Emotional Inflammation Novels & Stories

The new intern, Cynthia Joller, had posted about me online, claiming the company had made them use their leave for team building. No one wanted to fly all the way to an island to spend time with colleagues. However, what the internet did not know was that our company's team-building tradition involved booking a top-notch five-star resort every year: all-inclusive, family-friendly, with an extra three days of paid leave, and a $30,000 budget per person. The whole internet dubbed me a cold-blooded capitalist, so I decided to give in to their demands and issued a notice. [In response to employee feedback and to honor personal time, this year's team-building retreat has been canceled. Instead, a $500 allowance for personal travel will be provided.] The notice stirred up a commotion in the company. Long-time employees gathered at my office door, pleading for the return of the sunny Madiles retreat.

My mother threatens to jump off a building in front of me three times. The first time is when I fill out my college application. She stands on the rooftop and forces me to choose a local college. I give in, and with a 1550 SAT score, I end up attending a second-tier local college. The second time is after I graduate and go to Brayton for work. She stands on top of my company building and forces me to quit. I return to my hometown and take a gas station job she finds for me, earning 7.50 dollars per hour. The third time, she stands on a rooftop again and forces me to marry a man I have only met once but whom she is very satisfied with. I obey and marry him, only to suffer domestic violence and miscarry. In the end, I can no longer take it and jump off a building myself. When I open my eyes again, my mother is gritting her teeth as she climbs onto the rooftop. "If you dare apply to a Privy League college out of town, I will jump from here!" I give her one glance before turning around and walking away. "Go ahead. Don't waste my time."

I rush into work this morning and accidentally send the car photos meant for the dealership into the medical intern group chat. The new intern snaps at me. "Dr. Tyson, why are you sending me pictures of my car? Are you jealous and trying to steal attention?" I stop short and ask if she has mixed things up, because the car is mine. She fires back with a whole stack of photos of herself driving a G-class with one hand, plus videos to prove the car in my picture belongs to her. She even tacks on a snide little jab. "You're a shameless, broke wannabe. You want any spotlight you can grab. You think a picture of a car is going to make you the lady of the Reed family?" I frown and turn to my husband, Jackson Reed. "Since when does the Reed family have a second lady of the house?"

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

My dad is a rich scion who has been kidnapped to a compound. He keeps telling me that he'll escape with me since I was a little kid. When I was six years old, Dad made all the preparations to escape. He planned on leaving the compound with me. But I didn't hesitate to expose Dad's plans to my grandma just for a piece of bread. While I munched on the bread happily, Dad got strung up on a tree and whipped mercilessly by others. He glared at me resentfully while screaming at me for being a bastard. Hearing his cursing made me sad. I couldn't understand why Dad wanted to leave this home. Three days later, Dad killed himself by smashing his head against a boulder. After Mom got drunk, she accidentally beat me to death. As I felt my life slipping away, I finally understood what Dad meant. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Dad wants to escape. But I choose to expose his plans to Grandma once again.

Chairman Steven Gardner made arrangements for me, the country's top-secret human weapon, to return home for a blind date with his granddaughter, Jessica Gardner. Jessica didn't just come from a powerful family. She was very capable herself. In spite of her young age, she had a net worth of over tens of millions. She was also the high-profile CEO of Gardner Corp. Due to my unique status, Steven had instructed one of Gardner Corp's hotels to customize a presidential suite with the highest level of security for me. I arrived at the hotel right on time and was ready to check in. Before I could speak, an arrogant-looking man in an expensive suit shoved me aside and cut in. "Get me a presidential suite." The receptionist explained that the last presidential suite had already been reserved by me. The man pointed at me and started yelling impatiently. "Are you blind? You've got some nerve stealing my room. If you know what's good for you, get lost!" My body was already close to its limit. I urgently needed to get to my room. "I booked that room first. Who are you to tell me off like that?" He sneered dismissively when I questioned him. "So what if you did? Listen up. In Alphaville, the Gardner family is the law. Anyone who touches what belongs to the Gardner family won't walk out of this city alive!" My head was pounding. My alter, the one people called a nuclear weapon in a human form, was about to break free. I might or might not walk out of Alphaville alive, but there was a good chance this guy wouldn't even make it out of this hotel alive today.

During the holiday, I make a rare trip back to my hometown. After dinner, Dad orders me to wash the dishes. I pause for a moment and ask, "Do we not have a caretaker at home?" Mom frowns and says, "Julia works so hard taking care of us every day. Since you are back, you should let her rest. You should be the one doing everything." I fail to fathom the logic behind her reasoning. So, I argue, "I am paying her to be a caretaker here. Is this not exactly what she is hired to do? How does it make sense that I pay and still have to do the chores myself?" My words make the caretaker, Julia Woodard, cry. My parents get angry at me too. The frown on Mom's face becomes even more pronounced. "What's the point of raising you? We barely see you all year. You are not as thoughtful as Julia! At least she stays by our side every day." Dad points at me and scolds, "You might as well stop coming back. From now on, Julia is our real daughter! Go do whatever you want!" I let out a helpless laugh. I am busy working away from home, but I send a large amount of money back every month and even fork out extra money to hire a caretaker for them. But in the end, they think her as their caring daughter and shower her with affection instead. If that's the case, I'll stop sending money and see whether Julia will still act like their "daughter" for free.

The ER receives a patient in the middle of the night. Despite being the doctor on duty, I use the excuse of suffering from a stomachache to duck into the washroom. Instead, the new pretentious doctor, Scarlett York, is the one taking the lead in saving the patient's life. In my previous life, I put in all of my effort to save the patient's life. That was how I managed to revive him. But when the patient woke up, he claimed that I had broken four of his ribs, so he demanded compensation from me. The hospital also suspended me from my position and made me reflect on my actions just because I drank a bottle of glucose that I paid for. At the same time, Scarlett accused me of selling the medical equipment, which led to me getting fired by the hospital. To make things worse, the patient's family decided to get revenge on me by stabbing me with a blade. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the patient is sent to the ER.

While negotiating the terms of a project, a client pressured me into downing a large glass of liquor. While I was washing my face in the restroom, I saw my younger sister’s latest Instagram post. [Low salary? What of it? My parents will always support me!] Above the caption was a photo of a property deed with her name on it, along with a message from our parents. [Mom and Dad will always be your safety net!] It was in a newly developed residential complex. It was also the very neighborhood I had been desperately saving up for a downpayment to buy a home in. At that moment, a torrent of complex emotions washed over me. I splashed my face with water. After clearing my head, I sent a message to my manager, Mr. Jenkins. [I’m willing to take on that overseas project you mentioned.]

Outside the ER, a woman clad in luxury brands is in the middle of lashing out hysterically at a camera. "That stupid deliveryman is the one responsible for crashing my two-million-dollar Porsche! He even tried to steal my Hermès bag that was inside in the car! When I caught him red-handed, he tried to assault me, too! "If he doesn't pay me 500 thousand dollars today, I'll make sure that he spends the rest of his life in jail!" As soon as the woman is done, she collapses to the floor while clutching her chest. Obviously, she's faking her collapse. How can a mother this vile possibly exist in this world? Half an hour ago, that woman has locked her three-year-old son up in her car—that's exposed under the bright sun—just so she can go to a beauty spa for cosmetic procedures. In order to save the dying child, I have no choice but to smash the window. But that woman now paints me as the bad guy in this situation and insists on ruining my life. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't notice the action camera on my helmet.