Contos sobre Plot Twists e Romances com Scumbag e Countdown

When I hear my boyfriend, Terence Bowen, is trapped in a house fire, I immediately rush back to save him. However, after dragging him out with all my strength, I realize it's just a dummy. Laughter erupts from the house next door. "Ariana Brock is such a fool! She fell for it again!" Through a half-open window, I spot Terence lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. He looks completely fine. "That's the 47th prank we've pulled on her. Three more to go and we're done." "Serves her right. She shouldn't have stolen Bethany Howard's scholarship. Bethany is the one Terence actually cares about. That's why he decided to fake a relationship with Ariana to get revenge 50 times over. Too bad the game will end soon." I bend over, gasping for air. All this time, the relationship I've worked so hard to protect is nothing but a game to them.

Just before my wedding, I did the unthinkable—I switched places with Raine Miller, my fiancé's childhood sweetheart. It had been an accident, but I uncovered the painful truth—Bruno Russell, the man I loved, had already built a happy home with Raine. I never knew before, but now I do. For five long years in our relationship, Bruno had never so much as touched me. I once thought it was because he was worried about my weak heart, but I couldn't be more mistaken. He simply wanted to keep himself pure for Raine, to belong only to her. Our marriage wasn't for love. Bruno wanted me so he could control my father's company. Fine! If he craved my wealth so much, I would give it all to him. I sold every last one of my shares, and then vanished without a word. Leaving him, forever.

In her third year of dating Jackson Hunter, the cool and proud Lumina Walker took out a secret loan of one million dollars to repay his debt. She even resorted to performing stripteases in a bar. Everything changed when she overheard a shocking conversation between him and his friends. "You're ruthless even to yourself! Just to get back at Lumina, you pretended to be a bartender for three years, tricked her into taking out a loan for you, and used her nude video as collateral. You even got her to strip at your bar! " "If she ever found out that you're the loan shark and own the bar she stripped at… She'd probably drop dead from anger right there and then!" another chimed in. Celia Price was Lumina's living nightmare, her tormentor for nine years since their middle school days—relentless bullying, harassment, and abuse. The painful twist? Celia was Jackson's secret love all along—for a decade, to be exact. Yet Lumina didn't cry, didn't fight back. So when her Uncle Howard called and ordered her to marry the mute oldest son of the powerful Morgan family from Crown City, she agreed without hesitation.

One day, after getting rear-ended outside my office, I, Maeve Dahlman, call out for help, but Austin Cooper, who is simply passing by with Carmen Holt, merely glances at me impatiently, annoyed that I've disrupted their lunch plans. Instead of helping, he has his assistant take me to his private club and lock me in a room, accusing me of being paranoid and dramatic. "I'll give you three days to calm down," he says before walking away and leaving me in isolation. Eventually, I escape and call the police. An ambulance rushes me to the hospital, where doctors diagnose me with a brain injury that requires immediate surgery. I keep calling Austin, only to realize that he has blocked my number. Then, I see Carmen's latest post online, gushing about a romantic luxurious dinner with him. After I'm discharged, I cancel the wedding, destroy all the invitations, and finally call my mother. "Mom," I say, "I've made up my mind. I'm ready to meet him."

A year ago, when Bailey Knight's side girl, Lucy Day, showed up in front of me, causing a scene, he had his people beat her until she lost the baby and tossed her out. Then he groveled before me for three straight hours, begging me to forgive him. Looking at the man I'd loved for ten years, looking so pitiful and broken, I eventually caved. Later, I caught Lucy sneaking around Bailey's villa in the suburbs, so I had her thrown out again. Three days before our wedding, Bailey grabbed me by the neck and shoved me up against the railing on the second-floor balcony, yelling so hard that his voice broke. "We already took Lucy's baby once! She can't handle it happening again. She's fragile. You're a woman—how can you not understand that? "I've given you the title of Mrs. Knight. I'd give you my life. Isn't that enough? Why can't you just accept her?" The next second, his secretary ran up to say they'd found Lucy. He shoved me down the stairs. The pain when my arm snapped made me feel like my whole body was being torn apart. But he didn't even look back. Staring at the cold, heartless man in front of me, I felt something inside me go completely dead. I picked up my phone and called Arnold Greenwood. "I don't wanna marry him anymore. Come get me."

