Short Stories & Novels

Vincent,the Don of the Mafia,and I had just exchanged our vows in church when he brought home an orphan. He said it was to repay a life debt. From that day on,whenever it came to that girl,Lila,I always came second. Lila framed me.She claimed I forced her to touch drugs.In a fit of rage,Vincent locked me in the Family's underground water dungeon for three full days and nights. "The freezing water of the dungeon will teach you what mercy means!" The bone-chilling cold was absolute torture.My heart completely died.I begged him through a high fever and pure despair. Yet Lila just nestled into his chest,her voice dripping with fake concern. "Elena is the Donna of the Family,after all.When she suffers,your heart hurts too.I really can't bear to see you like this." Later,just to coax a smile out of Lila,Vincent publicly handed over my West Coast smuggling docks to her—a clueless little brat who couldn't even read a ledger. This time,I didn't say a single word. I simply took off my wedding ring. A few days later,on the verge of a breakdown over my complete disappearance and tearing the city apart like a madman looking for me,he finally got the news. I had been accepted into an Ivy League medical research institute,directly joining their highest-level,top-secret,closed-off medical program. And I was never coming back. He completely lost his mind.

The day I win a brand-new BMW, I suddenly receive a call from myself, ten years in the future. "Kieran will ask to borrow your car in a bit. And whatever you do, do not lend it to him. He intends to use it to pay off his gambling debt." Even with such an impossibility happening to me, I do not doubt a thing. When Kieran asks for my keys, I shut him down at once. That very night, he drives his old beater car to visit our parents. Along the way, he loses control of the car and collides with another vehicle. Just like that, he slips into a coma. The guilt hit me so hard that I eventually pass out. Mom and Dad stay by my side day and night until I can stand on my own two feet again. But the future version of me sounds cold when she calls again. "They only want to push you onto an operating table. They want your heart to save him!" Growing suspicious, I check their bags and find a donor report. Rage burns through me. I immediately block them on all platforms and throw them out of my home. When news that Kieran dies from blood loss arrives, I learn that they only ever needed my blood—not my heart. I try to find them to tell them the truth and apologize for my mistake. But the mysterious phone rings again. "They hate you because Kieran died. If you go to them now, they will drag you into a suicide pact." I freeze at the revelation, then tell my future myself that I will wait until they calm down. Later, I learn that a thief breaks into their home and kills them. I try to rush over and see them one last time, but a truck hits me and kills me on the spot. I die without ever understanding why the version of me from ten years in the future wanted me dead. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I won the prize.

My daughter, Nora Tyler, has congenital heart disease. When her disease relapses once again, I scoop her into my arms and travel to the hospital on foot on a rainy night. By the time I reach the hospital, I accidentally see the note my husband, Lionel Tyler, has left for the doctor. "I don't care what you do, be it dragging the time out to kill Nora or failing to save her life. No matter what, Nora isn't allowed to leave the hospital alive! "Chloe's due date is almost here. I want you to pay more attention to her. Only her child has the right to become the first child of the Tyler family." I can only stare at the note with bloodshot eyes. At that time, the medical staff has already wheeled Nora out from the ER. A white sheet can be seen draping over her body. When I was still pregnant with Nora, Lionel had taken leave for two years just to take care of me. He truly viewed me as the apple of his eye back then. After I gave birth to Nora, he even purchased an island and named it after her. My favorite gardenias filled every inch of that island. The Lionel who once refused to take any other woman but me as his wife and had prioritized me more than his own life… is also the same man who has personally killed his own daughter just because his first love, Chloe Meyer, is pregnant. My heart has officially died. After leaving a divorce agreement behind, I go home and inherit my family business. Now, Lionel can never hope to reach me ever again.

On the day I get promoted to the department manager, I take my parents on a trip during the holidays. But my dad invites my older brother, Jacob Hunt, and his family over as well. He even posts on social media about the event. "My oldest son really is amazing. The first thing he does is sponsor a trip for me right after he receives his salary." Jacob comments on that post, "It's my duty to care for my parents." All of my relatives compliment Jacob right away. They even text me on the family's group chat and tell me to learn from Jacob. As I quietly stare at my dad's social media post, I decide to unlink the family sharing account from my credit card right away. This time, I want to see how Jacob will care for our dad without my money.

