Scumbag Feel-Good Story 短篇故事與小說

Upon discovering I was pregnant, I excitedly rushed to my husband’s company to put our baby down as our insurance beneficiary. However, I was shocked to read my husband’s file. Partner: Victoria Winston Children: Jack Hudson, Sophia Hudson. I froze. The HR manager said the woman was his legally wedded wife and the heiress to the largest hotel chain on the East Coast. Their children were already seven years old. It felt like my world was crumbling down around me. If she was his wife, what was I? His mistress of five years? His friend with benefits? Even more absurdly, I was now pregnant with his child. A child who would never be acknowledged by their father. An illegitimate child. I nodded dazedly. My whole body felt weak. The man I considered my husband was never mine. Even after death, his gravestone would not have my name!

I had taken leave from the sealed research institute where I'd been confined for six years, just so I could attend my daughter's kindergarten graduation. The moment I stepped through the gates, I froze. A woman holding a little boy by the hand was shoving my daughter, Amy, straight into the gutter. She slapped Amy across the face, then sneered for everyone to hear, spitting venom as she called my little girl a filthy wretch. Drenched in filthy water, Amy dropped to her knees before the woman, trembling in humiliation. Rage burned through me. I stormed forward and slapped the woman across the face. But instead of shame, she jabbed a finger at my nose and shouted, "Do you even know who I am? To offend me is to offend the entire Grant family!" Tears welled in Amy's eyes as she tugged at my sleeve, pleading in a choked voice, "Please leave… she's my dad's nanny. My dad will punish you if you hurt her." The woman planted herself in front of me, her arrogance towering. "The Grant family rules this city. You think you can run from us?" For a brief moment, I stood stunned, then calmly pulled out my phone and dialed my husband. "Your nanny says you run Bexley City. Well, I think that's about to change."

A deal between families forced my Fiancé Marco Corvini to marry me. My parents were dead. His obsession was Isabella Falcone, the princess of our rivals. In the end, Marco devoured my family’s empire and threw me to the wolves. He paraded Isabella on his arm like a prize he’d won. Twenty years later, I was on my deathbed. My own son—our son—held the poison. He said I was useless, that his father needed the Falcone family’s power. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day of my blood oath. This time, to save my family, I didn’t sign my name on the pact. I signed hers. Isabella Falcone’s. As for me? I took the fortune my parents left me and disappeared. This time, I wouldn’t be the fool bleeding for a man who was never mine.

I, Mona Goldheart, decide to tell my mate, Edmund Ryker, about my pregnancy on my birthday. But Edmund, who never misses my birthday, misses it this time. The reason he cited was that he had to attend a very important meeting. I don't believe it. When I rush over to his company, I see him holding a birthday party for Amy Drumm, the Omega he brought back to our pack not long ago. Watching as the two of them act so intimately, I contacted Edmund through our mind-link. I ask, "Is the meeting going well?" Edmund holds Amy in his arms, laughing happily. But when he replies to me, his tone is flat, as if he really is attending a meeting. He says, "It's going well. When I finish, I'll come back and celebrate your birthday." I sneer and reply, "Turn around and take a look."

Using an alternative account, I secretly join a cycling group chat that my husband, Liam Johnson, is in. One day, an announcement is made in the group chat. "We'll be organizing a weekend mountain biking activity with an overnight stay, with two people sharing a room. To add some excitement, we'll be drawing lots for room assignments." I can't really understand it. Curious, I ask, "What if a man and a woman end up drawing the same room?"

On the first day of classes, my roommate gives me a crystal bracelet as a welcome gift. Without thinking, I quickly adorn it around her mother's wrist. In my past life, my roommate wanted to be a social butterfly. She was determined to have a hundred boyfriends by the time she graduated. But no matter how reckless she was, she never ended up conceiving. On the other hand, I kept getting pregnant and having countless miscarriages. But unlike her, I had never been in a relationship. The entire university mocked me, labeling me promiscuous and shameless. During my 66th miscarriage, I died on the operating table from severe bleeding. It was only after death that I realized the crystal bracelet my roommate gave me had somehow linked our wombs together. As soon as I opened my eyes, I realized I had gone back to the first day of the semester.

