Short Stories & Novels

The earthquake hit out of nowhere, and the whole class jammed up at the door. Rainee Bianco, our resident queen bee, jumped onto the podium. "Don't freak out! Get into the triangle zone and wait for rescue!" Yeah, no. Experts had already called that advice bogus. The so-called triangle zone wasn't safe. I looked out at the lawn. "We're on the third floor. Jump now, and we might actually make it!" Everyone froze for half a second. Then they started climbing out the windows. Everyone but Tristan Dodd, my childhood best friend. He bolted straight for the triangle zone. I ran after him, grabbed him, and dragged him out the window with me. He walked away without a scratch. I shattered my leg. After that, Tristan acted like I'd hung the moon. He took care of me every day, and after graduation, we ended up together. Then Rainee found out. She got drunk, fell into a lake, and drowned. The second Tristan heard, he shoved me off a cliff. "If I didn't owe you my life, you really think I would've picked you? She was right. This is all your fault!" When I opened my eyes, I was back at the exact moment he ran for the triangle zone. 'He wants to die this time? Fine by me.'

Nora Blythe

After ten years in a coma, Margaret Rollins, the mother of Geri Winslow, Jansburke's top heiress, finally wakes up. Everyone believes she'd been pushed down the stairs and left in a vegetative state. Now that she's awake, everyone prominent in the city comes to visit. They practically fall over themselves to praise Geri, saying she's been the picture of devotion. After all, she's spent the last ten years punishing the man who hurt Margaret. Even though Geri and the culprit were high school sweethearts, she still didn't go easy on him. But when everyone is finally done talking, Margaret sits in silence for a long time. Then, she looks at them in confusion. "What culprit? No one pushed me. I fell on my own." The fruit knife falls from Geri's hand and clatters to the floor. She lifts her head and stares at Margaret in disbelief. "Mom, what did you just say?" Alistair York isn't the one who caused Margaret's coma? A terrifying panic rises inside Geri. For as long as Margaret has been unconscious, Geri has been punishing Alistair. And now, she learns that he's innocent? "By the way, where is Alistair?" Margaret suddenly asks. "I didn't approve of him back then because he came from a single-parent family, and I didn't want you dating him. I never imagined he would risk everything to save me after I fell, though. Are you two still together? Did you get married? Do you have children?" Each question lands on Geri's heart like hammer blows. Her throat tightens, and she can't speak for a long time. Because after Alistair's release from prison, she forces him into a relationship with a blind woman begging on the streets. Three years have passed since then…

Being a war correspondent, I spend all my time searching for any trace of Damian Calloway. Through countless close brushes with death, only one thought keeps me going—I want to die by his side. Four years later, I receive a phone call from him. "Evelyn, Camille finally forgave you," Damian says, his voice coming through the receiver with jarring clarity. In the background, the peaceful, mundane sounds of life drift through the line, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield around me. I freeze. "What are you talking about?" Damian chuckles. "I left the military a long time ago. I've been back home with Camille this whole time. You made her cry before you left, and she has a temper. She wanted to teach you a lesson, but she's over it now, so you can come home and marry me." The wedding date we decided on is exactly one month away. It turns out that he has been keeping track of the dates the entire time, treating the danger I survive daily as if it's a joke. When I step into the terminal, his friends don't even bother hiding their smirks. "Look at her," one of them mutters. "She's a total simp. As if she could actually stay mad." "One phone call from Damian, and she drops everything to fly across the world—" Just then, everyone freezes. The smile vanishes from Damian's face as every eye locks onto the unfamiliar wedding ring on my finger.

I discover that my wife's stepbrother has secretly swapped the IVF sample I had stored at the hospital. But I pretend not to know and let my wife give birth to a son. I raise their child as if he's my own. Years later, I mold him into a business prodigy and even transfer all of my company's shares to him. At the company's celebration dinner, my wife's stepbrother suddenly produces a paternity test in front of everyone and says to me, "Jon is my biological son. Give him back to me." I smile calmly. "Take him then."

