Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobela Ruthless

Though Micheal loved me deeply, When he was deceived by Ruby's lies,He lost the ability to distinguish right from wrong. He believed that I had killed his grandfather for the inheritance and that I had slept with other men and was pregnant with that man's child.So he cruelly subjected me to humiliation again and again. When he personally pushed me into the abyss, all the love turned to ashes—never to return in this lifetime...

After bringing me into this world, Mom develops postpartum depression. It lasts for 18 long years. On my fifth birthday, Dad buys me a small cake. Mom hurls it onto the floor. "I almost died giving birth to you, and you actually have the nerve to celebrate?" On my tenth birthday, Grandma forces me to kneel before Mom and press my forehead against the floor. "Your birthday is the day your mother suffered. You should be grateful she didn't strangle you at birth!" On my 15th birthday, I secretly make a wish, hoping Mom will get better soon. After overhearing me, she slaps me across the face. "I'll never get better as long as you're in my life!" On my 18th birthday, my family takes down my birthday candles and changes the name on the cake to "18 Years of Suffering". Mom makes her one and only wish in front of all our relatives. "I hope she never shows her face in front of me again." Grandpa and Grandma urge me to be the bigger person. After a prolonged silence, Dad says quietly, "Maybe your mom really will get better after you move out." I smile and nod before blowing out the candles in Mom's place. After returning to my room, I dig out the birthday cards I've saved for 18 years and carefully write on the last one. "Mom, this time, your wish will definitely come true."

To the outside world, Xavier Sullivan and I are a loving couple. In truth, my father sold me to him to repay the debt he owes the Sullivan family. When the five-year contract expires, Xavier's parents want me to extend it. They threaten me and tell me I'm heading for certain death if I refuse. I have no choice but to fake my death and leave everything behind, taking only the child in my belly with me.

My father was a highly respected criminal investigator, and my mother was the head of the ER, dedicated to saving lives. However, I was a regular at the local police station. I fought, caused trouble, and earned the title of “the most hopeless kid on the block.” The first time, I publicly insulted my newly transferred cousin at school. My father dragged me straight to the police station in front of everyone and had me locked up for a full day and night. The second time, I led a gang of thugs to block my cousin’s way home in an alley. My mother was so furious, she dumped me deep in the mountains, leaving me to be bullied by a lecherous bachelor. The third time, I stole a keepsake from my cousin and tossed it down a sewer. My father put the handcuffs on me himself and sent me straight to juvenile detention. Five years later, I became a key informant in an anti-fraud operation, helping the police crack a major nationwide case. The media rushed to report the story, and journalists packed my parents’ house to interview the “hero’s family.” However, my parents just scoffed over the phone. “Her? A hero? We will only believe she is changed for the better when she is dead.” So why was it that when they saw me lying in a pool of blood after shielding a hostage, they finally cried?

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."

If it was my sister being bullied, Mom and Dad would have believed her right away and fought for her without a second thought. However, it did not matter anymore. In my next life, I would pick parents who really cared about me.

After getting into an accident, I pretend to be an amnesiac to pull a prank on my husband and son. "Who are you guys?" I ask. A hint of delight flickers in my son's eyes. He pulls a woman waiting outside the hospital ward inside and says, "My parents and I came to visit you, ma'am." My husband watches all of this happen without saying a word. He doesn't correct our son.

I pleaded with my husband Cedric Fleetham over and over, and finally, he agreed to take our daughter camping in the mountains for her birthday. When I found her late the next night, she was already gone. She lay at the foot of the mountain, her tiny hand still clutching a drawing of our family. As I knelt beside her, my heart shattered. Meanwhile, Cedric was busy updating his social media. His post read, [You and our daughter are my treasures,] and it was accompanied by a photo, where he stood beside his childhood sweetheart and held hands with another little girl, watching the sunset. And there, in the corner of the picture, was a tiny hand—my daughter’s hand. The cruelest truth of all was that my daughter took that photo.

I was an emergency physician. After finishing a night shift, I had just walked out of the hospital entrance when a colleague from the hospital called me. "Dr. Doherty, hurry back. A critically injured patient was just brought in. The chief wants you to return immediately and help with the resuscitation." I turned around without thinking. But then a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [Do not enter the operating room! Do not take part in this resuscitation!] [The patient is already dead. If you go in, you will be taking the fall for the hospital director's daughter!] [This patient's family is powerful. You will not only be sentenced to death, your parents will also be forced to jump to their deaths as well!] My steps stopped cold. A few seconds later, my heart tightened. I decided to believe the comments. I would gamble on it. My eyes swept quickly across the ground. I immediately locked onto an uncovered deep shaft on the road. I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes, and threw myself straight into the opening.

