Short Stories & Novels

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife, Blair, the daughter of the city's richest man, straddled my lap, her kiss deep and intoxicating as she toyed with my lower lip. The same night, we just announced our pregnancy to the world. Just then, Blair's best friend, Chloe, asked in French, her tone suggestive: "Blair, you're absolutely glowing. But tell me honestly, how does it feel to get railed by another man while carrying a baby?" Blair let out a soft laugh, a familiar sound that sent a chill down my spine. She replied, also in French: "It feels absolutely incredible, Chloe. He's like a wild wolf. Just yesterday, he had his head buried between my thighs, using his mouth to bring me to tears before taking me so deep I forgot my own name." Her fingers were still toying with my collar, but her gaze was already distant. "But remember, keep this from Kevin. If he finds out what I've been doing behind his back while pregnant, it will be a disaster." The socialite sisters gathered around them shared knowing chuckles, raising their glasses and promising to keep the secret. The warmth in my veins turned to ice. My fervent passion to welcome a new life was instantly reduced to a pathetic joke. They had all forgotten that I spent my childhood in southern France. I understood every single syllable. I forced myself to remain calm, my face fixed in the perfect smile expected of a blissful husband about to welcome his first child, but the hand holding my champagne glass was trembling. I didn't fly into a rage. I didn't smash everything in sight. Instead, I took out my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days prior for the Aegis Agency, a highly classified organization on the other side of the world, and clicked "Accept." In three days, I would vanish from Blair's world.

The project I had poured my heart and soul into earned the company over a hundred million in profit, yet the credit was handed to the vice president's nephew. I stood in a corner, the stack of source code documents trembling in my hands, nearly crushed by my grip. That nephew—who couldn't even get Hello World to compile—was now on stage, smiling brightly as he accepted the award. The vice president came over and draped an arm around my shoulder like we were old friends. "You're just an outsourced worker," he said casually. "These honors wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. Jason is new. He's got limitless potential. From now on, you'll be responsible for mentoring him properly." Only then did I realize that decades of struggle had been nothing more than laying out a red carpet for someone else's glory. That very night, while reviewing the project's code repository, I discovered a massive flaw—one serious enough to bring the entire system crashing down within three days.

At the Colonetti family banquet in New York, I stood in the center of the grand hall with more than a dozen girls from different families, all of us waiting to be chosen. Victor, the heir of the Colonetti family, was supposed to announce his fiancée tonight. Along with that announcement, he would present her with the family heirloom, a lily brooch. As an illegitimate daughter of the family, I understood that if I didn’t receive that brooch tonight, it meant I would be sent to Chicago for an arranged marriage. Victor, who had once promised to marry me, changed his mind without warning. With a smile, he pinned the lily brooch onto the chest of the woman standing beside me instead. Then, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Let your sister Emily have her moment today. She’s also an illegitimate daughter like you, and she’s also never been valued growing up. Don’t worry. With me here, no one will force you into an arranged marriage.” Even as I looked at him with pleading eyes, he reached out and let Emily take his arm. “Emily is kind and gracious,” he said. “She deserves the lily brooch.” Those words—kind and gracious—turned me into the joke of the entire evening. The next day, I boarded a flight to Chicago alone, but Victor panicked. He used every connection he had and managed to ground every flight heading to Chicago.

My dad arrives at the hotel after taking three bus rides from the town two hours before the wedding starts. He's wearing the old suit that he has kept for the past ten or so years. The cuffs have gone white from all the washing, and his shoes shine brightly from all the polishing. Before entering, Dad has specifically pinned the red boutonniere to his chest several times while looking at his reflection in the glass of the hotel's main entrance just so he can get it right. After all, it symbolizes his status as the bride's father. When Dad is about to take his seat, he grasps the card that shows his seat as he approaches my future husband, Elliott Chambers, tentatively. "Elliott, there seems to be a mistake with my seat." Elliott merely glances at the card before pushing it back to Dad. "Your seat is correct. There are limited spots at the main table, so you'll have to sit at a spare table at the back." Dad is stunned by Elliott's answer. "But it says here that I'm meant to sit at the main table…" Elliott frowns at Dad. "This is a last-minute adjustment. The shareholders and important clients of Chambers Corp will be attending my wedding today. Not everyone gets to sit at the main table." Dad looks down at his old suit before he slowly stuffs the card back into his pocket. He wants to take off the boutonniere, but the pin gets stuck in the fabric of his jacket. The more he wants to take it off, the more his hand keeps shaking. That's when Elliott's mother, Catherine Aldridge, speaks up. "All the seats are the same, Patrick. Don't cause any trouble for Elliott now." Dad quickly nods in response. "You're right. I'm fine with any seat." Then, he picks up the old wooden chest that's sitting by his feet before heading toward the spare table that's located in the corner. I raise my head, only to see a seating card titled "The Carvers" being placed on the most obvious spot of the main table. At the moment, Elliott is helping Claire Carver's mother into her seat. As for my dad, he's hugging the chest containing the wedding gifts meant for me while sitting by the kitchen door.

