เรื่องสั้นและนวนิยาย

I was the real daughter—unloved, unwanted, and cast aside. The design draft I poured my heart into was stolen by my second brother and gifted to the fake daughter. Then he accused me of being a plagiarist. My father, the richest man in the city, had me blacklisted from the entire industry. The fake daughter pretended to apologize, then pushed me off a cliff. When I woke up, nearly all my bones had been shattered. I called my fiancé, the captain of the rescue team, but he was cradling the fake daughter's sprained ankle. He scoffed, "Oh, you had an accident too? Want me to save you? Why don't you just die already?" My body grew colder under the crushing pain. My eldest brother, the forensic pathologist, cut open my rotting corpse while grumbling that he was late for the fake daughter's birthday. Yet when they finally saw me again, they all cried, begging for my forgiveness.

On the first April Fool's after my death, my husband, Timothy Ludd, once again tries to make me take the blame for his intern's alleged destruction of evidence and bribery. He storms into my food stall, only to find that it has changed owners. Feeling shocked, he goes to the nursing home where I volunteer after my release from prison to confront me. The nursing home director says, "Quinn Sutton? She's been dead for six months." However, my dear husband refuses to believe it and returns to the welfare home where I have lived for 16 years. "Make sure Quinn comes out to see me. "This has become a huge scandal. The Department of Justice's investigation team will be coming tomorrow. Doesn't she have her pregnancy as leverage? Pregnant women can apply for exemptions. She'll only get a suspended sentence. "I've already pulled all the strings. She's guaranteed to benefit from this deal. She shouldn't push her luck!" The welfare home director's eyes well up with tears. "Quinn is dead. Don't bother looking for her. She's been dead for six months."

That night at the Holy Banquet, the Arrow of Desire struck both the divine prince Cassius, a descendant of Zeus, and his father, Theron. If they didn’t mate before the moon set, their divine power would implode, shattering their very essence. In my past life, I had secretly loved Cassius for ten whole years. So, when he grabbed me, his body burning up, I didn't say no. After one wild night, I was carrying his thunder-blooded child and successfully married into the divine palace. But after the wedding, he was ice-cold to me. He was convinced I had stolen the Arrow of Desire, all for the sake of marrying into divinity. Even after I gave him children, he never claimed me as his wife before the gods. He saved all his tenderness for his one true love—the holy maiden Lyra, who was forced to marry into the Sea Realm and eventually died in a storm. Later, I was branded as "jealous and wicked," scorned by all of divine kind. So when my children’s overwhelming lightning magic went out of control, no one came to help. My babies and I were consumed by that arcane tempest. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night he was shot. The young divine prince Cassius, burning with heat, reached out to me with desperate hunger. But high up on the throne... His father, Theron—the beautiful, ruthless God King who had ruled for centuries—was also losing the battle against his own searing desire. Everyone expected me to throw myself into Cassius’s arms. But this time, I gathered my skirts, strode past him, and sat right on the God King’s lap.

On the same day we were registering our marriage, my boyfriend, Levi Salfolk, had someone throw me out of the clerk's office while he led his childhood sweetheart inside. He looked at me nonchalantly. "Rosalie's child can't be illegitimate. I'll marry you once we get divorced." Everyone thought that the lovestruck me would wait for him for another month. After all, I had already waited for him for seven years. However, I went overseas that night, accepting the arranged marriage my family had set up for me and disappearing from his world. Three years later, I accompanied my husband back home to pay our respects to his ancestors. Something came up, and my husband sent someone from the local branch office to pick me up. Unexpectedly, I met Levi, whom I had not seen since I left. "Enough with the fooling around. Come back. Rosalie's child is starting preschool soon. You're in charge of picking up and dropping off the child."

"Mm… Mr. Wood, this feels a little uncomfortable…" I lay still as Ronald Wood, a well-known man from my town, guided me through what he called a 'special training' session. His fingers were strong and precise, pressing along my muscles in a way that made my whole body tense up. It was not exactly pain, but it was not something I was used to either. He leaned closer, one hand steadying my waist. "Does it feel strange? Don't worry. You'll get used to it soon."

I was married to one of the world’s richest men—Zayne Ford— yet no one knew I existed. To the world, he was a charming billionaire. To me, he was the man who once promised love… then buried me in silence. For five years, I lived as his secret wife, convincing myself that love was enough. That it didn’t matter if no one knew my name, as long as he still looked at me the way he once did. But when his childhood sweetheart returned from abroad, I finally saw the truth. The only thing holding our marriage together was a legal document—cold, lifeless, and easily replaced. So I disguised my divorce papers as a school form and watched him sign them without even glancing up. That careless signature ended our marriage— and freed me. Now, as I start a new life in another country, I carry more than my independence. I carry his child. When Zayne discovers what he’s lost—his wife and his heir— he’ll do anything to find me. But the woman he once ignored no longer exists. He taught me how to break. Now he’ll learn what it means to lose me.