I had been married to James Tennant for seven years. In that time, he had already kept twenty-nine mistresses, like pretty little canaries in gilded cages. Now, I saw the thirtieth one in our bedroom, young and draped in nothing but a bath towel, lounging across our bed. I turned to him and asked coldly, “Can’t get enough out there, huh? Did you really have to bring her home?” The girl deliberately tugged her towel lower, her pale skin showing as she sneered, “Mr. Tennant says you’re like a dead corpse in bed! He wanted me to teach you how to please a man.” That night, I was forced to watch their little performance right in front of me. The next morning, James was furious at my indifference, resenting me for not reacting. However, he seemed to forget that our marriage was nothing but a contract, and in just one week, that contract would expire.

Married three years. Stood up three years. Today was the last time I bothered showing up. Surprise—he bailed again. Still clinging to hope like a total idiot, I called. One last shot. "A-Aurora, I'm busy. Just wait," he muttered. And then her voice cut in. All breathy and smug: "That old woman can't satisfy you, huh? Paolo, be gentle." Click. Right on cue, Marco Medici—loyal, patient, saint-like Marco—sent his 99th proposal. This time, I didn't leave him hanging. [Want to come over for bollito misto?]

I was a slum kid who fell for Damon Vitale, New York’s most feared Godfather. For five years, I was his. I took nine bullets for him. He’d kiss my scars as I bled out for him. Hold me close. Clasp the queen’s necklace around my throat. Then, once I healed, he’d fuck me senseless, with a passion that felt like forever. I thought we’d spend our lives together. I thought he would marry me. But on our 999th night together, he told me he was engaged. To Bianca, a mafia princess from a rival family. I swallowed my tears. He just grabbed my chin, blew smoke in my face, and laughed. "You didn't really think you could marry me, did you, Nora? Let's be clear. We fuck. That's it. You're not a partner. You're a piece of art I collect. A pet I own." A pet. That’s all he ever wanted for me. Instead, I picked up a burner phone. [I'm taking your offer. Three days. Get me the hell out of New York.]

After confessing 101 times to my childhood sweetheart, Morgan Lambert, he marries his first love, Cassandra White. With my heart in ruins, I leave him behind and marry his younger brother, James Lambert, who has pursued me relentlessly from the start. After marriage, James dotes on me to an extreme. His love is bold and intense. Everyone says I am unbelievably lucky to have married such a devoted man. As Cassandra and I sink into the water together, I can only watch as James dives in recklessly. He struggles through the water toward her, giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I thrash and struggle in desperation, begging him to look at me even once. He never does. His entire focus is on getting her to shore, leaving me behind to be swallowed by the sea. While I am unconscious, I hear him and Morgan fighting violently in the hospital, arguing over who gets to stay by Cassandra's bedside. He roars in anguish, "I sacrificed myself by marrying Elsa so she wouldn't stand in the way of you and Cassie's happiness. Can you at least let me see Cassie once?" That is when I finally understand that none of them has ever loved me. I immediately arrange to fake my death, preparing to vanish from their lives completely. Yet after hearing the news of my so-called death, James—who's always calm—loses control. He pushes Cassandra aside, bends over, and coughs up blood. Overnight, he seems to age decades.

