Histoires courtes & Romans

My wife forces my sister to accompany some men for drinks so she can help her first love get investments. My sister finds an opportunity to run but gets harassed by other drunken men. As she tries to break free, she has a heart attack, and she dies. I'm devastated as I handle her funeral alone. That's when my wife calls and snaps, "Tell your sister to apologize to Claude! Do you know how much trouble she's caused for him?" I don't know how much trouble he's in. All I know is that one must pay the price for the things they've done.

The casino my husband and I ran was about to go through a chaotic police raid. Anyone who got caught would likely end up arrested. We had the time to leave. But we couldn’t all leave. One of us had to stay behind, or the cops would keep chasing us. Elias, my charming husband, didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Mireille and left me to handle the cops, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll send a lawyer to you.” Lucky for me, I managed to walk away without any consequences. And then, I saw, Elias, the man who was supposed to have my back, not only did escape without me, he also whisked Mireille away to some fancy resort, like they were on vacation. He looked so carefree, so unbothered. Not a hint of concern for the wife he’d just abandoned. “Think Seraphina’s gonna be mad that we left without her?” Mireille asked, all innocence. Elias laughed, that cold, detached laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. “Please. As if she’d ever get mad at me. She can handle herself.” He didn’t care. But you know what? Neither do I. Not anymore.

On Valentine’s Day, I discovered that my brother’s fiancee, Erika Gibson, was cheating on him. So, I tried to tell my brother, Nathan Clinton, about it. However, he yelled at me. He said that I was trying to ruin his relationship and told me to leave. Erika then asked her lover to deal with me, so he kidnapped me. He mocked me for being unable to speak and forced me to sell 200 roses at the night market. I asked Nathan for help, but he replied impatiently. [Moon, I can’t believe you’d lie about something like this… I don’t have time for your games.] I was accidentally hit by a truck while Nathan was having a wonderful time with Erika. Haha. I was finally free, but I wished I had a different brother.

My movie star husband's girlfriend suspected I was the other woman. She confronted me in public, beat me until I lost my child, and even left my face scarred beyond recognition. "You shameless homewrecker! How dare you seduce someone else's man—and even get pregnant?" she screamed in rage. "I'll send you and that child of yours straight to hell today!" And as for my husband, he didn't even spare me a glance. All he cared to say was, "Why did you bother hitting her yourself? Did your hand hurt?" But when he finally discovered that the woman his girlfriend had scarred and caused to miscarry was me, he lost his mind.

My roommate was Rachel Travis, and something about her behavior always felt… off. On social media, she hit the like button on every single person’s posts, except mine. Whenever she asked for help, I was always there. However, the one time I asked her for a pad, she wrinkled her nose and called it "disgusting". For my birthday, I invited the whole dorm to dinner. When hers rolled around, she invited everyone, except me. Then, I saw my boyfriend, Ryan Cooper, at her birthday party. That’s when I finally snapped and confronted her. She looked at me, wide-eyed, all innocence. "What? Everything’s fine. Why are you acting like this? You’re just too sensitive." Even the other girls in the dorm piled on, saying I was overreacting and telling me I needed therapy. So maybe I was "too sensitive". Fine. Then, I would treat her exactly the way she treated me. Let’s see how she liked it.

My husband's protégé boasted she could disarm bombs blindfolded, relying on her so-called intuition. Her reckless misjudgment triggered a bomb's secondary detonation sequence, endangering an entire building. I intervened, using the dangerous liquid nitrogen condensation method to save the day. As a result, Rita Smith was removed from frontline duties and placed under investigation. Patrick Munoz tried to defend her, but I stopped him cold. "If you back her now, you won't just fail to save her. You'll be dragged down with her." Crushed by the pressure, Rita staged an accident that killed her, leaving a letter blaming him for abandoning her in her hour of need. He said nothing, only preserving her letter in his study. Years later, he became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was strapped to a timed explosive. He arrived to defuse it but repeated Rita's fatal mistake. As the timer ticked down, he gave a bitter laugh. "Rita was just nervous back then. If I'd supported her, she'd be a hero today." The bomb detonated, leaving nothing of me behind. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the point when he tried to defend Rita. He didn't know that the building housed the nation's top-secret core server.

A unique video went viral overnight. In the video, on a snow-capped mountain peak, my boyfriend, Ted Moretti, knelt on one knee, his expression tender. Amidst applause, the ring on her finger sparkled; it was the ring of the Moretti family's future bride. Within hours, the video topped various trending charts. People hailed it as the most romantic proposal of the year. Anya Rossi later posted a message. "I've been looking forward to this wedding for so long, and now it's finally happening! Thank you!" The comment section was instantly flooded with excited exclamations. "A Mafia family heir and an ordinary woman? I love it!" "It's like something out of a novel." "So enviable." I went to my boyfriend to confirm. Before I could even speak, I heard him talking to a close friend in the study. “Do I have any other choice?” Ted said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “If I don’t marry her, her gambler father will sell her off.” His friend hesitated. “But what about Carly? She’s been with you for so many years. Aren’t you worried she might lose her mind?” Ted chuckled, unconcerned. “So what if she’s angry? Carly and I have been together for six years. She won’t leave. She can’t leave.” At that moment, something deep inside me seemed to freeze completely. A month later On the same day Ted and Carly got married, I married another man. Our wedding processions met downtown. According to custom, we exchanged bouquets between the two passing wedding cars, and our windows rolled down simultaneously. That’s when Ted saw me. I was wearing a white wedding dress. Not behind him. But in another man’s arms. After knowing Ted Moretti for so many years, his consistently perfect composure crumbled for the first time.

