Feel Like Rockstar Novels & Stories

My cousin, Tiffany Wilkinson, brought her new boyfriend, Isaac Lloyd, home for the first time. The dinner was going great, chatting and laughing like everything was perfect. Out of nowhere, Isaac locked eyes on me, his face lighting up with fake surprise as he practically shouted, "Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? Aren't you in that 'Elite Escort Group'?" He added, "I swear I saw your rate card in the group photos... It was only 200 dollars or something?" He slapped a hand over his mouth afterward, putting on this innocent act like he had just let something slip. The lively dining room went dead silent in an instant. My relatives' looks turned cold and judgmental, making me utterly uncomfortable all over. "He looks so decent on the outside, but he's actually doing that kind of thing behind closed doors." "You're such a disgrace to the Wilkinson family. Don't even tell people you're related to us from now on." Dad was so furious he slammed his wine glass down, and Mom sat there wiping away tears. I calmly dabbed my mouth with my napkin, then looked at Isaac with a knowing smirk. "Makes sense that I look familiar. I'm with the Vice Squad, and I just busted you in a sting operation last month!"

Lewis Gordon says he likes older women. Seeing that he's young, energetic, and good in bed, I agree to be his girlfriend. But when he runs into me with his friends while I'm dressed in business attire, he is stunned and doesn't know how to react. Then, he quickly introduces me. "She's just a neighbor like an auntie." What? Middle-aged? I immediately break up with him. He sends a clumsy explanation, "When you dress like a middle-aged woman, it's really embarrassing for me." I block him and don't bother replying. Five years later, I bring my son along to celebrate my husband's godfather's birthday. Lewis shows up, holding hands with his girlfriend. When he hears my son call Johann Tucker "Grandpa Johann," he pulls a long face. He blurts, "This is my son, right? He should be calling him great-grandfather." I shoot him a look of pure disgust. "He's not your son." Lewis points at my son's face and sneers, "Look at his eyes and his face. He looks exactly like me. How can you still insist he's not my son?" All I can think of is my extremely jealous husband. If he hears Lewis claiming that he's my son's father, will he go crazy and kill him?

Devan Williams, the richest man in the country, gets shot by an assailant when he's giving a speech. He's quickly sent to the hospital I work at to undergo a heart transplant surgery. But my girlfriend, Katie Wilder, insists that her childhood friend, Luke Rivera, has to become Devan's primary doctor. She even takes off Devan's oxygen mask just to coerce me into handing the position over. "Ashton Howard, if you don't get out of here once I count to three, you'll be facing imprisonment due to medicinal malpractice!" As I look at Devan, whose face has gone horribly crimson due to asphyxiation, all I feel is a strong sense of ridicule. So, I call the hospital's security guards on Katie and Luke with the intention to have them dragged out. But the security captain, Jason Wilder, is actually Katie's younger brother who relied on her just to get his hands on this job. He has me pinned on the floor instead. "From the way I see it, you're the criminal who wants Devan dead! Be honest with me; did you sneak into this hospital just so you can kill him behind everyone's backs?" I can't help but struggle against Jason. But that's when Luke tramples all over my fingers, causing them to fracture. At that moment, the vitals monitor begins beeping shrilly. I lift my head to glare at the culprits. "All of you can never escape your fate!"

A new intern at the hospital claimed that she had excellent medical skills. Even without anesthesia, her treatments never caused any pain. The truth was that she had transferred her patients’ pain to me. After she went viral, many patients rushed to the hospital to see her. Some of them even had to bid for a slot to receive surgery from her. However, I was in excruciating pain due to all the surgeries she had carried out. I could no longer work and received complaints from the patients. In the end, the hospital fired me. I gradually discovered that I even experienced some of the side effects of the surgeries she had carried out on her patients. My hair started to fall, and I became as thin as a skeleton. Even walking caused me excruciating pain. I went to the hospital to question her. Everyone thought that I was jealous of her and that I had gone crazy. She calmly put on her surgical gloves as she faced my wrath. “Please don’t make a scene. I’m about to conduct brain surgery on the daughter of the wealthiest man in the city. I don’t have time for your nonsense.” After she entered the operating theater for five minutes, I suddenly suffered from an aneurysm and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had been transported back to the day when she had gone viral. I took out all my savings and bid for one of her treatment slots. “I’d like to try your painless gastroscopy.”

