Freak Wattpad Novels & Stories

Feeling overwhelmed by loneliness, I installed a one-way mirror in the bedroom of the apartment next door, which I specifically rent out to muscular men. One day, through the mirror on the wall, I watched my tenant with his girlfriend, caught up in their fiery passion. I couldn't help but be drawn to his strong physique and impressive size. One day, I pulled him into a small, dimly lit cubicle with me...

After closing a 100-million-dollar business deal, I dip into an ordinary-looking cafe by the street on a whim. "I'll have a cup of cappuccino, please." The waitress, who's immaculately dressed, rolls her eyes at me before sashaying toward me. In a fake, nasally tone, she says, "I'm sorry, but there aren't any servers here. I'm the owner of this place." She eyes me up and down before continuing, "The prices here are relatively high for regular people. Are you sure you want to order coffee from me?" I pause in the act of massaging my temple. Finally, I scan around the cafe. "Your cafe is nothing to look at. Are you saying that you're not going to serve regular people, then?" The owner's friend jumps up to her feet instantly at my comment. Then, she starts berating me angrily. "Gianna has opened this cafe just to burn her free time and contribute to the community by giving them a taste of what it feels like to be rich! How dare you question her! "Do you even know who Gianna is? She's the successor of Luxara Corporation! Her boyfriend is Levi Anderson, the CEO of Miller Group! How dare you talk to her like this! You won't be able to make a living in Westford anymore!" I raise an eyebrow in response. The man who had kneeled before me with tears rolling down his cheeks while begging me to invest in his company… was the boss of Luxara Corporation, if I remembered correctly. Also, isn't Levi that live-in husband of mine?

I went skiing alone on Valentine’s Day to clear my head. I never expected that later that night, my younger brother, Mason Cases, would show up after running away from home following a fight with our family. The front desk stopped him and asked for additional registration. I explained, "He’s my brother. He ran out after an argument and didn’t bring his ID. He’s just staying one night. I’ll take him home tomorrow." After hearing that, the receptionist, Riley Rowe, gave us a suggestive once-over, winking at my brother with a look that said, "I get it." "Alright," she said with a flirty smile. "It’s Valentine’s Day. I understand. No need to be shy." Seeing how exhausted Mason looked, I forced myself to swallow the disgust and brought him upstairs. That night, I came across a local post online. "Girls these days have no shame. Bringing some random guy back to a hotel on Valentine’s Day. She got caught and still had the nerve to lie, saying he’s her brother. Like I can’t tell?" Some users questioned whether she might have mistaken them. "I’ve worked in this industry for over ten years. There’s no way I got it wrong! She didn’t dare register him. Obviously, she’s afraid her husband will find out she’s cheating! I’m going to go listen outside their door later and livestream how loud she gets!" I froze. It couldn’t be that much of a coincidence, right? Until I opened the photo she had secretly taken. My blood turned to ice. That was me. Wait. The "random guy" she was talking about… Did she mean the one lying on the floor? But he really was my biological younger brother.

My sister, Aria Sawyer, stumbled drunk into a billionaire's room one night. Now, she was pregnant and wanted the whole family's advice. Something about it felt off. Forget about how mismatched they were. How could a billionaire's suite possibly have no security, letting anyone just wander in? When I pointed that out, Aria actually agreed. She decided to end the pregnancy and start fresh. But the very day she left the hospital, headlines exploded. The billionaire was marrying another woman carrying his child. Aria went mad with jealousy. Right in front of our parents, she grabbed a knife and stabbed me to death. "This is all your fault! That spot in high society should have been mine!" And then, my eyes opened again. Aria sat there, blushing sweetly, calling a family meeting. "I think I might be pregnant with Mr. Moore's child. What should I do now?"

Love is both salvation and torment. If Bella Ramsey were given another chance, she swore—she would never fall in love with Seth Rogan again.

My husband's gym was celebrating its grand opening, so I grabbed my best friend and headed over under the guise of "checking the place out," armed with a $10 trial class we had snagged from a group deal. I never once mentioned that I was the owner's wife. The moment we wrapped up the workout, a female trainer slapped a price sheet into our hands and gave us a look that could cut glass. "Let me guess, you two came here to milk the freebies? Our private training sessions cost hundreds. They're not here for people like you to exploit." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We bought a perfectly valid trial class. How does that make us freeloaders? Get your manager." She rolled her eyes, acting like she was the rules. "Call whoever you want! The owner is my boyfriend, and he can't stand penny-pinchers who show up trying to mooch off his gym." Then, right in front of us, she called him—voice raised, dramatic, dripping with fake indignation. "Babe, there are two cheapskates in your gym demanding the manager. Come deal with them for me!"

My child-free husband went back to his hometown for a funeral, and after he returned, he suddenly wanted me to have a baby. He was one of the best obgyns in the state, so he handled my IVF procedure himself. After more than 160 hormone shots, we finally heard the baby’s rhythmic heartbeats for the first time, which made my usually calm husband tear up. Soon, he tightened every part of my routine, from a strict diet to my schedule, and once my belly started showing, he barely let me get out of bed. I thought he was just being overly protective. But then, right by my ear, I heard a nasty little boy’s voice. [Which player starts their mission inside the womb? And she’s not even my mom!] [Just four more months. My dad will make sure she dies on the operating table so he can keep only his son.] [After that, he’ll bring my real mom back, and my mission will be complete!] I canceled my afternoon checkup immediately as soon as I heard this. Did the system forget to tell him that he wasn’t the only player in this world?

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

Carl Larson's intern is about to die, and her only wish is for him to sleep with her once. I disagree, and he says I'm petty. "It's just a one-time thing. She's about to die! Why do you have to assume I'm up to something dirty?" Is that so? I've seen them together more than once, though. I later agree, and he's relieved… until he sees me lying on his operation table for an abortion. He widens his eyes in disbelief. "What are you doing here?" I smile. I want him to murder his child. I want him to regret this for life.