Misaki Stairs Novels & Stories

When I'm three months pregnant, I fall down the stairs at home and end up losing my unborn baby. Since then, I'm immersed in the sorrow of losing my baby. On top of that, I hate myself for being careless during my pregnancy. But my husband, Domenico Ferrante, doesn't blame me at all. Instead, he keeps staying by my side and taking good care of me. "Honey, we'll still have another baby in the future. Don't be sad, okay?" I thought I married my true love. But on the day I get discharged, I overhear a conversation between Domenico and his Underboss, Rocco Carini. "Have you cleaned up the oil spill at the stairway? Nadia is about to get discharged. Don't let her discover the truth." After Rocco makes all arrangements, he hesitates for a moment before telling Domenico, "Don Ferrante, if the Donna ever finds out that you're the one behind her miscarriage, she will never forgive you." Domenico falls silent for a moment. Then, he replies casually, "I will never let Nadia find out the truth. Valentina has finally gotten pregnant after so long—I won't let anyone threaten her child's inheritance right. This is the vow I've made to Valentina in the past. "As for Nadia, she will always be my wife even if she doesn't have a child." It turns out that this isn't an accident. My own husband actually makes me miscarry our child just for the sake of another woman. Heartbroken, I call my older brother, Alessio Nucci. "Alessio, Domenico has killed my child. I want to divorce him and leave him forever." After a moment of silence, Alessio says in a cold, harsh tone, "Fake your death, then. Only after you've completely vanished from this world can Domenico forever live in the pain of not being able to find you ever again."

My husband's adopted younger sister, Shannon Carter, is a food vlogger. When she was recording a video at a restaurant, not only did she demand the customers stay silent, but she also impersonated me when she began insulting everyone else. "Shut up, you poor freaks! Especially you, kid! I'm Rina, a YouTuber with over tens of millions of fans! One of my live streams alone earns me more than whatever you can earn in a lifetime! Can you even pay me enough to compensate me for the disturbance you've caused me?" In my previous life, Shannon told me that she wanted to become a YouTuber as well, so she borrowed my smurf account from me and tried exploring restaurants on her own. But she impersonated me right away and lashed out at the family sitting at the next table just because they were laughing a little too loudly. In the heat of the moment, she even got into a physical brawl with them. As a result, Shannon shoved the little girl down the stairs, causing the latter to crash her head. That poor girl ended up suffering from permanent blindness. Shannon tossed 5,000 dollars in the ER arrogantly. "Impoverished bastards like that girl will only grow up as drug addicts or prostitutes. So what if she goes blind? She has no future anyway!" The girl's family couldn't take it anymore. They rallied their entire clan and came to my company. There, they had me completely surrounded. "That Rina influencer is right here! She's the one who caused my daughter to go blind!" In the end, the family pushed me down the stairs. Since that wasn't enough for them, they vented their anger on me by hacking me to death with their weapons. As for Shannon, not only did she inherit my YouTube account, but she also married Mark Tanner, my husband. Every day, she got to spend my assets as much as she wanted. Only then did I finally realize that this was their scheme all along.

I am the wife of Anthony Caster, don of the mafia family in New York. When I was nine months pregnant, he brought a woman named Evelyn Graves into the manor, claiming she’d saved his life. That was the day my nightmare began. She put something in my food. Next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain. And she had the nerve to blame it on me—said I was being reckless with what I ate. She lost her footing and fell down the stairs, but she told everyone I was the one who shoved her. Every day, she’d cry in front of Anthony about how saving him had left her wounded and unable to bear children, how seeing a pregnant woman broke her heart. But the moment she turned to me, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold smile. “As long as I’m here,” she whispered, “your babies will never be born.” Anthony was convinced I was jealous of her. He locked me away in the abandoned attic of the manor and said, “Reflect on your actions and stop bullying Evelyn.” On the first day they shut me in, the contractions began. I screamed, I begged, I banged on the door. The butler heard me and went to inform Anthony. He said, “Amelia, your due date is three days away. Stop putting on an act. Three days in a snowstorm and you came out fine. This? You can handle this.” On the second day, my water broke. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingernails digging into the cracks of the wall, blood spilling all over the floor. The butler went to Anthony again. Evelyn said, “Anthony, she’s making all that noise because she wants you to feel sorry for her and let her out. If you give in now, she’ll only grow more reckless later.” He believed her. On the third day, I stopped screaming. Anthony thought I had finally learned my lesson, unaware that I had already died from the difficult labor. When he finally opened that door, all he would find was my rotting, putrid body.

