Good Novel Books Novels & Stories

The fifth time we went to the courthouse, James Ceasar and I still weren’t officially married. We had picked a good day for it, but right before it was our turn, he got a call and rushed off in a hurry. With my eyes turning red, I pointed at the screen showing the waiting numbers, trying to stop him. “We're next. It won't take more than ten minutes. We can get it done fast. Once we’re officially married, you can go and deal with whatever’s so urgent. It won’t take long.” James was the CEO of his company, so he had full control over his schedule. That was why I said it like that, not thinking it would be a big deal. However, he just glanced at the screen, handed me the ticket with our number on it, and looked annoyed. “I can marry you anytime,” he said. “But right now, I’ve got something I need to take care of. Don’t make a fuss.”

My mother-in-law, Maryam Smith, had a heart attack and was in a critical condition. However, my wife, Lily Smith, took the only available heart for her intern’s mother. Jared Anderson’s mother did not have a serious heart condition. She did not need a heart transplant at all. In the end, Maryam died on the operating table because she did not receive a heart transplant in time. “I already tried my best to find another donated heart for your mother. It’s too bad that she was unlucky. She couldn’t even manage to make it through that short while. “Even though she’s dead, Jared was still kind enough to offer to retrieve all her organs to be donated. That way, she can still contribute something good to the world.” I was shocked by her shameless speech. However, she was not aware that my mother was not the person she harmed with her abuse of power. The person she hurt was her mother!

Three months since my husband, Julian Moretti, disappeared. I walked into his favorite den, the grief so deep it stole the air from my lungs. I just wanted to breathe him in, to find any trace of him that was left. Then I heard it. A familiar laugh. And the soft moan of a woman. Through a crack in the door, I saw him. My husband, the man "missing" for three months, had his hand tangled in another woman's hair. "Baby, just a little longer," he said. "Soon as I siphon enough cash from the family's books, we're gone. You and me." In his arms was Bianca, from the Rosso family. "What about your wife?" she purred. "Let her play the grieving widow. She's nothing without me anyway." My fists clenched. The world went quiet, my blood turning to ice. The next day, I put the word out to the entire Family. "I'm holding a memorial mass for my husband." At the service, he stormed in, a ghost returned from the grave, roaring that he was alive and there to take back what was his. But I was standing next to his uncle, Dante Moretti, and all I did was stare him down. "Then explain," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "Explain the woman. Explain the money. Explain your betrayal... to the Family. And to me."

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”

After 18 infamous gang leaders of Wicked Valley stumble upon me, they adopt me and work hard in raising me. Since my dads refuse to let me get in contact with all males while showing their violent sides to everyone else all day, I run away from home out of anger. I've left home for three years so far. Throughout the years, I've gotten into a passionate relationship. But on the night my boyfriend, Vincent Gray, proposes to me, he has the nerve to lace my red wine with drugs. Then, he ties me up and delivers me back to Wicked Valley. "The 18 bosses of Wicked Valley have posted a lucrative bounty on a young woman with a phoenix tattoo on her arm. It so happens that you have it. "My younger sister, Wendy Gray, has offended someone out there. Only by giving you to those bosses can Wendy's life be spared!" Then, Vincent adds sorrowfully, "Don't worry, Noelle. I'll definitely include you in my family tree once you're dead. I'll make sure that you won't die without a family." As I stare at Vincent's phony expression, deep down, I'm elated. It's been three years. Finally, someone is taking me home. While faced with Vincent's shocked look, I smile while snapping my fingers at the group of people, who are about to pick me up. "What are you waiting for, everyone? Prepare some seasonings! We're eating good tonight! Let's have lamb soup!"

When the names for the overseas study placements were announced, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart Jenna Lane grabbed me in front of the entire class and refused to let go. Her eyes were red as she said, "Ruby, who do you think you are? How could someone with that worthless brain of yours have scored higher than me without finding out the exam questions beforehand? Two years ago, you stole my boyfriend. And now, you've stolen my spot for studying overseas too? You're nothing but trash!" Faced with her accusations, I instinctively shook my head in denial. With tears in her eyes, she continued indignantly. "A thief would never admit to being one! I have irrefutable proof that you cheated! Trash like you thinks she deserves to go abroad? Don't go overseas and disgrace our country!" My boyfriend Fred White stood behind Jenna with a dark expression. "No wonder you said you would definitely rank first on exam day. To think you would do something this despicable... Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting! Give the placement back to Jenna right now!" The entire class and our teachers watched coldly, condemning me for academic misconduct. "I knew she wasn't a good person from the very beginning..." "She stole someone's boyfriend and then the placement? She's rotten to the core!" "Trash like her should be expelled!" I stood there, finding the entire situation utterly absurd. I did what now? How could someone who had never even entered the examination room have cheated?

"Holy shit! You're built like a horse down there! At this rate, you'll definitely kill my daughter in bed!" Due to my swollen dick syndrome, my wife, Sabrina Ryder, refuses to sleep with me because of the pain I've brought her. But when my mother-in-law, Diana Wilcox, finds out about my condition, she's elated to say the least. That's when she straddles me immediately. "I have a big frame, not to mention I've given birth to triplets in the past. My body definitely is a good match with yours!"

On Christmas, the company handed out bonus envelopes, and I drew a 24-hour overtime voucher. Meanwhile, the boss took the female workers and my wife to a yacht party to celebrate. So, I calmly lit the Christmas tree and burned the company down. In my previous life, I worked overtime until I was completely exhausted. With a sharp pain in my chest, I called the boss to ask for leave. His tone was cold. “Everyone accepted their Christmas gift. Only you didn’t. “Get lost, then. You’re fired. Just a nobody at the bottom of society, anyway!” Through the phone, I heard my wife’s heavy breathing, one wave after another. “Thomas, ever since I got married, I’ve never had a good life. Today is truly amazing!” “Hahaha, Samantha, you’re really pitiful, married to such a poor loser.” Mocking laughter filled my ears. Rage consumed me, and I died at my desk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Christmas Day.

Ten days before our wedding, I discovered that Luna Sterling had been keeping another man in secret. She spent her days with me and her nights in the arms of her lover who was a wedding planner. I went to find her and call off the wedding, but by chance, I overheard the truth. Luna had been bound to a system that granted her unlimited reincarnations. "Host, this is already your ninety-ninth reincarnation. Haven't you had enough fun yet?" Luna answered without a care, "This is the last one. Once I complete my hundredth conquest, I'll settle down and live a good life with Julian." Later, the system came to me. "Mr. Prescott, would you like to bind yourself to the Reincarnation System? The only way to reincarnate is through death. The system will activate only after all signs of life have ceased." "Yes," I replied. "But I have one condition." I wanted Luna to lose her endless chances at reincarnation. And from this life onward, through every lifetime to come, she and I would never meet again.

My wife, Anne Brighton, gives me a gray parrot. Every single day, it looks me in the eye and screeches, "Go to hell!" I send it to a parrot rehabilitation center, where they place it in a mirrored cage and play "I'm a good bird" on loop, three thousand times a day. Here's the thing—I've been reborn. In my past life, that parrot came into our home knowing only two phrases—"So ugly" and "Go to hell". At first, I believed it was merely mimicking what it had heard. But then my body began to fail. Sleep was the first to go. Every night, the same nightmare returned, and the same voice echoed through it, repeating those words over and over. "Go to hell." My appetite disappeared, and I wasted away until I was nothing but bones. In the end, my organs gave out. I didn't find out the truth until I was dying. The parrot I thought it was wasn't one at all. It was Ian Sawyer—my best friend, who had been dead for years, trapped inside that bird the whole time.