My family owned Belgard Estate, a historic wine property that had recently gone viral after serving as the backdrop for a series of advertisements and product livestreams. On one occasion, my butler and I could not even enter the grounds. Influencers crowded the entrance, phones raised, security overwhelmed. My fiancée apologized. "The mayor wanted to borrow the estate, dear. I couldn't tell him no," she said. "Just bear with it for a while, okay? Once the trend dies down, I'll have them all cleared out. Trust me." I trusted her. I never raised the issue again. Some time later, my grandfather prepared to celebrate his 90th birthday. I returned to the estate to retrieve our finest vintage for the occasion, only to find myself nearly crushed by a shrieking crowd packed outside the gates. I slipped away and made my way to the back entrance after someone in the crowd called me a "free-riding bum." Bewildered, I was ready to present proof of ownership when a woman shouted over the noise, "Didn't you hear? Miss LePenn has already announced that Belgard Estate has been given to Jacques Martin! I don't care how big a fan you are of him. You still have to buy a ticket to see him like the rest of us!" I stood there, stunned. Jacques? The first man I had ever allowed to use this estate for a product livestream? It belonged to him now? And since when had Sylvia become the mistress of this place? Since when did she even have a boyfriend? Enough was enough. It was time to bring these people's business with Belgard Estate to an end.

I was checking out our own hotel. Got hungry, so I snagged a tiny bread roll before my order came out. Then the lobby manager strutted over and slapped me with a fine. "Hi, miss. No outside food. You stayed eight minutes and thirty seconds, spent $150, and your fine's $128,000." I stared at the ticket like, What the hell? Snapped a pic and sent it to the board, tagging my lovely brother: [Getting fined at our own hotel—so THIS is how you're boosting revenue?]

In the Valenti Family, you're born with a chip. It's fused into the bio-watch on your wrist, its digital face counting down every second you have left to live. Everyone could see the numbers ticking down on my twin sister's watch. And on mine. They all knew she would die on our 18th birthday. So Vivian became the untouchable princess of our brutal world. Every diamond-stitched gown was hers. The rarest jewels were hers. Even our father's last shred of humanity was hers. That single sliver of warmth he showed only after his gun was holstered. I used to pity her. Her time was running out. But God, I envied her. She had everything I never did: our parents' love. Then, the night of her 18th birthday party. My parents worried I'd make a scene. That I'd piss off the Don of an allied Family. So they locked me in the cellar. Damp. Cold. While a deadly fever burned through me. I pounded on the heavy oak door, my voice cracking. "Mamma, please! Let me out! I'm burning up. My head is splitting open…" Outside, my mother's voice was a steel trap. "Enough, Sienna! Today is your sister’s 18th birthday. Her last day alive! Stop the theatrics! Can't you suffer in silence for the Family's honor?" "But I'm really sick..." Her footsteps clicked away, fading into nothing. Then the darkness swallowed me whole. And on my wrist, the bio-watch was flashing a critical alert. CRITICAL ALERT: Vital signs mismatch. Paired chip data incompatible. Please verify user.

"Hank, there's something hard down there pushing into me." On the driving school car, I was teaching my goddaughter how to drive by letting her sit on my lap, my hands over hers on the wheel. But right after we started, the engine stalled, and the whole car jerked hard. Her round hips settled deep into my thighs. To make things even more intense, she was wearing nothing but a skirt that barely covered her.

My younger brother, Andrew Midler, pushes me off a cliff, and my life hangs by a thread. Yet my mother, Edith Callahan, the leader of the rescue team, only busies herself with checking on Andrew, who has sprained his wrist. I beg in a faint, faltering voice for her to save me. She, however, looks at me with cold indifference. "Your brother is hurt! Why didn't you protect him? And now you're pretending to be weak? Well, you can stay here by yourself and reflect on what you've done!" She turns and orders the entire rescue team to leave, forbidding anyone from helping me. In the end, I die alone in the desolate wilderness. Upon learning of my death, Mom hysterically holds my already decaying body close, calling me her precious son repeatedly.

"I'm scheduling the C-section for tomorrow. The doctor will extract her bone marrow during the procedure." Those were the words that shattered Selena's world. Her husband, Ellis Winston, the most ruthless Mafia Don in New York, was going to force her to deliver their baby at twenty-seven weeks. To him, her pregnant body was just a blood farm to cure Jennifer, the manipulative half-sister who supposedly saved his life. So, Selena ran. She left behind a pool of blood, a crushed ultrasound photo, and a destroyed wedding ring. The world thought she was dead. Six years later, Ellis is a walking corpse. He rules the global underworld, but he is tormented by the ghost of the wife he pushed to the grave. During his company's grand anniversary banquet, the heavy ballroom doors burst open. Selena is back. But she isn't the weak, obedient housewife in a cheap housewife anymore. She is the untouchable heiress of the Merrick billionaire empire. She strides down the red carpet, a signed divorce agreement in hand, ready to crush the man who ruined her. Ellis refuses to let her go. He is willing to go to war with Wall Street to drag her back. But what will the arrogant Don do when he comes face-to-face with a genius six-year-old boy who looks exactly like him? He will pay any price to win her back. Even if it costs him his empire, his organs, and his life.

