Director Skinner Simpsons Novels & Stories

May Austin is left to care for her sick younger sister, Lily. Struggling to afford Lily’s medical treatment, May signs a surrogacy contract with the powerful Stones family, agreeing to bear a child for Damien Stone, the ruthless and handsome CEO. The procedure is impersonal—they never meet, and Damien only glimpses her in dimly lit rooms. May gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The family takes the boy, leaving May to flee with her daughter and sister, disappearing abroad to build a new life. For five years, she raises her daughter Aria while Lily grows healthy and excels academically. Their paths cross unexpectedly at an airport when Aria bumps into Damien. He feels an instant, inexplicable attachment to the girl, unaware she is his daughter. Sparks fly as Damien encounters May professionally when she returns as a director at his company. Attraction, tension, and unresolved pasts begin to surface. Meanwhile, their children play a pivotal role in reconnecting their parents. Damien’s grandfather, Daxton Stone, disapproves due to class differences and manipulates circumstances to challenge May and Damien, while Damien’s parents wholeheartedly support May. Corporate intrigue, sabotage, and a vindictive fiancée create further tension, especially as May’s son, Aiden, suffers domestic abuse and entrusts May to protect him. Alongside a parallel romance between Damien’s boyfriend, David, and May’s best friend, the story weaves love, resilience, and family into a gripping tapestry. As truths emerge and past grievances confront them, Damien and May must navigate threats, heal old wounds, and embrace the family destiny they never imagined. One Pregnancy, Two Babies is a story of love, sacrifice, second chances, and the unbreakable bonds of family, where children are the bridge that reconnects hearts separated by fate.

In my past life, I was performing emergency pipeline repairs 300 meters beneath the ocean when my oxygen line ruptured. I swam back for help, only to have my wife, Summer Yates, and her first love, Zachary Gibson, lock me out of the diving bell. Not only did they ignore whether I lived or died, but they also started live-streaming an extreme no-oxygen endurance challenge to the entire internet. In the end, I suffocated and drowned. Even after my death, Summer and Zachary smeared my name, calling me a deranged saboteur, while they ran off together with my massive life insurance payout. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the exact moment I was banging on the hatch. Right on cue, Summer's sweet, teasing chuckle came through the comm. "All units, don't open the hatch. Carter wants to attempt an extreme challenge today. He's going to swim back to the surface without oxygen!" Immediately after, Zachary's voice followed, trembling with excitement. "Babe, the sponsors said if Carter succeeds this time, I'll be the lead director on next month's million-dollar documentary series!" In my past life, I had begged them through mouthfuls of blood, only to be met with Summer's impatient urging. "Stop wasting your energy. You should save your oxygen and start swimming up. You're such a strong swimmer. Just hold on for another half hour, and you'll make Zachary's dream come true!" Now, as I listened to this pair of scumbags plot against me, I sneered and cut the communication. I raised the highest-powered underwater cutting torch in my hand and aimed it directly at the main load-bearing cable connecting the diving bell to the surface vessel above. They wanted me dead, so none of them would be leaving alive either.

I stand before the judges at the jewelry design competition and admit to plagiarism. Then, I announce my withdrawal from the contest, along with my resignation as Design Director of Fairchild Group. My fiance, Caleb Fairchild, shoots daggers at me. "If you walk away from this competition, our engagement is off!" My father follows up by slapping me across the face. "First, you plagiarize your own sister, and now you're breaking off your engagement with the Fairchilds? Are you trying to ruin our family?" "Oh, I'm not just calling off my engagement. I'm also cutting off my ties with you," I respond apathetically. I make this decision because I have been given a second life. In my previous life, my stepsister and I competed in this contest. First place earns the title of the nation's top jewelry designer and 50 million dollars from Fairchild Group. However, round after round, her designs are exactly the same as mine, and she submits them before I do. The judging panel gives me a pass because of Caleb and lets me advance to the finals, but not without a warning to never plagiarize again. I refuse to believe it. I switch to a brand-new computer, lock myself in my room, and pour everything into a new design. Yet, when the final designs appear on the big screen, history repeats itself. In the end, my sister takes first place and walks away with everything that should have been mine. The reputation I painstakingly built is ruined, and my name is dragged through the mud online. My parents are ashamed of me. They knock me out and sell me off to the countryside to marry an old man. Ultimately, I die after endless abuse. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the semifinals. Everyone is pointing at me as they stare at the two identical designs.

