Short Stories & Novels

Everyone in the city's elite circle knew that the most eligible bachelor in the city loved me like his life depended on it. To marry me—a woman living with HIV—Michael Dalio deliberately destroyed his own reputation. Night after night, he paraded through clubs, bedding forty-nine women in a row. He even went so far as to force himself on his widowed sister-in-law, whose husband had just died. Finally, he pushed the Dalio family patriarch into giving in. The old man, holding his tongue in reluctant acceptance, allowed me to enter the family. To give Michael a child, I humbled myself before my sworn enemy, kneeling to beg for a secret medicine. Just as I was about to share the good news with him, I found him hard at work on his widowed sister-in-law's body. "Nancy, you're finally mine. She has HIV—she won't last long. The only woman I'll ever love is you." Turned out I was nothing more than a convenient cover for Michael to marry Nancy. Tears streamed down my face as I pressed send on the message. [I agree to your terms. See you in three days.]

My mom is an HR professional. She uses KPI to determine my entire life. "If you get into the top ten of your grade, you'll receive a B grade as well as a bonus of 500 dollars. If you can achieve a ranking at a state-level competition, you'll receive an A grade as well as a bonus of 1,000 dollars. Of course, if you can get into a top-tier university after scoring well in your SATs, I'll give you an S+ grade as well as a year-end bonus of ten thousand dollars!" I work my ass off in my studies and manage to earn the offer letter to a top-tier university. But that's when my mom puts a contract in front of me. "Congratulations on getting hired. From today onward, your allowances will be determined by the total of your base salary, KPI, as well as your full attendance award. "Your base salary is 500 dollars. It's to make sure that you won't starve to death, at the very least. In order to help you adapt to workplace stress in advance, I'll check on your progress randomly. If you don't meet my requirements, I'll deduct your salary." When I'm down with a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, my mom deducts my full attendance award, claiming that my physical attributes aren't up to par. In order to catch up on my studies, I've completely forgotten to submit my weekly report to my mom. Because of that, she suspends my allowances. So, I have to sell my blood to a hospital behind her back just so I can survive. At the end of the school term, I show my mom my grades as well as the certificate to my scholarship, thinking that I'll be eligible for the highest KPI and the bonus. But that's when my mom tells me coldly, "The company has decided to give your S+ bonus to your younger brother as a form of investment. After all, he has more potential to achieve better results compared to you." As I gaze down at the 200-dollar consolation prize, I can't help but laugh. It turns out that I'm not even worthy of being recognized as a good employee in my mom's company.

I had always been fragile, the kind of kid who could not handle a gust of wind without losing balance and who teared up over the smallest thing. The day my biological parents found me and took me back into their wealthy world, everything had already felt unreal. Then, things got worse. Out of nowhere, an old woman came sprinting down the street and dropped right in front of the Bentley, like she had timed it perfectly. I panicked and completely froze, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped down beside her and started crying. However, I overdid it. I cried so hard that blood started streaming from my eyes. The old woman jolted upright like she had seen something horrifying. She shoved 500 dollars into my hands, muttered a string of curses, and ran off without looking back. Just like that, I was back with the Snyder family. The house rose in front of me, all polished stone and perfectly kept lawns, like something out of a magazine. However, the closer I got, the more my nerves kicked in, and that familiar metallic taste crept up my throat again. The so-called heir walked over, smiling like we were supposed to be close. Then, he gave me a light shove. He leaned in, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Stay in your place. Don't start wanting things that were never yours." Right there, in front of everyone, I leaned back and collapsed. I did not move at all. He froze. His face turned red as he grabbed my collar and shook me. "Quit pretending. Get up!" A few seconds passed, then a few more, before he slowly turned his head, his movements stiff. Tiny drops of blood speckled his clothes. His voice trembled. "Mom… Dad… I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think he stopped breathing."

I witness my wife, Janice Grant, sleeping in the same room as her childhood friend, Bruce York, in nothing but a skimpy nightgown. But Janice claims that she has gotten bound to a conquest system, so she has to conquer Bruce's heart just so she can complete the mission. I know that this is just a lie Janice has come up with, but I decide to endure her antics for the sake of our daughter, Millie Grant. But one night, Millie lapses into an asthma attack. My father-in-law, Phil Grant, and I rush her to the hospital immediately. Unexpectedly, as soon as we arrive at the hospital, we stumble upon a group of people who are there to cause trouble. Phil ends up getting stabbed in the chest just so he can protect Millie from harm. I quickly call Janice on the spot. But after hearing my explanation, she thinks I'm lying to her. "Evan, I told you I'm in the middle of a mission! If I don't complete it, I'll get punished by the system! Can you stop being so unreasonable?" Despair and rage overwhelm my senses at that moment. Since Janice is adamant on casting her own father and daughter aside for her beloved Bruce, she can forget about inheriting the hundred-million-dollar assets!

