Magical Realism Novel Novels & Stories

Richard Montague, a rich heir in Durmask, has just posted a new tweet on Twitter. The accompanying photo features a luxurious winery. The caption reads, "My wife loves this place a lot, so I bought it immediately." I tap on the photo, soon realizing that this is Amie Winery, the same place that I had briefly mentioned to Richard last week. Then, I recall the fact that he has told me that he's prepared a surprise anniversary gift for me in a mysterious tone. So, this winery must be the gift! With a wide smile on my face, I respond to his tweet in the comment section. But three minutes later, Kiara York, a popular celebrity from the same company that I'm in, quickly proclaims her love for Richard on the Internet. "Wow, my husband is so generous! I'm very satisfied with this gift!" All the onlookers and fans begin shipping Kiara and Richard like mad overnight. "What a sweet relationship! As expected of the rich heir in Durmask! Even the way he announces his relationship is very domineering!" The whole turn of events leaves me feeling stunned. Once I realize that Kiara is just trying to ride on the coattails of Richard's popularity, I quickly post a picture of my marriage certificate online. It comes with a caption. "If she's the legitimate wife, then who am I?" But Kiara soon posts a marriage certificate of her own. To my surprise, there's a photo attached to the certificate. Richard's face is shown in the photo. Kiara mocks me, "There's a limit to being a lunatic fangirl, you know! Rick and I are husband and wife by law! You can't just slap a Photoshopped picture here and pretend that he's your husband!" As I stare at both copies of the marriage certificates, which show the courthouse's stamp, I fall in deep contemplation. Then, I look at the place Kiara tagged on her Twitter comment. Finally, I can't resist calling Richard, who's currently overseas. "How dare you engage in bigamy behind my back!"

My name's Skylar Sothisby. I became the heiress to an internationally renowned fine and decorative art auction house after my brother, Dean, died in a car crash. Like any head of an elite family, my father wanted a successor for our empire. He selected three exceptionally handsome and talented young men and groomed them into business geniuses in their own right, so that one day I could choose one of them as my husband. Of the three, Corbin Ford was his favorite. I tried to grow close to him as well, but he always kept a certain distance. I began to wonder if he was either celibate or inclined the other way, until one day I overheard him speaking to Irina, my late brother's widow, in the courtyard. "You know why I agreed to marry Skylar, don't you, Irina? So I can see you every day." He continued, "Once I become the head of the family business, I'll give you anything and everything you want, sweetie." Before a company soirée, my father summoned me to his study. He asked whether I had decided whom to marry. I smiled. "I choose Cyrus Brennan." He stared at me in shock. "Cyrus? But he's effectively vasectomized after that plane accident two years ago. He can't have children."

On the day of our engagement, my boyfriend, Henley Chatham, handed his assistant, Kiara Dalby, an unlimited black card—then set me up with a shared wallet. Daily limit: twenty bucks. I laughed. Cold. Said no. He called me materialistic—then spun around and made some grand confession to Kiara. So I ended it. Right there. Then I signed with a classified agency. Five years later, Kiara and I crossed paths at a car wash. I was in line when she whipped her car in and cut me off. I couldn't dodge. Metal slammed—my whole front end wrecked. She rolled her window down. "Hey, you in the back—blind or what? Can't you see my car?" I let out a short laugh. "You cut me off. Then you crash into me. And somehow that's my fault?" Kiara sneered, same attitude, just louder. "I cut in line? Please. Every inch of Hawthorne Bay belongs to the Chatham family. Ever heard of Chatham Corp? My boss could shake this whole town with one move." I actually laughed this time. Pulled out my phone. Dialed. "Ex-boyfriend, I hear Hawthorne Bay answers to you now?"

When dorm picks opened, two beds were left. My hometown girl, Chloe Parker, beat me by a step and grabbed Room 501—the honors suite. That left me with Room 502, the rich-girl suite. In 501, the try-hards rode her nonstop. She made grad school. In 502, I ran errands and pulled five grand a month. At graduation, she snapped and shoved me off the roof. "It's all your fault. Without you, I wouldn't wake up every day buried in studying. How'd you stack hundreds of thousands in four years while all I got was a useless grad school offer?" I opened my eyes. Dorm selection day. Behind me, Chloe shoved past and lunged forward. "I'm picking first. I want 502."

When I was seven months pregnant, my husband, Brandon Adkins, got into a car accident. I held my belly and rushed over as fast as I could, but by the time I got there, his body was already mangled beyond recognition. The shock hit so hard that I started bleeding right there. At my lowest point, it was the eldest son of the Elledges who got me to the hospital and handled Brandon's funeral. Three years later, Brandon showed up out of nowhere, holding his first love. He pulled me into a tight embrace, voice soft as he explained, "I'm sorry. Alanna was terminally ill. Her last wish was to travel the world. I was afraid you wouldn't agree, so I faked my death. "Now that her wish has been fulfilled, we can go back to the way things were." I looked into his affectionate eyes, then shoved him away in disgust. "Too bad for you. In the three years you were gone, I got engaged to someone else."

