Short Stories & Novels

An overpass in Winfeld that's still under construction ends up collapsing, leading to the deaths of many. Family members of the victims are up in arms, demanding that the person in charge pay the price for the incident. As the quality assurance inspector, I'm brought to court. However, I am just an intern. The real perpetrators are out clinking glasses, celebrating a clean getaway and the fact that they have a new scapegoat. Out of nowhere, the court introduces a new trial system that involves the extraction of memories directly from one's mind. In the middle of this major incident, a terrifying truth emerges. Everything goes all the way back to my university days…

On my eighth Mate-Marking anniversary, I had carefully prepared a special celebration ceremony. My Alpha mate, Derek, told me the pack had an emergency and the ceremony was canceled. When I arrived at the venue, I was shocked to see the ceremony proceeding as planned. Scarlett, once my best friend, was walking hand-in-hand with Derek onto the ceremonial platform. Her daughter and my son were being led by their hands, one child with each adult. The four of them stood closely together while other pack members, unaware of the truth, praised them: "The Alpha of Shadow Pack and his mate look so happy together." I stood up in the crowd and applauded: "I didn't know Shadow Pack had replaced their Luna with an Omega. They make such a perfect couple." The next moment, Scarlett's face turned pale as she collapsed on the platform. I ignored the chaos and walked straight home. The following day, Derek stormed back home and confronted me: "Scarlett's condition has barely improved. Why did you have to provoke her?" My son pushed me and accused: "It's all your fault! You made little Emma cry!" I pulled out the mate-bond dissolution agreement and threw it in their faces: "Yes, it's my fault. So I'm stepping out. Now you four can be one happy family." But my mate and son suddenly began to panic.

The night of our mating ceremony, my destined Alpha, Alex, basically tossed a three-year temporary mate bond agreement at me. He said he only had eyes for one wolf girl, Lily, an Omega. He told me he’d wait until the day he was in charge of the pack, then he’d personally cut our mate bond. Lily would be his one and only. That was until Lily had a huge fight with him and just up and vanished. Alex, after too many nights drowning his sorrows, accidentally marked me. It seemed like he was finally starting to get that I was his real mate. He even started willingly holding me as we fell asleep. Just when I thought Alex had totally accepted me, Lily came back. To save Lily’s mom, Alex didn’t think twice about giving up his own precious life force. To make Lily happy, he publicly shamed me at the Moon Festival, even snatching the only moonstone bracelet my grandma had left me. Lily smashed the bracelet, and my heart broke right along with it. On our third bonding anniversary, Alex booked my favorite restaurant, wanting to say sorry. But what he didn't know was that I’d already broken our mate bond. I wasn't going back.

Anthony Vitale—my husband’s older brother—was found dead after a fall at one of the family’s private properties on Long Island. He died before the men around him could even call it an accident. My husband, Enzo Vitale, stepped in as head of the family. At the same time, the senior men of the family made the decision for him—Enzo would take responsibility for his brother’s widow. His mother, Donna Victoria Vitale—the one truly running things behind the scenes—made it clear in the study at the estate. “Sophia is alone now,” she said. “You take her in. First, to carry on your brother’s bloodline. Second, to keep her under this family’s protection. This is family law.You don’t get a say.” That night, Enzo held me close, his voice low and soothing. “Elena, I’ll give her one child. That’s it. Once she’s pregnant, I’m done with her. You’re the only one who matters to me.” I believed him. But things didn’t stay that way. At first, he spent one night a month with her. Then it turned into one night a month with me. That was when I knew—he wasn’t mine anymore. The day Sophia announced her pregnancy at the private medical office the Vitales used, Enzo slipped the Vitale heirloom onto her finger—a black onyx signet ring engraved with the Vitale crest. It was the same ring he gave me when we got engaged. And he did it in front of everyone. That was the moment I knew—it was time to walk away.