On the day Nick Grange and I hold our marking ceremony, he hands me a three-year agreement. "Our mate bond is only to solidify the alliance between the Lycus and Lunaria packs," he says. "The one I love is Zora. If you sign this contract, the mate bond will dissolve automatically after three years. When that time comes, I'll let you go." Without hesitation, I sign it. This union is something I made happen because from the moment I met Nick, I fell deeply in love with him. For three years, we live in harmony. Nick treats me well, making me form the mistaken belief that he might love me back too. But that illusion shatters. Nick brings Zora Knott, who has just returned to the Lycus pack, to his birthday banquet. Even without Nick bringing up our agreement, I know it's time for me to leave at that moment. I leave to set him free. But why is he searching for me everywhere after I'm gone?

After Graduation, I Married Lucas Bellmont, the Hottest Star Captain in American Hockey. Three years into our marriage, he suddenly became obsessed with my body, a complete 180 from his usual cold demeanor. He wanted me night after night, saying he wanted us to have a child. Despite the ache in my body, my heart swelled with sweetness. I thought he'd finally accepted me. At a gala, I shared the news with my best friend—Lucas's adopted sister, Clara. She ran off in tears. Lucas, usually so composed, went pale. He lashed out at me for saying such things in front of Clara, then left without a second thought. I followed, worried, and found them locked in an embrace. "If it weren't for you, I'd never have married her. If it weren't for your pregnancy, I wouldn't be touching her now." "Everything I'm doing—making her have the baby quickly so we can swap it with ours—it's all for our future. So our child can be the rightful heir." "Clara, just hold on a little longer, okay?" Lucas's voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. All for another woman. His adopted sister. My so-called best friend. I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I turned around and called my lawyer for a divorce agreement. Since he'd never loved me. In seven days, I'd be gone from his life for good.

My family had always prioritized fairness, because my brother and sister were twins and would start fighting if our parents so much as showed a hint of favoritism. That was why they always had equal portions for them—one for John, the other for Jane. "What about me?" I asked my mother, only to get yelled at. "Can you stop?! We already have our hands full with your twin siblings!" Later, my father bought a six-seater for our family of five. However, when the family headed out for a trip, the remaining two seats were taken by Jane's pet dog and John's pet cat. As I stood outside gingerly under the rain, Jane glared at me warily while shouldering her dog, while John snorted. "We agreed to be fair. No one gets to take my cat's seat." My father shot me a look of annoyance. "Don't you have better things to do?" I was shivering from the cold, but I smiled at him nonetheless. "Yeah, I won't be joining you guys." After that, I submitted my national athlete application to my counselor, Mr. Ackles. If there was no fairness for me even after twenty years, I had no reason to stay.

Chase Grimm's aide-de-camp sent me a screenshot of an Instagram Live status. Guess who it came from. His new secretary. She was showing off a meticulously prepared lunch from a lunchbox. My handiwork, no less. I made it for him. The caption read: [He's a dark, cold CEO… and a shiny knight who saved a hungry princess with a gastric problem from eating mac 'n' cheese again!] Chase almost never posted on Instagram. Yet there he was, sharing a photo of a cup of ridiculously spicy mac 'n' cheese, captioned: [I have missed this.] The nerve of this prick. Then my mother-in-law sent an entirely unsolicited text: [What the heck were you doing?! You're supposed to make him a proper lunch! He can't stand spicy food!] After all that, I decided to call a supermarket. "Hi! I'd like to order 100 cups of instant super-spicy mac 'n' cheese and have them delivered to Grimm Co. Please and thank you." "Ain't I generous?"

Five years married to Marcello, and I find out he's no street punk. He's the Don. The head of New York's McCarthy family. While I was pinching every penny, he was dropping millions at auction, buying a fortune in diamonds for Camilla, his dead best friend's widow. He even took the baby I nearly died giving birth to. Gave him to Camilla. He stroked my hair, his voice soft and cruel. "Camilla and I, we grew up together. She was carrying Ethan's kid. If she knew her baby died... she couldn't take it." "We'll have other kids," he said. I said no. So he threatened my family. I gave in. But I made a promise to myself: I was leaving this man. I secretly signed the papers to be a combat medic. I ship out in seven days.

