Short Stories & Novels

After arguing with my husband, Percy Egan, over our intimacy incompatibility, I decide to stay over at Katie Langdon, my best friend's house for the night. Unexpectedly, Katie's husband, Stefan Foley, has returned from his business trip on the same day. Having mistaken me for Katie, he crawls over my prone body instantly and begins groping me everywhere. Strong waves of pleasure as well as Stefan's scent attack me from all sides. Dizzy from the sensations, I find myself panicking because of how abruptly these powerful yet foreign feelings are overwhelming me. Meanwhile, Stefan's huge member keeps wedging against me. It makes me feel as though it can kill me just by penetrating me. For the first time ever, my body trembles in a mixture of fright and anticipation.

"Just help me out this once, man. I just made it to the final round, and I can't leave the game. Help your little brother out for a change? You're the best, J." It was 2:00 a.m. Chad asked me to go downstairs and pick up his takeout. I wanted to refuse because I was still recovering from a broken foot, but he did not look capable of tearing his eyes from the screen for even a second. Thus, I agreed and stepped outside. Without warning, something like a stream of comments flashed across my mind. [No! Somebody stop him!] [That delivery guy is your brother's roommate! He's got a knife!!!] [Lil' Bro knows that already, J! He's using you as a human shield to buy himself time!] I froze. I turned to go back inside. The door would not budge. Chad had already locked it. The elevator chimed down the hall. The comments in my head spiraled into chaos. [The killer is here! Get out of there, Big Bro!]

My boyfriend, Blake Finch, has passed out drunk on the bed. All I hear is his loud snores. But his roommate, Dylan Olson, begins to scoot closer to me. I can feel scorching heat rolling off his body. "Giselle, what should we do now that Blake is asleep?" A mix of embarrassment and a quiet thrill shoots through my veins, making my throat go dry. "No… Ah… Don't do this… He's going to wake up…" As soon as my voice falls, I feel a hand rest on my butt. Soon, it starts groping me.

As the year ended and payday finally arrived, my salary still hadn't hit my bank account. I headed straight to the finance department to sort it out, but Sarah Thompson dismissed me impatiently. "You picked up those coupons last week, didn't you? The ones for "Spend 2,000, save 1,000". You got ten of them, adding up to $10,000. Your salary is $8,000, and that extra $2,000 is a perk." I stared at her, stunned. No one had said a word about this when the coupons were handed out. Worse, they could only be redeemed at our boss's supermarket, where commodities were ridiculously marked up. Items that cost $19.99 at a regular supermarket went for $49.99 there, more than double the price. It dawned on me that the boss was just shuffling money from one pocket to another, which meant I had been basically working for free. I shoved the coupons back at her. "I don't want these. Just deposit the cash into my bank account." Michael Wright walked over with a frown. "What's all the yelling? We gave you an extra $2,000, and you are not even grateful? You're stirring up trouble for nothing. You'd spend your salary on stuff anyway. We're just making it convenient." My voice rose, shaking with fury. "What you're doing is illegal!" He laughed, cold and scornful. "Then sue me. I manage things here. You think I'd be scared by a minor employee like you?" Right then, my phone buzzed with a text notification: [Lisa Matthews, congratulations on securing the Enforcement Officer position at the tax bureau.]

On our wedding anniversary, I ask my husband, Luke Blackburn, to buy me some fish stew. Since I'm in my first trimester, I keep vomiting every now and then due to morning sickness. Right now, I have an intense craving for fish stew. But Luke comes home empty-handed in the middle of the night. He claims that he's completely forgotten about my request. I don't say anything at all. All I notice is a strand of long hair sticking to Luke's collar that doesn't belong to me. Some time later, I see the fish stew I never got to eat in a photo that Luke's colleague, Ruby Pollard, has uploaded to her social media feed. The caption reads, "Luke ordered this dish for me. He knows that I love fish stew from this particular restaurant the most. I'm so touched by his gesture!" In the photo, I see a pair of familiar hands picking out fish bones from the meat tenderly just for Ruby.