The day after my mom used 880 grand from selling our family restaurant to buy a house for my cousin, my girlfriend of five years dumped me. "Evan," Ruby Lawrence said while she sat across from me. "Let's break up." My hands trembled. "Why?" "I waited for you for five years." Her eyes welled with tears. "You said once the restaurant was sold, we'd have the down payment for a house in Seahaven. Where is it now? Where's the money?" I tried to explain, but she cut me off. "In your parents' eyes, you're not even as important as your cousin. So tell me, who's really their son? I'm 28, Evan. I can't keep waiting." She grabbed her bag and walked away without looking back. My phone buzzed. My mom sent me a photo of her and my cousin at his new house. That was followed with a voice note. She sounded joyful. "Your cousin finally achieved his biggest life goal. We can relax now." I stared at his smug smile in the photo. I laughed until tears ran down my face. I exited the 'Clark Family Forever' group chat and blocked every single relative. 'Since you all choose him, then from this moment on, your reputation or loyalty will have nothing to do with me. I only wonder if you'll think of the son you abandoned when that precious nephew of yours, who you poured all your resources into, throws you out of your own home.'

The moment Tammy, my adoptive parents’ biological daughter, was found, she began to stage the scene of a ‘real vs fake heiress’ drama. Tammy had cameras installed all over the house. Nowhere was safe, not even in the privacy of the bathroom. When one shorted out during her shower, Tammy landed herself in the hospital. Through tears, she told my parents that I was trying to get rid of her and demanded to call the cops. During a dinner out at the hotel restaurant, Tammy lost her footing and fell into the pool, all the while dragging me down. She cried and accused me of pushing her into the water. Apparently, had she not been smart enough to pull me along the ride, I would’ve gotten her killed. While our parents were away taking care of our hospital bills, Tammy snapped me an intimidating look. “I’m warning you. I’m different from the other heiresses in my position. I won’t put up with your antics. You can’t hide who you really are from Mom and Dad! “I’m going to get you kicked out of this house!” I smirked to myself. The silly girl had no idea that the wealth of the family came from me. She was no heiress once I took my riches away with me.

After being reborn, the first thing I did was forge a medical report diagnosing chronic kidney disease. In my previous life, my nephew had been diagnosed with kidney failure, and he needed a transplant to survive. I rushed to get a matching test and donated one of my kidneys to him. But over time, my health deteriorated. At twenty, my body felt like it belonged to someone eighty. Even simple chores like sweeping the floor left me exhausted. I couldn't go out to work or earn a living, yet my brother and sister-in-law scolded me for "pretending to be sick." "It's just a kidney." my sister-in-law snapped. "Do you expect to leech off our family forever?" She even went so far as to buy a pair of fresh pig kidneys and smash them in my face. "Since we took one of yours, here's a new pair. Happy now?" Because I had lost a kidney, I died before the age of thirty, alone in a rented apartment. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back—before my nephew's diagnosis even came in.

In order to prevent the employees from slacking off at their jobs, the HR department of my company has established a strict check-in policy. We're requested to check-in with the company once per ten minutes. On top of that, we have to follow the HR employee, Felicia Lane's instructions in striking poses. Otherwise, the system will list us to have skipped work for the day. After failing to check-in with the company for the eighth time, I head to the HR department immediately. "Ms. Lane, your check-in policy is far too strict to the sales department! We have to travel everywhere just to make sales and strike business deals with clients! There's no way we can keep returning to the company!" But Felicia just scowls at me disdainfully. "Since you're working at the company, you're meant to follow the company's rules. Why else are you even here, in the first place? If checking in with the company affects your sales performance that much, that just means you don't have any capabilities to begin with. You should reflect on your own work performance instead!" When I recall the number of contributions I've made for the company, I try to seek out my boss to take my side. But he just tells me, "Since this is a rule, you might as well follow it. What's the use in seeking me out?" Later on, I choose not to do anything related to my job just so I can follow the check-in policy very strictly. But the rest of the company flies into a state of panic because of me.

The ninth time I walked in on Andy Lowe in bed with another woman. I didn’t lose control, and I didn’t question him. I casually tossed a piece of clothing at the girl and said calmly, “Leave through the back garden door.” She froze for a moment, glanced at me nervously, then grabbed the clothes and fled. Andy leaned back against the headboard, looking relaxed, and slowly lit a cigarette. “It’s her first time here,” he said as if it were only natural. “Don’t scare her.” “She’s very innocent, unlike you. I don’t want her getting hurt.” He paused, then added, “It’s her birthday today. I won’t be coming back tonight.” I nodded and said nothing more. As I turned around, I smiled. He seemed not to know that the “innocent” girl had AIDS.