When Mom and Dad went broke—$30K in debt—they let collectors sell me to Nyamara, a lawless border strip full of trafficking, forced labor, and private prisons. I slept in flooded cells. Ate rotten food. Tried to run. They smashed both my legs with iron rods. I dragged myself home—and walked in on them planning Nina's sweet eighteen. Dad flicked his hand and dropped $3 million on a top-tier jewelry set for her. Mom smiled, then mentioned me. "I heard Talia cries every day, begging to come home. When do we tell her the truth and bring her back?" Dad shook his head, smug. "What's the rush? This is her gift. Let her tough it out one more month. Otherwise, how's she supposed to inherit our billions?" I tightened my grip on the medical report—severe infection in both legs. Mom. Dad. I don't even have a month left.

When the girlfriend of my childhood friend, Shane Sheridan, comes over for the first time, I help to prepare a feast to welcome her. Lydia Forestwood glances at the garlic butter shrimp and suddenly flies into a rage. "You deliberately made something I'm allergic to! You want to embarrass and badmouth me in front of my boyfriend so you can take my place. Stop dreaming! If he were ever interested in you, then I wouldn't be here." I'm confused and quickly explain that his mom broke her leg and asked me to come and help. I also explain that I already have a fiancé and have zero interest in Shane. She lets out a cold laugh. "Stop playing hard to get. I can spot a scheming woman in a glance. You cling to my boyfriend shamelessly by claiming to be his close childhood friend every day. It's disgusting! "Take a good look at yourself. You're old and ugly. What man would ever want you? If there's one, he'd have to be blind." Shane is holding back laughter the whole time. Just as I clench my fists, ready to lose my temper, he wraps an arm around his girlfriend and shows off smugly. He says, "She has a sharp tongue, doesn't she? Finally, there is someone who can put you in your place. You won't be able to bully me from now on." I stare at his indifferent expression and slap him hard across the face. "Get lost! Both you and your girlfriend aren't even worthy of my time!"

At one in the morning, the general manager posted the project assignments in the group chat and tagged everyone. I reviewed my responsibilities carefully, going through each detail to make sure I understood exactly what was expected of me. When I was done, I typed a simple "OK" and hit send. Two seconds later, my phone rang. It was him. As soon as I answered, his voice came through, icy and sharp, filled with unmistakable disgust. "Eric, I'm very disappointed in you. I must have been blind to trust you with anything important." My mind went completely blank. "What… what do you mean?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. What he said next was something I never could have imagined.

My dad died in a car crash. On the seventh day after his death, I hear him whisper in my ear, "Amara, save your brother. There are cracks in the old stone bridge at the village entrance... It will collapse... He will die." I immediately call my brother, Asher Langford, and he takes a different route out of the village. But that afternoon, the police report that a murder took place on that road. The victim is Asher. My sister-in-law, Delia Winslow, and I bury him in tears. On the seventh day after my brother's death, I hear my dad's voice again. "Amara, keep an eye on Jasper. Don't go to the back of the hill. The dead trees there attract lightning... There will be a thunderstorm in three days." That night, Delia locks my nephew, Jasper Langford, inside the house. But three days later, Jasper falls from a window on the 12th floor. Delia goes insane after losing her husband and son consecutively in such a short time. Holding back my grief, I leave my own son, Billy Calloway, with my husband, Felix Calloway, and help Delia lay Jasper to rest. On the seventh day after Jasper's death, I see my dad holding Billy's hand and looking back at me with a sorrowful expression. He says, "Amara... There are spirits looking for substitutes in the reed marsh in the village. Take care of Billy. Don't go..."

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been crying about how poor we are. In order to put food on the table, I dare not apply for a prestigious university even though I'm more than capable of doing so. Instead, I work several jobs per day just to pay the bills, hoping to lighten the financial burden on my parents' shoulders. What I didn't expect is that my parents actually bought my younger brother, Randall Carter, a 500,000-dollar Ferrari behind my back! It turns out that my so-called impoverished parents are actually millionaires! The reason why they keep in the dark about their wealth is so that I don't fight with Randall over the family wealth! But they've completely forgotten that if it wasn't for me, Randall would've drained their accounts dry a long time ago!

