Uzui Hands Cut Off Novels & Stories

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

My mother is a hospital director. To give my brother, an intern doctor, more hands-on experience, she assigns him as the lead surgeon for my brain tumor operation. I beg her to let someone else do it and tell her it's my only chance at survival. But she slaps me hard across the face and screams, "How did I raise such a selfish, ungrateful child? Your brother has just started his internship—can't you help him improve his skills? Is that too much to ask?" Later, the surgery fails. I die on the operating table. And my mother seems to have aged decades overnight.

The day of my wedding photoshoot, my family's adoptive daughter tugs my veil off and asks loudly, "Aren't you our family's adoptive daughter? What are you doing here? Today's the day Ian and I are supposed to have our wedding photoshoot. Aren't you going to disgrace Ford Group by being here?" In the past, I would've run away in tears. Unfortunately for her, I'd been reborn. I slapped Aspen Miller and retorted, "What right do you have to speak to me? Who do you think you are, having a wedding photoshoot with Adrian? Are you worthy of being associated with Ford Group?"

She was always off limits. Until one forbidden summer, shy Elena surrendered to her brother’s best friend, the emotionally guarded Damien, in nights so hot they burned every rule to ash. Then he shattered her. Called their unborn child a bastard and walked away. Five years later, Damien comes face-to-face with the little boy who looks just like him… and the woman he never stopped craving. Now the man who runs from feelings must fight for the family he threw away. But Elena isn’t the timid girl he left behind and this time, she won’t make it easy.

Ever since I was little, I knew my future mate would be one of two Alpha candidates: Mitchell or Jax. Even with all their Alpha pride, I never once doubted that set future. The pack elders always said it was natural for Alpha candidates to focus on getting stronger and controlling the pack. My mother, Lyra, even told me that every brutal fight they got into was so the winner could give me, their Luna, the ultimate honor. That is, until I and Elara – this Omega stray they'd taken in – got ambushed and captured by our old enemies, the Nightshade pack. Mitchell and Jax only had enough of the life-saving Moonpetal herb for one of us. And they both chose to give it to Elara. To save myself in that fire, I forced a shift. The power surge was too much. The heat twisted my cheekbone, and just like that, I was disfigured. After they dragged me out – like an afterthought – I watched those two future Alphas crying over Elara, who didn't have a scratch on her. "Thank the Moon Goddess, Elara, you're alive." "Once we sort out who's the new Alpha of Blackwood, whoever it is will give you the most honored spot right under the Luna, Elara. Don't you worry. We'll give you the best of everything our pack has, make sure you never suffer again." "Elara, you're the real Luna in our hearts." When I came to, I cut off that ridiculous mate bond for good. Empty promises and a trampled destiny? I was done with it. But after I left, they stayed by my cave every day, begging me to come back.

My best friend, Yvonne Greene, has a very masculine boyfriend named Clyde Carroll. So much so that I can see his huge bulge through his trousers. One night, when I am trying to relieve myself while fantasizing about him, Yvonne suddenly comes over with tears running down her cheeks. "Michelle, please help my fiancé out. He seems to have undergone another growth spurt down there. I can't withstand his tormenting anymore." Upon hearing that, I instantly get wet. Clyde is already huge to begin with. What kind of inhuman size has he grown into after getting even bigger? I purposely dress myself in a very low-cut top and a micro skirt with crotchless tights before showing up at Clyde's place. "I heard you're very robust. Let me take a look and see how big you are."

Kenneth Parker, my childhood friend—and the person I've secretly had a crush on—isn't into men. In the end, I find myself wandering into one of those shops out of sheer loneliness and buying myself a toy. That night, just as I'm about to follow the instructions to use it, someone suddenly opens the bedroom door. Kenneth stands in the doorway, his face frozen in complete and utter shock as he stares at me. Blushing furiously, I try to pull the blanket and cover myself, but Kenneth rushes in and takes the toy from my hand. He says, "It's alright, Xavier. I'll show you how to use it."

My parents' enemy kidnaps me and livestreams chopping off my fingers just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire Internet searches for my parents. But what they don't know is that the captain who appeared in the livestream is my biological father. At that moment, he's on a beach in Hashford, setting off magnificent fireworks for his adopted daughter. And on their barbecue table, the livestream of my fingers being severed is playing. Later on, when I survive long enough to be rescued, I reach out my mangled hand to touch my parents. They recoil in disgust and leave without looking back, taking the adopted daughter out for Wersole food. But they don't know that the thing hidden within my mangled palm will make them regret their actions beyond measure.

A group of armed robbers ambush the kindergarten, resulting in my son, Finn Hart, becoming a hostage. A ticking time bomb is strapped to his tiny body afterward. My husband, Nolan Hart, also known as the best bomb disposal expert in the whole nation, arrives at the scene immediately. Meanwhile, I stand by the monitor in the command van, my eyes glued to the screen. I can see a burlap sack covering Finn's head. My poor son is trembling violently out of fear. But once Nolan and his assistant-slash-first love, Summer Castellano, enter the scene, the latter actually has the guts to ask for permission to dispose of the bomb. "Nolan, let me have a taste of what it feels like to be a heroine who gets to save lives. Is that okay?" As Nolan gazes at Summer, he flashes a doting smile at her. "Go ahead. You can just cut the red wire. Don't worry, if anything happens, I'll face the consequences on your behalf." Summer reaches out with her scissors excitedly and snips the blue wire without hesitation. The next thing everyone knows, the countdown on Finn's bomb shifts from ten minutes to ten seconds instantly. Both Nolan and Summer's expressions change drastically. They quickly turn tail and flee the scene. On the other hand, my eyes go as wide as dinner plates at the turn of events. Just as I'm about to rush into the kindergarten, I feel a tiny hand grabbing the hem of my shirt forcefully. "Mommy, Daddy will save Wyatt, right?" I look down to see Finn, who's standing right next to me. For a moment, my mind goes blank. Suddenly, I recall having heard him telling me when he called me with his smartwatch earlier today. "Mommy, Wyatt insisted on swapping clothes with me. He said my new sportswear looks better than his!" Wyatt Castellano is Summer's son… as well as Finn's half-brother.

My son’s family suddenly returned from abroad. I did not understand a single word at the dinner table. They were speaking in a foreign language. My grandson, Aiden, looked me up and down and said loudly, “Dad, Grandpa’s face is all bumpy and scarred. He’s lame, too. He’s so ugly!” My son waved his hand nonchalantly and said, “That was caused by a shell blast. Anyone who served in the military looks like that.” I did not understand their conversation. I simply placed the fish I had deboned onto his plate in silence. My grandson, however, became agitated. He picked up the hot soup and splashed it on my face. Then he cursed at me in broken English, saying, “Stay away, ugly monster! If it weren’t for you refusing to die, Grandma Sloane and Grandpa Wallace could’ve come home years ago!” My mind went blank. My wife had passed away decades ago. Who was this “Grandpa Wallace”?