My husband, Damien Falcone, had 99 lovers. And I was the mafia princess men lined up to die for. The day we got together, everyone in our world took bets. They said we wouldn't last three months. But then , everything changed. For me, he wiped his phone clean, built a rose manor, and got down on one knee. Then, on our wedding night, he told me he wanted an open marriage. "Our bodies can play," he said. "But our loyalty? That's just for us." I agreed. Then came his 100th lover, Sophia Ricci. She betrayed our family in an arms deal. Almost got my father killed. But Damien protected her. He even moved her into our home. So, I did what any heartbroken mafia princess would do. I got drunk and woke up in another man's bed. I just didn't know that man was Damien's uncle.

My sister and I married into the Phoenix Clan at the same time and, coincidentally, gave birth at the same time. After my sister birthed a purebred golden phoenix, the eldest prince she married was immediately crowned the next leader of the Phoenix Clan. Meanwhile, I gave birth to a mixed-bred pheasant and was condemned to death along with my husband, who was the second prince. It was only after my death that I found out the pheasant was my sister’s child! It was a ploy concocted by her and the eldest prince. The goal was to hide the bastard bloodline of the eldest prince and steal the throne of the Phoenix Clan. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been reborn. I didn't give birth, and my sister was visiting me with a haul of supplements…

On the very first day Jason and I made our relationship official, he insisted on handing over his salary for me to manage. He said marriage was only a matter of time and that he trusted his future wife to keep the money safe. On the day of our engagement, Jason demanded that I hand over the $960,000 in salary I had “kept” for him over the past four years. “Each month, I gave you $20,000. In four years, that’s $960,000. After expenses, there should be at least $800,000 left, right? I can’t bear to make my parents empty their savings for my marriage. We will use my savings for the wedding, $600,000 as the down payment for the new apartment, and the remaining $200,000 will be my wedding gift to you.” I froze. “But there isn’t a single dollar left!” Jason exploded. “You wasteful woman! You spent all the money?!” His mother also erupted. “So much money, and you squandered it all! What shameful acts have you been up to?! This marriage is off!” Jason demanded to see the accounts. I immediately pulled out the records in front of everyone. Seeing this, Jason’s mother panicked.

I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school. By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official. But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him. Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you." My whole body went cold. And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter. The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed." June, four years ago. That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love. He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.

I'm reincarnated a week before the college entrance exam. Despite being the soon-to-be top scorer, I stab my eye with a syringe. In my past life, Marianne Quentin, my boyfriend Lance Russell's childhood friend, reported me for cheating off her during the final mock exam. The teacher compared our papers and found that my essay was identical to hers. He harshly criticized me and warned me not to repeat my mistake. However, Marianne reported me for copying her answers again during the math exam. Once again, my answers were found to be identical to hers. The teacher scolded me for being incorrigible and sent me home to reflect on my actions. I couldn't understand what had happened. Clearly, I'd never cheated, but my answers were nearly identical to Marianne's, whether in writing and language or in math. As the SAT exam loomed over me, I could only suppress my doubts as I stepped into the exam hall. I finished the writing paper and thought I was safe. However, Marianne stepped out and accused me of cheating again. I tried to defend myself, yet the answers on my paper were identical to hers. In the end, I was disqualified, kicked out of the exam hall, and banned from taking any exams in the next two years—just because I "cheated". I succumbed to despair and leaped from the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to one week before the SAT.

Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband finally makes time from his police duties to go to a prenatal checkup with me for the first time. The moment we step into the hospital, his satellite-encrypted phone buzzes urgently. The caller ID flashes briefly, and just like that, the man who's always calm and collected panics. "Honey, it's a red alert. Another international fugitive just crossed the border. I… I'm sorry…" He's clearly anxious, yet his tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. After apologizing, he rushes off. As I watch his SUV speed out of sight, my fist clenches tightly, crumpling the prenatal checkup sheet. I flag down a cab, slide into the car, and swiftly instruct the driver, "Follow that car. Don't lose it." A Red Notice for a fugitive? What a joke. My father, who works at the National Security Agency, barely catches wind of a notice like that. Yet, somehow, a mere police chief who only assists with cases is suddenly tasked with catching a high-priority criminal. Fine, then. I can't wait to meet the superior who's given him such an urgent assignment.

After my rebirth, I avoided my family and my boyfriend like the plague. When they tried to throw me a birthday party, I faked an urgent business trip to dodge it. When my parents pleaded with me to move back, I secretly bought my own house that very night. When my boyfriend popped the question, I spun on my heel and married someone else. In my previous life, my sister and I were swept away in a raging flood. By sheer luck, a jagged tree branch snagged my clothes, saving me from the depths, but my sister drowned in the merciless current. My parents, consumed by grief and rage, gripped my throat and screamed, "If it weren't for you, Andrea would still be alive!" My boyfriend acted like it was no big deal, offering half-hearted comfort before we tied the knot. But on our wedding anniversary, during a family cruise, they cornered me on the deck and shoved me overboard. "Time to taste drowning yourself!" they hissed. It turned out they had never gotten over Andrea's death. My boyfriend had never forgotten about her. When my eyes fluttered open again, I found myself back on that fateful day. This time, I vowed to live for myself, reclaiming the joy they'd stolen from me.

My husband, Frank Myer, ruined himself by taking random medication and coming to me for treatment. I simply sneered at him and deliberately stalled for time, letting him end up disabled for life! In my previous life, my husband had purposely ruined himself to help his childhood sweetheart, Karen White, get promoted. I anxiously asked if he had taken anything harmful, but he swore he had not. When I asked him to do a full checkup, he accused me of having no ethics and claimed that I would even scam my own husband for a promotion. His childhood sweetheart insisted on a conservative treatment instead. I kicked out his unqualified sweetheart and performed the surgery myself. It was a total success, but she made a huge scene about it after feeling humiliated by being thrown out. She even threatened suicide. My husband was furious and lied that the surgery had failed, even reporting me for forcing him into surgery against medical advice, getting me blacklisted from the medical field. His sweetheart, however, simply dabbed some disinfectant on him, and he announced that she had cured him, instantly making her famous and earning her a promotion. When I confronted him, my husband said that if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have had to go to such lengths for her, and that I am the reason he was suffering. Then, he suffocated me with a pillow. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day he ruined himself.

I wasn’t even pregnant, yet I ended up popping abortion pills like they were candy. It was all because in my past life, the moment my widowed sister-in-law got pregnant, every single side effect of her pregnancy became mine. She strutted around happily with her big belly, consuming spicy tamales, while I was rushed to the hospital for violent nausea and stomach pain; she showed off her flawless skin in crop tops every day, while my stomach broke out in hideous stretch marks. When I told my husband what was happening, he just shoved me away impatiently. “Enough with the jealousy! My brother’s dead, and she’s carrying his only child. Of course, I should look out for her. Do you really have to put on such an act?” After that, my sister-in-law went even further. She kept testing her limits during pregnancy and even ate a mango she was allergic to. And me? I went into anaphylactic shock, landed in the hospital, and nearly died. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They just brushed it off, saying I was overly jealous and it was all psychological. Later, my sister-in-law tried to brand herself as a “hot single mom”. She went live, belly and all, to show off her weight-loss workouts. She jumped around for three straight hours. And me? My uterus literally gave out, and I hemorrhaged to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the exact day she first announced her pregnancy.

