Cerita Pendek & Novel

On my very first day studying abroad, my mom brought her real son back home. Within two years, he had won over every single person in the family. By the time I came back, she tossed a signed disownment agreement in my face. "To be honest, I've always thought you were pretty selfish. All you care about is money. You refuse to hand over control of the company, and you never show any real concern for us as parents. Thank God my real son isn't that cold-blooded. So do the right thing—hand over your shares and walk away from this family on your own." She stood there waiting for me to break down, to beg her to let me stay. But I just let out a quiet sigh and pulled out a DNA test linking me to my grandfather—her father. "Mom, I'm not your biological son—that much is true. But I am the biological grandson of the man who actually runs the Harrison family. The one who should be leaving the Harrison family isn't me—it's you."

My son’s horrified scream echoed from downstairs at eight o’clock at night. Meanwhile, a message popped up in a group chat for the apartment building’s residents. “Silas, does your son even have a heart? He won’t even play with my girl.” I froze, recalling that the neighbor didn’t have a child. The next second, the neighbor sent a video. The footage showed a vicious Doberman lunging toward me to attack Ethan. It was bad enough that the neighbor didn’t stop the attack, but he even stood there, applauding. “Good girl. You’re amazing. You’ve got a big boy crying already. As Ethan was tackled to the floor, I shook in rage. Since the neighbor loved playing games, I’d show him a thing or two. I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the knife before charging to the scene.

After I developed transient amnesia, fragments of my memories would come back to me every day. But after a month, I would lose part of my memory again. The doctor said my condition would shorten my life and that there was no cure. Devastated, I went to my parents, ready to tell them I was giving up on treatment. Instead, I overheard my family talking inside the room. "His memories are returning! We have to increase the dosage before he remembers everything!" My older sister, Lena Jackson, hesitated. "This has already happened 99 times. If we do it again, we might really ruin him." "What if he gets his memory back and wants to return to the other world? Won't Zach die because of him?" "Don't forget! The more he suffers here, the better Zach's life will be over there!"

When we try to get our marriage registered for the 18th time, Derek Hubbard has forgotten to bring his ID again. The thing is, I reminded him to bring his ID three times last night. He told me, "Got it. This time, I'm definitely marrying you. There won't be a problem throughout the registration." But as soon as we arrive at the city hall, Derek searches through his pockets. In the end, he calls Lessie Davenport with a frown. "Lessie, did I leave my ID with you?" As I sit in the waiting area, I suddenly let out a soft chuckle. Half an hour later, Lessie arrives at the city hall. She hands the ID over to Derek with red-rimmed eyes. "My stomach hurts a lot, Derek…" Derek's expression changes drastically. He quickly supports her and steers her toward the exit. "Wait for me here, Celine. I'll be back soon." I nod in response while watching Derek walk away from me, just like how he did for the past 17 times. When Derek's silhouette disappears, I dig out my phone and send a text message to someone else. "Are you here yet?" Three minutes later, a man walks into the city hall. He hands both of our IDs through the hole in the counter. "Hi, we're here to register our marriage."

My older sister, Lucy Wheeler, is an extremely sensitive person. She'll burst into tears immediately if her doll is dirty or if a cream puff bursts in advance. In order to maintain peace in the household, my parents will fulfill any of Lucy's wishes endlessly. Since she doesn't like me at all, my parents don't hesitate to kick me back to my grandparents' home in the countryside. Later on, Grandpa and Grandma pass away one after the other, leaving me with no choice but to go home to my parents and Lucy. That's when everyone sets up 3672 house rules for me to follow. Since Lucy loves blueberries, I'm not allowed to touch any of them. Since Lucy loves dresses, I'm not allowed to look prettier than her. After undergoing 20 years of torment, I end up contracting breast cancer, resulting in my tragic death. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the first day I've gotten home after my grandparents' passing. Lucy is extremely sensitive, right? Well then, I'd like to see which one's the more superior weapon—her tears or my fists!

After I was reborn into the World Cup training camp locker room, the first thing I did was not train harder, but quietly watch the head coach running around the room with his phone in hand. "TactiGenie says it pulls from the world's largest database! If we follow the Invincible Spiral tactic it generates, we'll definitely win this World Cup! We'll win every match by a huge margin!" In my previous life, I had objected, saying, "TactiGenie doesn't understand football at all." The captain immediately slapped me across the face. "Don't talk nonsense. Do you think you know more than TactiGenie? Or more than the coaching staff?" In that life, Team Libertas conceded a total of 16 goals across three group-stage matches. The head coach cried in front of the cameras and said, "If it weren't for Christian's words before the match shaking the team's morale, we would never have ended up like this." After a public vote of 30 million people, I was named the person most responsible for the national team's elimination. I received 50 million hateful messages, and in the end, I couldn't take it anymore and jumped from the 23rd floor. This time, when the coach pulled out the TactiGenie tactics board with its AI watermark and win-probability curve, I just smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. "Coach Hudson, this tactic is amazing. I'd really love to play." Then I lowered my head and sent a message to the team doctor. "Theodore, my old Achilles injury is acting up again. Please help me get a medical certificate."

