Short Stories & Novels

While I'm waiting for my vasectomy to start, I see a popular question trending on a forum. "What's the best revenge for a man?" An anonymous answer is upvoted all the way to the top of the comment section. "By stealing everything he's proud of while playing the role of his best friend, of course! To be honest with you, this is how I treat my childhood friend, too. "Before he realizes it, his parents already view me as their biological son. The company has bestowed upon me a position that's superior to his. His wife even gave her virginity to me at the new home he had personally decorated and refurnished. His children are actually mine, and they are super clingy to me! "Because of something I said, his wife made him get a permanent vasectomy. He actually agreed to it. At this rate, that bastard will never be able to have his own children!" Some people are shocked, while others don't hesitate to berate the anonymous poster. But the majority of the commenters are more confused than anything. "What sort of deep-rooted grudge do you have against your childhood friend, though? Why is your revenge going this far?" That poster is surprisingly honest. "Actually, it's nothing much. This friend of mine is superior to me in any way since we were kids. But he's also a smug and arrogant one who doesn't really seem to care about anything at all. "I don't like that attitude of his, so I've come up with this scheme and stolen everything from him. Take now, for example. He's waiting for his vasectomy procedure at the hospital, while I'm hugging his wife right now. In fact, I plan on depleting this entire box of contraceptives!" The latest photo the online poster has uploaded shows a box containing 13 condoms. As for the background, it happens to be my home.

When I was ten, I bugged my brother to come home for my birthday. He died in a plane crash that day. They never found his body. After that, my parents saw me as a total screw-up. They blamed me for his death. Every year on his memorial day, they forced me to kneel at the cemetery and repent my mistakes. I did that for eight years. I figured I'd spend my whole life paying for it. But on my 18th birthday, some creep stalked and murdered me. Right before I died, I tried calling for help. But my mom chewed me out. "I bet you're just dodging your duty to make up for James. You're full of crap. If you hadn't forced him to come back, he would have been alive. This is what you deserve." She hung up, leaving me staring at the dead screen. My last hope was dashed. She was right. Someone like me meant nothing but bad luck to those around me. I didn't deserve to exist. But then, eight years after his death, James showed up with his pregnant wife. When they heard I was gone, they fell apart.

On the eve of a surgery, I voluntarily resign from my position as lead surgeon. My colleagues sneer behind my back and mock me openly. "And this guy's supposed to have a PhD from abroad? Looks more like he bought a degree from some no-name university." "Can't even handle a challenge without running—what kind of doctor is that?" In my last life, I gave up competing in a general practitioner skills competition to take on this very surgery. But because the other lead surgeon violated protocol during the operation, it ended in a serious medical accident. My sister, the head of the department, pinned all the blame on me. Even my girlfriend stood firmly on their side, accusing me of incompetence. Overnight, I went from being a respected medical PhD to the disgrace of the hospital. I couldn't prove the mistake wasn't mine. I was fired and faced criminal charges. My parents, once so proud of me, pointed at me in rage. "We don't have a son who plays god with people's lives!" Crushed by shame and despair, I spiraled into deep depression and jumped from the hospital roof. But now, I open my eyes again. I'm back—back to the night before the surgery.

