Novel & Cerita Male Authors Fiction

Before the holidays, my old house was demolished by the government, so I received a settlement of almost five million dollars. The next morning, Lawrence Gellar, one of my buddies who hailed from the same village, invited me to a game of poker. Unexpectedly, not only did I lose five million dollars overnight, but I had also written an IOU note to Lawrence, claiming that I still owed him more than a million dollars. Dad rushed all the way from home just to deliver the money that was meant for his treatment. But he relapsed into his sickly condition due to exhaustion, which resulted in his death. Later on, Lawrence kept splashing red paint onto my home and caused a ruckus at my workplace every day. I couldn't handle his harassment at all, so I chose to commit suicide. When I open my eyes again, I see Lawrence sitting right in front of me while yelling, "Why did I lose again? Since you're on a lucky streak, you have to play a few more rounds!"

I had been on a business trip overseas for less than six months when I suddenly received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Jones, your wife is having a difficult labor. Should we proceed with a C-section or try to continue with a natural delivery?" The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I stood there, frozen. When I left, my wife had not shown any sign of pregnancy. How could she be giving birth less than six months later? I quickly dialed her number. The moment the call connected, I heard her cries of pain. "Honey, what's wrong?" From the other end of the line, I could hear a nurse urging her to push harder. However, my wife forced her voice to sound calm. "Sweetheart, I just slipped and fell a moment ago. It's nothing serious. You should keep focusing on your business trip. Don't worry about me." As I listened, the faint sound of a baby crying filtered through the phone. My grip tightened so hard around the phone that it nearly cracked. "Is that so? Then, get some rest," I said calmly. After hanging up, I immediately called my father, the richest man in the country. "Dad, Rebecca's cheating on me. She's in the delivery room right now, having another man's child. Stop all investments in the Harris family immediately. I want her thrown out with nothing to her name."

I worked overtime until the early morning hours and called my driver to pick me up. She frowned the entire ride. "You go home so late every night, and you always have me pick you up. You have no consideration for others." I found her comment baffling. "Wasn't all of this made clear when I hired you? The job requires you to be available at all times, and your salary is generous." "What exactly are you trying to say?" Chloe Morrison's tone turned reproachful and condescending. "I'm concerned about you, obviously. What good man goes home at dawn every day? You're probably fooling around outside. A man should conduct himself properly. You should get off work earlier and go home to do housework and cook. That's how you win a girl over." Her words irritated me, and my tone turned sharp. "Ms. Morrison, you're just a driver. You're not anyone to me. Don't overstep."

When I go home for the holidays, I find out that my dad has installed a facial recognition machine at the front door. "You'll have to pay an entry fee of 50 thousand dollars. Will you be paying by card or payment code?" I thought my dad was joking at first. As I laugh, I attempt to walk through the front door while pushing my luggage forward. But my mom passes me a price list with an icy look. "That'll be 200 dollars for dragging stuff across the floor. You'll also be charged 1,000 dollars per hour for using up the air." I'm stunned by her words. "Mom, stop messing around already!" But when I walk into the house, I realize that the air inside has disappeared. Unable to breathe, my face soon turns bright red out of suffocation as I kneel down on the floor. My mom huffs coldly again. "If you want to live, then pay up!" With great difficulty, I dig out my phone and pay the fees. Once the transaction is done, I can feel air rushing through my nostrils and into my lungs. For a few moments, I pant heavily. As I stare at my cold-looking parents, I finally feel that something is off. So, I scramble up to my feet and rush for the door. But that's when I find out that the front door is already welded shut. There's a payment code pasted on the door as well as a message. "Exit fee. One million dollars."

The city was overrun by zombies. My girlfriend, Callie Bernson, the team leader, had taken my best friend, Dan Harrington, and fled in our only armored vehicle, leaving me behind in the shelter to die. Outside, the scratching of claws against metal echoed through the corridors. The defensive barricades were already starting to fail. My heart sank into despair. I raised my gun to my temple, ready to end it quickly, when a stream of floating text suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [It’s hilarious. That cheating couple thinks they’re heading to Paradise, but that place has fallen. It’s packed with high-level zombies now.] [Don’t die, PC! The person in a coma in the shelter—the one your so-called best friend called dead weight and abandoned—is actually the only S-class ability user. Once she wakes up, she’ll wipe the floor with everything!] [Just you wait. When your buddy crawls back here in disgrace and finds the big boss awake, he will go to step in and steal the credit for saving her.] [Hurry up and die already, cannon fodder. I can’t wait for the tragic apocalypse romance between the best friend and the big boss.] I lowered the gun and sprinted toward the quarantine room. Inside, a woman lay on the bed, sleeping peacefully. I strode over and slapped her hard across the face. “Honey!” I shouted. “Time to get to work!”