On the day I remarry Jeremy Grant, the fake heiress, Jessica Decker, sets my foster mother ablaze, killing her on the spot. Right after calling the cops, I get knocked out by an unknown assailant. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Jeremy has ordered cosmetic surgery to be done on me. Since I'm sporting Jessica's face right now, that means I'm being used as a scapegoat for Jessica's crimes. Three years later, on the day I get released from prison, Jeremy's legal team is on standby the whole day. As soon as I show any signs of getting revenge, they won't hesitate to admit me into a mental hospital for the next three years. My son, Oliver Grant, even uses the money I've given to him in the past to build a 99-story safehouse for Jessica. In fact, she's hiding in the top floor. The name of that building is J Tower. Of course, the "J" is taken from Jessica. Everyone is terrified that I might hurt Jessica in any way. But I respond by vanishing from the face of the earth. Just like that, I disappear from everyone's lives. The next time we meet is when Jeremy and Oliver show up at my street food stall. I turn on the gas stove before smearing the grease all over my apron. Then, I cut open a pancake skillfully. At the same time, I say calmly, "It'll be an extra dollar for an egg. Two dollars will be charged if you want spicy sausage included." Jeremy gulps quietly, his voice coming out terse. "I'm allergic to eggs. Oliver can't endure any spicy food at all." A pause later, he adds, "Have you forgotten about our preferences?" There's no need for me to remember a single thing about them. All I need to remember is that I'll be able to save enough money to pay off the last installment of the burial plot next to my foster mom's plot if I can sell 33 more dishes.

Simply because I upset my adopted younger brother, Owen White, my older sister, Quinn White, and my wife, Elaine Sinclair, banish me to a remote mountain village as punishment. Before she leaves, Elaine even gives the villagers money and instructs them to make sure I learn my lesson. From that day onward, I'm reduced to the villagers' plaything, a punching bag and a tool for their depravity. If I show even the slightest resistance, I receive even more brutal punishment and humiliation. It takes only three months for me to go from desperately fighting for survival to becoming completely numb and willingly stripping for them. Then, one day, the village chief, Martha Campbell, storms into my house. Instinctively, I take off my only tattered coat, but she snaps at me, "Put it back on! Ms. Sinclair is here to take you home." In a daze, I wrap my clothes tightly around myself, a single thought echoing in my mind. "Do I still have a home?"

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.

During a game of Truth or Dare at a gathering with friends, my girlfriend, Bridget Ellison, loses. Her punishment is to buy coffee for everyone. Half an hour later, she returns carrying more than a dozen bags and starts handing out drinks with a smile. "Francis, you've been pulling all-nighters for two days straight. Here's your iced long black." "Daryl, you like java chip frappe with extra mocha sauce, right?" "And here's yours. Lemon black tea, no ice. You've ordered it hundreds of times." One by one, everyone gets their drink. By the time she reaches me, only an empty bag remains. Everyone at the table freezes. "Where's Aiden's drink?" She pushes her peach frappe toward me and says, "I forgot. He can just share mine." A friend immediately groans and complains, "It's the same every gathering. If you two want to show off how loving you are, can you at least come up with a new routine?" Everyone around us laughs and teases us, but I can't bring myself to even take a sip of the drink. I'm the only one who knows the truth. The display of affection is an act. In reality, she has truly forgotten to buy me a drink. After four years together, Bridget still can't remember that I'm allergic to peaches. I set the peach frappe back on the table. I've spent four years settling for less. Now, it's time for me to leave.

On the day of Claire Brooks, my wife's funeral, a grieving stranger arrived carrying white lilies. After placing them beside her portrait, he walked straight toward me. "I've envied you for thirty years," he said. Confused, I frowned as his eyes lingered on her photograph. "For thirty years, she gave me everything—her love, her time, her money. She never held anything back." He paused before looking at me with quiet resentment. "The only thing she forbade was letting you know I existed." My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "It means that while you were married to her for thirty years, she was with me for thirty years too." Then he walked away, leaving me frozen beside her coffin. I stared after him, struggling for breath. Thirty years of betrayal and lies. The shock sent my blood pressure surging, and I collapsed in the middle of the funeral hall. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Claire and I were supposed to be married. "Nathan Brooks, will you spend the rest of your life with me?" After a long silence, I took the ring from her hand and, without a moment's hesitation, threw it down the drain.