I was eighteen when I left Italy for Chicago. My brother Leo handed me over to his most powerful ally for “protection.” Don Damien Volkov. His eyes locked on me the first time we met. They never looked away. By day, I was his private doctor. By night, I was the only thing in his bed. His seduction was a slow, deliberate hunt. The way his body brushed against mine during an exam. A stray kiss that landed behind my ear. The weight of his hand resting on the small of my back. I fell fast and hard for his dark charm. I gave myself to him, letting him claim me, again and again. For four years, our affair was a secret hidden in the shadows. In that time, he sculpted my body, teaching it to crave his touch, molding me into his perfect obsession. Then she came back. Isabella, his exiled ex-fiancée. He sent his private jet for her. I swallowed my pride and crashed his reunion. An hour ago, his hands, still smelling of blood, gripped my chin. He forced his kiss on me. But now, right in front of me, he was stroking another woman's hair. "Elara, you're the one who climbed into my bed four years ago." "You act like a whore, but you expect me to treat you like a Donna?" The way he looked at Isabella was so tender. The way he looked at me was pure scorn. Shame burned through me. Head down, I sent my brother a coded text. Accept the Moretti proposal. I looked up. A smile bloomed on my face. "Fine. Then this is goodbye, Damien."

When the heatwave apocalypse hits the Earth, the ozone layer has completely dissipated, forcing mankind to move into the underground city. My husband, Rhett Calloway, and I get to stay on Level Two, seeing as we've funded the construction of the underground city. On day in the third year of the heatwave apocalypse, Rhett brings back a sickly young woman from the slums located on Level Three out of the blue. "Nora, the living conditions on Level Three are very difficult. Anna is in poor health. I can't just sit by and watch her suffer." After that, Rhett carries Anna Archer into our home. I keep my gaze lowered as I remind him, "Don't forget that there's a strict population count on Level Two. The available slots in every family are fixed." "I know that. That's why you need to head down to the slums on Level Three to replace Anna for the time being. Once she recovers from her illness, I'll bring you home." The moment I hear Rhett's response, I remain rooted to the spot for a long time. After walking out the front door, I do my best to suppress the quiver in my tone as I call a number that belongs to Level One. "I've already thought it through. I've decided to join the project to end the apocalypse on Level One."

My family is human. We were gifted a long life by the Thorne clan, something close to immortality. For generations, we’ve been their most loyal guardians. And I fell in love with Cedric, the vampire lord I was sworn to protect. For a hundred years, I was his secret. His sin. His only bedmate. I was his shield against dark magic. The sworn protector of his vast clan. I thought I’d earn the mark of an eternal bond. I was even ready for him to turn me. After all, on every blood moon, he would claim my body. Then, at the peak of an agonizing pleasure, he’d sink his fangs into my neck and drink my blood. He’d press his cold lips to my skin and whisper that I was his one and only. That no other blood, no other body, could make him lose control like this. But this time, the moment he was finished with me, he announced his eternal bond with Elsie, the pureblood princess of the Valerius clan. He smirked at the shock on my face. "You're just a human, gifted a long life by my ancestors. My bed warmer. You didn't actually think you could be my mate, did you?" In that moment, I understood. I was just a renewable blood bag. A tool with a purpose. For an alliance, for her, he sacrificed me. He cast me into the abyss and let the darkness swallow me whole. He thought the Guardian's Pact would chain me to him for eternity. But he forgot one thing. Every pact has a loophole. So I destroyed everything he ever gave me. Then, with my family's help, I vanished. But when the Lord of Eternal Night couldn't find his favorite toy… he went mad.

The Blood Moon Feast was over. I was delivering the synthetic blood supplement I'd developed for the vampire lord, Evander, when he suddenly threw me to the ground. "Give it to me... I want you..." His crimson eyes burned with desperate hunger. My face flushed. I thought he finally understood the love I held for him. So I let him sink his fangs into my neck. I let him form a blood bond with me—a human. I wanted eternity with him. But when I woke up, Evander's eyes were filled with shock and regret. It wasn't love. Just an uncontrollable frenzy from his once-a-century bloodlust curse. And now it was too late. A human bonded to an ancient vampire suffers excruciating, soul-tearing pain. To forcibly break the bond? A death sentence. Evander chose to honor it. He owed me—I'd saved his life once in the human world. But everything changed when Odette died. His true love, waiting centuries to bond with him. When she learned of our union, she shattered—left the City of Eternal Night alone and walked into an ambush by rogue hunters. They burned her to ash. When his family brought back the only thing left—a moonstone pendant—Evander's hands closed around my throat. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? You trapped me in this bond. Then you conspired with hunters to kill Odette. Go to hell and apologize to her yourself!" He ripped the bond from me, tearing away the very blood that kept me alive. A day and a night of agony as my organs ruptured. Then I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night his curse erupted.

