Invisible Twists

Detective Jack Malone stumbles into a nightmare when he raids an illegal biotech lab—only to find a silver-eyed woman, Subject 42, caged like an animal. Her name is Vesper, her memories fragmented by drugs, her calm demeanor unsettling. As Jack rescues her, he uncovers a web of corruption that reaches his own police force. A sudden tornado forces them into an underground shelter, where Vesper’s body betrays her: injected with experimental serum, she burns with unnatural heat, and Jack’s ethics shatter in the dark. But salvation twists into betrayal. Jack discovers Vesper is no victim—she’s the architect of the experiments, and he’s her chosen pawn. When she turns the tables, torturing him with his own guilt and the wreckage of his personal life, Jack must confront a harrowing truth: some monsters are made, not born. Their deadly dance culminates in a choice—vengeance or redemption—that will redefine justice, love, and the thin line between humanity and monstrosity. *Patient 42* is a dark, pulse-pounding thriller where desire and deception collide, and the most dangerous experiment is the human heart.

My father lies on a hospital bed, barely breathing as he asks to see my husband once more. However, my husband's phone is turned off that day. I hurry to his company to look for him, but his secretary stops me and tells me there's a company policy that says they don't allow me and dogs to enter. I kneel before the building and beg for help, but someone records me and twists the truth. Later, I watch the video and see Eugene Fort carrying his true love, who's cut her finger, into the car. My father ultimately dies without seeing Eugene. I stay up all night to handle the wake and funeral. The following day, I finally receive a call from Eugene. He sounds impatient as he says, "Come to the hospital. Ivy needs help."

I returned home after studying abroad for three years, only to find that my brother’s girlfriend had brought her entire family to live in my mansion. The moment they saw me, they pinned me against the floor. "How dare you! Call him your sweetheart, spend his money, and now you're here to take my mansion? " When I saw the girlfriend’s crazed antics, I was shocked. “Who did you say owns the mansion?” “It’s my boyfriend’s, but it’ll be mine sooner or later. It has nothing to do with you.” With her parents, she yanked off the ancient pendant on my neck and crushed my heirloom bracelet. They even tied up my limbs, put me on the table, and positioned me in a humiliating pose to post online. Her brother pinned my legs down and reached under my shirt…

My sister leaves some last words before committing suicide, and everyone who sees those words die. My grandmother is the first to go, and then my father. In the end, even my mother jumps off a 30-story building. The reporters fall over themselves trying to score an interview with me, and the police interrogate me. Countless people want to know what my sister's last words are. However, I keep my silence until my sister's tenth death anniversary. I see a figure before her grave, and I'm agitated beyond imagination. I know it's time for death to take me.

My wife and I slept in separate beds for over three years. Then on our wedding anniversary, she suddenly tried to win me over. She climbed into my bed and pulled out all the stops, trying to get me to sleep with her. I stayed calm and collected. When our son started crying, I used it as an excuse to escape to his room, where I stayed all night. Vivian Hartley spent the entire night knocking on the door. The next morning, she acted sweet and gentle, graciously making me breakfast as if nothing had happened. She even tried to hand over her salary card. When my mother-in-law heard about this, she exploded at her daughter. "You pathetic fool! People need some self-respect! If you can't stand up for yourself, just get a divorce already!" Yet Vivian claimed her feelings for me ran so deep that the heavens themselves could vouch for her sincerity. She even defied her own mother. Our relatives and friends looked at us with envy. But my son and I continued to give her the cold shoulder. Finally, Vivian turned to social media for help. "Three years ago, I was busy with work. My husband and I had completely different schedules. I was afraid it would affect my performance at work, so I suggested we sleep in separate rooms. "Now our child is older, and I've swallowed my pride to try to fix things, but my husband won't even touch me." Someone in the comments gave her some advice: install hidden cameras around the house. "We can't just take your word for it. Record everything so we can see what's really going on. Plus, if things actually end in divorce, at least you'll have built up your social media following. It won't be a total loss." Vivian had no idea I was watching from among her followers.

