Emotional Inflammation Novels & Stories

After I secure a hundred-million-dollar business deal for the company, I receive a commission worth a million dollars. When I'm off to ask for maternity leave, the intern, Violet Lintell, shoots a nasty glance at my belly. "You really are a capable one, aren't you? Many of us have participated in the project, and yet all of our commissions aren't as lucrative as yours even when added together." I can tell that she's being passive-aggressive right now, so I respond to her as patiently as I can. "President Kinsley won't skim everyone out on their commissions. I'm just receiving my own commission based on the salary standards." I never know that Violet gets massively triggered by my response instead. She jumps to her feet and points at me instantly. "Everyone can tell that President Kinsley shows extra concern toward you and your unborn baby! You slept with him in exchange for this project, didn't you? "You're just taking advantage of the fact that you're pregnant with President Kinsley's child, aren't you? Even if you are pregnant with his child, you're nothing but a despicable mistress!" I'm perplexed, to say the least. Does Violet seriously think that I've sold my body just to steal my colleagues' resources from them? But the thing is, President Kinsley, who—according to Violet—is showing extra concern toward me, is actually my mother! How the heck am I even pregnant with my own mom's child, to begin with?

"What even are the specs on this thing?" My coworker Zack slid it back across the desk, frowning hard. I was still fixing a design draft and barely looked up. "Latest model. Core Ultra 9, RTX 5090, 128 gigs of RAM. Why?" "No shot." Zack shook his head. "I opened Photoshop and it froze for, like, three minutes straight. My busted three-year-old laptop runs better than this. And look." He tapped the bottom panel. "There are screwdriver marks back here. Looks like somebody opened it up and slapped it back together." My chest tightened. I grabbed the laptop and flipped it over. Two fresh scratches sat near the vent. The edges looked like they'd been pried up. I went still. Three months ago, when my cousin borrowed it, the laptop had been perfectly fine.

The day my husband's first love shows up at my house, I catch a faint, cloyingly sweet scent of gardenias in the air. My genetically-linked asthma flares violently at the scent of gardenias. As expected, halfway through the meal, my chest suddenly tightens. I can barely draw a breath before collapsing onto the couch. My younger brother sprints into my bedroom like he's lost his mind, grabs an inhaler, and shoves it straight to my mouth. "Tess!" he roars. "Why the hell is there gardenia perfume?" Everyone panics. My dad grabs a liquor bottle. My mom lunges forward, grabbing the woman by the hair. And my husband positions himself in front of her, protecting his beloved first love as she trembles. Amid the chaos, I muster the last of my strength. I reach into the crack of the couch, grab another inhaler, take a deep breath, and slowly push myself upright. I let out a cold laugh as I fix my gaze on the woman cowering behind my husband. "Finished with your little performance? It's my turn now."

Before my wedding, my future sister-in-law diagnoses me with cervical erosion. She insists it's because of my promiscuity. My boyfriend arranges for my sister-in-law to operate on me without my permission. After the surgery, I find that my womb is missing. I'm furious, and I want to know what's happened. However, my boyfriend berates me. "It's perfectly normal for Kate to make a mistake since it was her first surgery. You're her sister-in-law—stop making a big deal out of a small thing!" I refuse to settle the matter privately and call the cops. That's when my boyfriend secretly murders me via poisoning for the sake of his sister's future. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to before the surgery.

My son’s family suddenly returned from abroad. I did not understand a single word at the dinner table. They were speaking in a foreign language. My grandson, Aiden, looked me up and down and said loudly, “Dad, Grandpa’s face is all bumpy and scarred. He’s lame, too. He’s so ugly!” My son waved his hand nonchalantly and said, “That was caused by a shell blast. Anyone who served in the military looks like that.” I did not understand their conversation. I simply placed the fish I had deboned onto his plate in silence. My grandson, however, became agitated. He picked up the hot soup and splashed it on my face. Then he cursed at me in broken English, saying, “Stay away, ugly monster! If it weren’t for you refusing to die, Grandma Sloane and Grandpa Wallace could’ve come home years ago!” My mind went blank. My wife had passed away decades ago. Who was this “Grandpa Wallace”?

The fertility clinic called to inform me that my embryos were ready for transfer. I touched my abdomen, still numb from the anesthesia of that morning's egg retrieval. Even with cutting-edge medical technology, embryos couldn't be prepared this quickly. Before I could call back to clarify, my husband stopped me. "Mom's been pressing us hard. I pulled some strings to fast-track the process so you can get pregnant sooner. Imagine twins! My buddies will be green with envy." Silent, I drove straight to the clinic and dialed 911 on the way. "Hello? I'm reporting a fertility clinic involved in illegal surrogacy."

Giordano Pellegrini, my Underboss husband, is swamped with work every day. In order to make sure that he can attend my birthday party, I've pre-booked two hours of his time half a year in advance. But the moment Giordano arrives at the party venue, he receives a message on his communicator. "Honey, someone has blocked a shipment of firearms. I need to deal with that matter right now. Next time, I'll celebrate your birthday properly with you." Our son, Fabiano Pellegrini, follows Giordano out of the venue as well. "Dad and I will deal with this matter. We'll also make it up to you with another birthday gift next time." Despite feeling a little disappointed, the emergency did come all of a sudden, so I can only nod in acceptance. But once Giordano and Fabiano leave, I secretly stalk them. I'd like to see which idiot dares to block the ship owned by me, the Donna of this mafia family. Also, I'm interested to see what sort of solution Giordano and Fabiano can come up with. After all, Giordano is only an Underboss in name.

Thanks to my dad's work, I have to transfer schools. Soon, I go to my new school to register for my enrolment. After submitting my personal information, the teacher in charge shoots me an odd look. "Is your father Mr. Chapman, the new shareholder? His child should have enrolled with us a long time ago. In fact, his daughter is half a year older than you. You're not that person at all…" Stunned, I dig out my phone and show my photo with my dad to the teacher. She glances at the photo before showing me the system window. "Mr. Chapman's daughter has been studying in this school since the first term. He even donated a library to the school recently. This is a photo the school board has taken. You can take a look yourself." In the photo, my dad and an unfamiliar student can be seen standing at the school's bulletin board. That young lady looks as old as I do. Her features are similar to my dad's. In fact, she resembles him more than I do! If they are an actual father and daughter pair, then who am I?

The human traffickers were apprehended, and after DNA verification, the police returned me to my affluent parents. My parents gave a cold nod, thanked the officers, and instructed the butler to make me comfortable. Two months after returning home, the fake heiress, Irene Burrel, secretly signed me up for a wilderness survival course. My parents gently stroked her head. “Since you want to play, let her accompany you.” They did not care one bit if I died out there. Irene smirked triumphantly at me. “What does it matter if you’re the real heiress? I can still do whatever I want with you! “Survival training is my daily routine. I’ll make sure you leave that competition on a stretcher!” When we arrived at the wilderness training grounds in the mountains, I laughed. I grew up in these very forests. Did she think I did not know this place?

Someone steals my takeout at the school gate. It is from a BBQ restaurant. Not only does the thief eat it all, but he also humiliates me in front of my classmates. He mocks, "Look, everyone! This is what a pauper would eat. Even my dog eats better than this!" He pulls out a stack of cash and slaps one bill against my face. Then, he tosses the rest into the air. "Happy birthday, beggar!" Three days later, he is burned to death in the alley behind the school, his limbs stretched out and tied to a tree. He is literally "grilled." And I become the murderer.