Plot Twists Ideas

Celeste Cox sent me a photo on WhatsApp. I opened it to find a picture of the school heartthrob and me in an intimate embrace, the pose as suggestive as could be.

After a team building event, my colleague, Matthew Wells, gives me a ride to the company so I can work overtime. That very night, his girlfriend throws a fit and claims I'm a homewrecker who tried to seduce Matthew. She even produces edited photos of us being intimate. The company's management speaks to Matthew and me—he claims I regularly harass him and pushes the blame on me. The management labels me as a troublemaker and fires me. My apprentice tries to speak up for me but gets bullied and sidelined. Ultimately, she quits out of depression. I charge over to the company to seek justice for my apprentice but accidentally get pushed down a staircase during an argument. I land with my head on the ground and die on the spot. When I open my eyes again, I'm reborn and taken back to when Matthew's girlfriend starts throwing a fit.

To pay off my student loans, I started doing spicy streams online. I never thought I'd actually blow up. Every night, my audience floods the chat, fawning over my face and my body. I love the attention, and I work hard to give them what they want. Until I was dropped into a horror game. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a rotting corpse. And for some reason, my livestream was still running. When the game’s Boss told us all to pick a weapon to die by. The other players all chose to die of old age, or peacefully in their sleep like a baby. I turned my phone to face the boss. "My fans think you're hot," I stammered. "They want me to be killed by... well, by the weapon between your legs. They said 'deeply.' Is that... an option?" The other players whispered among themselves. “This woman must have a death wish.” “Just watch. The Boss is about to tear her to shreds.” But no one expected the Boss to blush.

After the video exposing my sister Issa Acosta’s plot against me was revealed, my parents and my fiancé, Henry Nolan, stood firmly by my side, making me feel loved and safe. I confidently handed over all the evidence to them, trusting them to handle it. However, they told me that after Issa was kicked out of the house, she died in a sudden car accident, and I believed them. That was until five years into my marriage, when I accidentally saw Issa—the woman who was supposed to be dead. She was holding a little boy, clinging tightly to Henry’s hand. "Henry, if it weren’t for you and my parents, I’m afraid Zoe would’ve thrown me in prison. Thankfully, my parents destroyed the evidence and even opened a jewelry design studio for me. To avoid suspicion, you even sacrificed your own marriage. Thank you for everything in the past five years.” "Think of it as me atoning to Zoe on your behalf. As long as you and Bear are happy, that’s enough for me." So, what I thought was a happy family was nothing more than a giant lie—a scheme concocted by my parents and Henry. My parents, my husband, and Issa were the real family, and I? I was just the fool who had been deceived for five long years. Whether it was family or love, none of it was real, and I don’t want any of it anymore.

When I'm feeling lost and helpless after being diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, my husband is accompanying another woman for her medical checkup. I don't cry or fuss. Instead, I calmly sign the divorce papers. Later, I die without anyone knowing. Unexpectedly, my husband searches the world for me like a madman.

At the peak of my career, my husband slapped me in public.  With a look of disgust, he said, “Tess, you’re pathetic. You made Grace fail the class because you’re jealous. Don’t you know she’s applying for a scholarship?” Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my stomach as pain surged through me. I knelt there, begging him to take me to the hospital.  However, all he did was swat my hand away and sneer. “Quit the act! Aren’t you just a useless woman who can’t get pregnant?” At that moment, my heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. It wasn’t long before bystanders intervened, insisting on taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the baby. Once the surgery was over and the reality of what had happened sank in, I turned to him and demanded a divorce.

On the day the gynecologist confirmed that I was pregnant, my husband, Austin Jones, pushed me into the operating room to donate blood to save his first love. Feeling frail after the blood transfusion, I almost fainted in front of Austin. However, he pushed me away and went to take care of his first love. Furthermore, he hung up on all my phone calls and stayed with his first love all night on the day I miscarried. Time after time, I was met with disappointment. When I finally decided that I had enough of his mistreatment and no longer wanted to love him, he panicked and begged me to give him another chance.

When my husband told me to go bungee jumping, I did not scream. I did not cause a scene. I just nodded and said, "Okay." Keep in mind, I was eight months pregnant. I only agreed because I had already lived through this nightmare once before. In my past life, his precious childhood best friend, Lily Lane, had been feeling down. My husband, desperate to be her hero, told her he would make her one wish come true. Her wish? She wanted a partner to go bungee jumping with. My husband was terrified of heights, so he could not do it himself. Instead, he volunteered me. I refused on the spot, obviously. I told them I was not going to strap a harness over a baby bump and jump off a bridge. Lily got upset because I would not go. She went to a bar to drown her sorrows, and things went terribly wrong. Someone spiked her drink, and she was assaulted. She could not handle the trauma. She left a suicide note for my husband that read: "If I hadn't gone to the bar that night, would everything be different?" When my husband read that note, he snapped. He wrapped his hands around my throat. "Why didn't you just go with her?" he screamed, squeezing tighter. "Would it have killed you to just say yes?" He strangled me until everything went black. My unborn baby died with me. However, then, my eyes snapped open. I was back. I was standing right there in the moment my husband was asking me to jump.

When James Chapman and I first got together, I was a regular student while he was one of the most popular guys in school. Five years down the road, I'm still a regular woman. James' attitude toward me has changed drastically, though. He frequently complains about my appearance. I know it's because his true love is back in the country. He misses our fifth anniversary because of her. His true love makes fun of me for being ugly to his face, so he orders me to get cosmetic surgery at her newly opened clinic. He wants me to use my fanbase to make her business boom. "You're so ugly that you'd be the perfect person to prove Barbara's skills… if she can actually make you look better, that is. We're all friends, aren't we? What's wrong with lending her a hand? Stop being so petty!" Barbara Simpson kills me—I die on the operating table in her inhumane clinic. James thinks I go missing because I'm just throwing a tantrum, but he realizes he's wrong when he finds my mangled body in the basement. The diamond ring he put on my finger is still there, too.

Everyone knew I was hopelessly in love with Hendrick Sam, willing to sacrifice my dignity for him. In the two years we were together, he would drop everything and leave me in the hospital whenever his “one true love” called. People mocked me, saying, “Chloe, you must really enjoy being a doormat.” I just smiled and stayed silent. Later, when he was on his deathbed, he asked, “Chloe, did you ever really love me?” I turned my back on him. Because it was never him I loved, it was his heart.