Short Stories & Novels

My mom ended up in a vegetable state because my husband's childhood sweetheart hit her while drunk driving. When the police asked her to take a breathalyzer, Sarah swore she hadn't drunk anything and dared them to draw her blood for a test. At the hospital, James faked the test results. He staked his career on it, producing a clean report that cleared her of driving under the influence. The day she walked free, he went to pick her up. I screamed at him, "Don't you know she hit my mom?" He shrugged. "Margaret is not dead. She'll wake up, okay? Why are you freaking out, trying to ruin Sarah's life? Will that make you happy?"

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.

After we get engaged, the six of us plan one last trip together before the wedding. That night, my best friend, Vera Lambert, suggests a game called the "24-Hour Couple Challenge." We each draw a card. Anyone with matching symbols has to spend the next 24 hours acting like a couple. Whoever draws a blank sits out and gets stuck taking photos and carrying everyone else's bags. I'm the unlucky one in the first round. My fiancé, Joshua Renfrow, and Vera both draw the moon. They hold hands as they watch the sunrise, while I trail behind them carrying their bags. The second round goes exactly the same way. I get another blank, while Joshua and Vera draw matching roses. This time, they have to hug for a full minute. Everyone crowds around them, laughing and cheering, while I stand off to the side and time the hug. Then we draw again and again. Seven rounds in a row, and somehow, I'm always the one left out.

"Stop it, Daddy. Don't shove anymore. You're going to break me…" In the bathroom, my stepfather, Fabian Cox, tears my skirt away forcefully. My name is Lily West, and I am a freshman in college. I have a breathtakingly pretty face, coupled with a voluptuous figure and long, slender legs. The moment I step onto the campus, many young men are instantly attracted to me. However, I don't dare to date any of them. I've just turned 18 years old, and I have a condition that I'm highly ashamed of.

My Alpha fiancé, Andre Ackhurst, and his brother, Easton Ackhurst, are identical twins. They have the same looks and scent—no one would be able to tell them apart if not for their starkly different personalities. After a savage pack war, Andre dies, and Easton lives. But when Easton takes over as Alpha, he insists on inheriting both lines of the family—he claims to want to care for me, his sister-in-law. When his girlfriend, Callie Wentworth, learns of this, she berates me for shamelessly seducing her boyfriend. That night, I head to my in-laws' room, wanting to ask them to talk Easton out of his ridiculous idea. However, I hear my mother-in-law say, "Andre, Easton is the one who died on the battlefield. Why did you impersonate him and say you're the one who died?" "Easton" sighs. "Callie is an Omega, and she's weak. Her body won't be able to take it when she learns Easton is the one who died. I have to love her for life on Easton's behalf. "Yes, it's unfair to Jane. However, I'm sure she'll stick it out because she's already carrying my pup. Besides, I'll secretly care for her. She's so kind and considerate—I'm sure she'll understand why I've done this." I'm in disbelief after hearing this. Finally, I understand that my fiancé didn't die. He merely pretended to be his brother so he could comfort another woman. During breakfast the following morning, I tell my in-laws my plan. "Thank you for helping me move past Andre's death. I've thought things through, and I've decided to abort the pup. I'm going to start afresh." As soon as the words are out of my mouth, "Easton" suddenly shatters the bowl he holds as he feeds Callie.

After Nathaniel Cross promises to break things off and refocus on our marriage after having an affair, I give him three chances to meet with the young lady to end things between them completely. He uses every possible moment to spend time with her. They have dinner and do crafts. He even stays by her side through the night. When he comes back, he throws away everything that has to do with her and takes my hand again. "Trust me. I'll never betray you again," Nathaniel promises. One day, I collide with a young woman on the road. She makes a phone call to ask for help. The voice that answers belongs to one of my husband's friends. "Nathaniel, I don't think you should go. You've already used up all three chances. If Caroline finds out about this, she'll definitely ask for a divorce." Then, I hear Nathaniel's confident reply. "Caroline is an orphan. No one has ever loved or cared about her. She's more afraid of divorce than I am. Just keep quiet about this. I know what I'm doing. This is the last time." I feel my entire body turn cold. Only then do I realize that the sobbing woman in front of me is the mistress he has been so devoted to protecting. 20 minutes later, the man who has just sworn to return wholeheartedly to his family with me rushes frantically to the hospital.