Thanks to my addiction to the stories regarding true and fake heiresses, I'm afflicted with strong paranoia that everyone is out there to get me. For some reason, I keep thinking that I'm a fake heiress who will eventually get kicked out of my home. In order to avoid getting set up, I stay on my guard every day. Not only do I hire some people to act as the actual heiresses and visit my home from time to time, but I also have them put on performances with me while clutching paternity test reports and heirloom pendants as props. On the day I'm done rehearsing all of the webnovel tropes, a pure and innocent young woman comes knocking on the door. Interestingly enough, she has live comments surrounding her. As she shows the pendant and a paternity test report, she starts crying sadly. "Mom, Dad, I'm your actual daughter!" The live comments begin spamming relentlessly. "I'm tired of looking at pure and innocent female leads! A manipulative true heiress, on the other hand, is a breath of fresh air! Not only does she intend to regain everything that belongs to her, but she also vows to teach the fake heiress a lesson she will never forget!" "Just look at how amazing her acting and her expression are! Her parents will definitely fall for her excuse, hook, line, and sinker!" Amid the live comments' cheering, my parents just nod thoughtfully. "The actress who's playing this role today is quite talented."

When the zombie apocalypse hit, pets leveled up into guardians. Three per person. That was the cap. My buddy dropped serious cash on three Caucasian Shepherds. My landlord dumped his fish and started raising crocodiles. My girlfriend bolted to the zoo and came back with a lion. Me? I had three strays. Bubba—blind. Missy—lame. Snowy—barely a month old. The second the system locked pet slots, I knew I was screwed. I barricaded myself inside with my three "broken" cats and kept my head down. Day one—fear. Day two—helpless. Day three—the cats strolled back in, tails up, dragging something I didn't recognize. Bubba looked at me. "Dad, I bit off every zombie head on the block. I'm solid, right?" I just stared.

Last night, I got my layoff notice. The official excuse? Too old, under-educated, and holding the team back. This morning, HR pulled me aside with a sympathetic sigh. "Look, Gina, you really pissed off the wrong person this time." I followed her gaze across the floor of Brown Media. Two weeks ago. Catherine Chase, the CEO’s niece, dropped into the sales department with a squad of her college buddies, branding themselves the "Elite Youth Squad." Yesterday, I rejected her project proposal. Catching my eye, Catherine smirked. "Some aging, uneducated women should just stick to being housewives. Save yourself the embarrassment." I didn't argue. I just signed the severance paper in silence. What she didn't realize was that I never needed Brown Media. They begged me to stay. Before walking out, I posted a simple status update… “Officially resigned. Let the fun begin.” Within seconds, my phone blew up.

Everyone thinks Jimmy Hudson, my college roommate, is the typical brutally honest and socially clueless guy who just has zero filter sometimes. A friend and I meet up to go boxing and practice our hooks, but he calls it a hookup when texting the group chat about it. He even nonchalantly says he won't be deleting his message. When I meet my boxing buddy, he says I'm meeting my hookup buddy. He even has the nerve to say, "It's just a joke. Don't be overly sensitive and read so much into it." Thanks to a few more of his dirty tricks, my reputation is ruined, and the entire class ostracizes me. But Jimmy doesn't stop there. He slips sleeping pills into my drink, which leads me to miss an exam. Later, he claims it was just a careless mistake and blames it on his scatterbrained tendencies. Eventually, he dumps crushed cherry pits into my water bottle, which ends up poisoning me to death. This all happened because our campus belle, whom he has a crush on, helped me with my luggage on our first day on campus. All of a sudden, my eyes open again. I've returned to the first day of my freshman year at college. This time, I'm going to let Jimmy get a taste of what it's like to have his life ruined with a helping of some social cluelessness of my own.

After working overtime at the company for an entire week, I finally finish the last project on my plate and rush home. Not wanting to wake my sleeping wife, Mia Lawson, I carefully push the door open as quietly as I can. But the house is nothing like the silence I expected. A man's unrestrained laughter cuts sharply through the air. "You're already pregnant and still this bold. Aren't you afraid your husband will catch you?" "Why would I be? He hasn't been home for almost a week. Besides, once I tell him I'm pregnant, he'll be over the moon. There's no way he'll notice anything." In an instant, my hands and feet turn ice-cold, and blood rushes to my head. I'm about to charge in and catch them in the act when my phone suddenly vibrates with a follow-up message from the hospital. "Mr. Brooks, thank you for choosing our hospital for your vasectomy. We wish you and your wife a lifetime of happiness." A lifetime of happiness? I stare at those words, let out a cold laugh, and regain my composure. Then I turn around and call my divorce lawyer.

When the fake heiress Vivian Ashford and I were trapped in the fire, my husband Nathan Carter pulled her out first. As the flames roared higher, he just hastily said. "Wait for me." The heat made every breath burn. Ten minutes later, the firefighters finally arrived. By then, half my back had suffered deep burns, and the pain was searing. Late that night, needle-sharp pain kept me from sleeping. A woman's panicked voice rang out from the room next door. "Where am I? Who am I?" Then she screamed. "My face is ruined!" I remembered that when Vivian was rescued, she'd had only a pea-sized blister near the corner of her eye. A second later, my husband answered in a soft, soothing voice. "You lost your memory? "Don't worry. I'll take care of you for the rest of your life." I picked up my phone and calmly called my friend and lawyer, Derek Hale. "I need you to draft divorce papers for me. "And look into something else while you're at it."