I spent six months and over $300,000 planning our wedding trip to the Maldives. We had invited both sets of parents. It was supposed to be a small family wedding before we started our married life. I was a dock captain, running Pier Seventeen on my own and making more in one month than Ethan made in a year as an ordinary office employee. But when his childhood sweetheart Bianca heard about the trip, she begged to come with her parents. Ethan agreed without hesitation. He changed my parents’ first-class tickets to economy and gave their seats to Bianca’s parents instead. His whole family supported his decision without a second thought. So I changed my own travel plans. I canceled the villa, the private ceremony, and the wedding dinner in the Maldives, then took my parents somewhere else. That was when Ethan finally started to panic.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

The room falls silent when the butler of the Sherwoods places the DNA test results on the table. In my previous life, the real heiress, Phoebe Sherwood, is so greedy for wealth that she forces me to stay in the slums in her place. Later on, the Sherwood family is accused of money laundering. Their whole business empire collapses. Meanwhile, after news breaks that my poor parents and I win a lottery worth over 100 million dollars, someone targets and murders us. We die with hatred in our hearts. Now, in this life, Phoebe suddenly acts as if she's gone crazy. She throws her arms around our impoverished adoptive mother, whose clothes are covered in patches. She says, "I'm not leaving! Rosalyn is spoiled and delicate. She can't handle hardship. Let her stay with the wealthy family and enjoy a life of luxury. I want to stay with my parents and fulfill my duties as their daughter!" She cries pitifully, but when she turns around to sign a document severing ties with the Sherwoods, she can't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. My adoptive father is so moved that tears stream down his face. "Get out of here! The daughter we raised ourselves is the thoughtful one. We can't afford to associate with an ungrateful wretch like you!" The Sherwoods frown as they look at me. They open their mouths as if to say something but ultimately remain silent. My face devoid of any expression, I look at my adoptive family before turning and walking toward the luxury car. "Dad, Mom, let's go home." Phoebe is clueless. She doesn't know that in my previous life, I was the one who bought those winning lottery tickets.

Out of sheer kindness, I brought my drunk, heartbroken coworker home for the night after she'd been dumped. Little did I know, she'd treat my place like it was her own. "Isla, I gave my ex my whole paycheck. I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the month. You've got this huge place all to yourself anyway—such a waste. It's perfect, we can keep each other company. And hey, no rent. You're already cooking for yourself, so what's one more plate, right?" I stopped typing and blinked, trying to process what she was saying. She kept going, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna take advantage—I'll chip in 2 bucks a day. Honestly, you must get so lonely living alone. Aren't I sweet for offering?" I just stared at her, barely holding back a laugh at her blatant audacity. That evening, I slipped out of the office early, went straight home, and deadbolted the door behind me. No matter how much she knocked and yelled from the hallway, I didn't budge. The next morning, she stormed over to my desk and slammed her hand on my cubicle wall, her tone dripping with accusation. "You were home last night—why didn't you open the door?! I had nowhere to go, had to crash at a hotel, and between that and food, I dropped 60 bucks. You owe me." She shoved her phone screen—payment receipts on full display—right in my face. I couldn't help it—I laughed out loud. If she wanted to play that game, fine. If she thought she could push me around, she was about to learn what real-world consequences looked like.

I worked as a caregiver at a psychiatric hospital. One day, during a quiet shift, I came across a post from my husband's widowed sister-in-law. [Just launched my first AI-generated short drama! Hope you'll check it out and support me!] I tapped on the video attached to the post. The villain's face was identical to mine. I immediately messaged her and demanded that she take the video down. Instead, she posted our chat in the family group. Then she added: "If it really bothers you, I'll delete it. It's just a shame my first attempt at starting a business has already failed..." My husband replied almost instantly: "Don't delete it!" Then he tagged me. "So, what if you played a vicious villain? That's called making sacrifices for art." "This is the first business your sister-in-law has ever started. Stop being so dramatic." My mother-in-law chimed in as well: "Your sister-in-law is trying to build something of her own. What's wrong with supporting her?" "What do you mean she used your face without permission? We're family. Why make such a fuss over something so trivial?" "She used all of our faces, and none of us complained. What, do you think your face is worth more than everyone else's?" What they didn't know was that I was an undercover investigative journalist. So yes, my face really was worth more than theirs.

