Double Triple Quadruple Novels & Stories

It all started when my sister made an offhand remark while sponsoring a poor student. She told him it was a coincidence that we were born on the same day, at the exact hour too. That comment made him convince himself that he was the real heir, that we were switched at birth. Soon after, he showed up with two thugs, kidnapped me, and planned to kill me to reclaim his life. I called my fiancée for help in desperation. Instead of saving me, she told me impatiently that I deserved to die for stealing his life. Her friend showed up to save me, but neither of us made it out alive after I was pushed into the river. I was back on the day when I was kidnapped when I opened my eyes again. When the poor student laughed and told me to pick someone to leave my last words to, I did not hesitate to call my sister. Their fates were sealed, with another chance at life, I would make sure to make them pay, and show them who the real heir was.

My mother had been hospitalized. My boyfriend worked as a doctor at the same hospital. You would think he would have visited her often, but he never did. Not once. On the first day of her stay, he did not come because he had taken a day off. His childhood friend was moving, and she needed his help. On the second day, that same childhood friend appeared at the hospital as an intern. He followed her everywhere and showed her the ropes. He handled anything she asked for, no matter how small. It went on like that, day after day. My mother's ward was on the thirteenth floor. His office was on the seventeenth. All it would have taken was a ten-second elevator ride or a two-minute walk down the stairs. Even so, Sebastian did not visit her for more than twenty days. My mother recovered. I picked her up by myself and took her to the train station. While I was on the way, he texted me. Sebastian: [Suzy's pet dog is getting vaccinated today. I need to drive her there first.] This time, I replied. [Got it. Drive safely. By the way, we're over.]

At the engagement party for one of our former high school classmates, the bride suggested we play King's Cup. Whoever drew Eight had to do a cross-arm toast with someone of the opposite sex in front of everyone. My husband, Luke Flandern, had always been a germaphobe. The second he saw the card in his hand, his brow furrowed. I stood up, ready to help him out. But then—Sarah Weaver, the girl everyone called the beauty of our class, who was sitting right across from him—asked softly, "Need a hand?" Luke looked at her, and the frown on his face instantly melted. "Yeah, sure." The room erupted. Everyone was laughing and cheering. "Classic Luke—always generous. No wonder he was valedictorian back in the day." "Someone get this on camera. The golden couple from high school is finally reconnecting after all these years? That's destiny right there." Sarah blushed and shyly reached her wine glass toward him. Luke smiled and didn't pull away. I just stood off to the side, quietly watching the two of them drink that cross-arm toast together. And then I remembered how I'd been ready to help him out. A bitter smile crossed my lips. Guess I was kidding myself.

I got off work early and walked into the living room, only to find my wife lounging lazily on the couch. And next to her? Some random dude I didn't recognize. "Babe, you know I'm obsessed with that sweet, milky smell," he said, sipping away like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. That was it—I completely lost it. Meanwhile, our baby was in the corner, crying her lungs out, hungry and ignored. I didn't even think twice. I grabbed the broom by the door and stormed in, ready to raise hell.

When Damian Voss lets his wife walk in on him kissing his first love against their kitchen island, he believes he's finally free — done with the quiet woman he married in secret, ready to claim the powerful public life he always wanted. What he doesn't know: the woman he just handed divorce papers to carries his child, his most dangerous competitor's personal vendetta, and a surname worth ten billion dollars that was stolen from her before she could walk. For three years, Lila loved him in secret — no announcements, no red carpets, no credit. She covered for his late nights, ignored the suspicious texts, and carried champagne and silk to a penthouse where she planned to give him everything. That moment arrived on their anniversary. He was already kissing someone else when she walked through the door. She signed. She slid the papers across the marble. She walked out without a single tear — and picked up a phone call that changed the shape of the world. Some men confuse silence for weakness. Some women are only quiet because they haven't yet decided what to burn. And some divorces don't end a story — they start one, with a crown, a rival, and an empire rebuilt on the ashes of everything he thought he owned.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

My wife, Sarah, died unexpectedly. My in-laws made an absurd request. "Why not have Stella play both roles? After all, Luke can't be without a mother." My brother-in-law, Greg, yelled at me, calling me shameless, and stormed out in anger. I looked at my sister-in-law, Stella, who looked exactly like my late wife. I could hardly conceal my grief. I was about to urge them to abandon their ridiculous idea, when I accidentally overheard a conversation between her and her parents. "It was Stella who died, so why did you lie and claim it was you?" Sarah sighed. "I love Greg. I staged my death so I could be with him legitimately. As for asking me to play both roles, don't even bring it up again. As for Michael, I have already given him a child and a respectable marriage. I owe him nothing." Turning around, I saw Luke with reddened eyes, asking me softly, "Daddy, does that mean that Mommy no longer wants us?" I bent down and pulled him into my arms, forcing myself to soothe him. "Your Aunt Stella wants to protect the person that she loves. We shouldn't bother her. It's time for us to prepare a new life."

When the bodies of his informats start turning up dead at every corner ; an assertive and confident journalist who is entangled with the mafia finds himself in a race against time - for his life.

I was sound asleep the night before the wedding when a video call from my best friend, Eve, came in. “Aisling, my wedding’s starting in half an hour. Where is my maid of honor?” I pulled back the curtains and stared in resignation at the still night at one in the morning. “Eve, what are you talking about? It’s not even dawn. Who gets married in the wee hours? You’re working overtime as my alarm clock.” It was a pause on the line until Eve’s camera shifted to the blue skies behind the groom. “Are you still asleep, Aisling? It’s morning. “Our families have arrived. Everyone’s waiting on you. Get here quickly.” The call ended, and I snapped awake. Judging by the family members caught in the frame of the camera, it didn’t seem like a prank. The wedding venue was downstairs in the hotel ballroom, so the time difference didn’t make sense at all. Just in case, I put on my maid-of-honor dress and made haste to the venue. Right after I stepped out of my room, a drunk guest mistook me for an escort. During a struggle, he stabbed me to death. When I came to, I was back to the moment just before Eve FaceTimed me.

When Serena's corrupt husband sells her at an underground auction to pay his debts, she thinks her life is over. The mysterious masked man who buys her for $100 million has other plans. Taken to his fortress-like penthouse, Serena discovers her new "husband" is the most dangerous crime lord on the East Coast. But when he finally removes his mask, she's faced with an impossible truth that shatters everything she thought she knew. He's supposed to be dead. Now she's trapped between a past that haunts her and a future that terrifies her. But in a world where power is everything and trust is deadly, Serena is about to discover she's far more dangerous than anyone imagined. Because some women aren't meant to be saved... **They're meant to rule.** *But who's really playing who in this deadly game of love and revenge?*