Haircut Story Novels & Stories

By the ninety-ninth day of Lux Vitale’s disappearance, all of Sicily had already accepted that she was dead. The Antara family held a funeral grand enough to shake the entire underworld. Standing before her grave, Lorenzo Antara, Don of the Antara family and her husband, mourned openly in front of police officials, family lawyers, and powerful business associates. Under the glare of reporters’ cameras, he even swore that for the next three years, no woman would ever take Lux’s place. However, when Lux finally returned to the seaside estate on Long Island, wounded, limping, and barely alive after months of captivity, she discovered that Lorenzo had not only broken his promise– He had already given another woman everything that once belonged to her. And that woman was none other than Bianca Vitale. The sister who had shared her name.

After winning 800 thousand dollars, the first thing I did was rush to the hospital to pay for my daughter's surgery and treatment. Then, out of nowhere, a colleague called. "There's an extremely urgent situation at the company. You need to come back and handle it right now!" My husband took the bank card from my hand and, with thoughtful understanding, said, "Tell me the PIN. I'll go pay for Alicia's surgery. You head back to the company and focus on work." In my past life, I trusted him without hesitation and hurried back to the office. Before my daughter could even make it into surgery, I received a police summons instead. It turned out my husband had conspired with my colleague to file a report against me, pinning the crime of embezzling company funds—money my colleague had actually stolen—on me. With no money for treatment, my daughter died in the hospital. My parents, shattered by grief, suffered heart attacks and passed away. I ended my own life in prison, consumed by bitterness and regret. After death, my soul drifted to where my husband was vacationing abroad. I heard him say to my colleague with my own ears, "That stupid woman wins such a huge jackpot and only knows how to waste it on that worthless daughter's medical bills, dragging me into a life of hardship! "Now their whole family's deaths have bought us endless wealth and luxury. Consider it that idiot woman's compensation to me. Hahaha!" When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very moment my husband took the bank card from my hand. This time, I still told him the transfer PIN.

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

I've chosen to participate in a death game. As long as I can escape from the murderer's killing spree in ten time loops, I'll be able to win at least 100 billion dollars. In the first loop, I have my apartment refurbished into a bank vault. Still, the killer is able to bust down my front door. In the second loop, I hide in the ceiling crawlspace. Yet, the killer is quick to locate me immediately, as though he knew where I was, to begin with. In the third loop, I finally realize that something's definitely fishy…

On the day the Lowens go into bankruptcy, my best friend, Winona Quentin, dumps Justin Lowen on the spot. Meanwhile, I quickly swoop in and take Justin to a hotel for an unforgettable night together. Once the deed is done, Winona lies in the arms of Justin's best friend, Hunter Jackson, while laughing at me. "Robin, you don't have any standards at all! After all, you just went for the guy whom I dumped! He's nothing but a broke fool right now! Why do you still want to be with him?" When Winona isn't paying attention to me, I smile mysteriously. She really is an idiot. While Justin is broke, he's not stupid. Sooner or later, the Lowens will make a glorious comeback thanks to their connections and resources.

At the class reunion, Grace Sullivan grabs me and tears into me with vicious lies. "She's an exiled Rogue who slept her way to the top with the director, Damian Pierce! My father's bed at the clinic? She spread her legs for it!" She slaps me across the face, rallying others to join the beating. Finally, she stomps down hard on my hand, the one gripping the scalpel, crushing the bones. Ethan Carter just stands there watching, cold and unmoved. He doesn't lift a finger to stop her. The pain sends tremors through my entire body, but I scream right back at her. "You're just jealous that I'm the better healer, that Ethan chose me over you, so you made up filthy lies to destroy me! "I'm a healer. Right now, your father is dying, and I'm the one who can save him. You want to stop me? Then get ready to plan his funeral." That's when my father, Damian, storms in and roars the truth for everyone to hear. "She's my daughter! Everything she has, she earned!" With my shattered hand, I push through the pain and charge into the operating room anyway. I'm not just saving a life tonight. I'm making sure the liar and the traitor both pay the price they deserve.

I go to the boutique my son has invested in to pick up the gown I've ordered for a banquet. Just as I'm about to leave, the manager, Wendy Reed, stops me and says that I still owe them money. She pulls out the bill. I look down at it and see that the boutique is charging me 300 thousand dollars for their creativity, 500 thousand dollars for fabric therapy, and one million dollars for their chief designer's mental wellness. On top of other expenses, the price totals up to two million dollars. I laugh incredulously and send a message to my secretary. "Withdraw our funding from my son's company and this boutique!"

When I was seven years old, my father began subjecting me to extremely strict parenting. Not only did he withhold any support for my food, clothing, housing, or daily necessities, but he even charged me for drinking water in our own home. As a child, I endured relentless suffering and bullying. When I was critically injured by a vehicle that broke the law, I was severely injured, and my father refused to save me. Only after my death did I learn the truth that he already had a son somewhere out there. Everything he did to me was meant to drive me to my death. After rebirth, I no longer adhered to rules nor endured silently. Exploiting the fact that I was still a minor, I stabbed his secretary, bullied my classmates at school, and even set a fire on campus to force my father to give up on his brutal methods. When I grew up, I took everything he owned and sent him to prison. Only then was my revenge completed.

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman. She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart. "Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect." Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me. Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream. Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it. When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned. "Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."

My name is Ivy Lawson. At 3:00 am, I get a call from Christina McSpire, a parent of one of my students. "Hello, Ms. Lawson, I noticed Zoe only spent five dollars on her meal yesterday. Did she not eat any meat?" she asks. Pushing through my exhaustion, I reply, "Don't worry, Mrs. Street. I'll check on it tomorrow." Another half hour goes by, and she calls again. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Can you remind Zoe to bring an umbrella?" I can hardly keep my eyes open. "Got it," I reply absentmindedly. A few minutes later, my phone rings once more. "Please make sure Zoe brushes her teeth for three minutes. It's also important that she scrubs each side of her face at least three times." Suppressing my frustration, I calmly respond, "Zoe is in her senior year of high school. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself." I expect that to be the end of it, but when I wake up, my silenced phone shows over a hundred missed calls.