Historias cortas y novelas

During the car accident, Ethan Jones used his body as a shield, protecting me so that I could walk away unscathed. However, when he finally woke up, his memory was frozen at eighteen years old, back when Millie Brown was his girlfriend. Ethan’s friends advised me to let go and fulfill their love story instead. They said that only by Millie’s side would Ethan—the model student everyone admired—step down from his pedestal and live a life. Apparently, I, the obedient, well-behaved girl, made his life dull and lifeless. What no one knew was that, amid the buzzing cicadas of summer, that well-behaved girl had fallen for him—year after year, never once wavering. So, I waited foolishly for Ethan to remember me until three years later, when I was diagnosed with cancer. On that very day, I finally saw the surprise he had mentioned preparing for me before the accident. Only then did I truly let go, and when he handed me the divorce papers once again, I signed my name.

After my sister died, I ran to the human world to chase my own dreams. I was determined to live out my days as a lone wolf. Then I met him: Alpha Blake, in the city on pack business. He was gentle and strong. He hated territory wars, just like me. All he wanted was a peaceful life for his pack. We weren't fated mates, but the pull between us was undeniable. He promised me I would be his one and only Luna. Then came the Moon Festival. He invited me to his pack. He wanted to perform the bonding ceremony, he said. A declaration of our love to the entire werewolf world. I thought I had finally found my salvation, the one who could heal my broken heart. I was so happy to go home with him. I never expected him to drug me that night with a cup of poisoned wine. Only then did I learn the truth. He was selling me to the Alpha King, Roric, to pay off his pack's debt. He'd approached me in the first place because I looked just like Roric's dead mate. He tied me up and delivered me to Roric’s estate, a sick smile twisting his face. "Consider it an honor. One night as the Alpha King's plaything, and our pack's debt is cleared. Worth three years of pretending, wasn't it?" The silver poison paralyzed me, but I couldn't help but laugh. He had no idea. Roric's dead mate? That was my sister. And Roric? He was the man who grew up with me, practically my own brother. He'd personally delivered the lost princess of the Silver Peak Pack right to her own doorstep.

My nephew, Jason, came to live with my family for three years while he went to high school in the city. I took care of him the best I could, never once thinking it was a burden. The day he got accepted into a top-ranked university, he went live online. He told thousands of strangers about his miserable life living under someone else's roof. "I know I shouldn't say this, but I really suffered through it. "Those days of depending on others… I never want to think about them ever again. "I just want all parents to know this. No matter how poor you are, keep your kids with you. Even eating scraps together is better than watching another family of three enjoy a feast while you sit alone in the corner." He became an overnight sensation, so did I. The people on the internet dug up everything about me. My name, my job, my address. I was doxxed. I died depressed from the online bullying. However, I somehow got to do it all over again. This time, I was not going to be the saint anymore.

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?"

All the relatives knew I had a "backward cousin." For my birthday, she gave me a grocery-store pound cake. When I ran a marathon, she presented me with a pair of worn-out canvas sneakers. At my graduate school acceptance party, she even sent a funeral wreath of white lilies with a sash that read "In Sympathy," wishing me an early departure to the afterlife. In my previous life, I slapped her so hard she tumbled down the porch steps. My brother took her side and plotted revenge, falsely reporting to the university that I had cheated on my SATs. My admission was revoked. "You're so modern. You know how things work," he sneered. "Plenty of people take a gap year. Just apply again." My father also defended her, cutting off all my financial support. "You've had so much schooling. You're so educated," he said coldly. "Support yourself." Alone in a city eighteen hundred miles from home, I fought to survive. I called my brother and my father again and again—only to be blocked. I delivered food while renting a room and studying to reapply. At my lowest, my hands were raw and cracked from frostbite, scrambling for delivery shifts at four in the morning just to earn a small bonus. Worn down by the cold and exhaustion, I suffered cardiac arrest at twenty-three and collapsed in a snowdrift in that unfamiliar city. No one ever came to claim me. This time, I chose to let it go and accepted the wreath with a gracious smile. To fully integrate myself into this family. After all, what is a moment of pride compared to a lifetime's inheritance?

