Sam Witwicky Death Novels & Stories

Rivergate's most elite social circle had always shared an unspoken rule. Men were free to play the field as they pleased, drifting from one woman to the next. Women, on the other hand, were only allowed a single, discreet indulgence on the day they came of age—a privately hired "life assistant" meant to take care of their physical needs. … On my coming-of-age day, I picked Elliot at first glance from a hundred applicants who came in for interviews. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looked composed and restrained, and carried himself with a calm maturity that set him apart. He was steady, meticulous, and obsessively clean. The only condition he agreed to was that there would be no bodily contact—hands only. And after every encounter, he would scrub his hands with disinfectant alcohol a hundred times. Over five years, the empty bottles alone were enough to circle the villa seven times. I used to think that one day, I'd help him overcome his barriers and truly make him mine. That illusion shattered the night I got drunk and accidentally wandered into Elliot's room. Hidden beneath his pillow was a DV camera, and inside were several videos of him pleasuring himself. On the screen, the same man who had always been calm and rational with me was staring at the lingerie of the adopted sister who had caused my mother's death, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned her name, "Chloe… I love you…" Only then did I realize that every step he had taken toward me had never been about me at all. It had always been a carefully concealed, long-nurtured love for her. So, it was very odd that he cried when I took my adopted sister's place in marrying someone else.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

Dee Samuels goes through things no one should. After discovering betrayal by her criminal husband, she chooses revenge to punish him and those he surrounds himself with.

They're said to be the spirits of unearthly beautiful women. So beautiful, the men who get a sight of them fall in love and die. So beautiful, women get insane and commit suicide, unable to comprehend the existence of women so celestial. Their voices pour like honey in your ears, leading you to your doom. Their dance is a blessing for your eyes and is the last thing you will see. All places and characters in the story are pure fiction, work of the author. Any resemblance to real places and events is a strong coincidence. One thing is not fiction, though. Beware of the woods the next time you go. If you hear the melodic laughter and the tender singing somewhere far in the distance, hidden in the darkness of the night, know to run. Leave immediately, or know you'll be their next victim.

When I head over to my daughter, Hannah Westfield's place for dinner during Christmas Eve, I specifically wear a wool coat for the occasion. Unexpectedly, when Hannah sees me, she pushes me out of the front door instantly. "Mom, why must you buy the same coat as my mother-in-law did? Don't you know that she hates it when others imitate her? Hurry up and take off the coat before she sees you!" Meanwhile, my son-in-law, Thomas Clifford, digs out an old coat and puts it on me. "Mom, there are many relatives visiting our house today. Please spare my mom her pride and don't steal her thunder, okay?" Seeing how sincere Thomas looks, I decide to yield. But as soon as I take my seat, Giselle Johnson chortles in amusement as she stares at the old coat I'm wearing. "Oh Fiona, if you like my clothes, you could've just said so, and I'd give it to you. It's bad if you just steal my old coat from me and wear it, you know? Besides, don't you know that those who imitate always do a bad job at it?" Furious, I'm about to up and leave when Giselle grabs the coat and blocks my way. "I placed two money envelopes in the coat pockets a few days ago. There are 20 thousand dollars in there. Why are they gone after you've worn it? "I don't mind you wearing my coat behind my back, but you must return the money to me right now!"

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

"Tell me you don’t feel the same way," Xavier murmured, his dark eyes locked on mine. "Tell me you don’t feel your heart racing every time you see me. Tell me you don’t think about me for hours, imagining things… imagining me touching you. Tell me you don’t feel jealous when you see me with another girl who isn’t you." He stepped closer, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. "Tell me, Princess," he whispered. My throat went dry. My words stuttered. "I… I don’t feel anything for you," I barely managed. "You're such a terrible liar," he said, his grin darkening. ••• Everything changed the night my father died. Six months later, my mother’s whirlwind engagement brought me here — to his mansion, to his world, to him. Xavier Knight: arrogant, reckless and rebellious. The one person I shouldn’t want. The one person I can’t stop noticing. He’s not supposed to be mine. I’m not supposed to want him. And yet… every glance, every word, every heartbeat pulls me closer to danger.

Mark Carlson and I had been a secret couple for three years. He was nothing but my boss at work. But at home, he treated me however he pleased, with no regard for my feelings. One day, I noticed him researching marriage. My heart leapt with joy. I prepared my proof of identity and other relevant documents, thinking he was finally ready, but he went to the marriage registration office with another woman. "You're married now. You should clean up things at home quickly,” one of his friends said, grinning. "Yeah, I should. But honestly, she does not have to leave entirely,” Mark replied with a smirk. I watched as everyone laughed, their faces filled with delight. Tears streamed down my face as I turned away. I pulled out my phone and called my childhood friend, Andy Selton. "You wanted to marry me, didn't you?” I asked, my voice trembling. Later, two weddings were held on the same day. Mark's face filled with regret as he stared at my wedding photo with Andy. In the middle of his ceremony, he left his bride behind and drove to find me. But by then, I was already married to my husband!

There was a ten-year gap between me and my sister-in-law, but we got along surprisingly well, especially given that we were both in an absurdly rich family. Then, one day, she came to me, bawling and clutching a photo in her hand. "Your brother is cheating on me! He has a family somewhere else! For more than ten years! I'm getting a divorce!" Crying, I showed her a message I got from my husband's mistress. "That bastard Christopher has a mistress! I'm leaving this home!"

Someone has left a message in the parents' group chat. "Whose child is this? The teacher has given her a really brutal beating!" When I tap on the video, I realize that my daughter, Hazel York, is the one getting beaten up by her teacher with a metal rod. Enraged, I rush to the school immediately. That teacher, Elise White, still has the gall to act all arrogant at the school gate. "So what if I'm the one beating her up? That filthy bitch has the guts to tell me that the gift my husband has given me is the gift meant for her mistress mom! "My gift is the one and only item that exists in this world! No amount of money can buy this gift!" As Elise speaks, she reveals a decoration made of building blocks smugly. My company's logo is printed on it. But this is the birthday gift I've given to Hazel! I call my secretary on the spot. "Freeze all of Chester's bank cards and deliver the divorce agreement to him. How dare that live-in son-in-law find himself a mistress! It seems that he truly has a death wish!"