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

My daughter, Elise Dolton, got sick, so I rushed over to take care of her. The moment I stepped inside, a rotten stench hit me right in the face, so I offered to help clean the place up. Her roommates' faces dropped right away. "What smell, Mrs. Dolton? The place is fine." "If you think it's such a dump, then have Elise move out. Don't come in here acting like you're better than all of us. We're not putting up with that!" Even Elise shoved me impatiently. "If you’re here to visit, then just act like it. Stop making a scene and embarrassing me, okay?” They were all college roommates, splitting rent on a run-down unit in an old complex. When I went in, I noticed them gathered around a pot of spicy stew. The room was thick with steam and smoke, but it still couldn't cover that awful stench. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice it. Had something gone wrong with my sense of smell? That night, the smell was so overwhelming that I couldn't fall asleep. In the end, I realized the odor was coming from Elise herself. I hurried her into the bathroom and scrubbed her down over and over, but the smell didn't fade at all. It stayed just as strong. With no other option, I called a cleaner, planning to disinfect the entire place inside and out. But Elise's roommates felt offended and started arguing with me. In the chaos, someone shoved me. My temple slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I first walked through the door. The stench rushed at me all over again...

My name's Skylar Sothisby. I became the heiress to an internationally renowned fine and decorative art auction house after my brother, Dean, died in a car crash. Like any head of an elite family, my father wanted a successor for our empire. He selected three exceptionally handsome and talented young men and groomed them into business geniuses in their own right, so that one day I could choose one of them as my husband. Of the three, Corbin Ford was his favorite. I tried to grow close to him as well, but he always kept a certain distance. I began to wonder if he was either celibate or inclined the other way, until one day I overheard him speaking to Irina, my late brother's widow, in the courtyard. "You know why I agreed to marry Skylar, don't you, Irina? So I can see you every day." He continued, "Once I become the head of the family business, I'll give you anything and everything you want, sweetie." Before a company soirée, my father summoned me to his study. He asked whether I had decided whom to marry. I smiled. "I choose Cyrus Brennan." He stared at me in shock. "Cyrus? But he's effectively vasectomized after that plane accident two years ago. He can't have children."

I'm the heiress of the elite Graham family, and yet my life is like hell. After all, the rolls of fat keep clinging to my body. No matter how hard I try, I can never get rid of them. Even if I don't eat for the entire day, my weight still rises exponentially. When I'm on the verge of dying from organ failure, I see my parents showing up with the adopted daughter, Freya Graham, in front of my sick bed. Freya covers her nose while gazing at me with a mixture of smugness and disgust in her eyes. "Thank you so much for taking the brunt of the misfortune for me, Dakota! Otherwise, I'll be the one plagued by the fat! "Then again, you've already had it good. You've lived a lavish life for many years, after all. This lifestyle is something that you can never experience for the rest of your life!" I widen my eyes in shock. But it's because of my overwhelming emotions that I can't breathe at all. In the end, I die tragically with hatred in my eyes. It turns out I'm just the fake heiress who the Grahams have adopted. My purpose is to shoulder the misfortune that's meant for Freya this whole time! She gorges on food every day, only for all of her fat to accumulate on my body instead! When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the first day when I start putting on weight like mad. In this lifetime, since Freya doesn't want the body fat this badly, she might as well live her life as a living skeleton!

At the family recognition banquet meant to introduce the real heiress, a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: [So, the real heiress tried to get back at the fake one by stealing the engagement gift from her and the male lead and got caught red-handed.] [Even if she’s technically the fiancée, he knows who he really loves. The fake heiress is the one he actually wants.] [What fiancée? She’s just a thief. Send her back to whatever slum she crawled out of.] Dressed in a princess gown and surrounded by admirers, the fake heiress, Luna Lawson, walked up to me: “Risa, you’re finally back. Mom, Dad, and I have missed you so much. From now on, we’re a family.” I quietly kept eating my fried chicken. When Luna saw me ignore her, her eyes suddenly reddened. Then she reached into my worn backpack and pulled out a ladies’ wristwatch. “Why did you steal the engagement gift Brian gave me? I know you’re dissatisfied with me, but that doesn’t mean you can become a thief!” My fiancé, Brian Cook, looked at me with open disgust. “Return it to Luna right now, then get out of this house.” Under the scornful gazes of the guests, I pointed at the man on stage, my father, who was clinking glasses with Luna’s adoptive father, and asked in confusion. “What exactly did I steal? I’m not here for some family reunion. I just came along with my boss to grab a free meal.” The comments exploded: [This is way too awkward. She’s not the real heiress; she’s just an employee?!]