I am the wife of Anthony Caster, don of the mafia family in New York. When I was nine months pregnant, he brought a woman named Evelyn Graves into the manor, claiming she’d saved his life. That was the day my nightmare began. She put something in my food. Next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain. And she had the nerve to blame it on me—said I was being reckless with what I ate. She lost her footing and fell down the stairs, but she told everyone I was the one who shoved her. Every day, she’d cry in front of Anthony about how saving him had left her wounded and unable to bear children, how seeing a pregnant woman broke her heart. But the moment she turned to me, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold smile. “As long as I’m here,” she whispered, “your babies will never be born.” Anthony was convinced I was jealous of her. He locked me away in the abandoned attic of the manor and said, “Reflect on your actions and stop bullying Evelyn.” On the first day they shut me in, the contractions began. I screamed, I begged, I banged on the door. The butler heard me and went to inform Anthony. He said, “Amelia, your due date is three days away. Stop putting on an act. Three days in a snowstorm and you came out fine. This? You can handle this.” On the second day, my water broke. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingernails digging into the cracks of the wall, blood spilling all over the floor. The butler went to Anthony again. Evelyn said, “Anthony, she’s making all that noise because she wants you to feel sorry for her and let her out. If you give in now, she’ll only grow more reckless later.” He believed her. On the third day, I stopped screaming. Anthony thought I had finally learned my lesson, unaware that I had already died from the difficult labor. When he finally opened that door, all he would find was my rotting, putrid body.

To save his illegitimate son, who suffered from kidney failure, Lucas Cadell had his five-year-old daughter go through the kidney removal surgery without telling his wife. Upon finding out what happened, Cassiopeia Hepburn sped to the hospital. By the time she got there, the red indicator light above the operating room was already switched on. Her eyes were bloodshot as she desperately pounded the door and cried out, "Stop! I'm the mother! I do not consent to having her kidney removed!" Lucas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her to restrict her. His voice was filled with remorse as he spoke, "I'm sorry, Cassie, but Liam is going to die from kidney failure if I don’t do anything to save him. The only solution is to have Anya donate her kidney to him." Cassiopeia stared at the man she had loved for many years in disbelief. The man she was once so obsessed with seemed to have turned into a stranger.

After waking up one day to discover I was coughing up flowers, everyone started giving me strange looks. It continued until my sworn enemy cornered me against a wall. His expression darkened as he chuckled softly and asked, "Oh, baby, have you been going out like this every day? Why don't you try mine instead?"

On my birthday, my husband of five years accompanied his childhood sweetheart to celebrate her dog's birthday. Avery Simpson published a loving post: [The happiest baby in the world. Mom and Dad will be with you. I hope you're always happy.] Seeing the words "Mom and Dad", I commented a question mark with confusion. The next moment, I found myself blocked. Charles Logan called me and lashed out at me. "Why do you always have to mess things up at the worse possible time? You're worse than a dog. How despicable!" Shortly after, Avery changed her profile picture to one of her and Charles, hands intertwined. When I saw the obvious provocation, I didn't get angry like before. That's because I had already made up my mind to get a divorce.

Harry Pate fails in his plan to secure a fortune from my family. He tries to drug me, hand me over to his friends, and even film it to control me. Luckily, a kind netizen overhears him plotting with his mistress at a restaurant. The netizen posts a missing person alert online. "Please share widely. Looking for Freya White. Her boyfriend is trying to drug and assault her." I see the post and quietly pour the drug into the pot they are about to drink from.

I am born with a body that draws men in, but the moment I marry, I develop a terrifying allergy to them. Every time my husband and I try to be intimate, my skin erupts in violent rashes, and I nearly suffocate. Still, I want a child so badly that one night I climb into his bed in secret, willing to gamble with my life. Strangely, nothing happens—no hives, no swelling, no shortness of breath. My husband even takes me to a clinic, where the baby is confirmed healthy. For the first time, I believe life can return to normal. Eight months in, we share a bed again. The allergic reaction hits instantly, worse than ever, and I'm rushed to the hospital. When the procedure ends, he is nowhere to be seen. I step into the hallway and hear him talking with his friends. "Did you see her face? Swollen like that. Ridiculous." Leonard Carter swings a vial of the custom serum he has been giving me and snorts. "I engineered this formula myself. It makes her break out the second a man touches her. It keeps her off me. "She wanted a baby so badly. Fine. She's carrying mine and Hannah's. That should make her feel accomplished. "When she gives birth, I'll let her spend the rest of her life calling herself Mrs. Carter." Blood drains from my face. The child I've been cherishing isn't even mine.