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world. When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board. I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company. When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview. The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings. In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible. Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good. The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery. "Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets". I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived. Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry. She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh. "It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?" But I wasn't there to secure any investment. I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind. I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

The entire ward could hear the thoughts of the beautiful intern nurse, Sonya Row. When a patient kept vomiting nonstop, and I suggested increasing the pain medication, she stood nearby, sighing. [What should I do? Should I tell the family this painkiller can be addictive and really bad for the body? If they just wait a few more minutes, he'll recover on his own. There's no need to spend money at all.] The room fell silent in an instant. Everyone's gaze shifted toward me, and the family quietly refused my treatment plan. After that, I became the joke of the entire department. Every patient specifically asked not to be assigned to me. Later, while comforting a terminal stomach cancer patient, I followed her family's wishes and lied, saying it was just gastritis. Sonya complained about it in her thoughts. [The patient's practically dying already, but she's still saying she can be cured. It's obviously just to trick this old woman into draining her life savings on treatment.] That night, the old lady jumped off the building so she wouldn't burden her family. Her family thought I had revealed the truth and driven her to her death. They reported me directly to the hospital director, and I was stripped of my position as department head. Then, on a holiday weekend, the hospital admitted a pregnant woman with a suspected amniotic fluid embolism. To save her life, I had no choice but to remove her uterus. At that moment, Sonya's thoughts rang out again. [She doesn't have an amniotic fluid embolism at all. She was on her phone during surgery, which caused this. Now look what happened. This baby's a girl. This family wanted a son, and now they'll never get one.] The family attacked me on the spot, recorded it, and posted the video online to harass me. The desperate husband, obsessed with having a son, stabbed me to death to vent his rage. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Sonya first revealed her thoughts. This time, I could hear her thoughts, too.

While working with the search and rescue team to save people trapped in an earthquake, an aftershock suddenly struck. Without hesitation, I pushed a hospital intern, Serena, out of the way. However, the force of the movement sent me to the ground, where a steel rod pierced my back, leaving me unable to move. When the aftershock ended, my husband, Derrick, came down with the others. Yet, instead of coming to me, he rushed to cradle Serena, who only had a few scrapes. Then he turned to glare at me. “What are you still sitting there for? Are you dead? Serena’s hurt, and you can’t even help her up?!” I was in so much pain I could barely speak, only able to force out a faint sound. “Honey, I… I’ve got a steel rod in my back… Please… help me.” Serena suddenly burst into tears in fear. “Mr. Nelson, I was so scared. Just now, Ms. Jones pushed me forward. If I hadn’t shifted direction, that huge rock would’ve crushed me!” Derrick, furious, shouted at me. “Gwen! You’re a doctor! What about your ethics? Your humanity?” Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “I didn’t. Please, just save me. I really can’t move…” One of the medical team members who came down with him checked my condition and looked worried. “Director Nelson, the steel rod seems to have pierced her spine. If we don’t treat her now, there’s a risk of paraplegia!” However, Derrick yanked him aside. “Save her? Let her walk herself! Gwen, we’re saving lives right now. If you want to act, I’ll put on a show with you when we get home! “Serena’s injured. Since there’s only one stretcher, we’re taking her up. You can walk up on your own.” His cold, departing back left me in utter despair.

The hospital's latest intern, Lindsey Clark, is very pretty, but she's a total idiot as well. When my mom came to the hospital for a prescription, she swapped the vitamin C for potassium supplements, which were known to be very poisonous if misused. Mom, who was fresh out of surgery, suffered from heavy bleeding right after taking the medication. She died on the same night. Before I could hold Lindsey responsible for Mom's death, the latter quickly piped up with teary eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Monroe! I just thought that potassium supplements can help your mother heal faster…" Even Michael Jones, my husband, who was the hospital director, took her side. "Your mom only had her idiocy to blame! She died because she took the wrong medication! How dare you drag Lindsey into this!" I was so furious that my cardiac arrest was triggered on the spot. Soon, I was sent into the operating room. Lindsey said she wanted to redeem herself by taking on the post as Michael's assistant in the surgery. But her hands kept trembling even when she tried to thread the suture needle. In the end, she took off her mask and picked up the suture with her teeth. Just like that, she used her saliva to wet the suture end. One day later, I died in the ICU due to a case of severe infection. When my spirit was about to fade away, I heard Lindsey crying sadly. "If it wasn't for my idiocy, Dr. Monroe wouldn't have died!" Michael just patted her dotingly on the head in return. "Having medical risks in a surgical operation is completely normal. You're still young, so stop blaming yourself already." Mom and I were cremated instantly, seeing as Michael intended to cover up our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Lindsey has just gotten recruited by the hospital.