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

Late that night, I was scrolling through social media when my finger slipped, and I liked a rant that said, "No women would like to date Aries men." A few minutes later, Rachel Lewis, my ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, flooded my private messages. [Stop trying to get Marcus's attention with these pathetic little tricks.] [You already broke up.] [A decent ex stays dead.] [You're damaging Marcus's reputation.] [I'll give you one chance to delete it.] [Otherwise, you'll face the consequences.] I laughed. I had broken up with Marcus Gibson, my Aries ex-boyfriend, three years ago. [I dumped that piece of trash out three years ago. I don't care if you picked him up and started treating him like a treasure, but stop acting like someone's trying to steal him from you every day.] That pushed Rachel completely over the edge. She sent me an Excel spreadsheet right away. [Fine. Since you're so over him, pay back every cent Marcus spent on you while you were dating. Otherwise, that proves you still want him.] I looked at the bill. Eighty-seven cups of coffee, eighteen movie tickets, that sad bouquet of roses he bought me for Valentine's Day, and even the chamomile tea he bought me when I was having my period... [The total is 4,300 dollars. If you don't transfer the money within three days, I'll make sure the whole internet knows who you are.] I stared at it, stunned. Then, I ignored the madwoman. The next day, my social media exploded.

Since my favorite basketball player is hosting a meet-and-greet, I've ordered a VIP seat that comes with the benefit of interacting with the player in advance. When the time comes, I follow a staff member to my designated seat. I'm about to sit down when a man walks over and takes my seat instead. "This is where I can watch the meet-and-greet the best. I shall have this seat, then." I just stare at the man, completely speechless. "Sir, this is my seat. Please get off the chair." What I don't expect is for him to dig out a stack of cash before hurling it at me. "A peasant like you has no right to meet basketball stars! I'm buying this seat from you right now! Take the money and scram!" Seeing that I refuse to leave, the man continues haughtily, "I'm Wilbur Collins, the assistant of Jade Pearson, CEO of Pearson Group! Everyone in this city knows who the Pearsons are! Are you trying to push your luck here?" Jade Pearson? Isn't that the fiancee who my dad has betrothed to me? I pull out my phone and call her right away. "Hey, your assistant has snatched my seat from me in a basketball star's meet-and-greet session like the hooligan he is. You'd better give me a good explanation for this!"

A year ago, when Bailey Knight's side girl, Lucy Day, showed up in front of me, causing a scene, he had his people beat her until she lost the baby and tossed her out. Then he groveled before me for three straight hours, begging me to forgive him. Looking at the man I'd loved for ten years, looking so pitiful and broken, I eventually caved. Later, I caught Lucy sneaking around Bailey's villa in the suburbs, so I had her thrown out again. Three days before our wedding, Bailey grabbed me by the neck and shoved me up against the railing on the second-floor balcony, yelling so hard that his voice broke. "We already took Lucy's baby once! She can't handle it happening again. She's fragile. You're a woman—how can you not understand that? "I've given you the title of Mrs. Knight. I'd give you my life. Isn't that enough? Why can't you just accept her?" The next second, his secretary ran up to say they'd found Lucy. He shoved me down the stairs. The pain when my arm snapped made me feel like my whole body was being torn apart. But he didn't even look back. Staring at the cold, heartless man in front of me, I felt something inside me go completely dead. I picked up my phone and called Arnold Greenwood. "I don't wanna marry him anymore. Come get me."

"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.

My roommate was a classic bimbo. When I went to arrange a jogging meetup, she mistyped it as a hookup and sent it straight into the group chat, then burst into tears and claimed she didn't know how to retract the message. When I went to meet my jogging buddy, she told everyone that she ran into my "hookup buddy." At the end, she even covered her mouth and giggled sweetly, saying, "I always mix words up." After a few stunts like that, my reputation was utterly ruined, and the entire class shut me out. Later, she used her "clumsiness" as an excuse to spike my milk with sleeping pills, causing me to miss a major exam. She even dropped toxic bacteria into my water cup and killed me outright. And all of it was over something that stupid: the guy she had a crush on had casually helped me carry my luggage on the first day of school. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very first day of freshman orientation. This time, I am going to let her experience what it felt like to be ruined—and killed—by a so-called idiot.