Hercules Tenth Labor Novels & Stories

In the tenth year of being held captive by Kevin Hemsworth, he lost his memory in a car accident. When he woke up and saw my bloated figure, he frowned in disgust. "Who are you?" Recalling his past threats, I was terrified this was just another test. So I told him the truth that I had been by his side all these years. He laughed sarcastically. "Don't joke around. You're not my type." Laura Powell, my friend who had secretly loved him for ten years, pointed at me and cursed, "Just because you look a little like me, you barged into Kevin's life and became his maid. Fine. But how dare you pretend to be his lover?" As punishment for lying, Laura had me dragged away from Kevin. She broke my hands and slashed my face. Lying on the ground and barely alive, I smiled at Kevin. For the past ten years, he never allowed me to escape, but he wouldn't let me die either. Now, I leaped off a cliff under his cold gaze. He wouldn't have my body even after I died.

Ten years ago, I was the main culprit of the 715 explosion that shocked the entire country. Everyone believed that I took huge bribes from a corporation and tampered with safety data. In the end, I ended up burning myself to death out of guilt. Today marks the tenth year after my death. My former fiancé, Brody Pierce, extracts my soul from the particle database. However, he isn't doing it to clear my name. Instead, he wants to put my soul on trial in public. The courtroom is in an uproar. "Laura Quinn is a criminal! She is utterly heartless! Every cent of the dirty money she took is stained with our family's blood." "She even betrayed her own fiancé. There is nothing she wouldn't do for money!" "Mr. Pierce is a righteous man. He's personally putting that wicked woman on trial." The crowd rages, wishing they could annihilate my soul particles. Amid the overwhelming curses, the quantum soul analyzer begins to activate. Yet, when the pure white soul that represents absolute goodness appears, everyone is stunned into silence.

My biased mother brought my sister, Irene Baxter, to help me with my child. But one day, I forgot to bring a contract to work. When I returned home, I saw two bodies entwined. To cover up their secret, my husband, Sam Hodgson, and Irene pushed me off the tenth floor. It was only after my death that I realized I had been nothing more than a tool for carrying on the family name. "It's better that she's dead. Now my sweet girl can be a mom without having to go through childbirth." "Sleeping with her was revolting; she was like a block of wood. Irene is so much better." Even Irene had regrets. "Still, we shouldn't have pushed her down. She was smashed beyond recognition—otherwise, we might’ve been able to sell her corpse for a pretty penny." When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day they pushed me off the building. This time, I wouldn't let any of them off the hook.

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance. "Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?" I said nothing. He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you." He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone. He thought I had no choice but to take it. What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Soon, I would be free of him for good.

Mom accidentally adds me into a group chat called "Happy Family". In the group chat, I saw Mom, Dad, and a stranger who's nicknamed "sweetheart". They are in the middle of organizing a birthday party for him. However, the thing is, tomorrow will be my birthday, which they have forgotten for the tenth time in a row. Mom says, "The venue must be dreamy. I want him to feel like an actual prince." Dad transfers a huge sum of money to "sweetheart". "Money is no problem! Just don't let Christopher find out about this. It'll screw things up for us!" I quietly take screenshots of everything, planning to find a chance to expose my parents' true colors and end everything with them once and for all. At that moment, my younger sister, who's always been great at her studies, sends me a screenshot via our private chat. It's a screenshot of the chat history between her and Mom. "Mom, have you made preparations for Christopher's surprise party yet? You promised me that this is the last time you'd lie to him!"

At the end of the day, my colleague, Melody Christie, came to find me. She wanted me to cover her night shift. I turned her down because I had commitments after work. That night, she was caught abandoning her shift and she got fired. Melody blamed me for it. Just when I was almost going into labor, she pushed me down the stairs. "Do you know how hard I worked to get this job? If it was not for you, I wouldn't have been fired! If I'm going down, I'm taking you down with me!" I died, and my baby did not survive either. When I opened my eyes once more, I was back to the same day when Melody asked me to cover her shift. Only this time, I knew the truth. Turns out, she had left her shift for a rendezvous with my husband.

In the tenth year of my marriage to a genius pianist, I came down with a strange illness. A month ago, my husband missed my birthday party to care for his ailing sister-in-law. Night after night, I had waited for him to return home. But that night I forgot to wait at all and went to bed early. Half a month ago, he attended an important performance with his sister-in-law. I had always been petty and prone to jealousy, yet this time I didn't get angry. I simply went home in silence. Three days ago, I fell seriously ill with a burning fever. My husband rushed back from out of town in a panic—but only to tend to his sister-in-law, whose hand had been scalded. When we ran into each other at the hospital, I was strangely calm. I, who used to be fiercely jealous, felt nothing at all. I forgot the promise we had made to grow old together. I even forgot how he once fretted over me for days when I'd scraped a bit of skin. It wasn't until he said he wanted to bring his sister-in-law home and take care of her for the rest of his life that I—my memories riddled with holes—summoned the system at last. "I want to go home."

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I made a special trip to the salon to have my hair done. While settling the bill, I noticed an extra charge on my account. It was a coloring and perm package. Judging by the price, it was a package meant for waist-length hair. Mine had been cropped short for seven or eight years. I called my husband, Jason Moore. "Have you used my salon membership card recently?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before he laughed lightly, "Oh, I lent it to Quincy a few days ago." Quincy Hahn was his business partner, a fine arts student with long hair. She treasured her natural curls more than anything. She would never be willing to dye or perm it. More importantly, her elder sister was a major shareholder of this salon. Why would she ever need to use my card? I said nothing more and ended the call. Then, I headed straight to a location displayed on my phone. In the cafe, a long-haired lady was nestled in Jason's arms. Her freshly permed curls were soft and bouncy, framing her blushed face with certain demureness. Jason had always complained that my short hair made me look rough and manly. I lacked gentleness and charm. It seemed this long-haired lady suited his tastes perfectly.

The property manager, driven by greed for kickbacks, rallied the residents to dig a deeper underground parking garage for profit. But as a geologist with a decade of experience, I saw the danger immediately: a high-pressure underground river lay beneath our community. Any construction would cause the entire building to collapse. In my previous life, I went door to door, warning the residents of the risks, only to be dismissed as a lunatic. Desperate, I alerted the authorities, halting the project and averting disaster. But the property manager turned the blame on me. "That meddling geologist! She's jealous of our wealth and sabotaged our chance to get rich!" Incited, the residents mobbed my home. In the chaos, the property manager grabbed my son and ran to the balcony, letting him fall from the tenth floor. The residents, in unison, lied to the police, claiming my son had been playing and slipped. My family ruined, I succumbed to despair and took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that fateful homeowners' meeting. This time, as the property manager pushed for the excavation, I stood up and clapped. "Neville is right. Not only should we dig, we should dig deeper. Let's do it all at once and get rich together!"

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests. After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy. To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest. Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?" I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction. Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her. He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?" I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt. What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love". Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"