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

On New Year's Day, my childhood friend asked me for the passcode to my new house. I thought she was planning to bring a housewarming gift, but when I opened the door, I froze in shock. There were more than a dozen people inside. She walked over with a smile before giving me a subtle look. "Ryan, what are you doing here? Come on in. You're just in time. You're lucky enough to catch our family gathering." I stood there in stunned silence. Before I could even ask what was going on, her boyfriend suddenly spoke in a mocking tone. "Is your childhood friend very persuasive? I'm curious how he sweet-talked you into giving him your house's passcode." Her expression instantly turned serious. "He didn't sweet-talk me. He got on his knees and begged. He said he had a fight with his family and got kicked out with nowhere to stay. You know how soft-hearted I am. I didn't think much of it and just gave it to him." Her boyfriend's eyes had a look of contempt. "No normal man would stoop that low. Who knows how many women he's begged behind the scenes just to get what he wants." She gave him a look of approval. "Babe, how are you so smart? There was a time he stripped naked and begged me just to buy a watch he liked. I've told you about it." Her boyfriend burst out laughing. "So that was him? He's honestly shameless." Seeing her spew lies so casually and irresponsibly, I couldn't contain my anger. I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. "Who the hell do you think you are? Taking over my house and slandering me? Get out."

We were stuck on the highway in the middle of the Christmas travel rush. My husband’s childhood friend had not only taken the passenger seat from me, but she had also propped her bare feet up on the center console. “Don’t take it to heart, Yvonne. I’m just a casual person and like to be my true self, unlike you and your fake propriety,” Michelle Gail said. As she spoke, she snatched my phone right out of my hand and read a holiday greeting from a male colleague aloud. “Oh, you have quite a few backup options, don’t you? I bet you cheated on Charles a long time ago.” My husband, Charles Carter, however, only defended her. He said, “She’s just being casual. Don’t be so petty as to hold it against her.” I smiled. They did not know that I had accidentally been bound with a system before. As the system had bound the wrong person, it promised to fulfill one wish for me unconditionally as compensation. Without a moment of hesitation, I swapped the system for the “Forget Common Sense System” and bound it to Michelle. Since she was so “casual,” why would she need a sense of shame? Why would she even need to wear clothes? Since the highway was so congested, she might as well go for a wild run on the road!

I've been working for five years now. This is the first time my mom takes the initiative to call me to go home for the holidays. So I travel home with heaps of luggage. Still, I manage to free one hand to produce an envelope filled with cash and give it to my mom. A grin blooms on her face instantly. But when she realizes that there's only ten thousand dollars in the envelope, her grin starts to falter. "Oh, it only makes sense that you're the most manipulative out of the bunch after all these years." I pause momentarily as I'm about to go through the front door. "You've been working for quite a few years now, and yet you only bring home ten thousand bucks. Meanwhile, Sabrina gave us 100 thousand dollars in her first year of working a nice job. Having a bachelor's degree definitely pays off a lot!" Upon noticing how stunned I look, my mom yanks the gifts over right away. "Don't go around looking as though we owe you a life debt, Regina! See, Sabrina has better grades than you, and she doesn't have the intention of hiding anything from us. The gifts she always brings us are top-end supplements, so you should stop bringing us cheap stuff like this." I can only grip the hems of my shirt tightly. But the thing is, I'm the one with better scores back then…

At my wedding to a billionaire heir, Malcom Blair, I leaned down and kissed a filthy, ragged man begging by the entrance, right there in front of everyone. While the guests were still too stunned to react, I grabbed Christine Wagner, Malcom's cousin and my maid of honor, by the hair and slapped her across the face three dozen times in a row. Everyone thought I had lost my mind and tried to have me locked in a psychiatric hospital. Inside, I spent the whole night popping champagne and celebrating. In my last life, not long after the wedding, Christine, a pediatric nurse, set fire to a children's hospital. Many kids died on the spot. The police and the victims' families surrounded my house, screaming that I was the arsonist. I stood there, completely confused, while Malcom pulled out surveillance footage and pointed the finger at me. "You used to complain all the time that taking care of sick kids was worse than dealing with a dog, that it'd be better if they just died and got it over with. I never thought you'd actually be this cruel!" The families lost control. They doused me in gasoline and burned me alive…