Enel Cover Story Novels & Stories

It was only after my boyfriend, Julian Mercer, received his HIV diagnosis that he finally understood what his childhood friend, Luna Sullivan, truly meant by "life and death together". In my previous life, after Julian collapsed from anemia, Luna insisted on donating blood to him. I fought with everything I had to stop it. I told him that Luna had already contracted HIV. If she donated blood to him, he would be infected as well. He refused to believe me. Luna cried and swore that she had never even had a boyfriend. To prove her innocence, she climbed onto the rooftop and pretended she was going to jump to her death. However, she slipped. She missed her footing and fell to her death from the building. To avenge her, Julian conspired with our classmates to kidnap me. He strangled me with his own hands. I still remember his furious roar. "This is all because of your slander! You killed Luna! I will make you pay for her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the blood transfusion. I watched as Julian lay there, already receiving blood from his beloved Luna. I smiled faintly. HIV? Fine.

After transmigrating through three novels in a row, the hardest thing I ever suffer through is drinking iced long black. But when I open my eyes again, I somehow become the pathetic simp side character in a trashy romance novel. Just as I debate whether to file a complaint against the system, the trembling system hurriedly explains something to me. Although this is a trashy romance novel, it is also an unfinished abandoned novel. I ask, "So you're saying I decide how the story develops?" The system replied, "Yes. Everything is completely under your control." Satisfied, I lazily stretch and begin checking the original Jacob's background. He has a trillionaire father and a billionaire mother. On top of that, he has seven rich and beautiful older sisters. With such a ridiculously overpowered setup, how can he go around simping for a broke college girl with no money? What a complete waste!

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife handed me a divorce agreement that was valid for seven days. She had fallen for a male intern at her company who was seven years younger than her. She wanted to experience what she called a proper romance with him, one that would last exactly seven days. On the first day, they booked an entire private cinema and made love to each other from the entrance to their seats. On the second day, they went to the seaside to set off fireworks, and the light spread across half the skyline of Veyron. On the fifth day, the intern burst into an art exhibition I hosted and cried in front of the entire press. He accused me of coming between them. That same evening, the story of a rising painter becoming a homewrecker for love reached the top of the trending searches, and the hate comments poured in. On the sixth day, my wife apologized to me on the intern’s behalf, and his punishment was a three‑day ban from shopping. On the seventh day, my wife finally sensed something was wrong. She called me ninety‑nine times and reminded me that we were supposed to reconcile the next day. I replied with a single “okay” and quietly told my assistant to arrange for my luggage to be shipped out. What she did not know was that seven days earlier, I had already made plans to go abroad to continue my studies. This time, I was done playing her game.

Married for five years, Lorenzo, the underboss of the Moretti family, had never been without a woman. He found my “noble lady” posture stiff and vanilla. Dancers from Trinacria, headliners from the city’s nightclubs, his rotating stream of mistresses could fill the entire estate. Yet whenever I was displeased, whether it was throwing drinks or kicking someone out, Lorenzo never intervened. He’d only lit his cigar with casual amusement and said, “Relax. It’s just fun. No one can touch your position.” Then a clumsy, naive maid appeared. Unlike the others, she wasn’t flashy. However, when Lorenzo returned, bloodied, she’d hand him a cup of warm tea, her eyes red-rimmed. She watched him with pure admiration while he handled the family business. Lorenzo said the estate felt cold and lifeless except for her. He said only when she panicked did he feel like a hero being needed, rather than just a husband in a political marriage. Until she accidentally broke an antique vase left by my mother… Before I could react, Lorenzo stepped in and shielded her trembling form, glaring at me as if I were the enemy. “What’s wrong with you? If you’re crazy, go see a shrink. Don’t scare her like a rabid dog!” Watching his careful, protective expression, I smiled. I guess it was time for the Moretti family underboss to be replaced.

Cindy Chase always claims that we're the best of friends, but she lies and says she's out shopping with me when she's actually on a date with someone. She takes her husband's money to help her family but tells him she's lending me the money so I can buy luxury items. She cheats on her husband with her first love because she can't resist him and contracts an STD. Then, she throws me under the bus and says that she only got it because I made her wear clothes that carried the infection. Later, her in-laws come knocking on my door. They break my ribs and watch as I die from the pain!

My brother convinced my father to give me to the principal of an elite high school. When the principal was treating me like a dog, they showed off to the world with the money and the spot in the high school they had exchanged me for. I knew nothing about this and waited for them to rescue me. It was not until the principal showed me a video of how they were living a proud and happy life that I broke down in desperation and helplessness. On my third failed attempt at escape, the principal whipped me with a leather belt until I was almost dying. After that, he let his precious son, a German shepherd, torture me to death. When I next opened my eyes, I had returned to a time when none of this had happened yet. Well, my dear father and brother, do you think things would work out the way you want this time?

I'd been engaged to Ivan since we were kids. When he went off to the military, I stayed behind—ten years of caring for his paralyzed mom, putting my whole life on pause. By the time he came back, I was at the age where most women were settling down. And he showed up with someone else. Ivan laid it out, stone cold: "Nadia's my comrade's widow. If you want to marry me, you'll have to accept her too. Most of my pay goes to her. I promised I'd take care of her. She gets first pick of everything in the house. Don't like it? Then forget about getting married." I looked past him. Nadia stood there, tears dripping down her cheeks, playing the poor little victim. Right then, I ended it. No drama. No regrets. Signed up for the Rural Teaching Support Program the same day. Left love behind. Threw everything I had into teaching.

Three months into my pregnancy, I was resting at home to ensure the baby’s health when a typhoon struck. My husband, Adam Quinn, received a call and rushed out to meet his childhood sweetheart. As a result, I experienced severe abdominal pain. The ambulance taking me to the hospital was involved in an accident, and I lost the baby. Adam arrived much later, only to blame me, saying, "Mona Thomas, why are you so useless? You couldn’t even keep the baby!"

His first love barged into my office and stood before me, mocking, "He doesn't love you at all." I rolled my eyes. "I don't know whether he loves me, but I am Mrs. Brooke now. And who are you, exactly?" I was surprised that there was still someone so clueless in this day and age. Marriage was all about mutual benefit; the idea of love was downright ridiculous. To me, Noah was just a means to an end—a tool that would double my worth. I had never taken him seriously.

I become unemployed when I'm four months pregnant, and my husband asks that we become independent of each other in our marriage. We manage our own finances and pay for our own expenses. Even when I'm suffering from major blood loss during labor, he's unwilling to pay to save my life. My child and I both lose our lives. When I open my eyes, I find that I'm back to the day my husband asks that we become independent of each other. I readily agree. What he doesn't know is that I can morph into a seahorse and transfer the baby to his body so he can carry it to term.