Realism Novels & Stories

Outside the ER, a woman clad in luxury brands is in the middle of lashing out hysterically at a camera. "That stupid deliveryman is the one responsible for crashing my two-million-dollar Porsche! He even tried to steal my Hermès bag that was inside in the car! When I caught him red-handed, he tried to assault me, too! "If he doesn't pay me 500 thousand dollars today, I'll make sure that he spends the rest of his life in jail!" As soon as the woman is done, she collapses to the floor while clutching her chest. Obviously, she's faking her collapse. How can a mother this vile possibly exist in this world? Half an hour ago, that woman has locked her three-year-old son up in her car—that's exposed under the bright sun—just so she can go to a beauty spa for cosmetic procedures. In order to save the dying child, I have no choice but to smash the window. But that woman now paints me as the bad guy in this situation and insists on ruining my life. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't notice the action camera on my helmet.

"What even are the specs on this thing?" My coworker Zack slid it back across the desk, frowning hard. I was still fixing a design draft and barely looked up. "Latest model. Core Ultra 9, RTX 5090, 128 gigs of RAM. Why?" "No shot." Zack shook his head. "I opened Photoshop and it froze for, like, three minutes straight. My busted three-year-old laptop runs better than this. And look." He tapped the bottom panel. "There are screwdriver marks back here. Looks like somebody opened it up and slapped it back together." My chest tightened. I grabbed the laptop and flipped it over. Two fresh scratches sat near the vent. The edges looked like they'd been pried up. I went still. Three months ago, when my cousin borrowed it, the laptop had been perfectly fine.

Someone suddenly tags me in a parents' group chat. "Hey Madison, I notice that the lunch boxes you've prepared for your daughter have a nice variety and rich in nutrients. Why don't you prepare the same thing for my son starting from tomorrow onward? "I'm not going to leech off you. In fact, I'll pay you ten dollars per day. When it stacks up, you'll earn quite a lot per month." As I stare at the messages on the screen, I find the situation rather ridiculous. My daughter, Sophie Reed, is extremely picky, not to mention she has food allergies. All of the ingredients of her meals are flown in from their places of origin. That means one meal's net price is more than 500 dollars. Yet now, someone intends to use ten dollars just for me to replicate the same meal for them? I reply right away in the group chat, "No way." Unexpectedly, the next day, Sophie is in tears when she returns from the kindergarten. She tells me that her lunch box has gotten snatched by a fellow classmate. On top of that, the teacher scolds her for being selfish as well. Fine. Since those shameless people intend to take advantage of me, don't blame me for being ruthless at all.

The fake daughter only sneezed. My three brothers reacted as if she were on her deathbed, crowding around her anxiously and refusing to let her out of their sight. So when she pointed her finger at me again, insisting I had shoved her into the pool, they accepted her story without a second thought. They hauled me to a deserted walk-in freezer, sealed the door behind me at -58°F, and made sure the only escape was out of reach. I screamed for my oldest brother, the CEO, to let me out. He called me a cruel attention seeker. I begged my second brother, the doctor. He told me I finally got what I deserved. I begged my third brother, the big-shot attorney. He just sneered. "You've always been jealous of Chloe. Now you pushed her into the pool when you knew she was fragile? You really are rotten. Someone like you needs to stay in there and cool off." Then, they bundled Chloe into their arms and rushed her to the hospital over a sneeze. Bit by bit, warmth seeped from my body, until it seemed like ice was flowing through my veins instead of blood. After thirty-six hours, I slipped away, lost to the cold. Three days later, Chloe returned from the hospital, and only then did my brothers remember I existed. But by then, the freezer had already claimed me.

“Three hundred dollars for rent just went through. Thanks, Claire.” A text popped up on Claire’s phone from a contact saved as “Mark.” I grabbed the phone before she could react and froze. “Rent?” I asked. “You’ve been telling me every month that money was from your side job.” Her face went stiff. She reached for the phone, trying to take it back. “He was my sister Emily’s husband,” Claire said quickly. “After Emily died, he was left with two kids. I was only trying to help.” My hand brushed against the anniversary gift in my pocket, and something inside me went cold. “Which apartment is he paying rent for?” Her lips parted, but it took her a long time to answer. When she finally did, she gave me the name of a neighborhood. My ears rang. It was the downtown apartment my parents had left me. A spacious unit that could rent for ten thousand a month at market rate. And she had leased it to her widowed brother-in-law for the absurdly low price of three hundred dollars.

