Clockwork Orange Parents Guide Novels & Stories

My mom needed heart surgery. There were only three surgeons on the planet capable of performing the operation. My husband, Caleb Rhodes, was one of them. People called him the miracle doctor. Yet on the day of my mother's surgery, he walked out of the operating room and boarded a plane to care for his first love, Olivia Hayes—all because she had caught a cold. At my lowest, my childhood friend Ryan Walker scoured the world for the best surgeon he could find and rushed him in to try to save my mom. Still, it was too late. The delay cost my mother her life; she died on the operating table. Three years later, Ryan proposed to me. I was ready to say yes. Then I overheard him talking to my ex-husband. "Emma's stubborn. If she ever finds out her mother was never actually sick, and that we killed her to save Olivia, she'll lose it." A chill swept through me. Ryan cut him off. "Enough. Olivia's condition kept getting worse after everything that happened. Emma's mother was the only compatible heart donor we found. Was I supposed just to stand there and watch Olivia die? "Besides, I've already given Emma a home and a future to make up for it. She should be satisfied." That was the moment the truth crashed over me. My mother had never been sick. Every detail had been orchestrated. They had murdered her to save another woman.

I was Brandon Sandler’s most cherished canary—pampered, sheltered, and utterly his for five years. Then came the news of his engagement to another woman. Only then did I realize his affection had been a carefully crafted revenge. He trapped me by his side, flaunting his love for another while subjecting me to relentless humiliation. Eventually, I stopped caring. But the ruthless business tycoon, who once held himself above all, clutched me with red-rimmed eyes, begging me to come home. He said he regretted everything. My hand instinctively cradled my stomach as I glanced at the man behind him. “Darling,” I murmured, “this man is scaring our baby.”

The day my son gained the lifetime achievement award in research, I died alone on the street. On stage, he thanked his father, a professor, and his biological mother, who had just returned from abroad. He even thanked the nanny at home. But he left me out, his foster mother who had raised him. My husband, Charles Zimmer, learned about my death. He immediately disassociated himself from me. “We’ve long separated. I’ve got nothing to do with her.” I had worked hard to give them a decent life, but they regarded me as a stain that they could never remove. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the time of my life when my destiny changed. Holding the college admission letter, Charles smiled at me and said, “Yes, I’m divorced. But we can live in the city together if you marry me. I’ll let you discipline the kid if he makes any mistakes. I won’t complain about you.” During my previous life, he had me fooled by false promises. I naively thought that it would be easy to be a stepmother. I helped him care for his son and worked hard to support the family. In the end, they conspired with each other to drive me out and leave me penniless. It was because Charles’ ex-wife, who had abandoned them when he was poor, wanted to come home and remarry him. Since I had gained a second chance, I planned to dump such an ungrateful husband and son.

Upon returning home from completing a vital national project, I find out that my grandfather has been reduced to a cripple after being beaten up by a famous Internet star, Nathan Larsson. All because Grandpa accidentally got in Nathan's way when he was picking up trash. Enraged, I choose to call the cops on Nathan. But my CEO wife, Whitney Backman, becomes Nathan's witness. She sits at the witness stand with a righteous look plastered on her face. "Grandpa is sickly, to begin with. Yet he insists on picking up trash on his own. After he tripped and fell, he accused Nathan of pushing him! I can't just sit by and watch an innocent man get slandered! That's why I chose to defend him!" Everyone present at the court supports Whitney's statement. Even the judge declares that Grandpa is guilty, and that we are to pay a huge compensation to Nathan. Hatred brims in my eyes as I turn on the livestream and dig out Grandpa's medals of valor as well as my dad's first class medals.

On the seventh year since Winter Lidell's father was diagnosed with a deadly heart disease, he's finally eligible for a suitable heart meant for the transplant procedure. On the night before the surgery, Winter's husband of seven years, Liam Jager, requests that she give the heart to his mistress, Regina Baile. Liam still looks tall and handsome as ever, but the cold and aloof expression on his face is something that Winter has never seen before. "Winnie." His voice is emotionless. "Regina's condition is deteriorating rapidly." Winter feels her heart sinking the moment she hears her nickname being uttered coldly. She takes half a step backward instinctively, feeling a premonition looming over her. "She needs a heart transplant." Liam's gaze is fixed on Winnie, his tone carrying a hint of absolute decisiveness. "Right. Now." Every word feels like a blade made of ice cutting into Winnie's heart, where hope is starting to flare. Winnie's voice quivers violently, her words coming out fragmented and broken. "What… are you talking about, Liam? My dad… My dad has been waiting for this heart for seven years!"