One day, Ginnie Sullivan overheard Adam Grant, her husband, talking to his private doctor. “Mr. Grant, ever since your wife’s arm was hurt, she could hardly hold a pen to draw. Miss Warma has replaced your wife. She has become a famous artist. “Mrs. Grant’s arm tissues are almost completely dead. Are you sure you want to continue hiding this from her and refuse to treat her arm?” Adam replied coldly. “This is the only thing I can do in order to secure Snow’s position as a genius artist. As for Ginnie, at worst, I’ll make it up to her for the rest of my life.” Ginnie stumbled back in shock, unable to believe that the savior in her heart had deceived her for a total of three years. Since his love had all been a lie, she would just leave.

Before their fifth wedding anniversary, Ameera Meyer found out her marriage certificate with Marlow Brunsfield was forged. Meanwhile, he was in Anderia, a country where you can only marry once and that was it. There, he was marrying a younger girl he had brought up. His love for her was sincere. The tenderness he had for her was true. However, his heart had the capacity for two women…

Antonio Rivera finally finds out that I haven't asked him for money in a week. For once, he sends me a text message to compliment me. "Darling, you've finally learned how to become a good Donna. I've had my men deliver this week's worth of miracle drugs to your mother's ward. As long as you remain docile and don't be greedy, I'll give you anything you want." What he doesn't know is that I'm printing out a divorce agreement when I receive his message while wearing an old dress from three years ago. No one will believe that I, the Donna of the Rivera family, have to ask Antonio's Consigliere, Elena Gallo, for money even when I need to buy myself some tampons. Hell, I have to apply for a leave request three days in advance if I wish to leave my home. Antonio keeps telling me that he's doing this to protect me. "It's too dangerous outside, sweetheart. All you have to do is stay at home like a good girl you are." But one week ago, Mom's illness took a turn for the worse. I begged Elena to skip the request and let me out of the villa. Elena, however, dragged out my request for seven long days. Only when Mom died did she finally permit me to leave. Miracle drugs? My mom is already dead. I'm no longer tolerating anyone or anything anymore.

"Peter, should I go faster?" I was on my knees on the yoga mat, leaning forward, my hips moving in sharp, rapid motions. Meanwhile, my hands just kept working my chest, squeezing and rubbing. Behind me, the rest of the class just watched, their eyes fixed on the way my body moved. "Not bad. Keep that pace. Now let's move on to some hands-on practice." As soon as the instructor said that, he pulled off his pants and positioned himself beneath me.

Just one week before my marking ceremony with Lucien, I discovered his heart already belonged to someone else. His secretary, Anika, walked out of his office with a smirk that was a little too knowing. Her blouse was askew, her usually neat hair a tangled mess, and only the faintest trace of her crimson lipstick remained. My heart seized in my chest, and my fingers went cold on the doorknob. Two years ago, she had been a timid girl fresh from the countryside. All that pretense of innocence had vanished, replaced by a brazen ambition written across her face. Her relentless eagerness around Lucien had always grated on my nerves, and I had asked him more than once. "Lucien, can't you replace her?" His smile would always fade. "Anika saved my life," he'd say. "I can't be so heartless." Now, that single triumphant smirk was all it took for me to understand. What others once envied in me had already been trampled beneath her heels. My phone vibrated. It was a new proposal from the event planner. [The marking ceremony plan is nearly perfect. Can we finalize it?] I refused to be consumed by sorrow. I wiped a tear from my cheek and made one last adjustment to the document.——Replaced the bride's name withAnika I didn't want a false love, or a fake Alpha Lucien. Let them have the marking ceremony. Let Anika stand at his side as his Luna, his chosen mate. In seven days, I would be gone with my pup.

I was sent back in time to the very day my sister and I had to choose our mafia husbands. This time, though, I discovered I could hear people’s thoughts. In my previous life, my sister married Caspian, a violent brute. She lived every day in fear, trapped in a nightmare she could never escape. I, on the other hand, married Arnold—the gentleman everyone admired, living a life others envied. However, my sister had also been sent back in time, and this time, she made her move first. She chose Arnold, the “perfect husband” she had always coveted. At that moment, her thoughts echoed clearly in my mind. ‘Elysia shall suffer instead. This time, I’ll make sure I choose the good husband first.’ Her malice was unmistakable. My dear sister, did you really think I was happy in my last life? Since you want that life so badly, I’ll hand it to you myself.

