Plot Twists Short Stories & Scheming Regret Novels

An accident gives me the ability to hear people's thoughts. My wife, Keira Walker, is a chief cardiac surgeon, and my best friend, Gabriel Pearce, is her intern. Afraid I'll lose hope, they take turns caring for me, staying by my side even through rehabilitation. Touched by their devotion, I throw myself into recovery. Then one day, Keira peels an apple for me while Gabriel massages my withered legs. Inside my head, two voices ring out loud and clear. [How did that crash not kill him? I drained the brake fluid, but this bastard survived.] [Guess we need a new plan. Good thing I already swapped his meds. His body will give out on its own.] As I stare at the apple Keira offers, a knot tightens in my throat. The crash is no accident. Clenching my fists, I look up and smile at them. "Did I take my meds today?" They exchange a glance, and Keira nods tenderly. "Not yet. Let me feed you."

Not only am I the youngest son of the Townsend family, which runs a multibillion-dollar business empire, but I'm also infamously known as the dimwit in our social circle. Since childhood, I've always been slow and unresponsive, barely able to talk. Meanwhile, every one of my siblings is a certified genius. Evelyn Townsend, my oldest sister, makes a name for herself in the financial world at just 18 years old. Julian Townsend, my older brother and the second child of the family, earns two doctorate degrees by the age of 20. My parents have had a hard time believing I'm really a Townsend. They've had me undergo 18 DNA tests, consulting every renowned doctor and specialist they could find. Nevertheless, after spending over a decade exhausting all their options, the family has finally accepted the situation. The truth is, I'm perfectly capable of talking. I just don't feel like doing it. In my previous life, I was a star lawyer who had never lost a case. I'd spoken more than my fair share of words in that lifetime. In this one, all I want is to live a quiet, peaceful life without ever having to talk. Then this happens. Someone launches a short-selling attack on Townsend Corporation, and my family's company is on the verge of bankruptcy. Our business rival shows up with an acquisition contract. Dad's face turns ashen, and Evelyn goes through every clause without finding a single loophole. Even Gina Whitman, the company's chief legal counsel who has worked with us for a decade now, has already been bought off. She stands in front of us with a look of righteous conviction and declares, "You should sign the contract, Mr. Townsend. This is the only way to save the Townsend family. I've reviewed the terms. There's nothing wrong with them." Dad sighs heavily before reaching for the pen with a trembling hand. Annoyed, I decide to drop the act. My entire family watches in shock as I step forward and flip to the third page of the contract. "Why do I see conflicting provisions between the main terms of the agreement and the supplementary clauses? If my father signs this, the Townsend family will not only walk away with nothing but will even be saddled with a ten-billion-dollar debt." I flash Gina a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "You drive a hell of a bargain, Ms. Whitman. Should we thank you for this incredible deal you've dropped in our lap?"

I die on my wedding night. When Zachary Gordon receives a call from the police asking him to identify my body, he snorts disdainfully. "Who cares whether she's dead? I'll be there for the funeral." "We're not joking, Mr. Gordon. You should come down here." He glances at the woman in his arms as a hint of impatience flickers in his eyes. "Fine."

I got hurt and lost consciousness on the battlefield. When I woke up after a three-day coma, I suddenly wanted to pull a prank on my mate. “Who are you?” When I saw my mate freeze, I wanted to laugh, but he suddenly saluted. “Miss Selena, I’m your comrade, Galeis.” He then pointed at his brother. “He’s Leonore, your mate.” I froze. Leonore stepped forward. “Yes, I’m your mate.” I forced out a smile. “Take me home, then.”

I fished my boyfriend from the sea. I empty my pockets to treat his amnesia, and he turns out to be a CEO when he regains his memories. Due to the disparity in our statuses, Quinn Hoffman doesn't hesitate to dump me. He says, "You're just a fishmonger. How can you be worthy of me?" He refuses to pay me back for the money I spent on his treatment. I'm backed into a corner—I need the money for my grandmother's surgery. In the end, I get tricked, and all my organs are gouged out. On the day Quinn learns of my death, he holds my belongings and refuses to let go. "You're just playing hide-and-seek, Kay! Aren't you?"

On my 18th round of IVF, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and his secretary. Yvonne asked, "Babe, do you really have to have a baby with her? What about us?" Zayn explained, "Don't worry. I've already switched the eggs with yours. So, Candice will actually be carrying our child, and you won't have to suffer through pregnancy. When the child grows up, all the Summers fortune will be his!" I pretended I did not hear a word, focusing instead on raising the son I worked so hard to bring into this world. 18 years later, my son was celebrated as a "computer genius", and he returned home after earning his doctorate. I transferred all my shares and real estate to him without hesitation. That was when Zayn finally decided to come clean and said, "Candice, the truth is, Luca is actually mine and Yvonne's. Let's get a divorce, and it's time for Lucas to be reunited with his biological mother." I simply smiled and replied, "I agree to the divorce." After weaving this web for 18 years, it was finally time to reel it all in.

At 2:00 am, after a passionate night with my girlfriend, I casually drop a selfie into a WhatsApp group chat with my buddies. The chat blows up instantly. Mack Slater: "Damn, Harv. Those hickeys on your neck are kinda artistic." Keith Oldman: "Ivory's back for Embercoil Solstice, huh? I bet you two went wild tonight." I stare at the screen, feeling smug. Then Will Anderson, who hasn't said anything so far, suddenly tags me in the group and sends a creepy message. "You're in trouble. Those aren't hickeys on your neck. They're marks left by a drowned wraith looking for a substitute!" My hands are trembling as I clutch my phone.