Someone texted me halfway through the wedding. The message read, "I had sex with your husband. Doesn't matter if you don't believe it." The message hit me like a hammer, and I stood petrified. Then, the texter sent another message, "Second pocket on the inside of his coat. There's a used condom there from last night. Strawberry. We were setting up the room, and one thing led to another. "We did it everywhere. Balcony, kitchen, and even in your car. He's not allergic to women. He'd gladly sleep with someone before marriage. He lied to you." Everything began to spin. I walked ahead, but my movements felt stiff. I felt as if someone was yanking me forward. I approached the aloof, abstinent man I called my husband. The same man who had to think twice before holding my hand. Sure enough, I found a pink condom in his pocket. Gasps and shouts rippled across the hall, while flashes of camera blazed and blinded the scene. I spun on my heel. That was when I saw my best friend Zoe holding up her phone beneath the stage, a gentle smile hanging on her lips. Something bitter and sad filled my heart. It took me standing here, utterly humiliated, to realize that the very thing I spent my whole life fighting for was nothing but a joke.

How rich can a person be? My wife is incredibly rich. People call her "The Queen of Cloudridge" because nearly half the city's properties are owned by her. We've been married for five years, and every time she goes out to meet her first love, she transfers a property to my name. By the time I have 99 homes in my name, she suddenly notices that something has changed. I no longer cry, beg, or ask her to stay. I simply choose the finest mansion in all of Cloudridge, bring the property deed with me, and wait for her to sign it. She signs the papers, and for the first time, she softens. "When I get back, let's go watch the fireworks together." I quietly tuck the agreement away and hum in response. But I never tell her what she's really signed this time. It's not a property deed. It's our divorce agreement.

After graduation, I spend a year interning with my mentor, a healer, out in the neutral lands—no packs, no laws, and no one to protect me. My brother, the Lycan Chairman of all werewolves, nearly loses his mind over it. He's terrified I'll fall for some Rogue and impulsively form a reckless mate bond. As such, he handpicks an arranged mate for me—Falcon Sterling, the Alpha of the strongest pack in Northmere. He's handsome and dangerous, a legendary figure. My brother orders me to come home for the mating ceremony, so I have no choice but to go pick out a Luna crown. At the jewelry shop, my eyes snap straight to a crown made of pure silver and covered in diamonds. Just as I reach out to take it, a sharp female voice cuts in. "I like the one she's holding. I'll take it. Hand it over." Before I can react, the clerk snatches the crown right out of my hands, nearly scraping my skin. I straighten up, forcing myself to stay calm. "Ever heard of 'first come, first served?' I saw it first. Is this how you do things here?" The she-wolf slowly turns toward me, casting me a long, mocking look. "This crown costs 300 thousand dollars. You sure you can afford it, peasant? I grew up with the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack, Falcon Sterling. Around here, I make the rules." I stare at her, almost laughing. Isn't that funny? Falcon just happens to be my arranged mate. I pull out my phone and press the call button. "Hey, Falcon. Your adorable childhood sweetheart just stole the Luna crown I'm supposed to wear for the mating ceremony. What do you think I should do about that?"

My mate, the supreme Alpha of the wolf pack, vows to be faithful to me for life. Yet on our anniversary night, I catch the scent of another woman on him. Later at a gathering, he holds my hand and gazes at me with tender affection. He promises that I'm the only one he'll ever cherish in this life. But moments later, I catch him outside the private room with his lover, who is wrapping herself around him. He's bragging to his friends about their thrilling hookup. It's only after the family elders whip him within an inch of his life with silver-laced whips that he finally begins to understand. When he cries out my name in his fevered delirium, something shifts. He's finally learning what it means to truly lose someone. His grandfather calls me, begging. "He's dying. Please, come see him one last time." I keep my voice calm. "That was his choice." He doesn't understand that some betrayals can never be forgiven. Not from the moment they happen.

