Short Stories & Novels

To celebrate my mom's birthday, I fly back from abroad. At the same time, I plan to meet my fiancé, Kylo Winston, whom I have never met before, to discuss calling off the engagement. Unexpectedly, the custom cake I ordered for the special occasion gets knocked over. Kylo's childhood sweetheart, Nora Cullen, even falsely accuses me of dirtying her limited-edition designer bag. She screeches, "Who do you think you are? How dare you get engaged to Kylo? I'm his real wife! As long as you kneel and beg for mercy and say you're a worthless good-for-nothing, I'll let you off. Otherwise, I'll let you have a taste of what the Winston family of Silverlake is capable of!" I look at the ruined cake in my hands and smile frostily. What perfect timing. I'm planning to break off my engagement with Kylo anyway. So, I dial his mother's number and say, "I just heard the Winston family has two future daughters-in-law. Is that true?"

On my girlfriend's birthday, I was in the middle of preparing a surprise for her when the property management office of our marital home called first. "Sir, we've received a complaint from another resident," the staff member said. "They claim there's been… quite a bit of noise coming from your unit at night. From you and your wife." I frowned. The only person I had given a key to that apartment was my girlfriend. I called her immediately. She answered with a soft, teasing tone, "They must have made a mistake. I'm at my best friend's place." "Alright," I said evenly. "Enjoy yourself." After hanging up, I opened the smart home system without hesitation and remotely locked every door and window from the outside. Then I dialed the police. "Hello, I'd like to report an unlawful entry."

The day I got out of prison, my girlfriend—who I hadn't seen in five years—pulled up in a Maserati to pick me up. In the passenger seat sat a guy in his early twenties, athletic build. His face looked a little too much like mine did when I was younger. Selene told me not to make a scene. Not to want things that were never mine. She said with her status now, she could have as many pretty boys as she wanted. Right now, she only had one. Apparently, he was my replacement. So I shouldn't be so narrow-minded. After all, a guy like me—fresh out of prison with a record—wasn't even in her league anymore. I stared at Selene, a little dazed. She wasn't wrong. But she seemed to have forgotten why I went to prison in the first place.

My father was hospitalized with a fractured bone. He needed someone to look after him. My wife, Alma, who was also a doctor, said she had to attend the Lancet conference abroad. She claimed it was an event she could not miss. While I was caring for my father, my younger brother, Jack, forwarded a short video to me. “Clyde, you need to look at this video of Alma.” In the video, Alma, who always took great care of her hands, was assembling parts on an assembly line at an electronics factory. I looked up info on who uploaded the photo. It was Tobias Zidel, a male nurse from her department. He captioned the video: [From the operating table to my assembly line. A true woman of all trades!] I resisted the urge to confront her. Instead, I forwarded the video to the department’s group chat. [I wonder how much Dr. Ashford earns per day working at Mr. Zidel’s family factory?] The group chat instantly exploded with messages. The video spread across the entire hospital. Alma bombarded me with frantic phone calls. She demanded that I retract the message. “Come with a written apology on Monday. You will apologize to Mr. Zidel publicly during the meeting!” I hung up decisively. Then, I scheduled an appointment to file for divorce. I did not want a wife like this.

During my vacation, I'm in the middle of a riverside stroll with my wife, Wendy Summer, when I suddenly hear someone screaming. "Please! Save my drowning son!" Before I can regain my senses, Wendy, who's pregnant, quickly pushes the crowd apart and rushes toward the center of the conflict. "I'm a doctor, so I can help save the patient. I'll perform CPR on him right away." As Wendy speaks, she moves to lean over the patient. But that's when I grip her by the wrist tightly. "You're not allowed to save him. If you dare administer CPR to him, we'll get a divorce." Wendy stares at me in shock. "Have you gone nuts? Healing the sick and treating the injured is a doctor's duty! You're a doctor as well, Rowan! How could you say such things?" The onlookers begin admonishing me. "If you don't heal the sick and treat the wounded, then what sort of doctor are you? You're just an unethical bastard!" "I can't believe doctors like you still exist! You have no right to remain as a doctor! I'm going to record your actions and upload the video to the Internet!" I say firmly to Wendy, "We shall not be discussing this matter. If you save him, we'll get a divorce right away!"

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

My mother-in-law, Emerald Jones, had always loved to exaggerate. My wife’s wedding gift for me was worth 8,800 dollars, but my mother-in-law told everyone it was worth 880,000 dollars. We only looked at cars at a luxurious car dealership. But she went around saying she spent over 200,000 dollars to buy me one. I figured that I was going to spend my life with my wife, Emilia, so I put up with her. On the eve of our wedding, I had a small argument with my wife. She blurted out, “My family has to pay over a million dollars for me to marry you. What more do you want? “My wedding gift alone is 880,000 dollars. Anyone who doesn’t know better will think you’re living off a woman!” I was utterly disappointed. She was not directly involved in the discussion on the wedding gift. However, it was something both families had agreed on together. My wife actually believed her mother’s ridiculous remarks and assumed I had received an outrageously expensive wedding gift. After my mother-in-law transferred 1,000 dollars to me for the wedding banquet, she told everyone she had given me 100,000 dollars instead. So, I swapped the luxury wedding feast for instant noodles on the day of the banquet. In addition, I showed a looped display of her stingy transfer of money to my bank account for everyone to see.