While I'm waiting for my wife, Anna Fulton, I happen to come across a popular post on social media that's posted by someone who lives in the same city as I do. "What should I do if my husband clings to me too much?" Among the comments that make fun of the original poster for flaunting her happy marriage on the Internet, the lengthy comment left by a masculine ID attracts my attention. "You gotta pretend to be ditzy and dumb. My childhood friend was forced to marry the man she doesn't love, so I suggested to her that she should pretend to be a directionally-challenged idiot. She kept up that facade for five years so far. "After that, her mother-in-law kept urging her to give birth to a baby. So, she secretly coated the stairs with grease, leading to her husband falling down the stairs. When she drove him to the hospital, she pretended to lose her way and drove a few laps around the suburban area. In the end, her husband could never get his manhood up ever again because the treatment got delayed. "Her mother-in-law thought it was an accident. She was afraid that my childhood friend might abandon her husband, so she bought her a house and a car. You have no idea how much that mother-in-law sucked up to her! "Today is her husband's professor selection day. She even suggested to him that she'd drive him to the campus. But the truth is, she plans on pretending to lose her way in the traffic just to drag the time out so that I can replace him in the selection. "Once her husband fails the selection, she'll use the opportunity to convince him to resign from his job. He's already a loser, to begin with. Once he loses his job, she'll have a valid reason to divorce him once and for all." The familiar experience makes my heart skip a beat. Before I can ruminate about the details, I hear Anna's guilt-ridden voice drifting into my ear. "I think I'm lost, Claude. Surely you can make it to the selection on time, right?"

On the eve of the SAT exam, I caught a flu and became feverish, and developed a throat infection. My boyfriend's childhood friend, Wendy Cooper, accompanied me to the hospital so that I could receive an IV treatment there. I specifically told Wendy to let the doctor know that I was allergic to penicillin. Once my IV drip was ready, I raised my head to see the word "penicillin" labeled on the medicinal drip bag. Enraged, I summoned a doctor to remove the needle from my arm. At the same time, I demanded angrily, "I'm allergic to penicillin, so why did you still prescribe it to me?" The doctor frowned deeply at Wendy immediately. "Miss, your friend was the one who told us to prescribe you penicillin. She claims that you'll be able to make a quick recovery and that you'll be able to attend the exam without a hitch tomorrow." Wendy looked at me in an aggrieved manner. "I'm so sorry, Yvonne. I just wanted you to get well as soon as possible so that your performance on the exam won't get affected at all. This is all my fault. I'm so stupid that I can't even do one little thing right…" I let out a sigh before telling Wendy to be more careful next time. In order to show how apologetic she was, Wendy offered to pack up the stuff I needed for the SAT exam. In the middle of the exam, when I was filling in the answer sheet, a balled-up note suddenly rolled out of my pencil case. Someone reported me for cheating on the spot. When the invigilator unwrapped the note, he found out that it was completely filled with answers. I was labeled as a cheater on the spot and got kicked out of the exam venue. Because of the severity of this issue, I'd be facing jail time. I turned to glare at Wendy furiously and demanded why she wanted to harm me. But Wendy just rushed into my boyfriend, Christian Shepherd's arms while crying at the top of her lungs. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Yvonne!" Even Christian gave his testimony that I was the one who had prepared the note in an attempt to cheat on the exam. When I tried to drag Wendy over to the police station to have her penmanship tested, she pushed me down the stairs, resulting in my death. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the SAT exam starts.