After my granddaughter is bullied by her classmates, the bully's family not only refuses to apologize but behaves arrogantly as well. Since they have connections in the city, the school doesn't dare intervene. I turn to the police, but they only urge me to let it go. The bully's family even boasted that they have people in the court, daring me to sue them. With every path to justice cut off, I have no choice but to take out the two Medals of Honor left behind after my son and daughter-in-law died in service, and kneel at the gates of the military compound. Six years ago, when the general personally delivered those medals to our home, he'd said, "Your son and daughter-in-law gave their lives for the country. They are heroes, martyrs, and the pride of our nation." But now, I want to ask him again. Why is it that when a martyr's daughter is bullied, no one protects her?

After my breakup, my best friend encouraged me to join a cycling club. I quickly came to realize that this was no ordinary cycling group. To my shock, I stumbled upon my friend, caught up in a moment on her bike, doing something that went far beyond anything I'd anticipated. Surprisingly, instead of running away, a thrill of anticipation flickered within me. Because, truthfully… I'd been waiting for a moment like this for a long time.

In my previous life, I was eight months pregnant when my mother-in-law and husband forcibly dragged me to grab decorative gift boxes from the Christmas tree. I told them there was nothing inside, but my mother-in-law slapped me across the face while my husband pulled me into the crowd. A stampede broke out. They clutched their gift boxes and fled to save themselves, while my child and I were trampled to death. They eagerly tore open all the gift boxes with high hopes, only to find exactly nothing, just like I'd warned them. But as I lay dying, I noticed something in the final gift box. A Black Widow spider with an hourglass pattern on its belly crawled onto my mother-in-law's hand. This spider carries deadly venom. Anyone bitten either dies or suffers permanent disability. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on Christmas Day. This time, watching my mother-in-law and husband gear up to fight over those Christmas gift boxes, I won't try to stop them!

It was not until my death that I realized my husband would not touch me because he was deeply in love with my best friend. The two spent their entire lives longing for each other, but never crossing the line, staying loyal from afar. Even my best friend's professor husband lived his life like a celibate monk. After being reborn, I seized the moment and held the professor's hand. "I like you. Let's be together." His eyes darkened as he replied, "Perfect. I feel the same." We instantly connected. However, this time, it was my husband and best friend who were not happy about it.

Seven years ago, I, Gianna Moonwhisper, offered up the bloodline essence that had been passed down in my family for generations as a sacrifice. I did this to save Liam Howle, my mate who was dying from a curse. To prevent him from feeling burdened, I pretended to be a wicked she-wolf who only cared about power and status, and thus I dissolved my mate bond with him. Seven years later, powered by the strength he gained from my sacrifice, he is crowned Alpha. Meanwhile, I can only hide away in a dilapidated house as I cough up blood. Due to the regression of my bloodline, I'm slowly dying. Liam kicks open my door and tosses a bag of moonstones at my feet. His eyes shine with repulsion as he coldly says, "Do you regret it? Regret abandoning the person who could have made you Luna?" He's unaware that I have only three months left to live, yet his utter hatred for me has him wishing that I would hurry up and die.

I was only ten years old when Timoteo Panno found me on the streets of Sirithi. He's the Don of the Panno family, the strongest mafia family in the country. He's also the one who taught me how to protect myself. When I turn 18 years old, I become his lover as well as the weapon he's most proud of. Timoteo isn't interested in other women. I'm the only one staying by his side for many years. We've been with each other for four years. Everyone thinks I'll eventually become the Madre of the Panno family. That is, until Nadia Bellucci accidentally kills her fiance and desperately needs a clean identity to wash herself of all suspicions. As she clutches her chest that houses her heart, which is now weakened from the time she has saved Timoteo's life, she whines coquettishly, "Timoteo, I don't want to go to prison…" With a smile on his face, Timoteo doesn't hesitate to push me out as the scapegoat to take the blame for Nadia. "You've always been a pawn who gets abandoned all the time, so you might as well do it one more time."

