Everything Was A Mistake Novels & Stories

After working overtime every day for a month, I finally completed an important code that could save my company. Five minutes into my break, my team leader, Fiona Smith, suddenly hit me in the head with her file. “Because you spent so much time in the office, our electricity bill this month has increased by 15 kWh! Do you see this office as a free air-conditioning supplier?” I was about to defend myself when she angrily pointed at my cell phone and tablet on my desk. “You’re charging your devices here? You should charge them at home! Aren’t you aware of the company’s current condition?” I could no longer hold back my anger. “Fiona, I’ve been working overtime. I’m not here doing nothing!” “Can’t you do overtime at home instead? For a fresh graduate, you sure know how to exploit the company’s resources. Who knows what other despicable things you might be capable of doing in the future?!” Fiona yelled. I stared at her twisted expression and suddenly chuckled. If only my parents had seen me working so hard over such a trivial matter. They would have immediately asked me to quit and work in their company instead. I grabbed the flash drive with the important code and called my secretary. “Jane, I’d like to purchase Galaxy Corporation, and I want it to be the best in the industry.”

Ever since I was a child, my heart and mind have been filled with feelings for him - Magnus Zumatra, son of my father's billionaire friend. On his birthday, we were happily playing when he suddenly fell down the stairs and broke his left leg, leaving him unable to walk. The one he thought saved him and called for help to get him rescued was my sister Delara Funtasierra - my half-sister who has held a grudge against me for a long time. She became the one who seemed kind and Magnus' "savior" in everyone's eyes, while me? They pointed to me as the one who pushed the man. But no one knows that it was actually me - Terafina Funtasierra - who truly saved his life. Throughout his life, he loved Delara - that's why I left and kept my distance from them. But being hurt and slandered in front of everyone is something I cannot bear.

Joseph Larkin, my husband, who has been missing for seven years, suddenly comes back. Not only does he bring another woman back, but he is also asking me for a divorce. Joseph says, "Mabel risked her life to save me. That's why I have to marry her to repay her. If you know what's good for you, you'll tell everyone we're already divorced." Looking at his haughty expression, I calmly say, "But I've already married someone else." Joseph laughs disdainfully. "Who are you trying to fool? Everyone knows you only have eyes for me."

Three years of marriage, and I'd become known in our social circle as the ultimate doormat. My husband staying out all night, his silent treatment, bringing his first love home to flaunt in my face—through it all, I'd smile and make him hangover soup, keeping the house spotless. Everyone thought I loved him to the point of madness. Even he believed it. Until the day of the divorce, when he begged me with tears in his eyes not to leave—and then watched "me" collapse rigid to the floor after a power outage, revealing a charging port on the back of my neck. He lost his mind. Meanwhile, the real me was lying on a beach in the Maldives, running my fingers through the hair of a gorgeous twenty-something with a six-pack, cheerfully pressing the "factory reset" button.

My mother-in-law has gotten kidnapped, and yet my husband, Josiah Broadway, decides to celebrate the success of his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Spencer's performance with her. The kidnapper has requested a ten-million-dollar ransom. If he doesn't receive the money in his bank account in an hour, he'll kill the hostage immediately. But my calls to Josiah's phone never go through. When there's only one minute left on the timer, Josiah calls me back calmly. "Since that hag is already that old, she might as well die. I'm not wasting my money on her." Just like that, my mother-in-law is thrown into the sea by the furious kidnapper. The search-and-rescue team has to resort to using long hooks in order to fish her corpse out of the sea. As soon as the body is delivered to the crematorium, Josiah sends me a voice message excitedly. "Have your mom's corpse sent to the studio! Vivian's performance needs a corpse anyway! Using a real corpse will make the whole performance seem more realistic!" I'm pissed off, to say the least. So, that bastard thinks that my mom is the one who died, huh? After that, I have my mother-in-law's corpse, which is completely disfigured from all the fishing and hooking, sent to the studio without any hesitation.

When I was three months pregnant, my Don husband’s so-called step sister, Ruby, showed up at my door. Her swollen belly was impossible to miss, “Donna, since my due date is so close, I thought you should know… the Don’s heir is in my belly.” She laid everything in front of me—intimate photos of her and Caleb, records of the weekly money transfers he sent her, even the deed to a mansion. The earliest dates traced back to the time I lost our first baby, when the doctors told me it would be difficult for me to conceive again. All these years, I had been enduring IVF treatments, desperately trying to carry our child once more—while he was fooling around with his so-called step sister. Well, if Caleb wanted another woman so badly, he could have her. I had no intention of staying anyway. I was already planning my leave.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

*She was supposed to die on her wedding day* Melissa had no other desire except making the man she loved happy, until he turned that love into a weapon to stab her back. Broken and betrayed, she vowed to rebuild everything he'd snatched from her. She promised never to be vulnerable again, But then, a cute little boy blinked at her innocently, calling her, “Mummy!” Behind him was his father; tall, charming, magnetic, with a loaded bank account that could fund her entire life. He had a single request. “Marry me.” Torn between the temptation of a worry-free life, and the determination to build her own, Melissa paused. “Blending both doesn't sound bad.” But what if underneath this temptation lie layers of mystery? What if Desmond Steele was hiding a huge secret that could turn her entire world upside down?

Attending a high school reunion, I rode my motorcycle to the venue. By the time I arrived at the Moon Valley Hotel, most of my former classmates were already there. Everyone seemed to be doing well for themselves. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars belonging to high-ranking pack members. There was even a Rolls Royce that belonged to the son of an Alpha. As I dismounted from my motorcycle, a former male classmate I barely remembered looked at me with disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't our former class president. Still riding a basic bike like an omega, I see." During dinner, everyone was fawning over the Alpha's son while completely ignoring me in the corner. Only Derek, our former class monitor and now a beta, sat beside me with a sympathetic look. "Don't worry about it. Even though you're still just an omega like your parents, I'm sure one day you'll rise up in the pack rankings." I couldn't help but smirk, whispering under my breath: "This isn't just any motorcycle. It's the Royal Guard's official vehicle."

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Research Center, and the only person in the world with experience in deep-sea rescue. When my sister’s submarine malfunctioned and was stranded ten thousand meters below the surface, I hung up on her distress call. Then I calmly walked into a police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research. A few minutes later, my father called. His voice was frantic and furious. “Your sister is missing. Where the hell are you? I’m ordering you to get to the site immediately and save her, or you won’t see a cent of the family inheritance!” I calmly pulled the blanket over my head and said into the phone, “I don’t have time, and you’re interrupting my sleep.”