Twisted Emotions Novels & Stories

I'm severely allergic to many things, so my husband buys a separate villa for me. It's supposed to be sort of a nursing home. When my future daughter-in-law learns about this, she thinks my son is cheating on her. She breaks my bones to vent her anger. When she finds out I'm her future mother-in-law, she caresses her belly and looks at me smugly. "I'm already pregnant with Shawn's child. Think about whether you want this child to make it into this world." What she doesn't know is that the Ziegler family's fortune belongs to me and that Shawn Ziegler is only my adoptive son.

My mother claims my husband has cheated on me and pushes me to get a divorce. I want to collect evidence before proceeding with anything—if it's true, I have to uphold my rights. Yet she causes a scene at an art exhibition I've worked on for three years, humiliating me in public and making me sound like a gold digger. "How are you any different from a prostitute when you're holding this dumb exhibition with a man's money? I didn't raise you to be a gold digger! How can you be so revolting?" She slashes the million-dollar paintings in the exhibition, claiming that she's doing this for my good. She wants me to see the error of my ways and return to the right path. Meanwhile, I clutch my bloody hand, which she slashed with her blade. I say, "You say you want me to return to the right path, but is that what it really is? You want me to divorce my legally wedded husband, who's a CEO, without a penny to my name. "Then, you want me to marry a 45-year-old cheap man who has a child and no money? He even wants me to support him!"

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

Cory Sullivan, my ten-year-old son, joins a swimming class organized by his school. A bunch of his fellow students end up pinning him to the drain of the swimming pool. I spot the streak of red in the water and completely lose my mind. I immediately dash over to save Cory, but by the time I do, his face has turned swollen and blue from the suction. Blood trickles from his mouth. He's no longer breathing. Andy Webster, the ringleader of the trio who hurt Cory, arrogantly declares that he won't be criminally prosecuted because he's a minor. "So what if I did it? He started getting on my nerves ages ago! Now that he's dead, no one else can compete with me to be the top in our class." Andy's father, Greg Thompson, condescendingly throws me a debit card. "There's 100 thousand dollars in there. That should be enough to make up for your son's worthless life." Outrage, I demand justice, but my wife, Sheryl Lowe, stops me. "Andy's just a kid himself. Are you going to force someone else's kid to lose his freedom just because your own son is dead?" I stop at nothing in the pursuit of justice, but Andy simply gets sent to a juvenile detention center. That's nowhere near enough for me. Eventually, I lose all hope. I lie down at Cory's grave and swallow a bottle of sleeping pills. Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've returned to the day I took Cory to the swimming pool. I immediately drag him off to take him back home before anything happens, but alas, a young boy still ends up losing his life at the pool.

While I was traveling overseas with my family, a sudden flood hit. My fiancé slung my sister Joan over his back because her legs were weak, and ran for safety. My parents didn't have time for me, but they still remembered to grab the parrot they had just bought for Joan. All of them flew home overnight and even posted in the family group chat about how lucky everyone was to survive. But… They forgot something. I was still trapped in the flood, alone and helpless. When I woke up, I called my mentor without hesitation. "Dr. Jackson, I've decided to go with you and join Doctors Without Borders. I'm never coming back."

When I was ten, Jonathan Cooper saved me and told me he would protect me for life. When I was 15, I met William Reed. He also told me he would protect me forever. Yet, the year I turned 23, the two men who swore to always keep me safe threw me into the ocean for the sake of their true love.

My husband's sister was pregnant when she leapt from the building. Her final phone call wasn't to him. It was to me. When the police asked for clues, I said nothing. When my in-laws knelt and begged, I watched them coldly. Yet my husband never divorced me. If anything, he treated me even better than before. Then, after I became pregnant, my nightmare truly began. He tied me to the bed and summoned a group of vagrants, ordering them to take turns violating me. He said he wanted me to taste despair.

For three agonizing years, my mother struggled with kidney failure. Finally, after all the waiting and the constant dialysis, she was next in line for a transplant. Hope seemed so close. But then, my husband, Zachary Levi, an esteemed nephrology professor, did the unforgivable. He surreptitiously gave his lover's mother the kidney that was intended for my mother. He said almost dismissively, "Ella's mother couldn't wait any longer. Your mother's been on dialysis for so long, she's not going to die anytime soon." Later, my mother passed away. I called Zachary one final time. Yet, it was a woman who answered. "Margaret, right? Zachary's in the shower. Is there something you need?" I stared at my mother's smile on the gravestone, and an overwhelming emptiness spread through me. "It's nothing. Just wanted to talk about the divorce."

When I'm about to apply for medical insurance for my son, Connor Sawyer, who's about to start his first year in kindergarten, I'm told that I'm not his biological father at all. "Are you sure this is your son? The system shows that his father is an entirely different person." I don't respond at all. Instead, I secretly take a photo of the unfamiliar-looking address before tracking it down. It turns out that it's actually a residential area right by my own. The moment my wife, Giselle Lambert, sees me, she freezes momentarily. At the same time, she blocks the door subconsciously with her hand. "In the end, you still found out about the truth. But there's no use kicking up a fuss, you know. I never mistreated you in any way over the past three years, after all." When I notice the familiar figure standing behind Giselle, I feel my limbs going cold. That person is actually my younger brother, Vincent Sawyer, who has just graduated from college. Vincent hands Giselle a glass of water before smiling at me apologetically. "Don't blame me, Hayden. The doctor says that I'm severely depressed, so I can't handle hearing a child's cries at all. I'm really thankful to you for raising Connor on my behalf in the past few years." At that moment, Connor, who's supposed to be waiting for me in my car, rushes into the apartment. He runs into Vincent's arms happily before turning to look at me. "Don't cry, Uncle Hayden. Daddy says you're a good person, so he's asked you for help. Mommy tells me that if I call you 'daddy' in your home, I'll get to visit my real daddy during the weekends."

Ever since I can remember, I was Nina's blood bank. Nina was like a glass princess. One sneeze and she could break. She needed blood all the time just to stay okay. Mom had her tubes untied just to have me to save Nina. My arms were always full of needle marks. Mom and Dad looked at me like they felt bad. "Chloe, you're a good girl. Nina's sick. She doesn't mean it when she gets mad. Be patient with her." I made myself smile. "I know. You can take more. I'm not scared." They turned away and cried. I thought if I stayed good and didn't complain, they'd love me someday. Then I won first place in a painting contest. Nina ripped the bandage off her hand and started crying. "Why are you showing off? Why am I the sick one? I hate you!" Mom shoved me to the ground. "Your sister can't even go to school. What are you bragging about some dumb paper for? How can you be this mean? Why couldn't you be the sick one?" Dad carried Nina out. He didn't look at me. I ran after the car all the way to the hospital. I only heard the doctor say, "Without a full blood replacement, she won't make it three months." I looked at my arm. 'Nina, please don't hate me anymore. If I give you my life, will that be enough?'