My wife, Celina Buckley, is a violinist. I've wooed her for five years before she finally agrees to date me. After our marriage, Celina insists on staying child-free for the sake of her career. Left without a choice, I can only poke a few holes in the condoms. Finally, Celina gets pregnant, and with twins, too! Delighted, I make all preparations to welcome the new members of my family into my life. But I accidentally stumble across a photo of a pregnancy report posted on the social media feed belonging to Leo Kolcheck, Celina's senior at work. "Thank you for fulfilling my wish to become a father, Celina. I can't wait to meet my twins!" I feel as though I got struck by lightning. At that moment, I feel like a complete joke. While Celina is at Leo's birthday party, I begin packing up. I make sure that I've taken all of my belongings with me. All that's left is the divorce agreement on the table.

[This month’s property management fee is $1,500. Please make the payment on time.] My wife, Grace Anderson’s phone screen lit up. I glanced at it and then took the phone. “Did the management office miscalculate this? Our management fee should only total up to $28 a month.” Grace stood up abruptly and tried to snatch her phone back. “He must’ve miscalculated! Let me talk to him.” However, I had already clicked on the link and read the page. [Cloud Mansion, property owner: Ken Smith.] The young male nanny cooking in our kitchen had the same name. Something snapped in my brain. The three of us were living in a very small house, but Grace had bought a mansion for our manny!

My younger brother, Owen Rivera, and I are playing in Dad's refrigerated truck. Owen wants to grab my ice cream from me, but I refuse to let him have his way. He shoves me forcefully, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor, knocking me out on the spot. When I finally wake up and locate him in the freezer, I find out that he's gotten reduced to a frozen statue. The security footage shows that Owen has been screaming the words "Mommy, help me!" hysterically for three hours before his death. After Mom is done watching the footage, she breaks down on the spot. Then, she yanks me by my hair before slamming me against the wall. "What were you doing? You were at the entrance, dammit! Why didn't you open the door for Owen?" With reddened eyes, Dad throws me into the freezer. "Owen was cold and frightened in the freezer! You should have a taste of the same thing too!" The thick and heavy door is slammed in my face. Darkness and a bone-chilling coldness devour me instantly. I curl into a small ball in the corner Owen has just died in. My teeth are starting to chatter, and my consciousness is starting to slip away. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I don't feel cold. I'm not cold at all. I will never eat ice cream ever again in my next lifetime.

The year I was at my lowest, a wealthy family came for me, claiming I was their real son. The school beauty I had secretly admired was officially my fiancée. While I was still stunned by the surprise, suddenly, comments started scrolling across my view. [This is the turning point. The male lead’s parents take the supporting male home, forcing him to drop out. His fiancée gets him sick, and in the end, they see him as bad luck and brutally kill him.] My hand froze around the paternity test report. My father’s eyes glistened with tears as he took the report from me. “My child, you’ve suffered so much all these years. Don’t worry, come home with us and rest. You’re our son, and the family company is enough to support you for life. You don’t even need to take the SATs.” The school beauty lowered her head, her voice soft and teasing in my ear. “Levi, be good. Studying is too hard. From now on, I’ll take care of you.”

On my boyfriend, Draco Leroyce's birthday, I take him to a newly-opened fancy restaurant of my own for his birthday meal. Thinking that we'll be having a birthday cake for dessert later, Draco and I decide to order a set meal that includes a pizza and a plate of pasta. With a smile, I hand the menu over to the waitress. She plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the menu. But she secretly calls us "broke ass bastards" in Virellian. I draw my brows into a deep frown instantly. "What did you just say?" The waitress is momentarily stunned. Then, she shoots me another fake smile. "I said I'll prepare your food right away." I just sneer back at the waitress before responding to her in fluent Virellian, "You were calling us broke ass bastards."

After undergoing a gallbladder removal surgery, I get discharged while having to hunch over in pain. In fact, I have to go home while attached to a surgical drainage bag. Before I even reach the front door, I hear Rayne Randall, my sister who's ten years younger than me, wailing at the top of her lungs. "Dad, there's a splinter in my finger! It hurts so much!" "Let me blow your booboo away for you, Ray. It won't hurt anymore once I'm done." As soon as I open the front door, I see my dad rolling his eyes at me. His previously happy disposition quickly morphs into an annoyed one. "Why are you home this late? It's just a small surgery, isn't it? Look at how much of a wuss you're being! Ray wants to have fish for dinner, so you'd better take your ass to the market and buy a fresh one for her!" My surgical wound hurts so much that I keep trembling in pain. I can barely move an inch. Having noticed that I'm not moving at all, he chucks a slipper at me right away. "Just go! What's with that gloomy look of yours? It's all thanks to you that our luck is gone! Every time I see a jinx like you walking around, I feel even unluckier!" As far as I remember, my dad keeps calling me a jinx who has ruined his family. Now that I've had a close brush with death, I don't want to keep living in this world like a pathetic loser. In that case, I might as well let everyone in this family have a real dose of my misfortune.