The delivery-app price war ended up being the smoking gun that proved my husband was cheating. A man who drank nothing but premium craft coffee somehow had a Dunkin’ iced coffee bag sitting in his car. After catching me staring at it, he explained, “The new receptionist at work gave it to me. She said there was some promotion going on and the drinks were ridiculously cheap, so she bought too many and offered me one. I only accepted it because I didn’t want to be rude.” I looked at him with amusement. “Is she pretty?” Hearing the sarcasm in my voice, Carter Freeman snapped. It was out of character. “If you’re going to keep acting jealous for no reason, get out of my car!” It seemed that so much time had passed that he had forgotten that the “Freeman” behind Freeman Group was not Carter Freeman, but me.

The company was preparing to host a major client from Qamaria. So, I pulled three straight all-nighters to put together a flawless reception plan. Unfortunately, I made a critical mistake in the middle of all that work. I completely forgot about the Qamarians' restrictions regarding the consumption of pork. By the time I realized my blunder, the menu featuring roast suckling pig had already been submitted to the catering department and could no longer be recalled. I slumped at my desk, my back drenched in cold sweat. If the client took offense, not only would the $300 million contract fall through, but I'd likely also be blacklisted by the entire industry. Just as I despaired and opened my computer to write my resignation letter, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart suddenly came running over in tears. "Evelyn, I could overlook you stealing my bonuses and clients, but I've finally gotten a chance to secure a full-time position. Why would you steal my reception plan and claim it as your own?" Even my boyfriend jumped in to support her. "It's a good thing I caught it in time and changed the name to Claire's. You'd be fired if Ms. Bennett found out about this." I immediately donned the pitiful expression of someone being slandered, unable to defend herself. In truth, I was thrilled. After all, they were referring to a 300-million-dollar contract. Since the harpy loved stealing others' credit so badly, she could take the fall for it, too.

My son, Caleb Yates, is publicly known as the most caring son ever. But I've written a letter just to cut off all ties with him on New Year's Eve. The community workers take turns in trying to mediate the situation. "Your son cares a great deal about you. Since young, he has never caused trouble for you, and he often visits you at home. Whenever he comes back, he makes sure to bring gifts, too. "Are you going senile, Bruce? You already have one foot in the grave, so why are you still cutting off ties with Caleb?" I never waver in my decision. Instead, I snatch up a pole and drive Caleb out of my home. Even though I keep berating and hitting Caleb, he refuses to leave. He then jumps off the fourth floor without hesitation. When I walk past him, Caleb does his best to grasp my pant leg despite still lying in a pool of his own blood. I merely take a step backward. "If you want to die, do it somewhere else." My neighbors can't take it anymore. They claim that I'm a bad father before dragging me to the hospital by force. Once Caleb regains consciousness after undergoing surgery, he keeps apologizing to me even though he has tubes connected to him. I refuse to even spare him another glance. The next day, I sue him at the relationship severance court immediately.

During the May Day holiday, my roommates decided it would be funny to act like rich girls and got into character the second we got in an Uber. I knew better than to show off in front of strangers, so I tried to smooth things over, telling the driver, Andrew Houstead, that they were just joking. The moment my roommates' act fell apart, they flushed red with embarrassment and got out of the car. I didn't get the chance to follow. Andrew locked the doors and grabbed me. "Since you helped them out, you can pay the price for them," he said, smiling in a way that made my stomach drop. What followed was something I barely survived. I made it back to the city by sheer luck and went straight to the police. During the investigation, my roommates turned on me without hesitation. "She jumped into the front seat the second we got in. What do you think she was after?" "Exactly! And after we got out, she stayed behind. Obviously, she wanted something exciting with the driver." Their words didn't stay in that room. Andrew's wife heard them. She dragged me by the hair, screaming that I was a homewrecker, then put all my personal information online. Strangers I had never met piled on, calling me shameless, saying I got what I deserved. Andrew took it further. He sent my nude photos to my mother. She couldn't handle it. She had a heart attack and died on the spot. Not long after, I followed. In the end, my roommates used my death to secure guaranteed admission to graduate school, smiling like they had won. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that Uber, right at the moment they started playing rich.

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to speak. Meanwhile, I stood there in the corner, listening to the whole thing until I felt sleepy and fed up. Taking a step forward, I spoke the very first words of my life.