As we make our way to the city hall, Paisley Doyle is struck by regret once again. After seven years together, this is the 11th time we've found ourselves at this crossroads. Every time we reach the city hall, she claims she needs more time to care for her sick first love and can't bring herself to marry me. Unable to hold back any longer, I finally decide to confront her. "If his condition never improves, does that mean you'll never marry me? Tell me, what do I even mean to you?" Paisley's temper ignites, and she snaps back at me without a second thought. "I promised to take care of him for the rest of my life! Can't you stop being so selfish? "Besides, we've been together for seven years. What does it matter if we're not legally married?"

On my fifth birthday after getting together with Kimberly Rivers, I sit at a table filled with dishes that have gone cold, just like I have for the past few years. Much like she did last year, Kimberly promises to celebrate my birthday with me this year, but then she goes back on her word. This year, her excuse is that her childhood friend, Gregory Morales, has invited her and several of her best friends to appear in his glamor shoot. Hence, she stands me up once again and runs off to him without any hesitation. At 11:00 pm that night, Gregory uploads a photo onto his Instagram and sets it so that only I can see it. In the photo, four women in skimpy bikinis are partially kneeling around a man who stood with the unshakable confidence of truth itself. The attached caption read, "I want more than just your heart—I want your body too." I take a screenshot of the photo, then send it to the boyfriends of Kimberly's three best friends. Since they look down on me so much, they'd better hope that they won't need to come begging me on their knees in the future.

The day before my period, I found a note on my fiancé's phone. [Her period starts tomorrow. I already packed pads and painkillers in her bag.] I smiled. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful. The next day, a dull ache twisted in my lower stomach. Pale and uncomfortable, I dug through my crossbody bag. Nothing. Dark red blood stained my pants. Students pointed behind me and whispered with awkward laughs. I figured he'd just forgotten at the last minute. Then the new intern teacher posted on social media. [Just started working, and my supervising teacher is literally the sweetest! He even got me pads and painkillers. This period has been pain-free!] The photo showed a pack of pads, an ibuprofen tablet, and a mug of ginger tea. The painkillers were mine—the ones I'd kept stocked at home for years because of my cramps. The pads were the only brand my skin could tolerate. I turned off my phone and stared at the engagement ring on my finger for a long time. Then I stood up and headed to the principal's office to apply for the overseas teacher exchange program. Seven years. He still couldn't remember my cycle. And now, he never would have to.

Six years after the Jennings family threw me out for being their fake daughter, I was surviving by selling my blood. I had just been handed a few bills and was about to call my doctor for more medication when a bodyguard kicked the back of my knee. My knees hit the floor, and I heard a scream. "You ungrateful brat! What are you doing here?! Are you still trying to kill Tina?!" Then, there was a slap on my face. Only then did I realize that the woman in front of me was my mother, Florence. She had come looking for blood for her precious daughter, Tina. My older brother, James, stood beside her and watched her break down. Then, he ordered the bodyguards to throw me out. He looked down at me, saw the cash in my hand, and sneered. "Looks like the past few years aren't enough to wipe that temper out of you. To think that you're willing to sell your blood just for some money to satisfy your vanity. Tina graduates in two weeks, and she'll go abroad to further her education. "Once she leaves, the family won't have to spoil her alone anymore, and you won't be able to bully her again. When that happens, I'll explain everything to Mom and Dad and bring you home. You'll still be the family's princess." "Home... Princess...?" I muttered under my breath. Then, I shook my head and laughed. My amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) had progressed too quickly. I would not last for another month. From the moment James accused me of being a fake heiress for Tina, I no longer had a home.

