Summer Novels Novels & Stories

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband came home with a woman who was six months pregnant. He introduced her as his cousin, someone who had fallen on hard times, and asked me to take care of her. I was just about to agree when fragments of imaginary commentary floated through my mind: [She's just my 'cousin'. Uh-uh, that's a cliche.] [Poor supporting female character! A maid by day, the husband's bedwarmer by night.] [But she totally deserved it! If she hadn't broken up the main couple, they'd have a whole soccer team of kids by now!] Wait—what? Supporting female character? Me? And what's this about breaking them up? So now these two get to cheat under my roof, and somehow I'm the villain? Before I could process it all, my husband was already dragging her luggage inside. "Alice doesn't like fried food," he said matter-of-factly. "And nothing too salty or spicy. Make sure you keep that in mind when you're cooking. "Oh, and pregnant women love sweets. Go out now and buy a cherry cake. The one from that bakery in the suburbs."

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

I was working overtime at the mall on New Year's Eve, only to witness my boyfriend proposing to the broke student, whose scholarship was funded by my family, on the biggest screen in the place. I was about to step forward and confront him when she, with tears in her eyes, accepted the proposal. "Being confessed to in my family’s own estate… is so romantic and meaningful. Thank you for loving me so wholeheartedly for five years." As soon as those words left her mouth, the two embraced, sharing a deep kiss amidst the cheering crowd. They even won the "Best Couple" award for the night. I didn’t cry or make a scene. Instead, I volunteered to present them with their prize. I couldn’t wait to see what fate had in store for two pieces of trash standing together.

Jason Reed had been my boyfriend for seven years. He suddenly disappeared, and the last place I was able to trace him was Melvaris. That night, I received a video call. In it, a man holding an electric baton yelled, “Bring 50 million dollars as ransom to the industrial zone. Otherwise, don’t expect him to return alive.” Jason was beside the man. He was covered in blood. He pleaded desperately, “Clara! Save me! They promise to let me go if we give them the money!” Without thinking twice, I did as I was told. However, when I arrived, I was drugged and knocked unconscious. In the end, I was tortured to death. What hurt the most was not that. Jason took one-third of the ransom I had prepared. Then, he returned to Caldovia and married Hannah Blake, the student who had received financial assistance from my family. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day he went missing.

After my husband's car accident, I did a checkup and found out he had a malignant brain tumor. Instead of telling him right away, I stuck the report in my bag, planning to wait for the right moment. Guess what? He found it first—and thought I was the one with the tumor. A few days later, I overheard him in his office, laughing with a buddy: "My wife? No looks, no figure, just money—and now she's got a brain tumor. Talk about a win for me. If Rainee hadn't gone abroad, I'd never have married her. Bad luck, huh? At least I dodged the kid bullet. Once she's gone, I get everything." Then he pulled the amnesia card, blamed it on the accident, and started treating Rainee like his wife. He even welcomed her into our house. I smiled and said, "Nathan, let's get a divorce."

On our wedding anniversary, my husband has his intern put on the custom-made wedding gown he prepared for me. "You wouldn't have looked good in a wedding gown with your baby bump, anyway. She's saving us trouble by wearing the gown for you. Think about how kind she is!" Before I can rebuke him, an earthquake happens. I lose my balance and fall to the floor. Instantly, I feel moisture on my legs. At the same time, my husband received a call from his intern. "There are so many frogs here, Mr. Quinn. I'm so scared…" My husband turns to leave, but I grab his pant leg. "Ethan, I—" "It's just a minor earthquake—the ground barely even shook. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Didn't you hear Chloe crying because she was so scared? Can't you be sympathetic?" He ignores the blood pooling around me and hurries off to comfort Chloe Bennett. That night, they share a passionate kiss under a sky full of fireworks. Meanwhile, my child dies in my belly. It's a pretty good way to end things. Someone like Ethan Quinn doesn't deserve to have his own children.