On New Year's Eve, my older brother, Casper Shaw, attempted to expose me as a fraud and announced that Jenny Ford was the real heiress to the family. He pulled out a paternity test result and threw it in my face. "Open your eyes and take a look! Jenny is the Shaw family's real daughter. You're just a fake who has taken Jenny's place for so many years, yet you still have the nerve to sit here and eat New Year's Eve dinner with us!" Then, he pushed Jenny in front of us, revealing a face that looked exactly like my mom, Theresa. Everyone froze. I lunged for the report, but suddenly, a stream of floating comments rolled past above Jenny's head. [Is the female lead finally going back to her rich family and starting a sweet romance with her fake older brother?] [Not yet. Right now, they still think they're siblings. They only get together later, once the misunderstandings are cleared up.] [Am I the only one who feels bad for the female supporting character? She's the biggest victim in the whole book. She takes all the female lead's hatred that should have gone to her fake brother, and she gets treated as the fake heiress and sent to the Ford family to suffer on top of that.] I looked at Jenny's face and compared it to my own—we almost looked like twins. I checked our ID cards again, confirming that our dates of birth were exactly the same. "Seriously? Ever think that you might be the real impostor here who was switched at birth?"

The little boy I had saved when we were kids grew up to be a possessive, obsessive CEO. For ten years, he kept me by his side, using my grandmother's illness as a bargaining chip to force me into marrying him. He tried everything to win my heart, pulling every trick in the book, but no matter what he did, he could never make me love him. In a fit of rage, he found a woman who looked almost exactly like me to take my place. They flaunted their relationship for everyone to see, and people whispered that the CEO had finally found his true love. But that day, the woman, riding on his affection, barged into the villa with her entourage. She broke my fingers one by one, slashed my face with a utility knife, and removed my clothes to humiliate me. "Even though you had surgery to look like me, I'll let that slide. But you even learned to paint like me, too? You really did your homework. Let's see how you try to seduce men now!" Just as I was bleeding out and on the verge of death, the obsessive CEO finally showed up. The stand-in grabbed my hair and dragged me in front of him, smugly reporting, "Honey, this wench was hiding in the villa trying to seduce you. I've made sure she can't succeed!"

A trending tag read: "Emil Carson's mistress is pregnant." On my birthday, he came home with a woman who had a slightly visible baby bump. "Caprice is pregnant. I need to make sure she and the baby are properly taken care of. I’ll need you to cooperate. For now, we’ll go through a temporary divorce. Don’t worry. Once the baby is born, we’ll get married again." I did not cry or make a scene. I proceeded with the divorce from Emil. When we stepped out of the city hall, he expressed in a pleased manner, "Just stay low and keep to yourself. I'll contact you after Caprice gives birth." Then, his tone suddenly became threatening. "But if you cause any kind of trouble for Caprice, you can give up on any chance of remarrying me." I nodded quietly. However, I waited until they had their second baby, and yet there did not seem to be any initiative on his part to remarry me. It did not matter anymore. I was about to give birth to twins—a son and a daughter. Just like Emil, I was going to become a parent of two. If anything, I was afraid of him barging back into my life and disturbing my peace. After all, I now have a partner who has a particular streak of jealousy.

Three years ago, I was the most promising member of the Scientific Expedition Team. After entering Salakole, I was killed by my fiancé's true love, Vivian Fowler. She stole my supplies, scratched my face, and pushed me off the ship. I died with my second child in my belly. But when the rescue team came, Vivian said I had stolen her supplies and was going to flee. My fiancé, Winston Patton, wrote a report and erased me from the expedition team. From then on, I became a joke. All the people on the team looked down on me. Until three years later, someone discovered my long-frozen body.

When Sylvia Reed postponed our wedding for the fifth time, I found a pregnancy test report in her bag and decided to force the issue. Then I saw a trending local post. A woman rolled up her sleeves, baking cookies. Beside her, a man bent down to tease a child. One look was enough. I recognized the scar on her wrist. It was in the exact same spot as the one Sylvia got years ago when she took a knife for me. The scarf draped over the man's shoulders was one I'd custom-made for Sylvia. Our initials were stitched into it. The sight burned. I thought about how Sylvia had been glued to her phone lately, and how I'd heard a baby crying through it. Ten minutes ago, she'd sent me a voice message. "Luke, something urgent came up at the company. I can't make it back to try on the suit with you. Maybe we should postpone the wedding again? Next year. We'll definitely do it next year." But I'd already waited seven years for this wedding. I took off my groom's suit and cut it to pieces. Then I wiped my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years. "I'm short a bride for my wedding. Interested?"