Love is not bound; however, in life, we will only love one person and take them as our partner for the next seven births too. When the love of our life leaves us, we won't be able to move on and remain alive with their memories as our companions. Adrien Rodriguez, a 31-year-old billionaire with a combination of deadly looks and cold-heartedness, happens to meet a girl who looks like his late girlfriend. He was hit by a wave of shock and confusion, which drove him to go crazy. Fate played its game by bringing her into his company, which also led to some misunderstandings about the relationship between her and his best friend. Adrien planned a game that would make everyone rethink if the closest ones were really that close. Some unfavorable incidents and twists of plans can make every relationship questionable. What made his closest person his biggest enemy and what made him fight an invisible battle? What made the person behind the facade think of their revenge against Adrien? To learn more about their revenge story, come and join me on this journey. This story is a mix of revenge, backstabbing, sadness, love, and many more.

My roommate had a peculiar knack for pestering everyone into liking her posts on social media, all so she could collect enough likes to claim some prize or another. It was her way of life—nagging, nudging, and guilting us into clicking that little thumbs-up. One time, the campus beauty queen liked my roommate's ad for a facial mask. Not long after, she was in a horrific car accident. The vehicle caught fire, and her face suffered severe burns, leaving her disfigured beyond recognition. Meanwhile, my roommate seemed to undergo a miraculous transformation, her complexion turning porcelain fair and flawless as though she'd been kissed by the heavens. Then there was the academic prodigy, a shoe-in for graduate school, who liked her tutoring service post. Shortly after, he was exposed for academic fraud, and his once-brilliant reputation was reduced to ashes. Strangely enough, my roommate's research paper suddenly won an award, catapulting her to fame and fortune. And me? I fell into her trap too. I liked her rental agency ad, and before I knew it, my world crumbled. A scandal erupted, revealing that I was the result of a mix-up at birth. It turned out she was the long-lost child of wealth and privilege—a hidden gem cast into the rough, now reclaimed by her rightful family. As for me, I was packed off to the countryside village she had escaped from and forced into a brutal marriage with an old man. My life became a living hell, and eventually, I died there, broken and forgotten. But fate wasn't done with me yet. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my roommate begged me to like her post in exchange for yet another prize.

Seavora City, Carmoria. Nathan Ziegler's side chick, Sophie, was melting down—again. He shoved the divorce papers at me. "Just sign. It's for show. Gotta keep her calm." I clutched my dress, gave a small nod, and signed. No fuss. No scene. As I turned to leave, one of his buddies snorted, "Joelle's way too obedient. Bet she'd fetch the divorce decree if you asked." Nathan lit a cigarette, smirking. "Wanna bet?" To them, I was still the silent pushover. The girl who'd cry in court but still do what she's told. Trade one paper for another—marriage for divorce. I stared at my phone. The message I'd received earlier: [Why don't you just marry me?] I typed back: [Okay.]

On our wedding day, my bride insists on wearing an old, beat-up watch with the million-dollar wedding dress I buy her. I call off the wedding on the spot. She looks at me in shock. "You called off the wedding just because of a watch?" I take out the divorce agreement and tell her to sign. "Yes. Because of that watch." Everyone calls me crazy. They cannot believe I would end a ten-year relationship over something so worthless and file for divorce in front of everyone. Dad walks up and slaps me across the face. "Get on your knees, you disgrace." My mother-in-law shrieks that I have ruined her daughter's future by returning her like damaged goods. I look at the watch on her wrist, which is stopped at 3:07, and I smile. Then, I phone my assistant. "It's time. Release everything. I want a divorce."

On the Northwind Trail, just before sunrise, my flashlight cut across the inside of the SUV and landed on five lifeless bodies. My hands shook as I dialed 911. "Hello? I'm on Route 296, the Northwind Trail. Everyone in my car… is dead." The operator's voice was calm but quick. "Please confirm your location. Officers are on their way." My words dropped heavy and flat, like stones hitting the ground. "I'm on Route 296, about three miles east of the mountain pass. The plate number is NA318X. Five people inside the car are dead… and I'm the only one alive."