On the day of our engagement, Caesar Greco brings the wrong ring. The one he's supposed to give me is a ruby ring engraved with the family crest. Instead, he slips a silver band onto my finger, the gift that comes with a necklace he bought a few days earlier. His eyes stay fixed on my sister, Anna Benedetti, in the audience. Barely paying attention to me, he answers, "I grabbed the wrong one by mistake. The audience sits so far away. Who's going to notice?" "By mistake" is something I've heard far too many times. On our date, he books tickets to a symphony concert Anna likes instead of the opera I've wanted to see by mistake. On our vacation, he brings the wrong passport by mistake. He and Anna board the plane while I am still stuck back home. At a dinner party, he sends my invitation to Anna by mistake. The next day's headlines are filled with photos of them arriving together, announcing to the world that she's the Don's wife instead of me. Every time, Caesar dismisses it with the same careless excuse. "It was just a mistake. Every day, I'm dealing with arms shipments and checking on the family's casinos. I have to watch my back in case someone tries to kill me. Why can't you cut me some slack over something this trivial?" I've made a point of putting the ring in a custom jewelry box and setting it in the most conspicuous spot on the table, right beside the pistol he never goes anywhere without. Somehow, he still picks up the wrong one. I follow his gaze to Anna. That's when I notice the ruby ring on her left ring finger, its facets blazing under the lights. Caesar steps in front of me, blocking my view, his tone impatient. "It's just a ceremony. Let's get through it. I have something important to get to." That so-called important thing is that Anna has found a newly opened boutique and wanted him to go with her to check it out. I slip the ring off my finger and hold it out to him. "Since I'm clearly never on the top of your list, you should save your time for the person who is."

At 18 years old, our families offer my best friend—Roxanne Reed—and me to two werewolves. I'm paired with the cold Alpha Lucian Nightshade, while she's matched with the violent warrior Aiden Steele. Despite the elders' opposition, Lucian grants me, a mere human, the position of Luna. Yet on the night of the ceremony, he abandons me at the altar to save Seraphina and form a mate bond with her instead. Aiden similarly delays his ceremony for Seraphina, warning Roxanne to rein in her defiance. We exchange knowing glances and smile. It's time to teach these savage werewolves a lesson. We make our decision on the spot to call off the engagements. With nothing but the jewelry we have, we establish ourselves in Pollyland. I become the film industry's most captivating new star with the most compelling backstory, while Roxanne becomes my formidable ace of an agent. Together, we thrive spectacularly in the world of fame and fortune. Two years later, outside my new movie's celebration party, dozens of Maybachs silently block all exits. I receive a text from an unknown number. "Game over." I tell Roxanne to take everyone and leave through the back door first. As I turn around, I collide with an ice-cold embrace. Lucian lowers his head, his golden eyes now bloodshot. His voice is hoarse and filled with madness as he says, "Eleanor, come back with me."

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.

I, Luna Silverblood have spent seven years loving a wolf who never valued me. When my public humiliation at what should have been my mating ceremony reaches its peak, an unexpected savior appears—dominant alpha Dominic Blackthorn, who claims her as his mate. But is this mysterious alpha merely rescuing a desperate she-wolf, or does he share a deeper connection with me than either realizes?

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.

I worked for a restaurant, and our boss loved making empty promises about giving us restaurant shares. The boss said we would start with zero shares, but we could earn 0.01% for every two hours of overtime, covering someone else’s work or saving the restaurant 1,000 bucks. I suggested she write this down in an official document and have someone track it properly. She just smiled and told everyone to work harder. She never actually put it in writing. The experienced staff did not believe her, but one prep cook took it seriously. At the end of the year, he went to the boss to claim his shares. The boss said, “Sorry, the head chef told me there’s no official document, so it doesn’t count. You can’t claim any shares.” The prep cook worked hard all year and got nothing for it, so he took his anger out on me. The day before I was going home for the New Year, he killed me with a knife. “If you hadn’t said it doesn’t count without an official document, this whole restaurant would’ve been mine!” I lay in a pool of blood. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day the boss first made those empty promises.

