Finally Home Novels & Stories

I only learned how to speak when I was eight years old. Everyone in the Wentworth family calls me an idiot. Even my mom secretly wipes her tears away, thinking that she's given birth to an autistic son. My dad looks at me with disappointment in his eyes. But he never sends me to a special-needs school due to his need to preserve the family's reputation. One day, Winston Pembroke from Broadwell Street comes over to purchase my family's company, Wentworth Group. He puts on a high and mighty attitude and berates everyone in the meeting room to the point that they can only hang their heads in shame. Despite the room being filled with the company's elites, no one dares to respond to Winston. As I stand in a corner, I feel my eyelids drooping while listening to Winston's tirade. Ugh. How annoying. So, I take a step forward and utter my first ever sentence in Winston's mother tongue.

I had been married to Jeremy Yeager for three years, and he had a strict rule. "We can't lend our money to outsiders. We help out during emergencies, but we don't support them endlessly. This is the bottom line." Thus, I begged him on my knees when my father needed 60,000 dollars for his gastric cancer surgery. He remained calm. "If we break this rule today, your entire family will be draining our bank account tomorrow. I have to be responsible for this family." I sold my dowry to raise the surgery fee and accepted that some boundaries needed to be kept in marriage. When Jeremy's childhood sweetheart, Celia Marten, returned to the country to start a business and her start-up funds were insufficient, he transferred 470,000 dollars from our joint account. I confronted him, yet he just laughed and replied, "It's different. Celia's doing legitimate business. It's guaranteed to turn a profit. Besides, she's not an outsider." Looking at the numbers on the transfer record, I suddenly understood everything. It was not a matter of principle. The 60,000 dollars for a life-saving treatment was for an outsider; the 470,000 dollars investment was not. What truly mattered was who wanted the money. I did not argue or make a scene. I took our marriage certificate out of the drawer and slammed it on the table. "She's not an outsider, huh? Just make her your wife, then."

The day before New Year's, my younger brother announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for dinner. Excited, I drove my new car to pick them up, taking my daughter along with me. However, as soon as his girlfriend got in the car, her face darkened. "Henry, you didn't tell me your sister was staying at your place—and with a kid!" she snapped. I frowned and was about to explain when my brother quickly interjected, "She's not staying. After dropping us off, she'll be heading to a hotel." Only then did his girlfriend's expression ease. I swallowed my discomfort and asked my brother what he was planning. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, "Sis, don't cause any trouble for me, okay? My girlfriend is the daughter of the Cromwell Group's CEO!" My eyes widened in shock. Was not the Cromwell Group the same company my ex-husband had just handed over to me as part of our divorce settlement?

Before the company Ruby Lane and I built finally landed a multimillion-dollar funding, she had agreed that we would get married once the deal closed. But when I rushed to the celebration party that night, I saw Ruby kissing the investor, Jack Hunter, in front of everyone. Then, she proudly held up their marriage certificate. Jack took the microphone and said, "To prove I'm serious, I didn't just invest money into the company, I gave myself too! My wife will lead this company to even greater heights!" My colleagues all looked at me, expecting me to cause a scene. Instead, all I did was smile as I clapped. "That's great news! I wish both of you a happy life from now on and hope that the company goes public soon!" The entire room went into an uproar. After the party, Ruby pulled me aside to explain what happened. "Jack throws money at this project like it's nothing to him. He just wants to know what marriage feels like, that's all. Did you really have to act that childishly just now? "Once the company goes public, I'll divorce him. Then, I'll make it up to you by doubling the amount of shares you'll get. You can see the big picture, right?" I smiled and stepped back. "Don't bother. The share price would have crashed. We're done, Ruby."