On the day I'm found to be a compatible donor for my mom, who's suffering from late-stage leukemia, I run away from home. Dad keeps looking everywhere for me. But in the end, he has to watch Mom die in despair. Later on, Dad focuses on his research in leukemia, which brings him huge success. On top of that, he even adopts an understanding and capable young man as his own son. When we eventually meet again, it's at a research meeting about leukemia that's hosted by Dad. As he stares at my body on the table, he can't help but chuckle icily. "Julian Rivers, this isn't a place where you can screw around. Get up and get lost right now!" The host just stares at Dad, completely stunned. "You know the identity of this corpse, Dr. Rivers?" Dad flashes him a mocking smile. "How much did Julian pay you just to go along with the act, huh?" The poor host doesn't know what to do. "But Dr. Rivers, Mr. Julian Rivers already died three days ago…"

I've worked with my wife, Naomi Prescott, for seven long years. Yet, she refuses to make my identity public in the company. Naomi claims that she's worried that the entire company might think of me as a man who relies on his partner. Believing her excuse, I stick to myself and keep a low profile all this time. But on the day my project team secures a ten-million-dollar business deal, Naomi is quick to make me give the credit to her childhood friend, Matthias Crowell. When faced with my questions, Naomi retorts in a matter-of-fact tone, "Matt is new to the company. Can't a veteran employee like you take care of him at work?" I'm furious, to say the least. "What if I say no?" Naomi throws a resignation letter at my face. "Well then, you can pack up and get lost, you pathetic loser!" I pack my belongings calmly and leave the company afterward. Three days later, Naomi's company is on the brink of bankruptcy. She sobs loudly as she begs me to return with her. I produce a business card and give it to her. "Sorry, but I prefer being the boss of my own company. It so happens that my company still needs a janitor. I suppose I can reserve that position for you, seeing as we used to be married and all."

At the company's year-end party, I'm about to get on the stage and give away the awards when I suddenly overhear two employees gossiping behind my back. "Hurry! It'd be awful to miss out on the scene where the legitimate wife gives the biggest award away to the mistress!" "I've already hated that Raven crone for the longest time! Winnie really is smart for pulling this trick!" Oh? Do they intend to watch me humiliate myself in public? My lips curl into a cold smirk as I accept the microphone and get onto the stage. Winnie Lane, the secretary of my husband, Fred Colson, shoots me a taunting and mocking look right away from her spot beneath the stage. I know that she's waiting to watch me make a fool out of myself. I also know that the receiver of the best sales performance award with the prize money of a million dollars has already been switched to Winnie. The day before the party, I, the sales champion of the company, suddenly get nominated as the guest who would give away the awards at the party, courtesy of Fred. I thought it was an additional praise meant for the sales department. It turns out that it's just Fred doting on his darling mistress even more than usual. I clear my throat before I slowly unfold the list. "The first award that I'd like to give away is the best…" Before I can finish speaking, Winnie draws to her feet instantly. A sweet smile is already playing on her lips at that moment. "The Best Office Snake Award! And the winner is…"

My brother-in-law, Calum Russell, throws away the expensive New Year's gift that I buy. Putting a hand on my sister's pregnant belly, he tries to drive me out of the house. He says, "I pretended that I didn't know you were adopted because you used to help support the family's finances. But now that the house is about to be demolished, we will get a huge compensation for it. I have to kick you out, or you'll be taking my son's share!" I look at my parents and my sister in confusion, but none of them take my side. They just look at me with disgust and tell me to be grateful that they raised me for so many years. They demand that I sign the adoption termination agreement quickly and get out. I let out a sigh. Suppressing my anger, I sign it and leave. What a pity! If they had waited just a few more minutes, I would have told them that the demolition is fake. But what's real is that I have just won a lottery of 200 million dollars.

My boss, Kyle Brown, had just processed payroll when Sam Jefferson, the trainee I had been mentoring, tossed me his phone. He said, "Can you hold this for me while I use the bathroom?" I took it without thinking, then froze when I saw the screen. That was because a notification had just popped up: [This month's salary has been deposited. Total: $4,692.00.] I had been with this company for eight years, and I only made one thousand dollars a month. When I was hired, Kyle had told me that we were a startup. As long as I worked hard, I would make big money eventually. But over the years, Kyle had traded in one Mercedes after another while my salary kept shrinking. At present, my savings were less than four thousand dollars. I was close to not being able to afford the medical bills for my younger sister, Eva Rivers, who was very sick and bedridden. Meanwhile, the trainee I was mentoring made close to four thousand seven hundred dollars a month. I stayed quiet for a moment, then turned and asked the employee beside me how much he made. He stammered for a long time and would not answer. I understood it then. I picked up my phone and opened the recruitment message a competitor had sent me a few days earlier.