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."

On the first day of every month, my mom will give me my allowance based on the number of times I had checked in with her last month. "You'll receive 20 dollars for greeting your parents once in the morning and once in the evening. But last month, you only hit ten days' worth of quota, so you can only receive 200 dollars. This also means your 300-dollar punctuality fee will be deducted as well. "After adding on 150 dollars for your basic necessities, you shall receive only 350 dollars for this month's allowance. Remember to write a reflection report on your lack of punctuality later. I'll only transfer you the money if your report is acceptable." I become so overwhelmed by anxiety that my voice starts trembling. "I was busy with my finals last month, Mom! I had to line up outside the library at 5:00 am every day just so I could secure myself a seat! That's why I couldn't call you in time!" In a choked-up tone, I plead to my mom, "I need 600 dollars for the train ticket all the way home during the holidays! 350 dollars really isn't enough for me! Mom, can you please—" But my mom cuts me off firmly, "The allowance system is something that I've specifically designed for you so that I can help you get rid of the bad habit of wanting to receive everything without putting in hard work! Why can't you just understand that I'm doing this for your own good?" After that, she ends the call mercilessly. Just as I'm filled with despair and helplessness, a blond appears before my eyes. He's willing to buy my train ticket for me, but in return, I need to leave with him.

After the Ritualist declared that Amber would not live past 18, I, a perfectly healthy girl, became the Misfortune Vessel. When Amber broke a leg, my left leg was crippled. When Amber tried to kill herself with shards of glass, the tendons in my hand were severed. I could no longer hold a pen. From childhood to the present, every wound meant for Amber landed on my body. She never stopped testing how far she could go. Skydiving from two miles up. Chasing sharks in deep water. Survival expeditions to the extreme North. Every choice courted death. I cried. I screamed that it hurt. My brothers refused to allow it. "Enough already. It's just a small injury. How could it hurt that much? You're too delicate." "If it hurts, then endure it." So I endured until the day I turned 18. That was when the Shared-Sense System found me. I enabled family sharing, and every single one of them went insane.

An alarm wakes everyone up at 1:00 am. It turns out that a few college students have gone missing during their exploration in Wolffang Valley. My heart goes tense at the news. After all, my stepdaughter, Nancy Campton, had told me yesterday that she'd be exploring that place! Since Nancy has asthma, I specifically prepare medication that's meant to treat asthma in my medical kit just in case anything happens. After carrying my backpack, I begin urging my husband, Jack Campton, who's also the leader of the rescue team, to set off right away. But he keeps stopping me in my tracks. "What's the rush? Let's wait for Dakota to finish doing her makeup." Half an hour later, Dakota Sweeney, who has a face full of makeup and is wearing a pink rescue jacket, begins complaining in a high-pitched voice. "Why did you keep rushing me? Thanks to you, my eyeliner came out all crooked!" On the way to the valley, Dakota actually pulls out a pair of pink lace panties. After unscrewing the cap of a bottle of life-saving water, she starts washing it with said water. I can't endure her stupid antics anymore. "Have you gone nuts? This bottle of water could potentially save someone's life!" But Dakota replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm a woman with principles! I must wash my underwear that I've changed out of on the same day!" Jack shoves me away at that moment. He then snatches the bottled water from me before passing it to Dakota. "Willow Armstrong, you're the crazy one here! Is it wrong for Dakota to take care of her hygiene?" As I stare at Jack, a cold smile slowly spreads across my face. It's not wrong for Dakota to take care of her hygiene. I just wonder if Jack is capable of facing the consequences behind Dakota's tendency to drag things out.