After deciding to leave Azurea and follow Clara Miller to Northwood City, I was cast out by my parents. "That girl is an orphan–what can she possibly give you? If you choose a life of hardship now, you’ll spend the rest of your life suffering! Once you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back!" I left anyway. For five years, I watched Clara rise step by step, becoming one of Northwood City’s most respected psychologists. Just as she had promised, she gave me a home. As the New Year approached, I planned to take her back to Azurea to reconcile with my parents. However, just before boarding the plane, she abandoned me again–this time for a depressed patient threatening to take his own life. She let go of my hand, her eyes full of pain. "Julian Vance… he’s just like I used to be–alone, with no one to rely on. If I don’t go, he’ll jump. I’m sorry. Just this once. I’ll catch the next flight and meet you there." Then she turned and ran toward the exit without hesitation. I stood there, staring at the two plane tickets in my hand. She had saved everyone who needed redemption. Everyone… except me. Slowly, I tore up her ticket. Then I walked alone toward the security gate and turned off my phone. What Clara did not know was this: Some journeys home, once missed, are gone forever.

A year into our marriage, Timothy Grant suddenly turns abstinent. He builds a private chapel in the villa and always carries a rosary with him. No matter how I tease or tempt him, he stays cold and distant. My seduction attempts don't move him. One night, I stand outside the bathroom door and watch as he releases himself to a photo of another woman. So, Timothy isn't heartless. His heart just doesn't beat for me. I trick him into signing the divorce papers and vanish from his world completely. And yet, I later hear that he is going mad searching for me! The next time we meet is at his uncle's wedding. I wear a white wedding gown, and he looks at me with tear-filled eyes. He just can't bring himself to think of me as his aunt!

I was an orphan being adopted by a simple family. My dad was a driver of a very powerful businessman. My mom was one of their maids. She was in fact their lady butler. This family with gazillion bank accounts had an only heir, drop dead gorgeous young billionaire, Albert Michaels. He was always the talk of the news both in mainstream and social media along with either a popular pop star diva or a hubristic socialite with voluptuous body and kittenish voice. I, Samantha Reynolds, one of their servants had been stealthily trailing him since the day that I stepped in their grand top of a kind living room. His stone cold aloof aura as he stared at me everytime he caught me gawking at him made him even more attractive and charming than he already was. Till one rainy night, a magical or should I say disaster happened. Arriving at home late and intoxicated while I was busy wiping the glass tea table, he was almost dropping himself on the cold marble floor. Guiding him towards his room, his heaviness was weighing up my petite body. Till we both dropped on his king sized bed with me under him. His glassy eyes tingling my long time desire. His warm rims made me want to wrap them with mine. Till time stood still as the rain continued pouring engulfing the atmosphere with its coldness while him covering me with his burning libido. As we both reached the top, he called a name, ''Madeline!'' D*mn!

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

Before my wedding, my vision which I lost after saving Bruce unexpectedly returned. Overjoyed, I hurried to share the wonderful news with him, but as I stepped into the living room, I froze. Bruce and my cousin, Kerry, were in a passionate embrace. "Bruce, the baby is perfectly healthy now. The doctor said we can sleep together again! Why don't we do it right here in the living room? Also, isn't it thrilling to do it here while Nancy is asleep in her room?" "Shut up! Don't joke about my wife like that!" Bruce snapped at her, but his reprimand was accompanied by a kiss. I stood there, watching in shock as their movements grew more intense and their breathing became heavier. Only then did I piece it all together. Their sudden shared enthusiasm for indoor workouts six months ago wasn't about fitness at all. Covering my mouth to stifle a sob, I turned back to my room and shut the door. I decided then and there: Bruce didn't need to know I had recovered. Reaching for my phone, I dialed my mother. "Mom, I'm not marrying Bruce anymore. I'll marry the comatose heir of the Blakes instead. I don't need Bruce in my life."

He didn't stop when he reached her but leaned forward and kissed her hard, on the mouth. The air left her lungs. Maybe it was because it was her first kiss or because he had kissed her, she didn't know but her lungs were burning, her lips were on fire. She was one fire. It ended in a second. She stared at him with wide eyes as he stared back. His hand traced her forehead, nose, lips and then chin as it stopped on her throat. She knew, by God she knew he could feel her pulse, the heat on her cheeks. "I'm home." Dean Woodland left two years ago without a word or sound and now he is back to bring his belongings with him.