Elemento Ng Emotional Quotient Novels & Stories

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub. Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits. In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!" Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news." She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin." Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves." Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?" Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it." Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages." "Boss lady?" My stomach churned. My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover. I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

My mother's condition suddenly takes a turn for the worse. She begins coughing up blood, and the doctor says she must undergo surgery as soon as possible. I call my girlfriend, Daniella Dooley, who is working in another state. She is the leading gynecologist in the field and the only doctor with any hope of saving my mother. The moment she receives my call, she sets out without hesitation. But halfway through the journey, she tells me that an emergency surgery has cropped up and that she can't make it back. I crouch in the hospital corridor in despair, calling her again and again. All I can do is watch as my mother's heartbeat on the monitor grows weaker and weaker. On the 99th call, she finally answers. My voice is almost pleading as I say, "Daniella, my mother's condition is really critical right now. You're the only one who can perform this surgery. I'm begging you, please come back!" For a long time, she says nothing. I wait and wait, only for her to hang up without uttering a single word. Then, I see a post from her junior, Jackson Bleeth. It shows a sunny-side-up egg that she has just made for him with her precious hands. Accompanying it is a caption that feels almost provocative. "I had a little accident during surgery today. Not only did Daniella not blame me, but she even encouraged me." So the "emergency surgery" she mentioned is actually cleaning up Jackson's mess. At the moment when I am at my most desperate, she abandons me and chooses to go to another man.

I'm adopted by my parents. They are very nice to me—so nice that they keep praying for my health and happiness before my bedtime every night. Later on, Mom is pregnant with a baby. I hide under my blanket and spend the night crying. Then, I secretly pack the tiny suitcase I've brought with me. But my parents don't send me away. Instead, they treat me even nicer. On the day my little sister, Freya Walker, gets born, Mom takes my hand and pats me gently on the head. "You're an older brother now. That's why you have a little sister to be with you." Dad lifts me over his head while spinning me in circles happily. "You really are our lucky charm, Ash! You'll always be our beloved darling!" Finally, I don't have to keep worrying about getting kicked out. From that day onward, I really think that I've become a part of the family. That is, until Freya smashes my favorite toy car model one day. I'm so angry that I smack her on the spot. She stumbles away from me, soon plopping to the floor. At first, she's stunned for a few moments, only to start bawling immediately after. Mom loses her mind instantly. She shoves me away before scooping Freya into her arms and keep asking her if she's hurt. Dad rushes over and starts strangling me immediately with frighteningly bloodshot eyes. "We've kept you around for so many years, and yet you have the gall to bully Freya? Believe me when I say I'm definitely sending you back to—"

I accidentally used the shared bank card linked to my husband, Ryan Newman. Before I could even leave the store, two officers pinned me to the ground and accused me of embezzling company funds. Right then, Ryan’s new secretary, Georgia Hawkins, called me. "Mrs. Newman, I was the one who reported you! Do you have any idea how hard Mr. Newman works for his money? "He works himself to the bone every day. You can’t keep spending so recklessly anymore! Starting today, I’ll be managing all your expenses. Every purchase needs my approval first! "Oh, and your monthly spending limit is now $500. You already spent $499 today, so don’t even think about spending another cent this month." Listening to her smug little lecture, I laughed. Georgia had only been at the company for a month. Just because Ryan treated her politely at work, she’d started acting like she ran his entire life. Little did she know, the company belonged to me. Every dollar in Ryan's bank account came from me, including her paycheck. As for the Mr. Newman she worshiped so much? He was just the man who married into my family. So what gave her the right to manage my money?