My cousin, Tiffany Wilkinson, brought her new boyfriend, Isaac Lloyd, home for the first time. The dinner was going great, chatting and laughing like everything was perfect. Out of nowhere, Isaac locked eyes on me, his face lighting up with fake surprise as he practically shouted, "Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? Aren't you in that 'Elite Escort Group'?" He added, "I swear I saw your rate card in the group photos... It was only 200 dollars or something?" He slapped a hand over his mouth afterward, putting on this innocent act like he had just let something slip. The lively dining room went dead silent in an instant. My relatives' looks turned cold and judgmental, making me utterly uncomfortable all over. "He looks so decent on the outside, but he's actually doing that kind of thing behind closed doors." "You're such a disgrace to the Wilkinson family. Don't even tell people you're related to us from now on." Dad was so furious he slammed his wine glass down, and Mom sat there wiping away tears. I calmly dabbed my mouth with my napkin, then looked at Isaac with a knowing smirk. "Makes sense that I look familiar. I'm with the Vice Squad, and I just busted you in a sting operation last month!"

I had been dating Lily Foster for three years, and she strictly insisted on splitting every expense. When my mother needed surgery and I was short twenty thousand dollars, she looked troubled. “Aaron, we agreed on financial independence.” I went everywhere trying to borrow money, while she turned around and bought her brother a Ferrari outright. When I confronted her, she answered without a hint of guilt. “That’s my money. What does it have to do with you? “And besides, you’re a man. You can’t always expect a woman to support you, right?” Her brother drove the sports car right up in front of me, showing off. “My sister said it herself—your money is her money, but her money is still hers.” I laughed. Because just a moment ago, I had activated the “Malice Cashback” system. For every trace of hostility someone directed at me, I would receive a hundredfold cash return. Lily stood in front of me, frowning in disgust. “What are you laughing at? You look like an idiot.” [Ding! Received 20 hostility points from Lily Foster. Cashback of $2,000 has been credited.]

During the holidays, I've worked my ass off just to whip up a feast filled with my wife, Willow Steele's favorite dishes. But soon, my mother-in-law pulls out a paternity test report and announces with a smile that the birth father of my daughter, Naomi Johnson, is actually Willow's childhood sweetheart, Luther Lloyd. Everyone bursts into laughter before saying teasingly that "no wonder Naomi looks so much like Luther". Willow's father even pats Luther on the shoulder while looking at him as though the latter were a part of the family. What stings my heart the most is that Willow is laughing so hard that she can barely stand up straight. So, that leaves her clinging to Luther while she taps Naomi on the forehead with a finger. "Go on, call Mr. Lloyd 'daddy.' He's your real dad, after all." Naomi, who has always kept me at an arm's length, rushes into Luther's arms without hesitation and starts calling him "daddy" sweetly. I fall silent for a moment as I watch everything unfold. Then, I draw to my feet and look at Willow. "Let's get a divorce." But Willow just chuckles icily in return. "Must you go that far? My mom was just joking around." When I'm about to leave, Willow turns to tell the others, "He's just being ridiculous. Once I give him the cold shoulder for a few days, he'll still beg me to return to his side pathetically." But what Willow doesn't know is that I've chosen to endure everything she's hurled at me out of love in the past. Now, I want nothing more than to leave her permanently.

Five years after I died, Delia—my wife, a doctor—tried to dump her first love's new mess on me again. She stormed into my old place, waving some fake agreement with my name on it, but all she found was dust. Panicking, she ran downstairs and cornered the shop owner. "William?" he said. "He's been dead five years. Heard the family of that malpractice case found him. Stabbed him up bad." Delia laughed it off, like the guy was making it up. "So what if he got suspended? He's still sulking over that?" She rolled her eyes. "Tell him this—he's got three days. If he doesn't show, I'm cutting off his sister's cancer treatment." She muttered something ugly, slammed the door, and left. The shop owner just watched her go, shaking his head. "There's no sister left," he said quietly. "She died years ago... couldn't pay for treatment."

Five minutes before the graduate admission exam began, the campus heartthrob quietly slipped a crumpled piece of paper into my pencil case. Lines of floating text drifted across my vision. [The paper is filled with answers. The school heartthrob has reported it, and the proctor will be here any second!] [As long as they find it, his admission slot will be canceled immediately!] [Serves this bookworm right for standing in our heartthrob’s way. The proctor is his aunt. He’s doomed today!] The next second, the proctor stormed into the classroom and headed straight for my seat. “Someone has reported you for cheating,” she said sharply. “Empty your pencil case. We’re checking it.” Without a word, I turned the case upside down. A few pens fell onto the desk, but there was no paper. The campus heartthrob’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How is that possible? I–” Before he could finish, a slip of paper covered in answers slid out of his own pocket and dropped onto the floor. What they didn’t know was that I was born with a weird power called “Misfortune Rebound.” Anyone who tried to harm me would end up suffering the consequences themselves.