At the Thanksgiving dinner, Raphael's assistant Daphne was sitting in my seat. I frowned at Raphael. “Why is she in the Donna's seat? Doesn’t she know, and don’t you?” Raphael clicked his tongue, impatient. “You're the one who showed up late. People sit where they want. If it bothers you, leave.” I opened my mouth to argue, and his thoughts reached me before I could. [Scarlett, get angry. Fight back.] [Tell me you're my wife, the Donna of the Sterling family, that no one else has the right to sit at my side.] [Prove you love me. It's the only thing that makes me feel safe.] This time, I didn't give his thoughts what they were begging for. I slid the wedding ring off my finger instead. “That's the Donna's seat. If you've decided she belongs in it, I won't argue.” “Let's get divorced.”

My husband can't find his way anywhere. He can't read a map, and turn-by-turn directions only confuse him more. He got lost on our wedding day and turned up so late the ceremony had to be pushed back three days. He got lost on our anniversary while a table of food I'd cooked went cold. Eight months pregnant, I fell in the bathroom and called him for help. He sounded frantic on the phone, and then he got lost on the road home, the one he'd driven for five years. By the time he reached the hospital, our son had already been taken to the funeral home and cremated. I couldn't climb out of it, and everyone around me took his side. "That thick head of his can't hold a road. He wasn't late on purpose. Don't start a fight over it. You'll have another baby." I nodded, numb. Then, on the way to my son's funeral, I found out my husband had sent the driver away and taken a long detour to his assistant's house without a single wrong turn. "Grace, the service won't start for a while. I'll run Paige to the airport first. She's got to get back home." Before I could say no, we were already at her door. His assistant slid into the front passenger seat like it belonged to her, and every word out of her mouth landed somewhere tender. "See how well I've trained you? You forget the way to my place and I'll pull your pants down and deal with you." It was only when she noticed me in the back seat that she stuck out her tongue, embarrassed. "Sorry, Ms. Ellison. I was joking." I swallowed it and said nothing. And after Owen dropped her off, he lost the route to the cemetery again, and my son's service started half an hour late. Holding that small urn against me, I stopped hoping. So there was someone he could make an exception for. It just wasn't me, and it wasn't our son.

A polar research expedition ran straight into a catastrophic blizzard, and Chris Hanks and I ended up trapped together in an ice cave. When our supplies were nearly gone, Chris pressed the last bar of chocolate and the emergency blanket into my hands. His own lips had already gone purple with cold, but he still managed a smile as he told me not to worry — the rescue team would be here any minute. Todd Carey, who'd made the trip with us, rubbed his hands together and sighed, "Professor Hanks really does love you to death, Mrs. Hanks." Even I believed it. Ten years together, and I'd thought what we had was unbreakable. Then, just as I leaned in to warm myself against his chest, a wall of blood-red, half-transparent text came screaming across my vision. [Run! That man is a hypocrite through and through!] [He's handing you supplies now so you'll stay put as bait when the avalanche hits!] [The rescue chopper only has two seats left, and he's already decided he's taking his first love out with him!] [Last time, he left you locked in that cave. You froze solid, and he flew home to collect the award with his little protégée on his arm!]