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

The king orders me to spend three days in a trial marriage with four beastmen separately and pick one to be my consort. The first beastman is a naga, which means double the fun down there. The second beastman is a werefox who has the fluffiest tail. The third beastman is a lycan. His kind is known for having the strongest core strength. The fourth beastman, on the other hand, is Julius Lockewood, a cervitaur I've liked since childhood. After I'm drugged, I reject the other three beastmen and search desperately for Julius while tremors rack my body. However, I end up overhearing his friend laugh and say, "Julius, you rascal. I can't believe you drugged the princess just to win a bet that she would keep herself pure for you. Aren't you worried that she'll go to someone else instead?" Julius snorts indifferently. "She's crazy in love with me. Cervitaurs prefer virgins. If she loses her virginity, she'll have no chance of marrying me. She wouldn't dare. I bet that even if she were driven mad with lust, she wouldn't touch anyone else." Heartbroken, I follow the king's orders and enter a trial marriage with each of the other three beastmen. When Julius comes to my house, he hears me beg, "Don't put your tail there…" It makes him so angry that he loses his mind. When the royal decree is issued, he gets on his knees and begs me to stay with him.

Dragons lay only one egg per clutch, yet my sister and I hatched together, a twin pair. I am favored by the elements and am naturally protected by the ice element. But Aithne is a non-elemental white dragon, called a "crippled dragon". So my parents ordered me to give her everything she wants and protect her at all times. When my fiancé ordered me to take the place of Aithne to test the drugs again, otherwise he would terminate our engagement. I calmly dissolved the betrothal contract. I gave my wedding ring with him to Aithne. When Aithne caused a huge mess, I went in her place to apologize and take the punishment. When they asked me to conduct the drug test on behalf of Aithne, and I calmly agreed to do so. "Noxivira, once this experiment succeeds and Aithne gets better, we'll get married." Morpheus gazed tenderly at Aithne, as if already planning how to celebrate for her. My parents were also eagerly waiting for the drug test's results, hoping to make Aithne the new princess of the Frost Dragon clan. But none of them knew—I won't be coming back anymore. Because the Forest Witch said I have a terminal illness that drains life. I'll be dead soon.

I was an extremely selfish person. I drained my parents’ life savings, abused my young nephew, and extorted my husband’s premarital assets. My family could no longer endure it and took me to court. If the charges were proven, I would be flayed alive, my tendons torn out, tortured until death.

After I fail in my mission, I am about to be erased by the system and will disappear from this world completely. In the final 24 hours before I am erased, I agree to donate a kidney to my younger brother, Zachary Durham. My wife, Judith Sanford, hugs me excitedly and says she will not divorce me anymore. When Zachary plagiarizes my design, I take the blame and admit that I am the one who copied it. My parents nod in satisfaction, saying I have finally become sensible. Finally, I become the good husband and son they always wanted. But when they see my lifeless body sometime later, they all lose their minds.

My wife, Cheryl Sharpley, has a low sex drive. Every time we're intimate, she keeps a strict track of the time. Tonight is no different. We're only halfway through when the special notification on her phone goes off. It's a custom alert, reserved for one person. Her secretary, Henry Sadler, sounds extremely upset. "Ms. Sharpley, I dreamed about you. My chest hurts so much…" Without a second thought, Cheryl gets dressed and climbs out of bed. Pressing my lips together, I lower my eyes and reach out to catch her hand. "It's late. We haven't even—" "Henry is all alone in this city with no one to rely on. I'm his boss. I can't just ignore him." She doesn't even look at me as she says that. Calmly, she slips her hand free and stands before the mirror, applying fresh lipstick to her lips. "Today's task is complete," she adds. "I'll make up the time to you next time." My breathing falters. That's all I am to Cheryl—a task. Not long after she leaves, a message from Henry pops up on my phone. The attached photo shows him leaning against her shoulder. "Joseph, I'm really sorry. I was just so scared of losing her. I'll make sure she makes it up to you next time. You'll have to make do with your hand tonight." I read every word in silence. Quietly, I get out of bed, take a long shower, and strip the sheets from the bed, tossing them straight into the trash. I then change into a fresh set of pajamas. At that moment, I decide that I no longer want her in my life.

I had supported Lauren Geller through seven years of competitive cycling. After she defended her championship title, I handed her the divorce papers myself. Her shining career ended there and then. I had been able to carry her to the summit, and I could just as easily lift someone else in her place. It was not until I appeared before her with my girlfriend that she finally understood. It had never been Lauren who abandoned me; I was the one who chose to walk away.

The woman in Eden's arms should have been me — but I died on the marking ceremony night. The life that I had planned properly since childhood was ripped away without mercy. My supposed mate and twin sister danced around in glee, looking very happy. If only they knew I was standing before them right now as a ghost — watching every smile, every touch, every stolen moment. Quietly waiting to watch them fall from their high pedestal.