My company has dispatched me on a one-week business trip to another city. When the trip is over, I drive home in a hurry just so I can celebrate my mother-in-law, Marianne Jones' birthday with her. But when I'm waiting for the traffic light to turn green, rows of live comments suddenly appear right in front of my eyes. "Do not go home no matter what! If you do, that crime will be pinned on you!" "The moment you step through the front door, Marianne will jump off the building!" "Your fingerprints are all over Marianne's body! When the time comes, you won't be able to defend yourself at all, and you'll end up receiving a death sentence! After your husband receives a hefty insurance payout, he and your best friend, Kathie Wilbury, will live a luxurious and happy life together!" I'm stunned by the information. But a few seconds later, I decide to believe the live comments. In that case, I might as well make a huge gamble. As soon as the green light is on, I start the car and stomp down on the gas pedal. Then, I veer my car toward the concrete barrier on the roadside and crash into it.

The yacht I'm steering crashes into a huge wave, scaring my husband's junior, who has a heart condition. So, my husband orders someone to tie me up and dangle me in the ocean by a rope. He even tells the captain to head straight into the waves. "You know Wren has a heart condition, yet you still scared her! How can you be so evil?" I beg him to let me go and tell him that I was following a charted path; I didn't mean for anything to happen. However, he just mocks me. "You've been a yacht driver for so long. Haven't you experienced anything like this before? I'll make you go through what Wren did! Let's see whether you'll pull this again!" After a day and night of this torment, he relents and decides to pull me back up. It's too bad he doesn't know that the waves have already torn me to shreds.

The hospital's latest intern, Lindsey Clark, is very pretty, but she's a total idiot as well. When my mom came to the hospital for a prescription, she swapped the vitamin C for potassium supplements, which were known to be very poisonous if misused. Mom, who was fresh out of surgery, suffered from heavy bleeding right after taking the medication. She died on the same night. Before I could hold Lindsey responsible for Mom's death, the latter quickly piped up with teary eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Monroe! I just thought that potassium supplements can help your mother heal faster…" Even Michael Jones, my husband, who was the hospital director, took her side. "Your mom only had her idiocy to blame! She died because she took the wrong medication! How dare you drag Lindsey into this!" I was so furious that my cardiac arrest was triggered on the spot. Soon, I was sent into the operating room. Lindsey said she wanted to redeem herself by taking on the post as Michael's assistant in the surgery. But her hands kept trembling even when she tried to thread the suture needle. In the end, she took off her mask and picked up the suture with her teeth. Just like that, she used her saliva to wet the suture end. One day later, I died in the ICU due to a case of severe infection. When my spirit was about to fade away, I heard Lindsey crying sadly. "If it wasn't for my idiocy, Dr. Monroe wouldn't have died!" Michael just patted her dotingly on the head in return. "Having medical risks in a surgical operation is completely normal. You're still young, so stop blaming yourself already." Mom and I were cremated instantly, seeing as Michael intended to cover up our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Lindsey has just gotten recruited by the hospital.

"Captain! There's a couple burned and fused together!" I sprinted inside. There was Axel Cheatum, my husband, clinging to some woman. Their bodies had fused from the heat. Axel was sobbing, begging, "Save my wife first, please!" His wedding ring flashed on his finger. "It's my fault," he cried. "We drank too much... didn't even notice the fire." "It's not your fault, honey," the woman whispered. "We hadn't seen each other in so long... we couldn't help it." Axel clawed at his scorched skin, trying to free her. That's when I saw her swollen belly. And Axel, throwing everything away for her. In the end, I lost my baby.

For ten years, I stood by Natalie Prescott as she went from having nothing to her name to building a fortune worth hundreds of millions. Yet in all that time, she never once takes me to a restaurant where a meal costs more than 100 dollars per person. With our tenth anniversary approaching, I finally send her a link to a high-end steakhouse I've had bookmarked for ages, hoping we can celebrate somewhere special for once. But the moment she sees it, her expression darkens. "Gabriel, I know we're doing well now, but we can't afford to get complacent. We need to remember where we came from. Frugality is a virtue, and we can't lose sight of that." She has a point, I tell myself, so I drop the subject without another word. It isn't until I go to cancel our reservation that I spot Natalie sitting across from a young man in the very restaurant she refuses to take me to. She's cutting his steak into bite-sized pieces and placing them on his plate, then gently wiping a smear of sauce from the corner of his mouth. I recognize him immediately—Ryan Mitchell, the company's newest intern. He's only 21. "Ms. Prescott, I really can't eat another bite," Ryan says, glancing at the spread of food on the table. "But look at how much we've ordered. We're wasting so much food." "Don't worry about it. As long as you're enjoying yourself, it's not a waste." Natalie gazes at him with unmistakable affection. "I'll just take the leftovers home to Gabriel." "But… they're my leftovers." Natalie laughs softly. "It's fine. Gabriel is with me when times are tough. He's not picky." Ryan chuckles. "So let me get this straight. He sticks around for the hard times, and I get to enjoy the good life?" Natalie doesn't answer right away. For a long moment, she simply looks at him. Then she finally murmurs, "Yeah." I stand frozen, gripping the reservation slip so tightly that my nails dig into my palm. Yet somehow, I can't feel a thing. Ten years. I spend ten years standing by her side—helping her build the life she has now—only to discover that, in her eyes, I'm the man who has to settle for scraps while someone else gets to enjoy the rewards. The hostess approaches me with a polite smile. "Mr. Cole, reservations have been hard to come by lately. Are you sure you'd like to cancel yours?" I swallow the bitterness rising in my throat and glance at the couple across the room one more time. Then I turn back to the hostess. "No. Keep the reservation. And please bring me your most expensive tasting menu."

