Bias Novels & Stories

During college, while we were dating, Elias Longheart would bring me breakfast every day. There would be two portions—one for me, and one for my dormmate, Winnie Romger. For me? It was always the same—buns and oatmeal. For her? It was always different—a meal that was nutritionally balanced with meat and vegetables. Even on my birthday, he gave out gifts in pairs. For me, it was just four simple greeting cards. For her, it was concert tickets, a handmade crystal collage photo frame, a dreamy white dress, and a promise ring. … It wasn't until our graduation trip, when the three of us arrived at the train station, that everything became clear. The two of them passed through with no issue after scanning their IDs—but I was stopped at the gate. Elias slapped his forehead in frustration, giving an awkward, apologetic smile. "I was so focused on booking Winnie's ticket that I forgot yours. Look, we've already passed through. Don't waste the money—next time, I'll take you on a proper trip. It'd be just the two of us." Winnie patted her chest and assured me confidently, "Don't worry, girl. I'll keep an eye on him for you." Watching the two of them walk away side by side, laughing and chatting, I let out a bitter smile. I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore. I turned and bought a ticket home. "Dad? That requirement for me to marry after graduation? I'll agree to it. As for that internship candidate you suggested—Elias Longheart? Cancel it."

On our wedding day, the big screen glitched—then flipped to kissing shots of Caleb Gorman and his "girl best friend," Holly Beech. Holly shot up, hand over her mouth, smiling all fake-innocent. "Relax, everyone. We were just messing around. Caleb and I go way back. Guess that makes me wife number two." Caleb smiled, soft like always. "That's just her. She's a total blabbermouth. Don't take it seriously." I looked at him. Calm. "She plays kissing pics of you two at our wedding and calls herself your 'wife number two.' That's messing around?" His face tightened. Annoyed. "It's a few photos. We've been together five years. You're really gonna nitpick something this small and not let it—" I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Yeah. I am. I'm not letting it go." That hit him. He wasn't used to me standing firm. I turned to the crowd. "This wedding's over."

She is the loner, the outcast, and the bully's favorite target at school. When she become a young heiress of a noble house, everyone has to lower their heads in her presence. Now, she's back at school to let her bullies kneel before her! ~~~ After being bullied and an outcast for many years, Sydnee find out that her true mother is a noblewoman and she is a young heiress of a noble house. Her stepfather, the Duke, bring her to his household and train her to become a true heiress. However, her mother seems to dislike her so much and prefers to adore the adopted double-faced girl Catarina. Whatever she'll do, her mother will always be bias towards Catarina, and even support Catarina's plan to take her inheritance and usurp the position of Dukedom's heiress. But she, Sydnee, has promised herself to never back down from the fight to inheritance! Gaining the king's favor? Being a teacher's pet? It's easy to achieve. Even stirring the power factions in the capital is as easy as pie for her! This little white mice is not her opponent at all!

My boyfriend, Drew Myers, has proposed to me 99 times. Meanwhile, his childhood sweetheart, Tammy Fowler, has relapsed into depression 99 times. When Drew makes his 100th proposal, Tammy's depression strikes once more. As usual, he picks up Tammy's call, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a tired sigh, he turns to me and says, "She's having another breakdown. We'll have to put the proposal on hold this time." Despite it being my birthday, Drew starts clearing away the freshly served dishes as if it were any other day. Fearing I might complain, he shoots me a cold, disapproving glance. "I know you're jealous of Tammy, but she's the one who's struggling. You're a soldier. You should be the bigger person and give her some leeway." Not only does Drew want me to eat Tammy's scraps, but he also orders me to bring them climbing gear at midnight. When Tammy shares intimate photos of them hugging online, his only reaction is to lash out at me. "Do you honestly find satisfaction in pushing Tammy to another breakdown? Is this the honor of a soldier? Your cruelty sickens me!" Over and over, he tears down my character and mocks my integrity. But this time, I simply look down at the special forces recruitment letter in my hand and say nothing. Drew remains oblivious. At last, I'm the one who's letting go.