Luca Moretti was the heir to the Moretti family, and my childhood sweetheart, the boy I had loved for five years. He always said I would be his wife once he took over the family. Then one night, with his arms still around me, he asked for another woman’s number. “Bella, we’re going to get married sooner or later.” “But do you really expect me to spend the rest of my life with only one woman?” “I won’t let anyone touch the position of Mrs. Moretti. You’re smart enough not to make trouble over this.” That was when I finally understood. He wanted my loyalty, my patience, and my silence. But he had never planned to give me the same. The day I moved out of his house, Luca blocked the door. “We’re not over. I can have fun, and so can you. Why are you acting like this?” I picked up my suitcase. “No.” “I’m traditional.” Later, when he finally came back for me, his eyes bloodshot and his voice breaking as he begged me to give him one last chance, I looked at the ring on my finger and smiled. “Sorry.” “I don’t take back what someone else only remembers after letting go.”

Zach Lawson was one of the novel's male leads. He was supposed to be deeply loyal and devoted to the female protagonist. But somehow, he fell in love with me—an insignificant supporting character. The system decided that he had swerved too far away from the plot and killed him off with a car crash. I made a deal with the system and revived him in exchange for my chance to return to the real world. His legs were useless after the revival, so I took him everywhere just to find a cure. I stayed with him during his recovery, and I did not leave while he worked his way back up. During the company's celebratory event, a reporter asked him what his drive for success was. He smiled gently. "Someone I owe my life to." The edges of my eyes went red, but then I realized he was not looking at me. It was on a woman in the first row, who was wiping her tears away. This novel's female protagonist. The crowd applauded. A system notification popped up. "Five years have passed. The promise is fulfilled. Will you return to the real world?" I looked at him. He was walking toward Rainie Quinton. "What happens after I leave?" "He'll be killed off, like he was supposed to be." "I see," I said. Then I thought, 'I'm leaving, Zach. And this time, it's for real.'

Ahead of Thanksgiving weekend, my boyfriend of five years and I were getting ready to travel back to his hometown to meet his parents. While packing my bags, I stuffed every inch of room with carefully chosen gifts, pushing my luggage ten pounds past the weight limit. Remembering that Samuel Hogan's suitcase was still empty, I opened it up to transfer a few things over, only to find it already crammed with snacks, skirts, makeup, and tampons. I looked up at Samuel, who was playing online video games with his best friend, Serena Miller, wanting an explanation. I called out to him three times before he finally looked over at me. "Serena was going to be home alone and bored over Thanksgiving, so I invited her to come along with us," he said casually. "She had way too much stuff, so she stored it in my bag. If your luggage is overweight, just pay for the extra checked bag." Silently, I set down the gifts that had nowhere left to go and looked at the clueless man. He didn't know that those extra ten pounds were the final straw breaking us apart after all these years.

Ten years into our secret relationship, Alex pulled out a ring at a yacht party. He leaned against the deck railing, his tone lazy. "Actually, I'm planning to propose tonight. " The crowd erupted instantly. Someone whistled, someone pounded on a table telling him to get down on one knee, and guessed who the mystery woman he'd kept hidden for ten years might be. I stood at the back of the crowd, so nervous my breathing came in ragged bursts. For ten years, Alex had never publicly acknowledged our relationship. During the hardest days of his startup, he said investors didn't like founders weighed down by romantic attachments. Then, once he became New York's most sought-after biotech rising star, the excuse became that the board and the media loved scrutinizing his personal life. Time after time, I believed he just wasn't ready yet. For him, I gave up a research position at Harvard, lost our child, and didn't even make it to my mother's bedside before she died. And now, he had finally pulled out a ring. Without even thinking, I reached for the pair of dark blue cufflinks in my pocket. I had spent three months of my savings to craft them as a tenth-anniversary gift. But he didn't stop in front of me. He brushed past me, walked up to Lillian, who had just returned to New York after ending her second marriage in Europe, and dropped to one knee. The deck fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into even louder cheers. Alex slid the ring onto Lillian's finger, and smiled carelessly. "See? Told you she wouldn't dare make a scene even after seeing the ring. Ten years, and when has she ever really stood up to me?" Lillian looked past his shoulder at me, undisguised triumph gleaming in her eyes. So the proposal hadn't been spontaneous. They had bet on whether I would make a scene. I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and turned to leave. So ten years really could be worth this little.