God gave me a beautiful face and a wealthy life. At the same time, He gave me the personality of a hopeless pushover and a simp. In my previous life, I fawned over Gabert Yates, putting him first in everything. In the end, Gabert, my obsessive childhood friend, imprisoned me in a pitch-dark basement, kept me as his captive, and tortured me to death. When I got a second chance, a few lines of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Chelsea Ziegler, remember this at all times! Simps end up with nothing!] [Your childhood friend is a total masochist. Crybaby, don’t be scared. Scold him!] [He’ll even give you his life if you insult him hard enough!] I wiped away my tears as I tilted my head up and spoke to him in a soft, trembling voice, “Y-you’re just a shameful illegitimate child… a bastard!” More comments popped up: [Yes, that’s more like it, but not harsh enough. Slap him!] I stood on my tiptoes, stumbling a little as I tried to reach up and slap his face. The “smack” was not loud, but it was crisp. Gabert’s dark, unhinged gaze suddenly deepened. Things seemed to be getting interesting…

My mate, Alpha Ryan, started skipping my healer's appointments after I got pregnant. He always blamed pack business. But I found him at the clinic anyway. He was with another pregnant she-wolf—his childhood friend, Bonnie. He held her with a tenderness he no longer gave me. "I'll take responsibility for this child," he promised her. "He'll be safe." His words shattered my world. Their child? I stormed in to confront them and saw it: his temporary mark on her neck. He swore the pup wasn't his. He claimed a rogue attacked her and the mark was only for protection. His lie was a knife twisting in our mate bond. I was carrying his pure-blooded heir. But he let the pack brand my child a bastard, while hailing her half-blood pup as his true heir. To protect Bonnie, he locked me in a silver-laced cell. The silver was a living death. He didn't realize his mistake until I took the forbidden herbs, sacrificing our child and collapsing in a pool of my own blood. Only then did he cradle my broken body, begging for a forgiveness I would never give.

I never called my stepbrother, Victor Rossi, "brother." I loved him. In my previous life, I forced him to marry me, and we became the most infamously miserable couple in New Hampston's mafia circles. On Monday, he threw me into a lion's cage after starving the beast for three days. On Tuesday, I tied him to a spinning wheel and forced him to play Russian roulette. He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved. I hated him because we had grown up side by side, yet even after ten years of marriage, he could not forget the woman from the fishing village. Even in bed, wrapped around each other, we hurled the cruelest curses at one another. When the cruise ship went up in flames, Victor gave me his chance to live. He shoved me onto the last lifeboat, his voice gentler than it had ever been. "This life was exhausting. I don't want to fight with you anymore. Live well. In the next life, let me go." I watched the fire swallow him along with the ship. The deep sea buried everything. The light in my eyes went out with it. I threw myself into the freezing water and ended that absurd, painful life with my own hands. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the moment I forced him to marry me. In this life, I would not destroy us both. As I watched him kneel before me, defiant even in the face of death, I did not drive away the woman he loved as I had before. "I will let you have her." Under Victor's stunned gaze, my eyes reddened as I spoke softly. "This time, I am the one who does not want you."

My name is Gabriel Wilson, and my sister is Isabelle Wilson. Growing up, Dad runs our house by making an example out of me. In elementary school, whenever Isabelle misses a single math problem on her homework, Dad forces me to write it out a hundred times. I scribble until my fingers cramp into a knot and I can barely grip the pen, which terrifies Isabelle so much that she stops making careless mistakes altogether. During middle school, Isabelle uses her allowance to buy a ten-dollar bag of snacks for a boy she likes, and the moment Dad finds out, he slashes my monthly allowance from 1,200 dollars down to a measly 200 dollars. For the next month, I survive entirely on cheap, stale bread until I'm rushed to the ER for throwing up bile. Even so, Dad only relents when Isabelle breaks down in tears and promises never to waste another dime. When college rolls around, Isabelle insists on applying to the police academy. Dad tries to talk her out of it, but when he realizes she won't budge, he tells her, "You want to be a cop? Fine. Let me show you what real cops actually have to deal with." He wipes my social security number from the system, stages my disappearance to look like a kidnapping, and dumps me right in the middle of a serial killer's hunting ground. I spend days confined in an abandoned cabin, calling for help until my voice goes hoarse. Blood begins to pool beneath my feet as the serial killer slices my skin with a rusted blade. Back home, Isabelle frantically begs Dad for my tracker. "Dad, please!" she screams. "Just tell me where Gabriel is! I won't join the police force, okay? I'll drop the whole thing!" Even though I'm just on the other side of the wall from them, I can no longer make a sound. My soul drifts in midair as I watch Isabelle collapse onto the floor in despair, sobbing. Dad, I'm done letting you make an example out of me.

