Novel & Cerita Freak

I grabbed an extra work meal to entertain a client. My boyfriend's sister saw it and went ballistic, docking my entire $500K commission. She pointed at my nose and screamed, "Are you taking me for a fool? You're just hiding behind 'client entertainment' to rip off the company! It's shameful, damaging the company's image! All of your commission for this month will be deducted as a warning to others." The client looked at me, wide-eyed in shock. I shrugged. "Do what makes you happy. Just don't regret it later." From then on, I started slacking off, and she freaked out.

I'm dressed in flip-flops and shorts when making an inspection of the five-star hotel my husband just acquired. When the front office manager spots me, she immediately calls for security with a disgusted look on her face. "The hotel's WiFi isn't meant for people like you to use. Hurry up and pay me 200 thousand dollars in Internet costs, then get lost!" I calmly tell her that I'm the owner of the hotel, but that only makes her sneer. "The owner of the hotel? Hey, old hag, you're putting on an act in front of the real deal! This hotel was a birthday gift from my husband to me. Aren't you fantasizing a bit too much?" Oh? Since when did Ian Lambert get another wife behind my back?

I, Taylor Laurent, go to the hospital's emergency department because of severe abdominal pain. When I wake up, my mom, Jocelyn Nord, stares at me in terror and asks, "You are not my daughter. Who are you?" Helpless and regretful, Hank Gibson, the doctor, says to my mom, "She is your daughter, it's just… an accident." My mom can't accept it and jumps off the hospital building, killing herself instantly. Hank is suspended because of this incident and, under my questioning, chooses to kill himself by hitting a wall. When I finally find my life partner and take the premarital medical exam, the staff tells me something that chills me to my bones.

My roommate was obsessed with those cheesy “milk-scented girl” romance stories. She wanted to become the kind of heroine from those books. Tiny, soft, and delicate, the type who was supposedly so sweet that even her farts smelled like milk. So she went completely overboard. She lived on dairy. Drank milk nonstop. Even took milk baths. She tried everything, all because she was convinced she’d eventually run into her destined male lead. I believed in letting people make their own choices. What I didn’t expect was for her to go after my boyfriend, the guy I’d basically grown up with. One day, she sent him a carefully posed thirst trap. He replied with one word. “Get lost.” Then she proudly showed me the screenshot, like she’d won something. “Only girls like me, soft and sweet and irresistible, deserve a powerful man’s obsessive love.” “Don’t be fooled by how cold he is now. He’ll be crazy about me soon enough. He’ll want me all to himself.” I was just about to tear into her when a row of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. “Fresh one, guys. This host is bold. Coming in with a thirst trap right away? Nice.” “Wait, what? Isn’t this just harassment? The male lead already has a girlfriend.” “Bro, I think you’re in the wrong livestream.”

After I get pregnant with my second child, all the pets in my household start viewing me as their biggest enemy. The tabby cat who once loved clinging to me now poops in my nutritious meals every day. The parrot who only knows how to repeat "hello" begins cursing at me to suffer from a miscarriage. "Die, Leanne Foster!" When I feed the goldfish, they protest against my efforts by quitting food entirely. The next day, they are all dead. Even the terrier I've kept with me for ten years lunges at me like a mad bitch the moment she sees the baby clothes in my hands. After I almost suffer from a miscarriage, I plan on giving the pets away. But my daughter, Harper Steele, hugs the terrier and the cat as she pleads to me sadly, "Mommy, please don't give them away!" My husband, Adam Steele, is worried about my unborn baby, but he also doesn't want to hurt Harper's feelings. In the end, he comes up with a compromising solution. "Honey, there's still one month left till your due date. Just endure the pets for a month, okay? I'll lock them up in their crates and make sure that you're safe." Eventually, I agree to that solution after giving it some thought. But unexpectedly, on the day my water breaks, as soon as I dial Adam's number, the pets rush out of their crates simultaneously and begin tearing at my stomach with their claws and fangs. In the end, I close my eyes weakly from the sheer pain. I can never understand why my pets hate the unborn baby in my womb that much. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I find out I'm pregnant with my second child.

I get picked up by the cops in the middle of the night for street vending. While questioning me, they pull up my file. One officer eyes me suspiciously through my mask and asks, "What's a Clairefield University graduate like you doing selling stuff on the street at midnight?" I freeze and lean over to look at the file. The ID number matches mine, but the photo has been replaced with one of Madison Bass. That's when it hits me—20 years ago, I was the one who got accepted to Clairefield University! Dazed and numb, I stumble home only to hear my husband, Joseph Gunther, speaking on the phone. "Madison, don't worry. I won't let Lucy interfere with your life. Just go abroad in peace." It's him! Joseph helped Madison steal my identity and my future. My stomach twists. I turn to confront him, to expose the truth. But before I can, he strangles me to death with a belt. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You can't ruin Madison's future…" When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the classroom. Our homeroom teacher is handing out university application forms. This time, I'm taking my life back.

My in-laws go on a jungle trip and are stung by venomous bees. An exorbitant sum is needed for their surgeries, so I hurriedly call my husband for help. However, as soon as the call connects, he berates me. "They can die if you don't have money to treat them! Why waste the money? Your family isn't mine—what does it have to do with me if they die? Also, Chloe has no money for food. I'm transferring what we have to buy her a meal." He hangs up abruptly and transfers whatever money I have. Meanwhile, his parents die because we didn't pay to save them.

When my colleagues find out that I'm pretty good at cooking, they start organizing dinners at my place. Lucy Holt, one of the junior accountants, suggests that we split the groceries evenly between us. As a result, I don't think I can reject their request without being rude. On my last day of work, the group gathers at my place for one last meal. "You're such a good cook, Jess! We'll all be transferring you 500 dollars later. It's just a token of our appreciation," Lucy declares with a bright smile. But the very next day, she sends me a message. "Hey, Jess. You know it's illegal to operate an unlicensed catering business from your home, right? Your house will get sealed off for further investigation. More importantly, the value of goods has passed the threshold of 10,000 dollars, which means the fine you'll have to pay is probably going to be about 20 times that amount. "Since we worked together, we decided not to report you to the authorities. We'll just settle this matter privately. All you have to do is give us the fine you would've had to pay instead." This is how I realized that, combined with yesterday's meal, the total amount they've given me for groceries thus far is exactly 10,001 dollars.

On my boyfriend, Draco Leroyce's birthday, I take him to a newly-opened fancy restaurant of my own for his birthday meal. Thinking that we'll be having a birthday cake for dessert later, Draco and I decide to order a set meal that includes a pizza and a plate of pasta. With a smile, I hand the menu over to the waitress. She plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the menu. But she secretly calls us "broke ass bastards" in Virellian. I draw my brows into a deep frown instantly. "What did you just say?" The waitress is momentarily stunned. Then, she shoots me another fake smile. "I said I'll prepare your food right away." I just sneer back at the waitress before responding to her in fluent Virellian, "You were calling us broke ass bastards."

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]