My husband is a man with powerful emotions. To keep his adopted sister content, he allocates millions annually for her to spend lavishly. He's concerned about her well-being. Each night, he sits by her, ensuring she settles down. Later, when I was shot and bleeding heavily, requiring immediate aid, he remained utterly indifferent.He directed the entire medical team to his distraught adopted sister instead. I used my remaining strength to call my husband. The phone connected. His voice, tinged with irritation, answered: "What is it now? You're fine, perfectly healthy. Why would you need a doctor?" "Listen, Sofia needs me. Our family's medical resources are spread thin. For minor issues, just bear with it." My heart sank, feeling as if it had turned to ice. He truly is a man with powerful emotions. It's just that the one he truly cares about has never been me.

On the third day after my death, my body was sent to the police station in different packages. Jonathan Walsh, my husband, and Frank Stone, my junior at work, saw my corpse and frowned. “If only Elena were here, she would have been able to find some clues.” Frank sighed as he stared at my horribly mangled remains. “Don’t mention her. She’s not even worthy of being a forensic scientist!” I stared at my husband with a conflicted look. He analyzed each part of my body and deduced the manner of my death with familiar ease. “The murderer is a monster…” Frank’s face turned pale, and he sighed again. Jonathan calmly used all that I had taught him and perfectly pieced out the entire process of my death based on the clues from my dismembered body. I could not help but feel proud. Unfortunately, he was still a little off the mark. He did not manage to figure out that this body belonged to me, his wife.

I married the most powerful vampire in existence — Lucien Blackthorne. And I was just a human. Four years ago, my parents gave their lives to save his during an assassination attempt. So he married me. As compensation. Lucien paid for my education, gave me access to resources most humans could only dream of, and treated me with impeccable courtesy. But he never once mentioned turning me. Then one day, his childhood sweetheart — a female vampire, freshly divorced — came looking for him. It was the first time I ever saw Lucien smile. That was the moment I understood. Lucien had never seen me as his wife. There had always been someone else. So I handed him the divorce papers. He barely hesitated before signing his name. "Elena, why would you do this? You know you can't survive without me. You'll regret it." He tossed me a check across the desk, looking down at me, and told me to go home and think it over. But this time, I wasn't going back. I left him carrying his child, determined to find myself again — done begging for his love. And yet, after I vanished, he came chasing after me, sobbing, pleading with me not to go.

The day my parents severed their mate bond, my sister and I had to choose. One of us would go with our father—the Alpha who'd gambled away every inch of pack territory in underground wolf fights. The other would go with our mother, who was marrying Alaric, the most powerful Alpha in the werewolf world. In my past life, my sister fought to go with our mother. I stayed behind with our father in silence. Later, our father rebuilt himself. His territory grew tenfold. He became one of the strongest Alphas, and I was his most beloved daughter. But my sister provoked the tyrant Alpha Alaric, was banished from his territory, and was torn apart by rogues. After rebirth, my sister didn't hesitate. She dropped her packed bags and clung to our father, sobbing: "Daddy, I can't leave you. Let my sister go live the good life with Mom. I'll stay with you." Our father's eyes softened with emotion. He looked at me quietly packing my things, and his voice turned cold: "Get out. You're just like your mother—a gold-digging bitch." I didn't argue. I left in silence. In my past life, I fought thousands of battles in underground wolf pits for him. My wolf nearly died countless times. My body was covered in scars. I won back his territory piece by piece. Only then did he wake up, pull himself together, and become a powerful Alpha again. But my wolf had been shattered beyond repair. On the verge of death, my wolf burned the last spark of her life to reverse time. But she couldn't reverse her own decay. This time around, all I wanted was to find a place with no fighting and sit in the sun for a while.

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help. In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide. My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death. “This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!” Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

As I washed my wife's underthings, I discovered semen stains. It had been over two months since I last did it with Winona Sundown. She always looked down on me for not lasting long and being as boring as a dead fish. I silently accepted her criticism and mockery. That was until I saw a stranger messaging Winona with a hotel room number. The hotel just so happened to be my workplace, Pinnacle Hotel. The room number was 8102. I camped by the room, waiting to catch my prey. However, the woman at the door was a young and sensual woman. Unbeknownst to me, I had fallen into Winona's trap long ago...

After my husband, Samson Ferrell, receives his year-end bonus, he takes his godsister, Maya Taylors, on a three-month overseas trip. Meanwhile, I'm forced to continue working while taking care of our children on my own. In the middle of the night, when my children catch fevers simultaneously, I have to console my younger daughter with soothing words while wiping my oldest daughters down with a damp towel. My phone doesn't stop buzzing the whole time. From time to time, I receive pictures of Samson and Maya in swimwear while lounging under the Moldave sun. Sometimes, I see photos of them skiing happily in Chwiss. Honestly speaking, if Samson is just a friend of mine, I'll find myself admiring his relaxed and casual lifestyle. Unfortunately, he is my legal husband. My phone screen lights up again. This time, it's a racy picture sent by Maya. "Hey, I heard that you're taking care of the children at home. Well then, I shall take good care of Samson." After saving all of the photos and purchase history, I book an appointment with a divorce attorney. The day of Samson's return to the country will be the day he receives a lawsuit to recover marital assets.