When Naomi Sullivan married me, she was already ten million dollars in debt. I spent the last five years working three jobs to help her pay off her "debts" while providing for her as well as our son, Shane Lewis. Not once did I ever complain about anything. All along, I firmly believed that my efforts would pay off, and we would eventually lead a good life together. Last week, our company finally secured a massive investment. Naomi and I hugged as we celebrated the occasion. I thought that the hard times were finally over. Today, I ended up seeing Naomi featured in the financial news. Dressed in a formal gown, she was hailed as the sole heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire. She was shown engaged in an animated conversation with her "investor", Jared Lewis. The news headline read, "Naomi Sullivan Completes Five-Year Adversity Trial, Proves Her Ability to Build from Scratch to the Board of Directors". I trudge home in a daze. When I get there, the five-year-old Shane is playing with the latest limited-edition toy robot. He looks at me with a frosty, distant expression that bears an uncanny resemblance to his mother's. "Mommy told me everything. You failed the trial, Daddy. You care too much about money."

The day two students got into a dispute, I ran into Morris Freeman, my ex from ten years ago. The boy who had been fighting wiped his tears and called him "Dad". Morris froze when he saw me, then finally remembered what was going on and apologized. "Ms. Langstaff, I'm sorry for causing you trouble." I handled the compensation by the book and wrapped everything up. When it was over, he lagged behind, clearly wanting to say something. "Back then, I remember you didn't want to be a teacher." I gave a faint smile and walked him to the office door. "People change. So do their ideas." Just like my feelings for him. That chapter had been closed a long time ago.

I’ve been in love with the Don of the Moretti family for ten years, and everyone knows he loves me more than life itself. In seven days, he’s throwing me a massive, grand wedding that will be live-streamed to the entire world. But I’m the only one who knows the truth: he’s been keeping a mistress behind my back. He’s kept her for two whole years, and he’s lied to my face for just as long. I didn't call him out on it. Instead, I planned a fake death. At our wedding in seven days, he’s going to lose me forever.

On the 99th floor of the most luxurious apartment building in the capital city, my husband's sister was once again threatening to jump down the building for the 63rd time. Dana realized she was getting tired all of a sudden. She was even thinking of jumping down herself. The police on the other side of the call couldn't say anything else except, "Mrs. Hill, how many times is this already…? Just deal with it yourself and let her do whatever she wants."

My fiancé of three years, Julius, sold me. To a black market auction in Vegas. I was sold to another man for five million dollars. Julius was begging me. "I owe five million," he pleaded. "If I don't pay up, they're gonna dump me in the river." "You're a dead ringer for the Don of the Norling family's late wife. All you have to do is keep him happy, and my debt gets wiped clean." "Don't worry," he said. "When he gets tired of you, I won't think any less of you. We'll still get married." So they drugged me and delivered me to an estate that was all too familiar. But here’s what he didn't know. The Don of the Norling family would kill for his daughter. And I'm that daughter. The one he’s kept hidden all these years.

The day my wife gave birth to my foster brother's child, my entire family waited tensely outside the delivery room. They were not concerned about whether Sheila Rogers would make it through labor safely. They were worried I might turn up and make a scene. My mother kept glancing at the elevator. "He won't try to come up the stairs, will he?" My father was on the phone with hospital security again and again. "Yes, about six foot three. Have you seen him?" My brother stayed coiled and ready, fists clenched. "If my brother causes trouble, I'll lay down my life to protect Sheila and my son." However, from the start of labor to the moment Sheila delivered safely and both mother and child were declared healthy, I never showed up. Reclining on the hospital bed, Sheila took out her phone and asked my mother to call me. "Tell Hank not to cause any trouble," she said calmly. "If he's willing to be the child's godfather, we can still live our lives together." She felt absolutely no guilt toward me. From her perspective, she had merely granted my parents their long-standing wish for a grandchild. What fault could there possibly be in that? What no one knew was that I had never planned to go to the hospital. At that very moment, I was training beneath the scorching sun. All for a single reason: in one month, I would deploy with my unit to Safrana on a peacekeeping mission. Once I left, there would be little chance of ever coming back.