My fiancé's secretary had my wedding ring remade into a Hello Kitty trinket. When I confronted her, she twisted the truth with shameless arrogance, insisting that my wedding was hers to decide. I turned to my fiancé for support, only to have him dismiss me as petty and unworthy of being his bride. Together, they ridiculed and humiliated me, unaware that their families' power and future all depended on me. When my superior stepped in, their mockery collapsed in the face of truth. My fiancé fell to his knees, begging me to honor our engagement. But I cast him aside without hesitation, breaking off the marriage and leaving him with nothing.

My younger sister Avery Denning's fiance, Timothy Lane, is injured by a raging bull on the eve of their wedding. Timothy ends up impotent because of the incident. Refusing to marry an impotent man, Avery flees from the wedding. I gaze at Timothy, abandoned, along with my humiliated parents. My parents then beg me to marry Timothy instead, to which I agree. Since marrying Timothy, I've shouldered the burden of juggling household chores and outside work, working tirelessly from morning till night. He miraculously recovers from his impotence and even becomes the wealthiest man in town. But Avery suddenly returns on the day Timothy is officially announced as the wealthiest man in Greenwood Vale. She sobs as she explains that she didn't flee the wedding of her own will. Instead, Avery claims that I had tricked her into going into the mountains to search for a miraculous berry that could cure Timothy's impotence. She also claims that I had struck her unconscious on said mountain range. Timothy immediately believes Avery's lies. He angrily slaps me and even tosses me into a river to drown. My words fall on deaf ears, and I swiftly pull Timothy and Avery down into the river with me. When I next wake up, I am back to the day of my wedding to Timothy. This time, Avery shows up, too. But what they don't know is that without me, Timothy will never recover from his impotence nor become the wealthiest man in Greenwood Vale.

In my past life, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Kimberly Thatcher, claimed to be Lady Luck. She insisted on handing out sachets to keep our team safe for a hike. I, Priscilla Jensen, caught the scent and realized the sachets were stuffed with herbs that would attract wolves. So, I stepped in to stop her, saving everyone from an attack. But Kimberly thought I was looking down on her sachets, and that I was targeting her on purpose. Though she was the leader, she stormed off from the group in anger. We searched the forest under the raging storm. In the end, someone broke a leg, someone else was strangled by poisonous vines, and my shoulder was torn open. By dawn, we found Kimberly's corpse at the bottom of a valley. … On the seventh day after her death, her memorial service became an ambush. While everyone mourned for her, their eyes were fixed on me. My boyfriend, Fabian Lowell, was the first to lash out. He ripped off his bandage, revealing his wound. "If you hadn't stopped Kimberly from giving us those sachets, none of this would have happened! How dare you show up to her memorial service?" he yelled. Everyone turned to glare daggers at me. Suddenly, someone shouted, "It's all your fault! You're the reason we ended up like this! Go to hell!" In the next second, they hurled a pot of boiling stew at me. Then they set the private room ablaze and burned me alive. … When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of the hike.

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

After the plane crash, I rejected the captain—my brother-in-law’s—final life jacket that he had as he handed it to me. Instead, I allowed myself to plunge a hundred meters from the sky. In my previous life, I had survived after accepting his life jacket. But he died a tragic death in the crash. After his death, I was consumed with guilt. My husband proposed to take care of two households at the same time so that he could look after his sister-in-law. Out of guilt, I reluctantly agreed to his proposal. I even had to give up my only chance of getting promoted to department head of the hospital to my sister-in-law, upon my husband’s insistence. When I was seventy years old, I suddenly saw my brother-in-law, who was supposed to be dead, show up in front of me. He said to my husband, “Bro, thank goodness you came up with that fake-death plan back then. I was drunk and caused the deaths of all the passengers after the plane crash. If not for that plan of yours, as the captain, I certainly could not have escaped scot-free and would have been sentenced to prison for life! “It was too bad we had to keep her in the dark for her entire life.” After a lifetime of sacrifices, I was so furious that I nearly passed out upon hearing my brother-in-law’s words. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the plane crash.