During my third year as president of Kingsfield University, I heard that a student I had sponsored had earned the top score on the state exam. On the eve of the SAT, I went to the university's affiliated high school to personally deliver Kingsfield University's only guaranteed-admission spot to him. The moment I reached the door of the senior-year Honors Class, the school belle, who was surrounded by admirers, walked up to me carrying a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red from crying. "You're the working-class girl who's been waiting for him outside the school gates every day lately, aren't you? He won't even look at the study notes I gave him, but he's willing to accept things from you. I'm starting to get jealous…" Before I could say a word, she suddenly grabbed my hand and violently tore apart the highly coveted recommendation form for Outstanding Graduate that she was holding. The document split cleanly in two. "H-How could you destroy my recommendation paperwork for Kingsfield University?" She dropped to the floor in the hallway, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was so loud that it drew teachers and students from the entire floor. "If you're worried that I'll get into the same university as him, then I'll give up my guaranteed admission. But how can someone like you, a girl who never even went to college, ruin my future?" The dean and the surrounding students quickly gathered around, pointing at me and looking at me with open contempt. I was flabbergasted. What did she just call me? A girl who never went to college? I was the youngest female president in Kingsfield University history! I was someone she wouldn't even dare look in the eye based on my achievements alone! When I was personally revising the nation's exam papers three years ago, this so-called recommendation form of hers hadn't even been printed yet. As I regarded this school belle, who continued playing the victim, I grabbed a thick test-prep book from the teacher's podium and slammed it right into her face. "A fool who can't even solve a parabola thinks she's worthy of a recommendation from Kingsfield University? If you dare smear my name again, I won't just ruin your future. I promise you I'll remove the principal from his job, too."

After we got engaged, my fiancee sent a child from abroad. She also sent an email along with it. [Noah, I was so bored overseas that I accidentally had a baby with Raivo Fallon. Since you’ve always been so eager to suck up to me, I’ll leave this child in your care. You can get some practice ahead of time so you’ll be ready to be our caregiver when I return home to Abrein.] Without a word, I handed the child over to the butler. Seven years later, all the CEOs stationed overseas returned to Abrein for their performance reviews. Laina Miller drove up in a Raypach, leading a large entourage that blocked me at the entrance to the Miller family residence. She held a cigarette between her lips, tilted her head, and took off her sunglasses. “Did you miss me that much? Did you wait here at the gate just for me? “Just so you know, for the sake of the child’s registration papers, Raivo and I got married overseas. From now on, you two will be brothers. You’ll share everything. “The Miller and Lewis families are now related by marriage. You don’t care about just a small piece of paper, do you?” After that, she blew several smoke rings in my direction. They choked me until tears streamed down my face. I wiped my tears away and hurriedly backed away. My child’s mother was the pettiest person I ever knew. She had warned me long ago to keep my distance from other younger female relatives. If she found out her niece was harassing her husband, the Miller family would be in an uproar.

After my father-in-law, Anthony Randall, has undergone a coronary artery bypass surgery, he decides to visit the company to inspect the new project. I've ordered the project department to prepare a stable, smooth-riding man basket. But what I receive is a dangerous-looking man basket that doesn't have any safety measures installed in it. Anisa Howell, the first love of my husband, Conner Randall, speaks up mockingly at that moment. "Since your junk-collecting dad wants to collect more junk in the construction site, it's only natural that I, the person in charge of this project, hold the fort for Mr. Randall. "Then again, I've always been a soft-hearted person. This man basket might be malfunctioning, but it's perfectly adequate to send you guys to your destination." Realization dawns on me immediately. Anisa must have mistaken Anthony as my actual dad, who works as a farmer in the countryside. I'm about to explain to her that Anthony has just undergone a heart surgery and cannot suffer from any emotional distress caused by any factors, including tall heights. But Anisa quickly commands her workers to shove us into the man basket before pulling down the lever, which will cause it to ascend rapidly. Poor Anthony has gone deathly pale from the fright. He keeps clutching at his chest hopelessly the whole time. But Anisa has the audacity to flaunt her privileges over the walkie-talkie. "I'm a VIP of a bungee-jumping club. Today, I'll let you have a taste of what it feels like to soar through the skies."

During college, Cindy Crammer brought over two sets of breakfasts every day. One was for me, and the other was for my roommate and best friend, Mark Jefferson. The breakfast she brought me never changed. It was always just sandwiches and oatmeal. Mark's breakfast, on the other hand, always had a perfect balance of meat and vegetables, and she never repeated the same meal twice. Even for my birthday, the gifts she prepared came in two sets. My birthday gift was always four simple greeting cards. Mark got concert tickets, a handmade rhinestone photo mosaic, a custom-made suit, and a pinky ring. When it came time for our graduation trip, the three of us arrived at the train station together. Mark and Cindy scanned their documents and passed through without any trouble, but I was stopped outside. Cindy slapped her forehead in frustration and smiled at me apologetically. "I only remembered to book Mark's ticket. I forgot yours. "We've already made it through. I don't want to waste the money. I'll take you on a trip for two next time." Mark patted his chest and made a promise to me. "Don't worry, Jason. I'll take good care of Cindy for you." I watched their backs as they walked away side by side, laughing and chatting. I let out a bitter chuckle. I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore. I turned around and bought a ticket home. "Dad, you said I had to get married right after graduation. I agree! "Remember the referral I made for an intern named Cindy? Cancel it!"