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

I was an ordinary pharmacist's apprentice. To save my gravely injured brother, I agreed to a mysterious deal and slept with a man. Then I found out I was carrying six wolf pups! From that day on, I lived as a fugitive, hunted endlessly by the Silver Cross. When they strapped me to the silver altar, my six children were right in front of me. Their hands and feet were clamped in silver rings. The smallest, Nell, had already stopped breathing. The warden held a moon core extraction needle and said half-blood pups had no human rights. They were nothing more than experimental specimens waiting to be taken apart. No one knew their father was the Northern Alpha, who had gone three hundred years without an heir. Nor did anyone know that to find us, he had followed a cracked moonstone, three decoy prison wagons, and seven trails of blood for three full years. I tied the torn strips of my dress back onto my six children's wrists and told them, "Don't listen to them. Mommy is still here." The next second, six howls tore through the sanctified silver seal. The cathedral doors shattered. A man covered in snow stepped through the silver dust, his golden eyes fixed on me. "Take your hands off my family."

Ten years into our secret relationship, Alex pulled out a ring at a yacht party. He leaned against the deck railing, his tone lazy. "Actually, I'm planning to propose tonight. " The crowd erupted instantly. Someone whistled, someone pounded on a table telling him to get down on one knee, and guessed who the mystery woman he'd kept hidden for ten years might be. I stood at the back of the crowd, so nervous my breathing came in ragged bursts. For ten years, Alex had never publicly acknowledged our relationship. During the hardest days of his startup, he said investors didn't like founders weighed down by romantic attachments. Then, once he became New York's most sought-after biotech rising star, the excuse became that the board and the media loved scrutinizing his personal life. Time after time, I believed he just wasn't ready yet. For him, I gave up a research position at Harvard, lost our child, and didn't even make it to my mother's bedside before she died. And now, he had finally pulled out a ring. Without even thinking, I reached for the pair of dark blue cufflinks in my pocket. I had spent three months of my savings to craft them as a tenth-anniversary gift. But he didn't stop in front of me. He brushed past me, walked up to Lillian, who had just returned to New York after ending her second marriage in Europe, and dropped to one knee. The deck fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into even louder cheers. Alex slid the ring onto Lillian's finger, and smiled carelessly. "See? Told you she wouldn't dare make a scene even after seeing the ring. Ten years, and when has she ever really stood up to me?" Lillian looked past his shoulder at me, undisguised triumph gleaming in her eyes. So the proposal hadn't been spontaneous. They had bet on whether I would make a scene. I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and turned to leave. So ten years really could be worth this little.

On the Lunaris Festival, the palace banquet glittered with candlelight. It lasted until the Crown Prince rose and dismissed every consort of his for the sake of his first love, the woman he had never stopped idolizing. Everyone else accepted the gold coins from the prince and returned home for reunions. I had nowhere to go. I found a rope and hanged myself at the gate of the Withered Court. I had been reborn into this world and spent 21 years locked in the System's mission. It demanded that I court four designated male leads and earn absolute affection from at least one of them. I failed every route. The final path collapsed in my hands. The System offered one last mercy. If this body died, I could return home and reunite with my family. As my consciousness slipped away, I thought I heard someone scream my name, as if the world itself were breaking.

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”

After I brought in 300 million dollars in investment for his company, my fiance showed me the home we would share. I thought we would finally get married after eight years together, but instead, he turned on a building game. “I laid every brick here. Once the company is listed, I’ll build you a house just like this one.” I found him and his secretary showing off their love. He had bought her an expensive villa as a gift. I sent the photo to my fiance. “You can afford to buy someone a villa as a gift, but not our home?” Displeased, he said, “Alyssa is the company’s backbone. I’m only giving her a villa to encourage the other staff to do better!” But in the background, I heard Alyssa’s pleased laughter. “Some people should really be more self-aware. Does she think getting some investment makes her the boss of this company?” I did my best to suppress my anger. I wanted to see just how long the company would survive if not for the investments I found!

