Doing The Right Thing When No One Is Watching Novels & Stories

I got pregnant at the same time as a doctor from another department. But right after my nuchal translucency scan, the charge nurse came to see me. "The hospital is short-staffed. Leadership says only one female employee can be pregnant at a time." "This time, the slot goes to Dr. Valerie Stone. You need to terminate yours." I froze. "Dr. Stone and I aren't even in the same department. Our work doesn't overlap. "And I'm a nurse. She's a doctor. Our schedules are completely different." But the charge nurse only tapped stubbornly on my desk. "This is hospital policy. No one gets to be the exception. "Either you terminate the pregnancy, or you transfer to logistics. Your choice." A transfer to logistics meant my career would be over. No promotions. No clinical path. Just a rock-bottom base salary, barely above minimum wage. My fingers slowly tightened. I had worked at that hospital for eight years. I was one of the hardest-working nurses on the front line, and I won performance awards every year. Yet I was not even allowed to be pregnant. I took a breath and looked calmly at the charge nurse. "I agree to transfer to logistics." Less than a week after I left, the whole department fell apart.

In a city where secrets breathe beneath cobblestone streets, 17-year-old Elara Moon finds a sealed letter with her name written in blood. The next morning, her parents vanish without a trace. Hunted by a faceless cult, stalked by shadows that whisper her name, Elara is thrust into a hidden world of ancient pacts and forbidden magic. Every answer she uncovers leads to more danger—and the terrifying truth that she is the final key to awakening a god long buried beneath the earth. But to survive, Elara must choose: unlock the power written in her blood... or burn with the rest of the world.

I was getting married, but my boyfriend of five years did not know it yet. Lately, he had been driving a female coworker home every night and coming back late. She had a terrible memory and was always leaving things behind in his car. First it was earrings. Then adhesive bra inserts. Then intimate photos. One night, at midnight, she called to say she had left her allergy medication in his car. My boyfriend pulled his pants back on and rushed out the door to deliver it to her. Because of her, our wedding had already been postponed 19 times. After five years together, I decided to give him one last chance. "Either stop driving her home, or the wedding is off." He stayed silent all night. After that, he actually started coming home on time. I thought things were finally getting better. Then, one week before the wedding, I opened the front door and found half the furniture in our living room gone. The woman next door poked her head out and ran a hand over my washing machine with a smile. "Amanda, we're neighbors now. Ignatius loaned me the money to buy a house. He said I could use some of these old appliances until I get settled." My hands trembled as I opened my banking app. The $300,000 wedding fund we had spent five years saving was gone. Every last cent. This time, I did not even have the strength to argue. Then my mother called. "Sweetheart, how would you feel about moving the wedding to Rose Garden? I think your current venue doesn't do you justice." I looked around the half-empty living room and laughed. "Sure. And while we're at it, let's replace the groom too." After all, my mother had remarried into one of the wealthiest families in the country. My five stepbrothers had been waiting years for me to come home. And among the men around them who wanted to marry me? There was no shortage of candidates.

When my ex-husband, Hanson Rowse, got remarried, I jumped into the ocean with our ten-year-old daughter, Tess Rowse, in my arms. The police called Hanson and my parents. The wedding reception was cut short, and they all rushed over. My soul hung in the air above it all, watching as Tess was pulled from the water. The sight of her hit like a blade to the chest. At the hospital, my parents looked at her with nothing but cold indifference. My brother, Edward Wells, didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. "You're just like your mother! Always causing trouble and pulling cheap stunts like this just to get attention." Hanson's fists clenched. He scanned the area, and when he couldn't see me anywhere, anger spilled into his eyes. "Where's Melody? She picked my wedding day to pull this stunt, and now she won't even show her face? If she really wanted to die, why leave behind this burden?" At his words, Tess suddenly moved. She stumbled toward the window, climbed up, and before anyone could react, she jumped. The room went dead silent for a heartbeat. Then, the screaming started. What they didn't know was this: the first thing Tess and I learned at that reform school was obedience.

"One Decision" follows eighteen -year-old Freya Myers, a brilliant but broken foster teen, as she teeters on the edge of a new beginning-and a hidden nightmare. With a perfect GPA and dreams of opening a bookstore, Freya is determined to escape a system that's failed her. When a wealthy Southern family unexpectedly adopts her and whisks her away to a private estate in Georgia, it feels too good to be true. Because it is. The mansion is beautiful. The people? Picture-perfect. But behind the polished smiles and choreographed greetings lies something Freya can't quite name-yet. Strange rules. Watchful eyes. Whispers behind closed doors. And her new "brothers," who know more about her than they should. As Freya digs deeper into the family's secrets, she's forced to confront her past and a chilling truth: she may not have been saved... she may have been chosen. Dark, gripping, and emotionally raw, One Decision is a psychological coming-of-age thriller that explores what happens when the price of belonging may be your freedom-or your soul.