For ten years, my professor husband, Daniel Whitmore, and I loved each other deeply, treating each other with respect and care. Our only regret was that he had azoospermia, so we were never able to have a child. Then, on our tenth wedding anniversary, the housekeeper, Megan Wright, suddenly claimed she was pregnant with Daniel's child. I thought she was joking. Two days later, she threw a paternity test result in my face. The test proved that the child she was carrying was Daniel's. Megan sued us. On the day of the hearing, she cried in front of the courthouse, telling the media how Daniel had molested her. She said we were a pair of perverts who treated her like a breeding machine and kept her confined in our home. Daniel and I couldn't defend ourselves at all. The netizens labeled us demon employers and nailed us to a pillar of shame. Daniel lost his job at the university, and his students were ashamed of him. I was fired from my company that same day. In the end, Daniel couldn't withstand the pressure of public opinion and committed suicide in prison. I became a rat on the streets, hunted down and beaten by netizens. Driven insane, I wandered into traffic and died miserably in the middle of the road. Even at death, I couldn't understand how Megan had become pregnant with the child of my husband, who had azoospermia. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day before Megan claimed she was pregnant with Daniel's child.

My husband, Lawrence Schwartz, and I were both liars. He lied to me, saying he would forget his first love, yet his phone is filled with photos of her. I lied to him, saying I would never leave, while secretly planning a future without him. A month ago, I tricked Lawrence into signing the divorce papers. Today was the final day to complete the entire divorce process.. Three hours left. I packed all my luggage and bought a plane ticket for the next day. Two hours left. I cut up every photo of us together, leaving only myself in the album. Last hour. I thought about leaving a message, then decided against it. Today marked the tenth year I had loved him and the first day I left him.

My mom is 71 years old. Thanks to her arthritis acting up, she's in so much pain that she can't descend the stairs at all. She tentatively calls me and asks if she can rent an apartment that comes with an elevator of its own. But my wife, Lucy Glaser, brings out the household ledger and points at the red numbers on the pages. "Last month, you bought yourself a tie, which is 300 dollars beyond our monthly budget. Yet now you're planning on adding another impulsive expense?" Only then do I realize that I don't even have the freedom to buy myself a tie despite earning an annual salary of tens of millions of dollars. My mom is still trying to explain herself in a humble tone over the phone. "Oh, please don't feel troubled about it, Caleb. I was just asking on a whim. I've already grown used to my old home anyway…" After I end the call, I feel rather stuffy in my chest. What's there for me to feel troubled about? After all, I'm a partner of a top-tier law firm who earns tens of millions of dollars every year. The one who keeps standing in my way is Lucy, who's only a mid-level lawyer yet insists on controlling my finances. She also calls herself the best candidate for the household asset allocation.

Fire suddenly breaks out at the hotel where we're hosting our wedding. My fiance, Alan Godwin, doesn't hesitate to pick up Brenda Larkin, my cousin who has already collapsed out of fright, and rush out to safety. Meanwhile, my parents and older brother hurriedly cart away the wedding gift Brenda has made. They don't want her to get sad if the gift is damaged in any way. As for me, I've twisted my ankle, making it inconvenient for me to escape from the hotel. Everyone has already forgotten all about me, so I end up getting severe burns all over my body. When they look at the bandages wrapped around my body, they shoot me disgusted looks. "Why are you such a jinx? How is it possible for a fire to break out at your own wedding? Thanks to you, Brenda has fainted out of shock!" "Well, it's not like you're suited for any public appearances when you look like this, anyway. Brenda's figure is similar to yours. Why don't you let her replace you in the wedding?" I just nod calmly and agree to the suggestion. After that, I sort out the details of getting dispatched overseas for my job with my boss. One month later, I board my flight on the day Brenda is set to wed Alan. I no longer want Alan, who's blind to the truth, and my family, who are nothing but biased toward Brenda. But why is it that they are filled with regret after I leave them?

I had just walked out of the Pack Healer's cabin, clutching the crumpled paper of my official pregnancy report, when I refreshed my social media feed. An anonymous post on the local pack forum caught my eye. "I've been sleeping with the Alpha for a while now, and I just found out I'm pregnant. But his Luna is knocked up too, and she's months ahead of me. I hate the idea of him having a pup with someone else. I want to carry his firstborn. How can I make him force his mate to get rid of it?" The comments section was flooded with curses and insults calling the poster a home-wrecker. But the original poster had liked one particularly vicious comment. "That's easy. Tell the Alpha that his Luna is too weak and that she is carrying an abomination corrupted by wolfsbane. Tell him it will be a stillborn anyway." I usually just lurked in these threads, but my wolf, Selene, growled within me. My fingers flew across the screen as I replied. "Aren't you afraid of the Moon Goddess's wrath for defying Her will like this?" The moment I hit send, my mate Kael, the Alpha of the Starlight Pack, walked up to me. He was holding a forged diagnosis report from the Healer, his face a mask of pained hesitation. "Seraphina," he said, his voice trembling. " The Healer says our pup's soul is fragmented. It has been judged as a stillborn. For your safety, we have to terminate the pregnancy immediately." He took a breath, looking deep into my eyes. "I have already made the arrangements. Tomorrow, before the Moon Goddess's altar, I will supervise the surgery personally to ensure your absolute safety."