The day my family went bankrupt, my fiancée left me and married her first love. I didn't argue or make a scene. Instead, I married Sharon Tomlinson, the woman who had confessed to me when I was at my lowest. After we got married, I took care of Sharon for seven full years while she was paralyzed from the waist down. The day she finally stood up again, I accidentally overheard her speaking Aurelian with her best friend at the dinner table. "Sharon, are you really planning to spend your whole life with him? Aren't you worried you'd hurt your brother's feelings?" Sharon peeled a shrimp for our daughter, Tasha Holden, and answered unhurriedly, "What are you talking about? I know how to deal with them both. I could never bear to make Curtis sad." "Same for me. I like Uncle Curtis. He's handsome, while my dad's an ugly freak," Tasha chimed in beside them, also in Aurelian. They didn't know I spoke the language. Fine. I was sick of Sharon's undercooked pasta, anyway. I would never eat it again for the rest of my life!

“Sorry, but due to the holiday, we’re overbooked. Your reservation has been canceled. Here’s a fifty-dollar voucher as compensation.” The hotel front desk clerk handed me a voucher with a perfunctory tone. I looked at her coldly. Then, I looked at the man next to her, who had just arrived. He had not even shown his ID, yet the clerk respectfully handed him a presidential suite key card. “Why can he check in without even showing an ID? Meanwhile, my room, which I booked a full week in advance, was canceled without explanation. And all I get is a lousy fifty-dollar voucher?” The front desk clerk let out a scornful laugh as she walked up to me. “Because he’s Mr. Ludwig, the heir of Grandview Group! His family owns the entire hotel. Do you think it’s just a matter of one room? If he wanted the whole hotel emptied out tonight, we’d do it. Who do you think you are? “If you keep standing here causing trouble and getting in his way, I’ll have security drag you outside and beat some sense into you. Now, get out!” Two security guards stepped forward. They grabbed me by the hair and roughly pulled me toward the door. My scalp hurt badly from the pulling, and my clothes were wrinkled. The front desk clerk’s shouts trailed behind me. “Next time, stay in a motel. People like you can’t afford to travel on a holiday.” I looked at the hotel’s grand entrance. Instead of shouting, I let out a quiet, exasperated laugh. The heir to Grandview Group, huh? They probably did not know that their lofty heir was right in front of them, and that he was being humiliated by their staff. Since they refused to serve guests decently, only catered to people with status, and did not think twice about hurting and humiliating their other customers, this hotel might as well shut down.

On Father's Day, I received a heartwarming gift. My one-year-old son called me Dad for the first time. But moments later, he convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and died before we could reach the hospital. My wife was shattered, and I was devastated. The doctors couldn't identify the cause of his death. Three years later, my wife emerged from her grief, and we welcomed our second child. But the moment this child called me Dad, they, too, died instantly. To spare her further pain, I suggested adoption. Yet, even our adopted children met the same fate. Unable to bear the losses, my wife divorced me. Everyone said I was cursed, never meant to be a father. Defiant, I remarried and had another child, vowing never to let them call me Dad. For years, we adhered to this rule. But when our daughter turned four, she came home from preschool, eager to celebrate Father's Day. Holding a card, she read aloud, "Dad."

"Vera, you are accused of conspiring with the Petrov Group to assassinate the family's future Donna, Sylvia. This tribunal is now in session." In the center of the tribunal, a syringe filled with a dark green liquid glinted under the lights. My former fiancé, Rocco, the new Don of the Corleone family, sat on the dais, disgust plain on his face. "Confess. Let everyone see the monster you are behind that mask." Sylvia leaned against his chest, a faint smile on her lips. She thought I would finally break, my reputation in ruins. Shackled to the accused's chair, a smile of faint relief touched my lips. "Rocco, are you sure you want to do this?" "Use that needle, and there's no going back."

When I turn 20, my grandfather's old friend—now the richest man in the country—lays out photos of his grandsons in front of me. He says, "Pick one to be your husband." Without hesitation, I choose Nathaniel Chapman. Everyone in the room is stunned. After all, it's no secret I've always been hopelessly in love with George Chapman. I used to swear I'd marry no one but him. In my previous life, I got what I wanted—I married George. And because of that marriage, he inherited the lion's share of his grandfather's wealth. But after the wedding, he started an affair with my sister. My parents were furious and sent her abroad to study. George thought I was the one who exposed them. From then on, he hated me to my very core. Women came and went at his side, each one resembling my sister more than the last. The betrayal crushed me. I fell into deep depression. Later, he secretly replaced my medication with slow-acting poison. I died with a child in my womb—alone, bitter, and betrayed. Now, I've been reborn. This time, I choose to let them have each other. But what I don't expect is that George has been reborn too.

