Emotional Inflammation Novels & Stories

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

My name's Skylar Sothisby. I became the heiress to an internationally renowned fine and decorative art auction house after my brother, Dean, died in a car crash. Like any head of an elite family, my father wanted a successor for our empire. He selected three exceptionally handsome and talented young men and groomed them into business geniuses in their own right, so that one day I could choose one of them as my husband. Of the three, Corbin Ford was his favorite. I tried to grow close to him as well, but he always kept a certain distance. I began to wonder if he was either celibate or inclined the other way, until one day I overheard him speaking to Irina, my late brother's widow, in the courtyard. "You know why I agreed to marry Skylar, don't you, Irina? So I can see you every day." He continued, "Once I become the head of the family business, I'll give you anything and everything you want, sweetie." Before a company soirée, my father summoned me to his study. He asked whether I had decided whom to marry. I smiled. "I choose Cyrus Brennan." He stared at me in shock. "Cyrus? But he's effectively vasectomized after that plane accident two years ago. He can't have children."

During the Thanksgiving holiday, my mother-in-law Mary came to visit us from Ohio. I took her to my husband Liam's new spa in Manhattan, Apropos. We enjoyed a basic facial treatment together, which I had purchased for $9.90 on an e-commerce platform. Right after the treatment, the beautician slapped a high-priced package down in front of us. She glanced at us contemptuously and said: "Do you really think you can enjoy our premium services with a $9.90 coupon?Stop kidding. You two look like you’re here to freeload. A single facial here costs thousands of dollars. This isn’t some free trial for cheapskates like you." I suppressed my anger and said coldly: “We have already paid for the basic treatment. How can you call this taking advantage for free?. Go get your manager.” A flashy woman walked over. Her arms were crossed. She looked down her nose at us. “I’m the Boss lady of this place.You and this old hag are just trying to get something for free, aren’t you? Let me be clear. You're buying this five-thousand-dollar hydration treatment today. Or you're not walking out that door.” A five-thousand-dollar hydration treatment? So this was it. This was why Liam suddenly got into the beauty industry. He didn't open a spa. He opened a scam shop to bankroll his mistress. I was about to call Liam, but she beat me to it, dialing a number. “Darling, you need to get down to the spa, right now. I've got a couple of hicks from the sticks making a scene, trying to get free services!”

After the school cafeteria for elementary school kids shut down, I decided to offer meals for all the kids in our building at my home. At the end of the month, when it came time to settle the bill, one of the neighbors wasn’t happy. “The new caterer downstairs only charges $2.50 per meal, but you’re charging us $5! That’s an extra $75 per kid per month. Do you have no shame?” she accused me. I calmly explained that I only used free-range meat and organic vegetables in my meals. But no matter how patiently I tried to reason with them, the parents insisted I refund the difference and demanded I charge no more than $2.50 per meal moving forward. When I lowered my costs to meet their demands, they started accusing me of mistreating their children. They went online to expose me and even reported me to the authorities. The online attacks were relentless. I was fined, and my husband lost his job because of the controversy surrounding me. The stress pushed me into depression, and in the end, I jumped off a building to end it all. When I opened my eyes again, I saw those same parents being swayed by others in the neighborhood to send their kids to the new daycare service that only charged $2.50 a day. What they didn’t know was that the lunch caterer next door did serve meat every day—but it was frozen, diseased pork that had been sitting in storage for two years.

After my friend Josh Yates fell deep into gambling, he showed up one day wearing a wide, excited grin, insisting on taking me to Macoria. "I just won big," he said. "My treat. We're staying at the most luxurious hotel." However, the moment we landed, he led me straight into a private room buried deep inside a casino. "The truth is, I lost 7.5 million," he admitted. "If I can't pay it back, they'll sell me off to the Mykar Borderlands… "However, the woman who runs this place is looking for a man with a crescent-shaped birthmark. If they find him, all debts are wiped clean. "You've got one on your stomach. I saw it when you were showering. I'm sorry, man… I really don't want to die." Four men pinned me down on a sofa. That was when I noticed a child's drawing hanging on the wall. I had made it for my mother before I was taken from her. She cherished it, said she would keep it for the rest of her life. An icy smile tugged at my lips. Josh, Josh… this time, you really did place the right bet, I thought. Too bad the winner would not be you.