My mom is a famous perfumer who's well-known in town. But her perfumes are charged per session. One session costs 200 thousand dollars. She only takes in ten customers per month, too. Those who have used the perfumes my mom has concocted will be enveloped by the perfumes' unique fragrance that leaves an unforgettable impression on those who have smelled it. In fact, the fragrance is capable of covering up the customers' body odor, no matter how strong it is. One session will leave the customers with enough fragrance that lasts for a month. Countless celebrities and rich women specifically travel to this town just to frequent my mom's business. Everyone sings praises about my mom, claiming that she's the mistress of all fragrances who's here to bless humanity with her gift. But I know that my mom isn't as amazing as everyone thinks she is. The only reason why her business is booming like this is all thanks to the "thing" that she keeps locked up in that room…

At our wedding, Toby Webb, the impoverished student my fiancee, Elvira Britton, has been sponsoring, barges into the venue while wailing at the top of his lungs. "Elvira, a wasp has stung me down there! Does this mean I won't be able to…" Elvira doesn't hesitate to ditch all the guests and me in favor of whisking Toby away. I quickly grab her wrist and suggest to her that we should finish the ceremony first before finding a doctor to save Toby. But she reacts by shoving me to the floor instead with an enraged look on her face. "Wallace Cochran, if you truly loved me, you wouldn't stop me at this time!" After that, she quickly takes Toby to the lounge in the wedding venue. By the time I arrive at the lounge, I witness Elvira straddling Toby. The very same woman, who had once promised me that she'd preserve her virginity for our wedding night, can be seen glaring at me angrily. "Toby's condition is very severe, you know! How am I supposed to sit by and watch him suffer? It's just virginity, isn't it? Since you want it that badly, I can just get myself repaired and let you try again, can't I?"

After the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, the first thing Eliza Lockett did was ask her lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. "Ms. Lockett, once both parties sign, the marriage will automatically dissolve after the 30-day cooling-off period." Eliza's expression did not change. "Can I sign his name for him?" The lawyer hesitated, then quickly shook his head. "No. He must appear in person." "He agrees to the divorce," she said evenly. "He's just busy with work and can't come. If you don't believe me, I'll call him now and let you hear it yourself." She took out her phone and dialed Alban Sidham. "Alban, there's something I need to talk to you about—" He cut her off before she could finish. His voice was cold and edged with impatience. "Didn't I tell you to handle your own affairs? I don't have time for your trivial matters."

To help cover our household expenses, I often sold second-hand items online. Late one night, a new listing suddenly appeared under my husband's account. [Private trainer for sale. Almost new. Obedient and resilient. No upkeep required. Cash only.] The attached photo showed a woman from behind, caught in the middle of a yoga pose. The red mole at her waist stood out clearly. It was me. The comments section erupted within seconds. Men with usernames like 'LocalHunter' started bidding aggressively. [Five hundred. Thirty minutes. Pickup only. No negotiations.] [Are you kidding? Two thousand. All night. I'll bring my own gear.] My husband immediately replied to the highest bidder: Adrian 'The Butcher' Kane. [Deal. She's in the bedroom. The door isn't locked. Go straight in.] In the next moment, the bedroom doorknob slowly began to turn from the other side.

After Ryan Spencer cheated on me again with his secretary, I completely lost it. When my mind started to spiral, I grabbed the fruit knife off the table. I just wanted it to end. “Why are you hurting yourself again? He doesn’t love you anymore?” I looked up. The sixteen-year-old Ryan was walking toward me, heartbreak written all over his face. His voice was gentle. “Tell me who he is. I’ll make him pay.” I stared into the bright, earnest eyes of the boy standing in front of me. I didn’t say a word. I simply lifted my hand and pointed at his face. Later, Ryan was the one who had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. When the sedative began to wear off, the teenage boy appeared again, sitting by my bed. He stared at the man outside who looked just like him. The light in his eyes faded little by little. Then he spoke, his voice strained. “I don’t care who he is. I’ll kill him.” The sixteen-year-old Ryan never lied to me. When he said something, he meant it.

