military fanatic. When I went into labor and my life was at risk, I begged him to sign the consent form for an emergency C-section. Instead, he looked at me coldly and asked, “What’s the maximum cruising speed of a Boeing 747? Answer correctly, and I’ll sign.” Later, my body tore from the prolonged labor, and our son suffocated to death. He said calmly, as if reciting a fact, “One thousand one hundred and twenty-seven kilometers per hour. Remember that?” At that moment, I looked at his indifferent expression and realized that I no longer loved him. With that, I left behind the divorce papers and disappeared from his life. “Felix, the military-illiterate wife you were ashamed of will never come back.”

Maynard Hansen planned a luxury birthday cruise for Darlene Thompson, but the cruise ship capsized when a violent storm swept in without warning. Without hesitation, Maynard gave the last seat on the lifeboat to Darlene. As I struggled in the water, my son, Waldo Hansen—whom I carried for nine months and gave birth to—cried out, "Don't let Mom up! She'll push Ms. Thompson off." Clutching nothing but a broken plank, I somehow made it to shore. By the time I collapsed on the sand, I was frozen, exhausted, and done. I had never felt so alone. Shortly after, I found myself clutching a diagnosis of severe depression in my hand. I was ready to bring this wretched life to a quiet end. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn't want to live anymore, they collapsed into tears. They wrapped their arms around me as they sobbed, "Please don't leave us. We really can't live without you."

It had been six months since I died in a car accident, but my wife, Susan Young, still thought I was throwing a tantrum and waiting for me to come home and apologize. Then one day, she suddenly couldn’t find a watch. Her childhood friend, Julian Lane, gave it to her. When it broke, she asked me to take it to a watch repair shop. She called and said angrily, “Quentin, are you finished making a scene? If you don’t want to be with me anymore, we can get divorced. What are you trying to prove? “Where did you put the watch I asked you to get repaired? “Did you hide it from me? After all these years, you still haven’t stopped being jealous of Julian!” Then my sister’s voice came through the phone. “Congratulations, Susan. Quentin is dead. He’ll never be jealous of Julian again.”

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter. I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife. The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years. “The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?” Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.” John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too? “Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.” After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.” I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash. There was no need for them to test me anymore. I no longer needed to pretend.

I notice that the surveillance camera we bought when we got married keeps glitching. I casually open the accompanying video app while I request an on-site repair from customer service. I suddenly hear Edward Zucker, my husband who swore to love me for the rest of his life, wishing for my death. "Maddie treats me well and hasn't done anything wrong. She has lost her parents in the car accident, though, so she's of no use to me now." I then hear my seemingly gentle and kind in-laws, Victor Zucker and Mary Smith, thoughtfully toss out various suggestions. "You can just sneak something into her food since she's allergic to so many things. You can also claim she suffered from depression after losing her parents and jumped off a building, then cremate her body on the very same day. "Your cousin just got diagnosed with a psychiatric condition, so he won't face criminal charges for murder." Edward struggles to pick the best way for me to die. "It can't look suspicious. I have to secure the three-million-dollar inheritance her parents left her without a single slipup." I tremble violently with rage. If they want me dead, then let's see who ends up dying first!

My wife, Amelia Hurst, and I agree on a plan for the long holiday. We will spend three days traveling with my parents first, then three days with hers. She agrees without hesitation, saying, "Sure. Since they're our parents, it's only fair." But from the first to the third day, she doesn't book a hotel, take us to a single attraction, or buy a single ticket. Every day at noon, she parks outside Pac Burger, orders a combo for two, and spends the entire afternoon on her phone. "Your parents have never had anything fancy anyway. All they've ever done is work themselves to the bone. They were born to have it rough. "If we actually took them out and spend money on them, they'd just feel the pinch themselves. We might as well keep the money for ourselves." My parents smile stiffly as they go along with her. "Amy's right. We're too old to be going on trips anyway. Having a burger is plenty good." As soon as the third day is over, she eagerly grabs the car keys. "Come on, let's hurry back. My parents are waiting for you to make arrangements for their trip. "Book an ocean-view room in Walabi first. My dad loves seafood, so make sure we get the freshest stuff. And get my mom a bracelet, something over 5,000 dollars. She needs to look classy on the trip." As I watch her grin with excitement, my heart turns ice-cold. "Sure. I'll take care of everything."