After a car accident, my wife loses her memory. She throws herself into her first love's arms and frantically aborts our child. When I confront her in despair, she looks at me with nothing but contempt. "Why would I keep some child when I don't even know who the father is? You're really shameless, pulling this stunt just to avoid splitting the assets." What she doesn't know is that I have made a deal with the system to bring her back to life. By the time she remembers everything, she's already searching desperately for me all over the world. But I can never return.

Right before bed, I stumbled across a post titled: [My wife has a second family on the side. What do I do?] Something made me click on it. According to the poster, his wife had grown busier over the past year, always traveling for work at the company's branch office. The money she handed over had grown too, and at first, it hadn't worried him. He'd just felt grateful that she was working so hard for their family. Then he saw a post about a man trying on a suit, and he recognized his wife's hand and the back of her figure in the photo at once. He was desperate, and he wanted to know what other people thought he should do. I scrolled further down, curious to see the true face of the woman he was calling a cheat. The next moment, my blood ran cold. Because even with the picture blurred out, I could tell it was the exact photo he'd used, the same one from my own post the week before.

"Sienna, he looks so pitiful." In my last life, I listened to my younger sister and chose the black fox who hadn't even taken human form as my fiancé. I poured everything I had into helping him take human form, but he carved out my inner core and presented it to my sister to curry her favor. When I lived again, at the mate-selection ceremony, my sister once more pointed pitifully at the black fox. In front of everyone, I chose the four-tailed white fox she wanted most. Then I "gifted" the black fox to her.

At the team dinner, everyone started hyping Peggy Madoff and me up to call our partners. Before I could even move, Peggy—runner-up to my top spot—whipped out her phone. "Babe, everyone's making me call you!" she giggled. On the line? Gerard Busch. Yeah, the CEO. He laughed. "Guess I'll be counting on you all to look after Peggy," he said. Cue the gasps and cheers. I just kept downing my wine. Because Gerard? He was my husband.

My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party. When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms. “The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too? In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers. The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.” Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]

The first time I have an affair, it's with my wife, Josephine Yates' best friend, Lydia Bennett. When Josephine catches us red-handed in bed, I'm in the middle of enjoying myself, my cheeks insanely flushed. Josephine gets into a huge fight with Lydia afterward. Then, she proceeds to drink her sorrows away that night before choosing to forgive me. After we've patched things up, we grow even more lovey-dovey than when we first got married. In fact, we're known as the golden couple who are envied by all. That is, when Josephine catches me cheating on her again on our tenth year anniversary. This time, I'm sleeping with Victoria Fairfax, the senior whom Josephine admires and respects the most. Josephine is so furious that she almost suffers from a seizure on the spot. Having gone batshit crazy, she decides to commit joint suicide with Victoria. I can only sigh before pulling her into my arms. "This is my last time doing this. I promise that you're the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life." Josephine is in so much pain and agony that she's on the brink of despair. Still, she believes my words and treats me even better now. She showers me with lavish gifts, be it luxury watches, unique custom-fitted apparel, or limited-edition racing cars. As long as she can afford it, she'll strive to give me the best. Some people call me a freeloading husband. That night, Josephine makes sure that those people have vanished off the face of the earth. When I tell Josephine that I don't want children, she gets her tubes tied immediately. Everyone praises Josephine for being devoted. They also claim that I've married the right woman. I just smile and nod. "I've used up all of my luck to meet Josephine in my life." But on Josephine's 34th birthday, she spies a paternity test report on my desk. That's when she suffers from a complete mental breakdown. The child is mine, and yet she's never given birth before.