During a zombie-extermination mission, I end up getting infected with the zombie virus for the sake of protecting my squad. But Emilia Campbell, the team captain as well as my girlfriend, decides to give the only antidote to another team member, who has secretly run away from the squad, only to get infected. Her excuse is that she should avoid being partial. With red-rimmed eyes, she promises me, "Trust me, Zack. I'll definitely find another antidote for you during the three-day incubation period of the virus." I can only nod in response while enduring the scorching pain flaring from my body. On the second day, Emilia actually returns with an antidote. But the second she's about to inject it into my bloodstream, Dustin Nott, a member who has never left the campsite, suddenly frowns. "My head hurts so much, Em… What if I'm already infected with the virus?" Emilia doesn't hesitate to pass the antidote to Dustin in front of everyone else. "Dustin is a part of the team as well. It's my fault as the captain for not taking care of the squad if anything happens to him. "Zack, you're the vice leader as well as my boyfriend. I must be impartial." That's when I notice the smugness crossing Dustin's eyes as well as Emilia's righteous expression. Fury bubbles within me at that moment. She must be impartial, huh? Fine. Emilia will soon understand that the squad would never have survived to this point without me. After all, I'm a perfect evolved specimen—a human being that only has a 0.1% chance of overcoming the zombie virus and evolving into a powerhouse in this apocalypse.

Gabriel Steele was the most disciplined Alpha in the northern territories. A man who ruled his pack by order, law, and absolute authority. Which was exactly why our mating was a disaster. Last life, when my father handed me the Steele Marking Contract, I signed it without hesitation. I thought becoming Luna meant belonging somewhere. Instead, I spent years being laughed at. At pack galas, noble she-wolves whispered behind my back. “Wait—that woman with the green hair and the tiny skirt is our Luna?” “She looks like she walked straight out of a nightclub.” “No discipline, no manners… how embarrassing for the pack.” Cassian didn’t defend me； “Forgive her. She still has much to learn about pack discipline.” Discipline? Like I was some unruly wolf that needed breaking. So I buried my claws, silenced my instincts, and lived inside his laws— until the wolf inside me withered away. When I opened my eyes again— I was back at the moment the mating contract was placed before me. This time, I wrote another name on the contract. Amelia. She can have the disciplined Alpha. As for me— I’d rather be a wild she-wolf than anyone’s perfect Luna. But the moment Gabriel realized the bride wasn’t me—The Alpha who lived by iron law Broke every rule he had ever sworn to follow.

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

"I've transferred the three hundred-dollar rent to you. Thanks, Samuel." A contact named Misty has sent my husband, Samuel Tucker, a message on WhatsApp. I snatch his phone immediately, only to be stunned by what I see. "Rent? Samuel, you told me that this is the income you earn from your part-time job!" Samuel's expression freezes on his face. Then, he tries to snatch his phone back. "Darling, my brother has already passed away. It's difficult for Misty to raise two children on her own…" As I caress my tiny baby bump with a hand, I feel my heart sinking at his words. "Which residence is this rent for?" Samuel parts his lips hesitantly. A long time later, he finally tells me the residential area's name. I'm completely flabbergasted at that point. The luxurious apartment sitting in that particular area is an asset that my deceased parents have left for me. Also, the rent there is worth 10,000 dollars. Yet, Samuel has rented it out to my widowed sister-in-law, Misty Patterson, and her children for only 300 dollars!

My best friend, James Swift, went back to the day he was supposed to reconcile with his extremely wealthy birth parents. He was unwilling to be a puppet controlled by the rich, so he was unwilling to return to his birth parents. Hence, he asked me to be his replacement without any hesitation. I looked at his mother, who was wearing a lot of diamond rings, and his father, who was dressed in old-money clothes. I immediately replaced James’s position. It was as if any hesitation would be a huge disrespect to this unexpected wealth. Five years later, James showed up with a DNA report and asked me to leave the Swift family. However, he was too late. After five years, I was no longer just a replacement for him. I was already the right-hand man of Swift Corporation. No one would threaten my status in this family.