"Sweetie, are you coming? I'll wait for you at our usual spot." Henry Lane is about to go to bed when he receives a voice message. It's spoken in Rushky. He turns his back to me as his face lights up in joy. Then, he answers in Rushky, "Of course. I love you." I'm about to fall asleep, but I jolt when I hear that. The sweet voice on the other end of the line rings out again. "Your wife won't find out about this, will she?" "I'm talking to you to her face now." Henry snorts. "We're speaking in Rushky; she can't understand us." My heart twists painfully. It turns out he's never loved or truly understood me. He thinks I'm just a housewife whose world revolves around him; he has no idea I once studied in Rushnia for two years as an exchange student. I suppress my sorrow and heartbreak as I caress my belly. Then, I make an appointment with a local hospital for an abortion.

On the day we went shopping for college supplies, Mikayla, my younger sister, picked up a lace bedding set, her eyes sparkling. Mom put the item into the cart without glancing at the price. When it came to my turn, my brother, Cory, furrowed his brows at my choice of a blue bedsheet set. “Kaycee, why do you always reach for the cold-tone colors? “Girls should go for something softer. Be like Mikayla.” Even my childhood friend, Ben, chuckled. “No one in your dorm knows you anyway. Just pick whatever’s easy.” Mikayla shifted her gaze to the blue bedsheets in my hands and murmured, “Kaycee, why don’t you use my old ones? “It’s not like you mind anyway.” Mom was on board with the idea. “Don’t spend unnecessarily, Kaycee. Putting two girls through college isn’t easy on the family.” My grip on the sheets tightened. I knew exactly what Mikayla was talking about. The fabric was worn thin, the edges were pilled, and the pillowcase still had the coffee stain. Things had always been this way. Mikayla’s unwanted dresses, old backpacks, and tiresome room would go to me. I once believed that by staying in my lane, I would eventually get my turn. It had been eighteen years. All I got in return was that I never cared about what I got. At the checkout counter, Mom paid for Mikayla’s things. My blue bedsheet set was dumped back on the shelf. I grinned. No one would make note of the things I liked. I grabbed the blue bedspread. This time, I wouldn’t be putting it back.

There are only ten minutes left in the college entrance exam when the back door of the classroom bursts open. My best friend, Isaac Powell, kicks it in. He grabs me by the back of my collar, drags me out of the hall, and shoves me into a black SUV idling at the curb. "Are you insane? That was the college entrance exam!" I yell. "Is an exam more important than your life? The students in that room… are probably all dead by now!" Before I can respond, my phone starts buzzing like crazy. Notifications flood the class group chat. "@Trevon, the proctor is looking for you." "@Trevon, did you forget about the party after the test?" "@Trevon, where the hell did you go?" My stomach drops as I stare at the sender of that last message. It's from Isaac.

To make me "obedient", my parents send me to a reform center. There, I'm tortured until I lose control of my bladder. My mind breaks, and I'm stripped naked. I'm even forced to kneel on the ground and be treated as a chamber pot. Meanwhile, the news plays in the background, broadcasting my younger sister's lavish 18th birthday party on a luxury yacht. It's all because she's naturally cheerful and outgoing, while I'm quiet and aloof—something my parents despise. When I return from the reform center, I am exactly what they wanted. In fact, I'm even more obedient than my sister. I kneel when they speak. Before dawn, I'm up washing their underwear. But now, it's my parents who've gone mad. They keep begging me to change back. "Angelica, we were wrong. Please, go back to how you used to be!"

On the day of the United Nations meeting, I noticed a new electronic watch on my wife’s wrist. She said it was a gift from her first love to monitor her health. It was a veiled jab, which implied I was not as thoughtful or caring as an outsider. Something felt off, so during her lunch break I secretly checked, and found a bugging device. I reported it immediately, using my official title to cover her wrongdoing. Her first love, however, was now wanted by the authorities. While fleeing, he tragically died in a car accident. My wife said coldly that it served him right, yet treated me with even more care and attention. However, she deliberately leaked my translation files at work, which resulted in me being accused of espionage and taken in for investigation. “Miles, that bug was clearly planted by you. You were jealous of Ash and wanted him dead!” “I truly regret giving up Ash to marry someone as malicious as you. You should go to hell and atone for him!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back there once again on the day her first love gave her that watch. I did not interfere this time. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers.

The day our daughter had a high fever, Matt was at a parent-teacher meeting for his first love’s son. I called him, only for her to pick up. Through sobs, she apologized, but Matt quickly grabbed the phone, his tone impatient. "She’s a single mom with a kid. What’s wrong with me looking out for them?" So, I turned to my daughter, who was quietly receiving her IV, and asked softly, "How about it, sweetheart? From now on, it’s just you and me."