The day of the wedding, Enzo's first love Lucia showed up at the estate in the same custom gown I was wearing. I watched them greet the guests together. Kept a straight face and told them they made a much better match. Lucia ran off crying on the spot. Enzo called me jealous in front of every family guest at the ceremony. After the reception ended, he took Lucia on our honeymoon. I didn't argue. I just had my lawyer draw up divorce papers.

I am the only son of the richest man in Fairmont. Before my coming-of-age, my mother selects nine girls for me, one of whom I am to marry when I turn 18. I choose Ruth Lonsdale, the girl who had grown up by my side since we were kids. But on our wedding day, Ruth secretly leaks my whereabouts to kidnappers and takes every single bodyguard my mother had assigned to protect me. After I am abducted, I call her and beg for help, but she answers with a cold laugh, "You're still acting? You had a bunch of thugs go after Jack, and I haven't gotten even with you for that yet! Anyway, I only took your bodyguards to protect him and make him feel safe. Don't make such a big deal out of it." She then hangs up. Enraged, the kidnappers stab me repeatedly before throwing my body from the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I'm supposed to choose my bride. This time, I didn't even glance at Ruth's photo. I point to the most ordinary-looking girl of them all and say, "I choose her."

I begged my husband for weeks before he finally agreed to come with me to my prenatal appointment. The whole time, he just stood there with his hands buried in his pockets, watching me coldly as I handled everything on my own—paying the bills, checking in at the front desk, running around like crazy until I was completely overwhelmed. The second I walked into the exam room, he vanished into thin air. And to top it off, he took off in my car, leaving me to take the bus home by myself. As soon as I got on the bus, my phone buzzed. He'd sent me a screenshot of a receipt: [Companionship fee: 50 dollars] [Round-trip gas: 7 dollars] [Total: 57 dollars] There was also a voice message attached. "Our marriage is strictly fifty-fifty. What does your pregnancy checkup have to do with me? Why should I give up my day off to go to the hospital with you?" Listening to that icy message, I suddenly remembered the way he once got down on his knees in front of me, begging me to help pay for his education. I was so angry, I just started laughing. Fine then. If this was a fifty-fifty marriage, it was time to settle the score!

To help cover our household expenses, I often sold second-hand items online. Late one night, a new listing suddenly appeared under my husband's account. [Private trainer for sale. Almost new. Obedient and resilient. No upkeep required. Cash only.] The attached photo showed a woman from behind, caught in the middle of a yoga pose. The red mole at her waist stood out clearly. It was me. The comments section erupted within seconds. Men with usernames like 'LocalHunter' started bidding aggressively. [Five hundred. Thirty minutes. Pickup only. No negotiations.] [Are you kidding? Two thousand. All night. I'll bring my own gear.] My husband immediately replied to the highest bidder: Adrian 'The Butcher' Kane. [Deal. She's in the bedroom. The door isn't locked. Go straight in.] In the next moment, the bedroom doorknob slowly began to turn from the other side.

I was born a half-blood vampire, the daughter of a vampire father and a human mother. I inherited a vampire's power, yet I could walk in sunlight without harm. On the day it happened, my beloved fiancé Adrian had been gravely wounded by hunters and lay collapsed in the burning light. I was the one who ran to him, and I was the one who took the bullet. But when he came to, he was certain the person who'd saved him was my stepsister, Sophia — because her arm bore the mark of a sunlight burn. I tried to explain. I wept and begged him to believe me. Adrian only looked at me with cold, distant eyes. "Elena, stop trying to steal Sophia's credit." Sophia was cherished in his hands, while I was trampled repeatedly. Adrian sealed my bloodline power, stripping me from half-blood to nothing. Our engagement was annulled, and he watched, cold and unmoved, as I was sent in Sophia's place to marry the noble vampire everyone whispered about: that ancient, monstrous lord. Then came the day of his and Sophia's betrothal ceremony. The vampire hunters struck again. Stripped of my power, I threw myself in front of a young girl to shield her. Sophia, meanwhile, abandoned Adrian's side and fled behind the elders. Only then did Adrian understand: the one who had saved him in the sunlight had always been me. He went mad with it. He blocked my carriage, desperate to stop me from leaving, from marrying another man. But I reached out and took another man's hand. "Adrian," I said. "I don't love you anymore."