Everything Went Black Novels & Stories

In a world full of skepticism and mystery, two hearts of different principles and personalities teamed up to find the justice they yearn for a long time. But when the worst-case scenario came to challenge each other's trust, are they ready to risk their love to fulfill the long-lost justice?

On my birthday, Rowan Shore ditches me for the 99th time to run to his suicidal true love. I tell the system, "I'm done with this mission. I've had enough." For years, I have tried every trick in the book, but I can't win Rowan's heart. The system says that if I die in this world, I'll return to my original one. The first time, I slit my wrists in the bathroom. Rowan kicks the door down, sends me to the hospital, and berates me for using self-harm to snare his attention. The second time, I swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills. He bursts in at the last moment and sobs while holding me. He says he knows he messed up. There's still a third time, a fourth time, and more, right?

I suffer from extreme mental illness. My sister, Ava Monroe, became a facial model to earn money for my expensive medical treatment. She was 5’3” tall but was noticed because of her beauty by a wealthy young man by the name of Dominic Pierce with a leg obsession. He imprisoned her. “This is the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. If only your legs were a bit longer, I’d die with a smile.” Ava was forced to have leg-lengthening surgery. After the operation, her legs began to rot. Dominic found her disgusting and locked her in the basement. He tortured her until she died. I got kicked out of the mental health institute because I could not pay the medical fees. I found Dominic surrounded by beautiful women with long legs. “Those are the prettiest legs I’ve ever seen. If only your face were a little cuter, I’d die with a smile!” I pointed to the painting of Ava and scoffed, “What if I become her?”

Everyone in New York knew that Don Lorenzo Capone loved his wife dearly. At the height of our love, he shielded me from a bullet that went straight through his chest. The hospital issued eleven critical condition notices. I cried myself hoarse at the door of the emergency room. "Lorenzo, don't you dare die on me, or I'll instantly find a pretty boy to marry and have children with!" He survived the ordeal, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to marry me. After the marriage, he ruled over New York's largest underground empire with an iron fist, but never allowed any woman to get close to him. On our third wedding anniversary, I went to his private dock to give him a surprise. There, I saw him holding a pair of twins, teaching them how to shoot. The man who could kill without batting an eye was looking at the children with eyes full of affection. The children's mother was Elena Tribbiani, the daughter of an arms dealer who was his equal. "Lorenzo, what if Vivian finds out?" Lorenzo dismissed it casually. "A fragile porcelain doll like her is only fit to be displayed in a glass case. Only a she-wolf like you is worthy of bearing my family's cubs." It turned out, what I thought was true love was merely a carefully-woven lie. I did not confront him. Instead, I sent a text message to an FBI special agent. "Agent Smith, I have a list of the arms deal you’re investigating."

The werewolves launched a massive invasion of the Elf Forest had been burned, half my people were dead, and my parents were missing. The Elf Queen asked me to go to Damien Thorne and make him stop the war. Damien Thorne. Alpha King of the North, my True Mate, the boy I'd grown up with. His sister Sera was the youngest of the three of us, and my best friend. A year ago, Sera vanished after a secret meeting. I walked out of the forest alive. He didn't — and to him, that was proof enough. He went mad. He burned the sacred trees, slaughtered my people, turned every drop of his hate on me. But he still loved me. So I went. He locked me in his study and fucked me for nine days. Even when I slept,his eyes full of something I couldn't read — madness, and pain. On the tenth day, he kissed his way down my spine, so gentle I let myself think it wasn't too late. The next second, the dagger went into my shoulder blade, straight through the root of my light-wing. The pain detonated from my spine to the crown of my skull. "Shh. Don't scream." He pressed my face into the pillow. "These nine days were the warm-up. Tell me where Sera is." He locked me in the dungeon. He used my people's lives as a leash. He married another she-wolf. The cold-iron whip came down. Each welt sealed itself shut against the iron-poison's burn, then split open again. Every strike felt like a red-hot brand pressed into my skin and ground in. It would never heal. But every time I came close to dying, it was him who tipped the antidote down my throat himself. His fingers shook. His eyes carried a tenderness he hated himself for. The night he got drunk, he crushed me against his chest. "You think I love you, so you can do this to me. Tell me where Sera is, and I'll let you go." I couldn't say it.The moment I opened my mouth, it would burn to ash. I wouldn't have to keep this secret much longer. An elf away from the forest for one full year is dead. No exceptions. I had two days left.