I had been managing the company’s warehouse software for five years. Then the new manager came to me out of the blue, saying I didn’t understand frontline operations and that I was being fired. Looking at the five-thousand-dollar severance, I just nodded. “Fine.” He patted my shoulder after seeing me so compliant and started lecturing. “Young people should be out on the line, moving boxes! What’s the use of sitting in the office staring at data every day? “We’re a logistics company. Strength is what matters, not a tech geek like you!” I glanced at the high-end gaming computer in his office and obediently replied, “Yes, Mr. Fuller. Lesson received.” Maybe I had been too comfortable these past few years, and he thought I was dispensable. So, I handed over my ID badge and casually deleted all my personal login keys from my computer. Little did he know that the entire warehouse logistics, inventory management, and route planning software had been coded by me. I had let the company use it for free simply because the place was close to home and the work was easy. Now that I was gone, the system running on my personal cloud server was naturally inaccessible. Tens of thousands of items in the warehouse ground to a halt. As for any commercial software that could replace my system, a year’s subscription would cost exactly one thousand times my severance.

I took my parents-in-law, Edmund and Macy Hale, out to a restaurant. When it was time to pay, we ran into my husband’s female assistant, Vera Rhodes. Seeing Mrs. Hale packing up the leftover bouillabaisse she had been drinking, Vera marched over and slapped the takeaway bag out of her hands. The soup splashed all over Mrs. Hale in an instant. "If you can’t afford to eat here, then don’t come," she sneered. "Look at you, reeking of poverty. How do people like you deserve to be Mr. Orion Hale’s in-laws? Don’t embarrass him." I asked the restaurant to prepare a fresh portion of fish soup to go. Before anyone could respond, Vera slapped me to the ground. "This is a members-only restaurant. You’re using Mr. Hale’s card, aren’t you?" she mocked. "Can’t you earn your own money? You need his money to support your hillbilly parents?" Mr. Hale was so enraged that he was rushed to the hospital. I called Orion and asked him to come sign the surgery consent form. He laughed coldly. "Vera already told me everything. Your dad even needs to trick me into paying medical bills now? Has your whole family gone insane from poverty? "If you’re going to die, then hurry up and die. Just don’t die in front of me. It’s bad luck."

For the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time, the system in my mind warned me. [Warning! The lovesick part of your brain is highly active! If you refuse to leave John Miller, you’ll die an hour later!] I looked at my husband. He was scolding me for the sake of his secretary, who was his first love. I once burned down all of my award-winning drawings just because he disliked them. I calmly gave the system in my brain an order. “Since the cause of the malfunction is the lovesick portion of my brain, I hereby grant you the highest authority to remove it. Do the surgery now!” An hour later, John stopped me at the door of the ward. His eyes were bloodshot. “Grace Stone, what are you trying to pull?” I raised my head and watched him coldly and calmly. “Mister, you blocked the light. Based on an analysis, this constitutes an illegal detention. Do you need my help calling the cops?”

The whole world knew Lionel Potter was crazy about his wife. He wrote songs just for her, baked desserts for her, and couldn't go three sentences without saying "my wife". But Iris Potter discovered that the same Lionel who loved her as if his life depended on it had cheated. She summoned the system and applied to leave the world. [Understood. The self-exit channel has been activated. In 15 days, you will leave this world. The exit method will be a staged death. The location will be the seaside where you once saved the male lead. Cause of death: suicide by drowning. [Please prepare accordingly for your death.] On the 15th day, Iris arranged everything and staged her departure to look like she had gone into the sea, leaving Lionel behind. Only then did Lionel wake up. He unraveled, nearly losing his mind, consumed by the need to find her.