Andrea Reeves, the new hire in finance, is all looks and no brains. On payday, she mistypes my wages in the payroll system, sending only one cent to my account. Because of that, my payment fails when I try to buy Mom's life-saving medication, and she dies full of regret. Before I can confront Andrea, she bursts into tears, smudging her mascara and makeup. "Ms. Walton, I'm so sorry. I accidentally sent your pay to the janitor you fired. The one who's a single mom. Can't you just think of her as your other mom?" Norman Halt, the finance director—and my husband—immediately shields her behind him. "Don't blame Andrea. If you didn't have enough money saved up, why are you pretending to be the dutiful daughter now?" I nearly faint from crying so hard. Wracked with guilt, Andrea shows up at the funeral with an entire marching band in tow. The mourning hall turns festive and lively, leaving my family and friends stunned. I lose it and yell at her to leave, but she looks completely hurt. "It's already so tragic that she dies from an illness. I just want to give her a joyful send-off!" Furious, the asthma I've managed for years flares so abruptly that my hands shake as I take out my inhaler. She slaps it away and screams, "How could you use such illegal substances? That's against the law!" Blue-lipped and gasping, I crumple to the ground. In my final moments, I hear Andrea's tearful voice. "This is all my fault. I'm an idiot… I didn't realize it's just medicine…" Norman covers for her. "It's not your fault. Spread the word that Ms. Walton died of grief over her mother's passing." That night, my body is cremated. My death goes silent and unnoticed. When I open my eyes again, it's payday all over again.

During the holidays, Ellie Harper, my wife who's a hospital director, tells me once again that she has taken on a few operations at the last minute, so she can't go home with me to spend time with my parents. But soon, I see her assistant, Jaiden Roth's social media feed. Apparently, Ellie is slaughtering pigs at Jaiden's village in preparation for a holiday party. The caption writes, "Dad says having a daughter-in-law who works as a doctor is amazing. To think that she's this skilled in slaughtering pigs as well!" With a cold smirk curling on my lips, I leave a like on the post. I also comment, "That's her major, after all." My colleagues keep gossiping among themselves in various group chats. They all think I'll definitely get into a huge fight with Ellie this time. Ellie wastes no time in calling me. I can already imagine the impatient look on her face and the way her brows are drawn into a tight frown. "Jaiden's village is hosting a huge party for the holidays, so I'm there to lend them a helping hand! What's with that passive-aggressive tone of yours, huh? "There isn't anyone who can help out in his household, you know! Do you know how badly it'll reflect on his family if no one from his side helps out at all? I was just helping him out as a friend! What's there to kick up a fuss over? "Hurry up and remove the like and the damn comment! Don't make life difficult for Jaiden at the hospital, you hear me? "Once I get back from the village, I'll pick a good date to go back to your hometown with you, okay?" Another empty promise from Ellie, it seems. All she does is making empty promises that she can never keep nowadays. I'm completely stuffed with those promises, and I can't afford to wait for her anymore. Once the holidays are over, I'll receive the divorce certificate marking the end of our seven-year marriage once and for all.

We agreed we were going to spend Christmas together as a family of three. I briefly stepped out to grab my daughter’s Christmas gift, but quickly realized that I had forgotten my keys. However, when I came back, I was locked outside the villa. I rang the doorbell countless times, but no one came to let me in. Through the glass window, I saw my daughter happily smiling in the arms of my wife’s childhood friend who had returned from overseas. “Uncle Jones, you smell so nice. Not like my dad. He’s always sweaty and smells so gross. I don’t even want to spend Christmas with him!” My wife, Lily Quinn, looked at them indulgently and agreed. “Your dad hasn’t seen much of the world. He really doesn’t know how to celebrate holidays properly.” I froze in place as my fingers turned cold. Yara turned and saw me outside the window. Her face was filled with disgust. “What are you staring at? Why are you standing outside like some monster? You almost scared me to death! You’re not like Uncle Jones at all. He’s so elegant and well-mannered!” However, ten years ago, I was a top sales director at a well-known multinational company. Back then, I had the chance to be transferred to New York. Yet Lily unexpectedly got pregnant and suffered severe reactions. She was at constant risk of miscarriage. I voluntarily gave up that opportunity to take care of her and our daughter. Now, that sacrifice had somehow become undeniable proof of my uselessness. I took a deep breath and threw the Christmas gift I had bought for my daughter into the trash. Then I messaged someone saved in my contacts as “Apprentice”: [Is that overseas position you mentioned a few days ago still available?] The reply came almost instantly: [Of course! Mr. Lane, as long as you’re willing to come back, you’ll always have a place waiting for you!]