My mother gained access to an exchange system the year I turned eighteen. She swapped my college entrance exam scores with my sister, Poppy's. She swapped my high-paying job for Poppy's, too. She even wanted to swap my perfect boyfriend and hand him over to Poppy. However, she had no idea that I had deliberately found him at a wife-killer club. When my boyfriend suddenly fell for Poppy and fell out of love with me, I smiled. I had been waiting for this day for a long time.

My roommate brought back an old music box, saying she had picked it up at a flea market. I told her not to keep it. It was too old. Who knew where it had come from or how many hands it had passed through. But the moment the music box was opened, and the melody began to play, a chill ran down my spine. The next day, a girl from the dorm next door jumped off the building. A week later, a child from a nearby orphanage died the same way. When the police came to investigate, my roommate quietly hid the music box. It wasn’t until I found myself standing on the rooftop that I realized none of this was an accident. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she brought the music box home. This time, I was going to make sure she listened to it.

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

Not long after Josh Stewart proposed to me, the Stewart family went bankrupt. He took on three jobs, pouring everything he had into taking care of me. Every morning, he handed me the first cup of coffee, and the only fresh bagel on the table was always mine. He would pull me into his arms and promise, softly but firmly, that once he had saved his first 100,000 dollars, he would marry me. I believed every word. Until the day I stepped into an exclusive private club and saw him with his childhood sweetheart, their fingers intertwined, as he ordered a bottle of Lafite without a second thought. "If Yvette still hasn't realized in three days that Donald's been pretending to be you, then you win," she said with a smile. "Her eyesight isn't great," Josh replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And Donald avoids women. She won't notice. If I win, you're coming abroad with me for the wedding." I stood there, just out of sight, listening. A small smile tugged at my lips. Perhaps… it was time to find myself a different groom.

I slipped into a vegetative state because of an accident. For the next five years, my wife, Ella York, remains devoted to me. She turns down all of her admirers and has chosen to raise our child on her own. At the same time, she exhausts herself from taking care of me to the point that she suffers from stomach bleeding. Everyone advises her to find a new man to settle down with. But Ella exclaims in a choked-up tone, "I'll always be Zack's wife for as long as he lives!" When I miraculously wake up from my comatose state, the first thing I do is file for a divorce under the condition that Ella leaves this marriage without a cent to her name. All of my family, friends, and relatives are pissed off at me, to say the least. "You bastard! Ella has stayed by your side for the past five years! How dare you cast her out the moment you wake up!" As I gaze at Ella's tear-streaked face coldly, I say to everyone else, "Go ahead and check the security footage at my son's kindergarten. Then, you'll understand how Ella has taken care of me over the past five years."

My daughter, Heather Miller, comes home in an injured state from her high school one day. Apparently, someone has been spreading rumors about her cheating in her exams, stealing from others, and even shamelessly serving as an old geezer's mistress! I spend a fortune hiring a hacker in order to locate the source of those rumors. To my horror, my best friend, Sylvia Lister, is actually the one behind this scheme! Just as I'm about to confront her angrily, I suddenly see rows of comments occupying my vision. "The male lead's mom really is smart! She taught him how to come up with rumors just to slander the female lead! Now that no one wants to approach her, he can have her all to himself!" "The mother-and-son pair really are sneaky… and I like it! The female lead is really blessed to have them in her life!" "If my guess is correct, the female lead will get expelled from the school next week. She'll get locked up by the male lead and his mom in their home, which is the start of her amazing bedroom life!"

In my third year of marriage, Victor Lyon, the most prominent man in Sagedale's elite circle as well as my husband, goes viral on the Internet once again. This time, it's because he has decided to throw a grand wedding to be with Carol Braun, the low-income student he has been sponsoring. I don't kick up a fuss, nor do I throw a tantrum. In fact, I even have someone send them my wishes. Because of that, the rich wives of Sagedale's elite circle view me as a complete joke. After the wedding, Victor explains to me, "Carol's grandpa is very ill. His death wish is to see her marry a good man. I was just acting with her the whole time, Lilian. Don't take it to heart." I just smile and nod. "Yeah, I believe you." In my previous life, I had demanded explanations from Victor hysterically. But in return, he screwed over my parents' company to the point that they were forced to jump off a building by debtors. I got my legs broken before I got thrown into a mental asylum that tortured me endlessly. Thank goodness God took pity on me, for He gave me another chance in life. This time, I no longer want Victor's love. I just want his wealth. When he's busy going on a honeymoon with Carol, I secretly have his assets transferred under my name. When Victor's attending prenatal checkups with Carol, I trick him into signing a share-transfer agreement. Whenever he betrays me, I'll take some of his assets away. Once Victor betrays me three more times, he won't have anything under his name.