Hayden Jenkins, the driver whom I've recruited, often brings his girlfriend, Casey Sloan, along whenever he drives me to the company. Seeing as Casey's destination is just along the way, I don't bother commenting about it. But one time, when I open the car door, I see a note being pasted to the back seat. It says, "Car moochers aren't allowed in this car." I rip the note off the seat and ask Hayden, "What's the meaning of this?" Casey glares at me from the front passenger seat. She snaps at me, "Don't you know how to read? Every day, you keep mooching off my boyfriend's car! Seriously, are you this shameless? If you can't afford a ride, then don't ever leave your house! I hate car moochers like you the most!" I'm confused, to say the least. That's when Hayden jogs toward me and mumbles to me, "Ms. Gray, Casey doesn't know that I work as your driver. She's rather possessive, and she only sticks this note on the back seat out of her love toward me. "By the way, Casey really doesn't like sharing the car with you. I'll drop her off first. After that, I'll come back for you." After that, Hayden drives my car away. I remain rooted to the same spot, though I'm quick to call the police. "Hello. A man and a woman have stolen my car. Please dispatch an officer as soon as possible."

I receive a random WhatsApp message from Charlotte Ellis, a neighbor living downstairs, at 11:00 pm. "Olivia, do you drive to the city center every morning?" I've just gotten to know Charlotte, so I just reply, "Yes." Originally, I thought this is just small talk. But Charlotte is quick to send me a long audio message. "That's wonderful news! My husband is on a business trip lately, so I'm worried that I don't have anyone to send me to work! "From now on, you have to wait for me in your car at 8:00 am. Then, you can drop me off at my company." I frown immediately. "That's really inconvenient for me." My phone screen begins flickering all of a sudden. It turns out that Charlotte has started a voice call with me. "C'mon, Olivia! We're all neighbors here! So what if you have to make a detour of a few miles or so? Since you're sending me to work, I can help pass the time by chatting with you and alleviating your boredom! Besides, it'll be a waste of your front passenger seat, seeing as it's left empty and all!"

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."

My parents' enemy kidnaps me and livestreams chopping off my fingers just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire Internet searches for my parents. But what they don't know is that the captain who appeared in the livestream is my biological father. At that moment, he's on a beach in Hashford, setting off magnificent fireworks for his adopted daughter. And on their barbecue table, the livestream of my fingers being severed is playing. Later on, when I survive long enough to be rescued, I reach out my mangled hand to touch my parents. They recoil in disgust and leave without looking back, taking the adopted daughter out for Wersole food. But they don't know that the thing hidden within my mangled palm will make them regret their actions beyond measure.

The day I decided to donate my body to science, my family gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, celebrating her acceptance into a cutting-edge experimental treatment program. The one with brain cancer was supposed to be me. But Hailey used my husband Zane's position at the hospital to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one chance I had to survive. And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on. The pain became too much. I fought to stay present, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I gave Hailey the original manuscripts of my novels I had poured my heart and soul into, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane decided to grant Hailey her dying wish by marrying her, he handed me the divorce papers. I signed without a moment's hesitation. He sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. "Don't worry," Zane soothed. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave Hailey everything I had, just like they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?

The autumn break has just ended when a call arrives from school. "Ms. Watson, your daughter failed to secure a scholarship and bullied her classmate in retaliation. Can you please come to school?" When I rush over, I find Lila Keats bound to a trash can, her hair drenched in sewage, and her mouth sealed with duct tape. Meanwhile, the so-called victim merely has had two strands of hair pulled out. After some querying, I discover that Melody Caldwell is jealous of Lila's achievements and has been waiting for an opportunity to strike. When I demand an apology, Vanessa Morrison flies into a rage. "You're lowly trash without a proper family! My daughter teaching her a lesson is the greatest honor you can obtain in this life! "Expel her immediately! My husband works in the Education Bureau! Beg for mercy, or she can forget about taking the college entrance exam!" That arrogant woman is convinced that Lila and I will beg for forgiveness after being expelled. Unfortunately, she has chosen to mess with the wrong person. Lila's grandfather is a nuclear weapons expert. Her true origins have been concealed for her safety since her whole family works for classified operations. I immediately call the Intelligence Agency. "Mr. Keats' granddaughter was bullied severely at school. Send someone here to deal with this now!"