My wife, Giselle Stone, has severe face blindness. She can't remember anyone's looks, including mine. It's already a norm for her to chat with me animatedly one moment, then her illness kicks in, resulting in her mistaking me as a stranger the next. Giselle screams at the top of her lungs as she fights with me over the steering wheel, causing me to crash the car at the side of the road. As I lie in my puddle of blood, I beg her in a quivering tone to call 911. But Giselle steps over my blood as she bolts over to the police. "Officer, this man is a human trafficker! I don't know him! Please arrest him!" Thank goodness I've already developed the habit of bringing my marriage license and Giselle's medical records with me all the time over the years. After clearing the misunderstanding with the police, I deal with the damages and get my injuries treated before going home. That's when Giselle blocks me at the front door while glaring at me vigilantly. "Why are you here again? I don't know you! Please leave right now!" When I'm about to explain, Giselle's childhood friend, Jasper Langley, steps out and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "He's your husband, Giselle. Calm down now." As I watch the pair hugging each other, I suddenly let out a soft chuckle. We've been married for three years, and yet this is the 677th time Giselle doesn't recognize me. The thing is, she can recognize Jasper every time and always listens to him. In that case, I might as well let Jasper take care of her from now on.

During the holiday, my husband and I attended a free health screening organized by our local community clinic. The doctors diagnosed me with late-stage lung cancer. But after a follow-up examination, I learned the truth—the hospital had mixed up the test samples. The one who actually had lung cancer was my husband. We had always had a loving marriage, so I rushed home in tears. On the way back, I had already made up my mind to use every cent of my savings to pay for his treatment. But the moment I reached the door, I heard our son's worried voice from inside. "Dad, it's already late-stage cancer. Treatment is just going to be a money pit." I was about to push the door open and tell them not to worry about the money when I heard my husband reply indifferently, "It's fine. Your mom's already terminal. Treatment would be a waste anyway. I'll convince her to give up." I froze on the spot. Without a word, I slipped the bank card containing 300 thousand dollars back into my pocket. Fine. Wonderful. Then give up treatment.

While we're applying to colleges, everyone gathers around my younger twin brother, Kevin Winslow, and launches into a discussion. Our older sister, Natasha Winslow, points at a brochure. "Of course, you're going to Whetford University. Come to my school, and I'll look out for you." Our childhood friend, Claire Linwood, shoves an Ellerby College brochure at him. "Don't listen to Natasha. Let's go to Ellerby together and be classmates for four more years." Our parents smile in agreement. "Yes, you should go to the capital. We can sleep better at night knowing someone's looking out for you." A long while later, they finally remember that I'm about to go to college as well. "Kyle, with your bad grades, you can just apply to any college in Valefront." Natasha doesn't even look up when she replies, "That's right. All four of us will be in the same city, so we can meet up on weekends." Claire nags out of habit, "Applications won't stay open forever. Make sure you don't get left behind." I slowly tighten my grip on the mouse. The computer screen is still displaying my application draft. In the make-believe sessions in our childhood, Kevin has always played the prince everyone adored. Natasha has been the loyal holy maiden, while Claire has been the brave princess. But I can only ever be the evil dragon everyone hates. Turns out, even now when we're grown up, things haven't changed. Since no one likes me anyway, I decide to apply to a college that's furthest away from home. From now on, I have a whole life ahead of me, so I won't dwell on the past anymore.

An ambulance rushed in during my night shift, carrying a pregnant woman in critical condition due to severe bleeding. I was about to head into the operating room when I suddenly saw a stream of comments appearing in front of me. "Don't go in there! That pregnant woman is your wife. She had sex with her side dude in the wilderness, and that's what caused the bleeding!" "Your wife is even planning to fake her death and run away with him. She's also setting you up for medical malpractice so you'll end up in prison!" "That baby isn't even yours. And your in-laws are already on their way with the police to arrest you!" After reading those comments, my expression turned dark. At that same moment, I heard the nurse urgently calling me to hurry.

At my best friend Grady's wedding, the bouquet landed right in my arms. Grady slid over, eyebrows bouncing. "Do you know how hard I worked to get Amanda as a bridesmaid? Dude, you've been into her for seven years. Go confess already." I froze, bouquet in hand. The thing Grady didn't know? Amanda Sheffield and I had been secretly dating for a year. I'd thought my years of pining had finally paid off. Then I told her we were done unless she bailed on the date her family set up. She just smiled, totally unbothered. "Ryder Reed, you've loved me for seven years. You really think you can walk away?" The memory cut out. Then Amanda came over, yanked the bouquet from my hands, and handed it to the guy beside her like it was nothing. She took one look at my face and lifted a brow, smug as hell. "See? You can't leave me."