When my ex-wife, Blaire Sutton, rushes her childhood friend, Malcolm Pierce, who has suffered from a papercut, into the emergency room, I'm in the middle of saving a patient, whose heart has stopped beating. Upon noticing that I'm not rushing to treat Malcolm's cut at once, Blaire lashes out at me furiously. After that, she lodges a complaint about me intending to get revenge on her due to our relationship problems, which means I have very poor ethics as a doctor. I don't even bother explaining myself to anyone. Instead, I just take off my white coat and accept the suspension and investigation notice that the hospital has issued to me. Soon, Blaire uploads a photo of Malcolm's finger, which is taped with a plaster. The caption absolutely reeks of her smugness. "Only narrow-minded men tend to get revenge for the pettiest things at work. His white coat should've gotten ripped off him a long time ago. That way, he'll definitely learn his lesson." Five days later, Malcolm suddenly suffers from a ruptured aortic dissection, leaving him in critical condition. The thing is, I'm the only one capable of performing this surgery in the entire state. Blaire keeps sobbing to the point that she's suffering from an emotional breakdown over the phone. She begs me to save Malcolm's life. I merely cut her off coolly, "Sorry, but I'm serving my suspension notice and reflecting on my mistakes at the moment. I don't even have the right to prescribe Malcolm any medication. You should find someone else to save his life."

After getting reunited with my family, I become the copycat whom my mom hates the most. Since the fake heiress, Emily Burk, is a student of an Ivy League institution, I got into graduate school in just three months. After Emily decides to return to the country and establish her own business, I spend a year establishing and developing my business to the point that it becomes the biggest retail company that sells female apparel. When Emily gets featured in the news for her feats as a village teacher, I decide to donate tens of millions of dollars in order to secure a spot on the headlines. While my family can't stomach my behavior, they realize that they can't beat me as well. But when I choose to announce my upcoming marriage right after Emily has made her own announcement, my mom, who hasn't contacted me for three years, calls me on the phone immediately. Apparently, she demands that I delete my pre-wedding photos. "It's bad enough that you keep stealing Emi's thunder! I can't believe you actually stole her husband too! What the hell are you up to, Gabriella?" Emily's fake sobs can be heard echoing in the background. "That's enough, Mom. I asked Derek to tell me the truth. He doesn't even know who Gabriella is! She Photoshopped that photo on purpose just to piss me off!" Who's Derek? Also, my husband, Caleb Ingram, is my childhood sweetheart from the orphanage for 18 years! How did he become someone else's husband anyway? But when Gabriella sends me one of her pre-wedding photos, I find out that the groom in that photo looks exactly the same as Caleb. Isn't that a huge coincidence?

“Who the hell changed the screw tolerance by 0.007 mm?” “I did. Is there a problem?” Kimmy Zabel, our department’s “good-luck charm” and full-time slacktivist, did not even look up from her compact mirror, where she was carefully applying lip gloss. “It just didn’t look right, so I tweaked it. Do you really have to yell at me?” The production line had been running on the wrong spec for twenty-four hours. I hit the emergency stop. Keeping my voice steady took some effort. “These parts no longer meet export standards. If we miss tomorrow’s shipment, even a month of overtime wouldn’t cover the penalties.” “It’s one tiny number. You’re being so dramatic!” Kimmy snapped her makeup case shut. “Anyway, it’s New Year’s Eve. I’ve got a date. I’m not staying here to suffer with you people.” Before she even reached the door, I gestured to the staff to pull the shutters down. “For precision components like these, one number translates into a million-dollar loss. You can take these defective units and explain them to the regulators.”