When I was ten, I bugged my brother to come home for my birthday. He died in a plane crash that day. They never found his body. After that, my parents saw me as a total screw-up. They blamed me for his death. Every year on his memorial day, they forced me to kneel at the cemetery and repent my mistakes. I did that for eight years. I figured I'd spend my whole life paying for it. But on my 18th birthday, some creep stalked and murdered me. Right before I died, I tried calling for help. But my mom chewed me out. "I bet you're just dodging your duty to make up for James. You're full of crap. If you hadn't forced him to come back, he would have been alive. This is what you deserve." She hung up, leaving me staring at the dead screen. My last hope was dashed. She was right. Someone like me meant nothing but bad luck to those around me. I didn't deserve to exist. But then, eight years after his death, James showed up with his pregnant wife. When they heard I was gone, they fell apart.

That night, while scrolling through a secondhand marketplace, I came across a bizarre listing. [Virtual Girlfriend Companion Service — 99.9 dollars/month, premium relationship experience. [Emotionally stable, available on demand, online 24/7, satisfaction guaranteed. [Rave reviews, three customers have already renewed. DM for details.] More than a dozen user reviews were stacked below. [The experience is incredible—more attentive than my ex. Totally worth the money!] [OP, where did you find such a gem? Share the source, please.] [Is this girlfriend AI? She's way too obedient.] [How much to buy her out?] The seller replied: [Real-person service, exclusive source. Tenfold compensation if proven fake. Buyout inquiries via DM.] I frowned, a mix of disbelief and disgust tightening my chest, and was just about to scroll past. Then, by chance, I caught a glimpse of a partially blurred chat background image in the details section. It was something I had drawn myself—the matching profile pictures my long-distance boyfriend and I used.

My sister is diagnosed with leukemia after a medical checkup at the hospital where I work. My bone marrow is a match for her. Out of curiosity, I tell my family I'm the one who's sick. They vehemently oppose to her donating her bone marrow to me. "A bone marrow donation is risky! We can't let your sister put herself in danger." "Don't drag your sister into this just because you're sick. Everyone's life and death is fated—you have to accept your destiny." My sister also refuses to help me, brushing me off with the excuse that she's preparing to conceive. My relationship with my family is strained, so their behavior thoroughly destroys it. When I realize this, I leave the diagnosis report behind and walk out on them.

In my second year running the company, my high school class monitor suddenly started tagging me nonstop in the group chat. [Alice, Vivian was only joking with you back then. Why won't you come to her party? Are you trying to make her feel guilty?] I didn't understand what was going on. Only after reading the messages did I realize that our class beauty, Vivian Spencer, had recently found her biological parents—and today, she had thrown a party to announce it to the world. Me: [I'm busy.] I had no intention of attending a party hosted by someone who used to bully me. But my answer didn't shut them up. Instead, it stirred up even more absurd speculation. [Don't tell me you're doing some kind of labor job and can't take leave?] [We're all former classmates. If you show up, I'll give you sixty dollars. That should cover two days of your salary.] Vivian chimed in as well. [Alice, it was just a joke back then. And I'd already dropped out by then. Why can't you let it go?] I stared at her message for a long moment before typing: [Only trash would call bullying a joke.] The group exploded instantly. [Vivian's no trash! She's a wealthy heiress. She's not even in the same league as you. Poor people really love to nitpick.] Vivian, ever the hypocrite, tried to smooth things over. [No matter what, today marks a new beginning for me. I hope you'll come to witness it. [We're classmates, after all. I don't hold it against you for forcing me to drop out. If you're short on money, I can even ask my dad to arrange a job for you.] Then she sent a screenshot of her chat with her father. When I saw her father's profile picture, I froze. Wasn't that the same profile picture as my freeloading dad? But I look seventy percent like my mom—it's impossible for me to be a fake daughter. And Vivian was two months younger than me. I let out a laugh. "Alright, I'll definitely attend your recognition party."

Yvette Skye has been diagnosed with depression. She thinks her parents will understand her situation, but all she gets is boundless mockery and doubt. After her affair with her sister’s boyfriend is found out, she dies in an accident. After her death, her biased parents suddenly start to regret their actions.