After the death of his first love, Caspian Stormcrown hated me for ten years. No matter how carefully I tried to please him, he met me with nothing but sneers. "If you really want to make me happy, go and die," he said. The words cut deep. Yet when a burning beam collapsed during the palace fire, he shoved me out of the way and died in my stead. He lay in my arms as his life faded. When I reached for him, he spent his last strength brushing my hand aside. "Evelyn Frostwood, how much better would my life have been if I had never met you…" he whispered. At the funeral, his mother sobbed until she could barely remain standing. "This is my fault," she cried. "I never should have forced you to marry her. If I had let you marry Amelia instead, would today have ended differently?" His father looked at me with open hatred. "Caspian saved you three times. Why did you only ever bring him disaster? Why did you live instead of him?" Everyone regretted that Caspian married me. So did I. In the end, I leapt from Starfall Tower and returned to the past, 10 years earlier. This time, I chose to sever every tie between Caspian and me and give everyone the ending they wanted.

I've gotten bound to the exchange system three times in a row. In my previous lifetime, when Mom found out about it, she demanded that I swap my healthy body with Erica Jenkins, my disfigured younger sister. During my high school years, I threw myself into my studies while forced to endure the pressure caused by my partial blindness and my classmates' mockery. Even after I managed to become the top student of the state with my SAT scores, Mom forced me to swap my results with Erica. Some time later, Mom tricked me into exchanging my identity with a rich scion who had committed atrocious crimes. Because of that, I was imprisoned and later on, sentenced to death. Meanwhile, Mom and Erica lived happily ever after thanks to the wealth they had accumulated from my exchanges. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I get bound to the exchange system.

After billionaire Jonathan Whitman lost his fortune, his wife Selene had no choice but to work as a maid in a mansion to make ends meet. She scrubbed toilets. She cleaned pools. She hauled out garbage—right up until she lost the baby she was carrying. And then she discovered her husband's affair with Vivienne, her employer. She was sleeping with Selene's husband, carrying her husband's baby, wearing million-dollar rubies, sleeping in silk, dining on imported delicacies. The moment she walked in on them, Selene snapped and pushed Vivienne. But Jonathan, to protect her, had Selene arrested and held in detention. He thought she'd come out of it humbled. Quiet. Tamer. What he didn't know was that the moment she walked free, she filed for divorce. She walked out of the basement studio they'd shared without a backward glance. What he also didn't know: he had a genetic infertility condition. And the only woman on earth whose body could give him a child—was Selene.

The first experiment in the world of retrieving memories after death succeeds, and my memories are going to be broadcast live all over the Internet. My dad has just learned about my death, but he only says in a disgusted tone, "Who would want to see the memories of someone who is selfish, mean, and has nothing commendable at all about them? Today is the wedding day of Zoe and Cameron. Pause the live broadcast and stop being so sickening!" Zoe is my stepsister, and Cameron is supposed to be my fiance. After that, my father finds out the truth from the live broadcast of my memories. He begs for my forgiveness tearfully but… I'm already dead.

I had been with Cameron Stevenson for three years, yet he had never marked me. To win back the Silver Moon Pack's Alpha, I agreed to his ridiculous request of mating in the wild. Cameron snapped a pair of silver handcuffs on me and bound me to a tree. My pants had barely come off when his phone rang. It was that Omega, Rebecca Anderson. "Cameron, the pup is sick!" she cried. He pulled out of me instantly, yanked his pants up, and ran. "Don't worry! I'm coming!" I struggled and shouted after him. "Cameron! The cuffs! Uncuff me first!" He was already several yards away when he turned back with an impatient remark. "Just wait! Rebecca's pup is the hope of the entire pack!" I waited an entire day and night. The cold wind cut like blades. The silver cuffs ate into my wrists until skin and blood mixed. Cameron never came back. 'Cameron… Since you couldn't let go of that low-ranked Omega, I wouldn't mind burying the two of you together. You'll never be apart for the rest of your lives!'

At senior prom, Celeste Bell asked me in front of half the school if she could have the first dance with my boyfriend. Nico Moretti didn't wait for my answer. He removed the white orchid I'd pinned to his tuxedo and replaced it with the red boutonniere she'd made for him. I didn't argue or cry. I simply stepped aside and let them take the center of the dance floor. Ten minutes later, Nico texted that Celeste had lost her father and was caring for a mother with multiple sclerosis. He told me to quit making a big deal out of nothing. If I kept acting this jealous, he said, he wouldn't introduce me as his girlfriend when we got to Columbia. I read the message and smiled, because he had no idea I'd already turned down Columbia and accepted a full ride at the University of Washington. In a few weeks, on his eighteenth birthday, I would leave Boston for the other side of the country. Nico Moretti had always believed he could push me as far as he wanted and I'd still come back. What he never understood was that once a quiet girl finally walks away, she rarely bothers with a goodbye.