My four-year-old son dies after someone crashes into him with a motorcycle. The culprit is a college freshman who's just been admitted. I'm devastated, but my husband generously forgives her. "We have to give her a chance since she's such an outstanding student. She's still young—we can't ruin her future." Ha. She has plenty of opportunities and a bright future ahead of her. What about my son? He was only four. Later, I rip his letter of forgiveness to pieces before his face. He wants me to forgive the young lady? No way in hell!

I use a full decade just to be able to stand by Claude Thorne's side as an equal. In the past, I used to be an outsider who was often ignored by others, but slowly, I've transformed into Claude's most trusted Beta as well as the future Luna. But I decide to leave Claude one month before the Luna coronation ceremony is set to begin. It's because Claude has personally placed the Luna crown, which is supposed to be mine, onto Victoria Grimm's head instead. "It's just a crown. Victoria doesn't have anyone left in this world. What's wrong with letting her wear it? You're the future Luna, so you must be more magnanimous." I never bothered crying or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I've secretly dissolved the mate bond between Claude and me. Just like that, I've graciously given away the position as Claude's mate to Victoria magnanimously, like the way Claude wants me to be. But he goes nuts instead. He tracks me all the way to the human society in an attempt to patch things up with me. But what he doesn't expect to see is Silas Wulfric, the legendary Alpha King, getting down on one knee in front of me. "Heather, since that blind fool is incapable of crowning you as his Luna, allow me to make you the Luna Queen."

At the class reunion, Grace Sullivan grabs me and tears into me with vicious lies. "She's an exiled Rogue who slept her way to the top with the director, Damian Pierce! My father's bed at the clinic? She spread her legs for it!" She slaps me across the face, rallying others to join the beating. Finally, she stomps down hard on my hand, the one gripping the scalpel, crushing the bones. Ethan Carter just stands there watching, cold and unmoved. He doesn't lift a finger to stop her. The pain sends tremors through my entire body, but I scream right back at her. "You're just jealous that I'm the better healer, that Ethan chose me over you, so you made up filthy lies to destroy me! "I'm a healer. Right now, your father is dying, and I'm the one who can save him. You want to stop me? Then get ready to plan his funeral." That's when my father, Damian, storms in and roars the truth for everyone to hear. "She's my daughter! Everything she has, she earned!" With my shattered hand, I push through the pain and charge into the operating room anyway. I'm not just saving a life tonight. I'm making sure the liar and the traitor both pay the price they deserve.

At the afterparty, my daughter, Mia Volpe, suffers from a sudden asthma attack. She collapses to the carpeted floor and goes through a seizure on the spot. But my Capo husband, Lorenzo Volpe, wraps an arm around his secretary, Sophia Bianchi, while watching Mia suffer before his eyes. Sophia had once shown him a forged paternity test of Mia and him. As such, he firmly believes that Mia is the bastard child of me and a Soldato. When Mia tries to reach out for Lorenzo, her complexion already bluish-purple from suffocation, he merely averts his gaze with a disgusted look on his face. "Daddy… S-Save… me…" I look everywhere for Mia's inhaler like a madwoman, only to realize that it's already empty. Sophia covers her mouth while tittering softly. "Dear me, Mia sure has an affinity for acting! Elena, I can't believe you and your daughter are willing to go to such lengths just to get Lorenzo to pay attention to you! "Since Mia likes acting that much, she might as well make the performance perfect." She lifts a high-heeled foot before crushing Mia's fingers, which were attempting to curl around Lorenzo's pant leg. Poor Mia was in so much pain, yet she couldn't let out a single sound. All she could do was scream silently into the void with her mouth wide open. I kneeled on the floor, my forehead already bleeding from smashing it against the floor repeatedly. "Lorenzo Volpe, Mia is your flesh and blood! Please, I'm begging you! Give me some medicine or call a doctor!" But Lorenzo just looks at me coldly, as though he's looking at trash. "A bastard like her is better off dead. Elena Corleone, stop using such underhanded methods to spoil everyone's mood." At that moment, what little love I still harbor for this man completely dissipates as I feel Mia's heartbeat gradually weaken. I no longer beg him for help. With trembling hands, I press the button on the emergency transmitter that I've sworn I'd never touch. That transmitter is the direct line to the highest authority in Smeraldia—my father, Don Vito Corleone.