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.

On the day we receive our bonus, one of the staff members of the finance department gives me 500 dollars worth of vouchers for the fast food restaurant downstairs. He tells me that my wife, Jillian Dunn, who is also the company's president, specifically ordered him to do so. In utter disbelief, I seek out Jillian and question her. "Didn't we agree that whoever secures the project will get a 50,000-dollar bonus? Stop messing around! I still need to pay for Freya's cochlear implant!" "I'm not messing around with you," Jillian answers seriously. "These vouchers can last you for a whole month. I wouldn't even give them to you if you were anyone else. "Money is tight right now at the company. Besides, Freya has been deaf for more than a decade now. She can survive being deaf for another decade." The next day, Jillian gives one of the interns a sports car that's worth 50,000 dollars. I look at the photo she uploads of her and the intern grinning widely as they sit in the car and give it a like. Jillian must assume that everything is proceeding smoothly since she has signed the contract. However, she misses the additional condition that's printed on the last page of the contract. I dial her rival's number, asking, "Ms. Swan, are you interested in Project Charlie?"

When Love Crosses the Line is a contemporary romance novel (complete at 300 chapters) that explores the emotional complexities of love, culture, and self-determination in the British-Nigerian diaspora. Amara Collins, a bright, ambitious young woman raised in the vibrant but tradition-bound Nigerian community of South London, has always walked the line between cultural duty and personal dreams. When she begins university at Kensington Metropolitan, she meets Darren Okafor—handsome, intelligent, and from a family her parents proudly approve of. For a while, everything aligns: faith, tribe, expectations, and a future they can all agree on. But her world shifts when she's posted to Manchester for her youth service year and meets Liam Adeyemi, a gifted artist with a quiet intensity and a radically different outlook on life. He’s not from her tribe, not what her family expected—but he makes her feel truly seen. With Liam, she finds not just love, but freedom, creativity, and a path she never dared to imagine for herself. As pressure mounts from her family to return to the path they’ve chosen for her, Amara must decide: will she sacrifice her heart to please her family or cross the cultural lines drawn around her and fight for a love that could cost her everything?

~ SORA HELL MORGATHOR ~ Since my appointment to the throne, my cousin on paper has fully embraced the role of archnemesis, dedicating every breath to my downfall. He is a walking tantrum in a tailored suit, still crying about a crown that was never going to fit his head anyway. My life wasn’t perfect, but ever since I was adopted into the Hell Morgathor family, staying alive has become a full-time hobby, mostly because every move I make is now at the mercy of men who treat human lives like disposable currency. It’s nice to know I’ve brought the city together; apparently, having me in charge is the only thing everyone can agree is a terrible idea. My cousin on paper views me as the ultimate gatekeeper, Largely thanks to the fact that I have the audacity to keep breathing while he wants my chair, treating my pulse like a personal insult to his resume. ☠️☠️☠️☠️ ~A-JUN HELL MORGATHOR ~ All I want is my family to stop being a shadow. A woman carries the family name, whereas my father is subjected to being the underboss. As if things aren’t bad enough, an adopted female child is coded to be the next Don, and she had the guts to accept the offer. I was fully prepared to end her life, but I was suddenly struck by lightning, or maybe it was just her impeccable skincare routine, and I decided to let it slide, distracted by her face and forgot why I was even holding a weapon. I'm currently temporarily blinded by her sheer audacity to be that gorgeous while I’m trying to work. But until when will I be distracted?

The day I began working, I found out that the boyfriend I’d picked up off the street was actually a rich young man from the capital’s elite circle. His fiancée sneered at me, “You’re nothing but a bit of fun for us when we’re bored.” “You didn’t really think you were some kind of heroine here to save him, did you?” I was humiliated, my lips trembling. I couldn’t forgive myself—how could I have spent half of my father’s lifesaving money to help him? I even dropped out of school, working three jobs every day, foolishly treating him as the second most important person in my life. Later, my father passed away, leaving me all alone, so I left that city. But who would have thought that the young rich man who had toyed with me would go mad, searching for me all over the world for the next five years?