After Penelope Hart, a rich socialite, loses her memories, she starts pursuing me relentlessly. Having played the role of her boyfriend for the next three years, I realize that I've developed actual feelings for her. When Penelope gets pregnant, I plan on proposing to her. That's when I hear Jonathan Parker, the high school senior who used to bully me, tell her, "Penelope, thank you for pretending to be amnesiac and pull a prank on Edward for 99 times just to get revenge for me. "Once you've pulled the 100th prank on him, I'll date you." Only then do I find out that Jonathan is the man Penelope has been yearning for but can't date the whole time. As for me, I'm just the clown whom she uses just to please Jonathan. Later on, I die in a plane crash. After searching for my remains like a lunatic in the wreckage, Penelope finally locates a ring. A message is carved on the band. "For the 100th prank, I bet you love me." Rumors have it that Penelope has cried her heart out while on her knees to the point that her body goes into shock, resulting in her getting sent to the hospital. When she wakes up, she decides to get revenge on everyone who's involved in the pranks that were used on me. I, on the other hand, burn my medical records with a smile on my face on a winter night in Ferentia. Since Penelope decides to toy with my feelings with her fake amnesia, I decide to fake my death so that I can teach her a proper lesson in life.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.

The enemies of my adopted sister's parents mistook me for her and kidnapped me. Before the rogues killed me, they gave me three phone calls for help. If anyone was willing to give me three hundred dollars, I could live. For the first call, I dialed my father. Father didn't listen to a word I said. He immediately unleashed a torrent of curses. "Where the hell are you? Get your ass back home right now for your sister's birthday!" For the second call, I dialed my brother. My brother listened silently to my plea for help, then hung up with a cold snort. "You're never around when the pack needs you. Who's going to fall for this act now?" For the third call, I dialed my fiancé. He didn't even answer. When I called again, I'd been blocked. The rogue wolf laughed at me. "Looks like being the eldest daughter of the Ashwood family doesn't mean much, does it?" After he tortured me to death, he stuffed my body into a suitcase and threw it in the river.

On the day I was kidnapped, my husband was looking after his sick sweetheart. I called him, asking him for help. Yet, he merely replied coldly, "Danica, you are a bad liar." After that, he heartlessly hung up the phone call on me, causing me to get brutally murdered by the kidnappers. I failed to show up as scheduled on the day we agreed to finalize our divorce. He called me in exasperation, only for the phone call to be answered by the police. "Mr. Ferguson, are you a family member of the deceased Danica Reed?"

I had been married to Alexander for three years. Everyone feared his ruthlessness, but he had always been incredibly gentle with me. But ever since Elena took a bullet for him during a shootout six months ago, everything changed. He always said she got hurt saving him, so I had to be accommodating. At the family’s most prestigious gala, my husband—the Don, Alexander—arrived with his secretary, Elena, on his arm. Pinned to her chest was the ruby brooch that symbolized the position of the Donna of the family. "Elena took a bullet for me. She liked the brooch, so I let her borrow it for a while. Regardless, you are the only donna here. Try to show some class." I didn't argue with him. I just removed my wedding ring and pulled out the divorce papers: "Since she likes it so much, she can have it. Including this seat next to you. I'm giving that up, too." Alexander signed without hesitation, a cold smile on his face. "What kind of manipulative trick are you playing now? You're an orphan, separated from your family, you won't survive three days in Sicily. I'll wait for you to come back begging me." I took out an encrypted satellite phone I hadn't used in three years. Alexander didn't know that I was actually the youngest daughter of the oldest Mafia family in Europe. But my family and Alexander’s had always been enemies. To marry him, I had changed my name and even severed ties with my father and brothers. The call connected. I took a deep breath and whispered, "Papa, I regret it. Send someone to pick me up in two weeks."