Nietzsche Photos Novels & Stories

I was locked in a fridge for 40 days while the uncensored photos of me spread like wildfire across the internet. In the face of the salacious rumors about me, my mother reacted by reposting them. Then, she turned to warn my sister, "Look at how disgusting the entertainment industry is. Don't join it, alright? Stay home and inherit your sister's assets instead. My dearest daughter must be innocent and pure, unlike her." She forgot. She forgot I only joined this 'disgusting' industry to pay for her cancer treatment.

At three in the morning, the class monitor, Hayden Clark, suddenly posted a message in the group chat announcing that the graduation photos would be taken the morning after next. He then sent a payment QR code in the chat, where each student had to pay 50 dollars for the graduation photos. I told Hayden that I had my thesis defense scheduled for the morning after next and asked if the time could be changed. He immediately snapped back at me, “Is your time the only time that matters? If you can’t come, then get lost!” Wanting to keep the peace, I paid the money and went through great trouble to rearrange my schedule. But when the day for the photos finally arrived, Corin Vale told me, “The graduation photos were already taken yesterday!”

On the day my husband, Martin Clark, took wedding photos with his secretary, I didn't cause a massive scene like I used to. Instead, I personally went to help them pick out the best shots. I even had the photos framed and hung them right in the living room for every visiting guest to see. Rumors spread like wildfire among the families of Sicilana that I was the most powerless donna, allowing any mistress or side-chick to climb over my head. I simply smiled and said nothing. Half a month later, Martin explained to me, "The photos were just a birthday wish of hers." I nodded obediently. "Okay." In my past life, the moment I saw those photos, I rushed right in front of Martin and threw a huge fit, even posting all of his explicit cheating photos onto social media. To punish me, Martin deliberately sabotaged my father’s shipping lines, causing our family to suffer devastating losses. Using the excuse that I was mentally ill, he sent me to a psychiatric hospital, where I was controlled with drugs and died within a few years. Now that I have a second chance, I won't harbor a single shred of love for Martin. I only want money! Every single time he has an affair, I will divert another one of the Clark family's shipping lines away. Right now, there are only three lines left. One more mistress, and the Clark family will be turned into an empty shell.

After taking our graduation photo, I break up with Philip Lutz. "You're doing this just because I stood behind Mandy and not you while we were taking our graduation photos?" he asks. "Yes," I merely reply. "Sure," he says with a smile. "You'd better not come crying to me or begging for us to get back together later." Having known each other for ten years and dated for four, Philip is certain that I'll never leave him. However, he's unaware that the graduation photos are just an excuse. If I'm capable of taking my graduation photos alone, I can walk my future path alone. Once I've gone abroad, the sky's the limit for me. I no longer need him to stand behind me either.

Morgan Olsen was the most popular girl at Oxnard University—the kind that countless guys secretly admired. That was until one day, when her private photos suddenly exploded across the campus forum. Overnight, her reputation was destroyed. Her guaranteed recommendation for graduate school was revoked, and even when she walked across campus, strangers openly asked her, “So how much for one night?” The photos spread like wildfire, and only one person had them—her boyfriend, Dean Lyon. Completely shattered, Morgan ran to find him, desperate to demand an explanation. However, just as she was about to push the door open, she heard one of Dean’s friends laughing. “Dean, that move was ruthless. The moment those private photos dropped, Morgan’s reputation was gone, and her grad offer was gone too. Let’s see if she dares to compete with Hazel for anything ever again.”

A cunning social media app gets launched in the summer. All posts required photos, but all photos would be unedited. No caption-less posts, no comments, no friends, no group chats. There were only secret chats. The app's name – Gossip. It is almost an obligation for Erric Lin, an online-famous but shut-in socialite from Singapore, to enter Gossip. And Gossip seems lowkey enough for Mea Cristy Del Bien, a college all-around socialite with zero online presence. The two opposites attempt to have a quiet summer vacation with their squads, watching Mayon Volcano in Albay. But having to stay at the same hotel made it inevitable for them to meet, and eventually, inevitable to be gossiped about.

I receive a mysterious parcel on my fifth wedding anniversary. Inside the box are photos of my husband, Luke Madden, being intimate with his assistant. The photos go back a long time—they seem to start from over five years ago. The latest one was taken half a month ago. He, his assistant, and their daughter are playing by the seaside. They smile brightly in the photo and look like a happy family of three. I suppress my devastation and take medication to terminate my pregnancy. Then, I pull out my phone to text my mother. "I'll do as you say and get a divorce, Mom. I'll be back next month to take over the company."

I rush into work this morning and accidentally send the car photos meant for the dealership into the medical intern group chat. The new intern snaps at me. "Dr. Tyson, why are you sending me pictures of my car? Are you jealous and trying to steal attention?" I stop short and ask if she has mixed things up, because the car is mine. She fires back with a whole stack of photos of herself driving a G-class with one hand, plus videos to prove the car in my picture belongs to her. She even tacks on a snide little jab. "You're a shameless, broke wannabe. You want any spotlight you can grab. You think a picture of a car is going to make you the lady of the Reed family?" I frown and turn to my husband, Jackson Reed. "Since when does the Reed family have a second lady of the house?"

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

I accidentally sent some intimate photos to my father-in-law and ended up getting entangled in a scandal. “Honey, who’s that man on top of you?” Faced with my husband’s accusatory questions, I looked away, unable to say a word…