My husband, Jaxon Murray, was a renowned medical expert and owned a big company. He was participating in a clinical drug trial when someone tampered with his medication. Under the influence, he ended up entangled with an intern—ninety-nine times, right there on the lab table. When he regained clarity, he rushed home, locked himself in the bathroom, and submerged himself in the tub without food or water as he waited for me to return from work. "Lauren," he said, "my medication was switched during the trial. I made a terrible mistake. But I paid her off and had her dismissed. She'll never appear before me again." I wept miserably, clutching my belly that had once again failed to carry life. And in the end, I chose to forgive him. Several months later, he crashed into a guardrail while answering a phone call, causing me to miscarry. The injury left me unable to conceive for life. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice choked with remorse. "Darling, I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry… We don't need children. We have each other, isn't that enough?" One day, I went to bring him lunch, only to find him in the next hospital room, cradling and feeding the woman he swore he'd never see again. "She's too weak to eat by herself," he said. "She has early-stage stomach cancer. There's no one else to take care of her… she's all alone." I chose to believe him. Again. Until one day, a pair of twins appeared in our home. Sophie Dixon knelt before me, wearing the postpartum gown he had once lovingly picked out for me, clutching my hand with tears streaming down her face. "It's all my fault. Please don't blame Jaxon. If you say the word, I'll leave with the children immediately." Jaxon grabbed my other hand, desperation thick in his voice. "Lauren, you've always been the kindest person I know. The children are still so young. How could Sophie possibly raise them alone? You wouldn't be that cruel… would you?" I looked down at the hands gripping mine from both sides, and suddenly, I laughed. "Jaxon, let's get a divorce. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."

It was in our bedroom that I first found out about Nathaniel Foster's affair. My anger got the better of me, and I demanded a divorce right away. Nathaniel broke down into tears and claimed it was a drunken mistake. He went down on his knees, begging for my forgiveness. He cried, "I'll jump off this building if we get a divorce!" I relented, and things went on like this for five years. He was the sweetest, gentlest husband ever since that day. It was as if he was trying to pretend that night never happened, like I'd never noticed his infidelity. Everyone told me Nathaniel could throw his life away for me. Then, his mother's 60th birthday came. She blurted, "Where's your son, Nathaniel? I'd like to see him." That stunned me, but then I thought she'd gotten the date wrong. So, I smiled. "Melanie, the delivery date's in two months." Melanie shot me a calm look. She muttered under her breath, "Ah, so you still don't know about the boy." Something squeezed my heart, and my eyes darted to Nathaniel. Nathaniel put his silverware down. "I have a five-year-old son." He spoke as if he'd just listed out his grocery list for next Tuesday.

After I discovered I was pregnant, I slammed the pregnancy test report down in front of my playboy boyfriend. Alan Rivers lit a cigarette and blew smoke rings at me, his tone casual and cruel. "Seeing as you've kept me company for seven years, I'll give you two choices. "First, you can abort the baby. I'll compensate you with a million dollars, and you can stay by my side. Second, keep it, take the kid, and disappear. The farther, the better." Why did I have to choose? I wanted both, so I took the million dollars and vanished from his world without a trace.

After Ryan Spencer cheated on me again with his secretary, I completely lost it. When my mind started to spiral, I grabbed the fruit knife off the table. I just wanted it to end. “Why are you hurting yourself again? He doesn’t love you anymore?” I looked up. The sixteen-year-old Ryan was walking toward me, heartbreak written all over his face. His voice was gentle. “Tell me who he is. I’ll make him pay.” I stared into the bright, earnest eyes of the boy standing in front of me. I didn’t say a word. I simply lifted my hand and pointed at his face. Later, Ryan was the one who had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. When the sedative began to wear off, the teenage boy appeared again, sitting by my bed. He stared at the man outside who looked just like him. The light in his eyes faded little by little. Then he spoke, his voice strained. “I don’t care who he is. I’ll kill him.” The sixteen-year-old Ryan never lied to me. When he said something, he meant it.

My parents, the wealthiest couple in the country, were famous philanthropists. I had to ask them for permission if I wanted to spend more than five bucks. The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked them for 100 dollars, but instead of helping, they yelled at me for three hours. "What kind of disease could you get at your age? If you're going to ask for money, at least come up with a better excuse." "Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? Your sister is more sensible than you." I dragged my sick body for miles, back to the small basement I called home. But as I passed the mall, I saw my parents, live on a huge screen, spending a fortune to rent out Disneyland for my sister. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hundred dollars wouldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy. I just wanted to buy a new outfit and leave with some dignity.

To protect the assistant who had been evading taxes, she deliberately gave false testimony in her role as my superior's wife, putting all the blame on me. I protested endlessly, but the law held me accountable. I was imprisoned for two months. Upon release, my colleagues turned against me, ostracizing me and destroying my promotion chances. Seeing that I neither cried nor caused a scene, my wife assumed that I had finally submitted. She even threatened to make amends with a lavish wedding for me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, suddenly overtaken by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop and threatened my wife with suicide to force her to cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always been obedient to him, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the ceremony and spent the entire night comforting her assistant. Afterwards, she calmly explained: "Wilson is young and impulsive. I was just afraid he might get hurt. Besides, you were released from prison so early thanks to him. He helped a lot. By right, he's still your lifesaver. I couldn't just abandon him." I looked at the couple rings she had just put on her finger, let out a faint hum, and said nothing. She believed I accepted her excuse and was pleased, even making an unprecedented promise: once she had calmed the assistant, she would take me on a honeymoon. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit in court to have the case heard. From that moment on, we were no longer husband and wife. We were only plaintiff and defendant.