For Mother’s Day, I took my mom on a vacation to one of the hotels I managed. We were just relaxing on the leather couch in the lobby for a moment, when the trainee manager on duty rushed over in a rage and yanked us to our feet. “This couch is reserved for VIP guests with membership cards!” “If you’re on a tight budget, stay at a hundred-dollar budget hotel. Don’t come here just for free air conditioning!” Frowning, I was about to reveal my identity. However, she slapped a bill onto the counter and demanded that I pay for a ten-thousand-dollar meal right then and there. I was shaking with anger. “We just got here, and we haven’t even had a sip of water yet. Why on earth should we pay ten thousand for a meal?” She rolled her eyes and tapped the counter defiantly. “Anyone who stays at our hotel has to pay this fee! “It’s a gourmet meal. Whether you eat it or not is your business, but you have to pay!” I had enough and demanded that she call the manager. But she simply sneered and pointed at her employee badge. “This hotel belongs to my brother in all but blood. I call the shots in the entire front office. “It won’t do you any good even if you were to complain to God himself today!” A chill ran down my spine. I was an only child, and my relatives had never been involved in my hotel business. Who on earth was this “brother” she was claiming to have, and how did he manage to take my place?

At a class reunion, the men are drinking while the women kick off a "best husband challenge". Each of us has to call our husband and ask for 10 grand for a new purse to see who can get it first. Unsurprisingly, I'm the winner again. "Rose, we're so envious of you; you have all the money and all the time in the world!" Laughter fills the room as everyone tacitly avoids the past. No one talks about how Landon Ross and I have been dating for eight years but still aren't married. Or how I'm the last person to find out he's going abroad to pursue his studies. Or how I crashed my car trying to catch his flight and lost my first baby. Even during my darkest days of depression, only my best friend, Carissa Evensong, stays by my side. I simply smile and remain silent. My gaze lands on Carissa, who's clutching her phone tightly with a troubled look on her face. "Count me out. He's too busy with work to pick up," Carissa says. An awkward silence settles over the room. Everyone in our circle knows she's been secretly married for three years and has a three-year-old son, but nobody has ever actually met the guy. Not wanting her to get picked on, I snatch her phone and make the call for her. To my absolute disbelief, the call goes through almost instantaneously, and Landon's voice comes through the receiver. "Honey, I'm picking our son up from school right now."

At the company's quarterly review meeting, Joey's girlfriend suddenly turned to me and snapped. "Where's your common sense? Go prepare everyone something to drink!" Everyone was stunned as she slammed a stack of documents onto the table. "Don't think you can coast just because you're Joey's older sister. Shaw Group is a major corporation, and we have no room for nepotism here." She then scanned the room, and her tone softened. "Since everyone is here, I have an announcement. Effective immediately, Cheshire is no longer authorized to participate in any of the company's core operations. From now on, the only work she'll be assigned is making drinks and running errands for everyone. "She'll marry into another family eventually, so she should stay away from anything that could create a conflict of interest. Joey doesn't have the heart to say it, so, as the future chairman's wife, I will." Joey shot to his feet, but she raised a hand to silence him, speaking with even greater confidence. "Ryan Lane has always admired you. The Lane and Shaw families are a good match, and I've already agreed to the marriage. This is your duty as a daughter of the Shaw family." Ryan was the Lane family's second son. He had gone through seventeen lovers in a single month, had equal preference for men and women alike, and the scandal over the children he had fathered out of wedlock was still trending online. I watched her confident expression and smiled slowly as I leaned back in my chair. She had no idea that the daughter she planned to marry off owned a majority of shares in Shaw Group. Meanwhile, Joey, the so-called future chairman, could not even tell the figures from the dates on a financial statement.

On my very first night working the overnight shift at the new hospital I've been transferred to, I run into my wife, Willow Jensen, who claimed she needed to be away on a year-long business trip. Now, she's lying on a gurney outside the delivery room, heavily pregnant, with blood pouring from beneath her. The man kneeling beside her grabs my hand tightly, his desperate pleas ringing in my ears. "Doctor, please! You have to save her!"

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.