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

In the sixth year of my mating with Kael, his Alpha brother died in a rogue attack. Kael inherited his brother’s seat as Alpha. He also inherited his brother’s Luna, Vivienne. Every time he came back from her bed, he held me and said the same thing. “Baby, I only love you. Vivienne is the daughter of the Silverfang Alpha. Our pack is unstable and we need their support. This is a deal, nothing more. The moment she gives birth to an heir, I’ll declare you my one and only Luna.” Their room was right next to mine. Every night I lay there and listened to Vivienne’s pleasure and the low, satisfied growls he never made for me anymore. For half a year I went from feeling like my chest was being carved open to feeling nothing at all. At the end of that half year, Vivienne announced she was pregnant. The same day, Kael announced he would hold the mating ceremony with her. I stopped waiting. I closed my eyes and reached for the mind-link I had not used in six years. I called my father, the Alpha King. “Dad. You were right. I regret it. Come take me home.”

When I become pregnant with Ryan Hurst's child—at the same time his so-called first love, Kate Davis, do—he doesn't hesitate to claim hers, while ignoring mine. My child is thus branded an "illegitimate child". Ryan, the eldest son of the powerful Hurst financial empire, looks down at me with eyes like frost. "Kate is a real socialite. She can't have her reputation tainted by… this," he says coldly. It turns out that our seven years of marriage were nothing but a lie. The day my adopted family, the Kleimanns, forces me to get an abortion, Ryan is in another country, playing the doting partner at Kate's side while she gives birth. When we meet again, I will have already burned the bridge between us with my own hands. What none of them know is that behind Kate's polished smile lies a festering rot. And as for me, I am the sole heiress to an old and powerful aristocratic bloodline.

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."

After my father-in-law, Oswald Leyton, is diagnosed with a complicated form of heart disease, I rush to Germasia for an intensive training on the most advanced medical technique just so that I can operate on him and treat his condition. When I return home after the training three months later, I gleefully find my husband, Nicholas Leyton, to tell him about the good news that I have mastered the technique. The plane lands. However, the luxury car that should have come for me turns out to be a broken-down van instead. Someone throws a sack over my head, and I can hear Nicholas' cold laughter next to me. "Did you have lots of fun with your boytoy overseas for the last three months, Victoria Rosewood?" After he and a few other men force themselves on me multiple times, Nicholas slides open the door, planning to abandon me in the wilderness. "Nicholas! You can't do this to me! I'm pregnant…" I try to explain myself, throwing myself at him despite all the cuts and bruises on my body. However, Nicholas gets even angrier after hearing that and forcefully shoves me aside. I feel an excruciating pain coming from my lower abdomen. Warm, sticky blood starts flowing down my thighs. Then, my vision blacks out, and I lose consciousness altogether.

My dad was obsessed with getting me into Kingsbridge University or Central University, the two best universities in the country and two of the top universities in the world. He claimed it was for my own good as he made me retake the SAT, time after time. The first time I took the SAT, I scored 1360 points, more than enough to get into a highly ranked college. He tore up my offer letter and made me repeat the SAT. The second time, I scored 1440 points, enough to guarantee a spot at an elite college. He wouldn't even let me apply. I had to repeat the SAT. This time, I had scored over 1520 during all three practice exams. He was certain I would get into Kingsbridge University or Central University. But during the actual exam, my fever had climbed to 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit and my vision blurred. With my eyes red, I told my dad, "I really can't do this anymore..." He looked at me coldly, without a hint of concern. "It's just a fever! Everyone else can push through, why can't you? Stop acting so weak! "Be a man and tough it out! Even if you die, you better die in that exam room!" I gritted my teeth and went inside. After I filled in the last answer, I fainted and never got up again.