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

My mate, Jasper Morrison, says coldly, "Elena, I'm breaking our mate bond." We stand on the open ground at the edge of the Silvermoon pack's territory. The full moon hangs high overhead, and this should be the sweetest moment for fated mates. We've loved each other for ten years. And now, he's about to break the bond Moon Goddess has given us. "Why?" I ask in a shaky voice. "You're an orphaned wolf," he says, turning his face away. "You don't have the bloodline to match me. The pack Elders have already approved this." A tearing pain rips through my chest. Having the mate bond stripped from me feels like my soul is being torn apart. I collapse to my knees, gasping for air. "Serena's father is one of the strongest Alphas in the North," Jasper says, looking down at me without a trace of guilt. "She'll help me rise as the strongest Beta in the Silvermoon pack's history." "You said…" I clench my teeth, fighting the pain. "You said you'd spend your life with me." "I was young and foolish," Jasper replies, already turning away. "The bonding ceremony is in three days. I suggest you don't cause trouble." Moonlight glints off his retreating form. I watch him walk away, my fingers clutching the moonstone bracelet my mother left me. It's my only keepsake. A message from an unknown number appears. "Elena, this is Damon, your older brother. I've been looking for you for 20 years." "I've attached a black card with unlimited credit. The resources of the entire Blackwood pack are at your disposal. No matter what you're facing, I've got you." I stare at the screen. The Blackwood pack? The top wolf pack in North Anthica? Another message soon pops up. "I'll come get you in three days. Wait for me." My finger hovers over the delete button. It has to be a scam. I'm just an orphaned wolf. How could I possibly have a brother from the Blackwood pack? Just then, a voice message from Jasper arrives. "Elena, for old times' sake, I'll arrange a place for you in one of the pack's spare houses when the ceremony ends. You can stay as part of the pack. I'll take care of you." He wants me to watch him bond with another she-wolf and thank him for keeping me in the pack. I delete Jasper's contact, then rename the unknown number in my phone to "Damon". My fingers tremble as I type a single word. "Okay."

On the eve of his Alpha succession ceremony, my fiancé Hunter prepared lavish gifts for all the distinguished guests and had Freya distribute them. Freya obliged with a smile. Then, when she reached me, her gaze swept over me with nothing but contempt. “Move aside. This isn’t for you.” She tossed an exile notice at my face. “You’re just a she-wolf who likes to seduce. Think you deserve an Alpha’s gift? Dream on. You’re not welcome here. Get out of our pack!” At that moment, the guests opened the gift boxes Freya handed out. Inside, alongside a rare blue moonstone, were photos of me in intimate moments with other Alpha males from different packs. In an instant, I became the pack’s traitorous, unfaithful woman. My face darkened as I stared at Hunter. “You’re really going to exile me from the pack?”

The last time I mentioned my engagement to Walter Reagle, everyone in the room went quiet at first. However, after seeing Walter's annoyed look, they all started laughing. "Who still believes in old-fashioned childhood betrothals these days?" "Is Ms. Lawson feeling insecure?" I ignored their teasing. I just looked at Walter, who was lounging on the couch with his shirt collar open, showing off the lovebites on his neck and collarbone. My heart felt like it was being stabbed. The pain came slowly. "We were too young to agree to something so silly," he said. Walter looked up with a faint, mocking smile. He gave me a lazy look. "We're grown up now, Emma. "Let's just forget about the past."

I drag my suitcase out of the airport and walk straight into a massive billboard. "Welcome back, Jennifer Palmer, the great love of Ivan Olsen's life." The entire Internet praises him for having waited faithfully for ten years. A star-struck reporter shoves a microphone in my face and asks, "Ms. Palmer, are you moved that Mr. Olsen has remained celibate for you all this time?" I blink in confusion at her question. "Who's Ivan?"