Novels

I bankrupted my own company to take my girlfriend’s public, making her dream a reality. At her IPO celebration, I planned to reveal myself as a billionaire heir and announce our relationship. But she stepped on stage arm-in-arm with another man. "Bryan," she said, trembling with excitement, "the pregnancy rumors are true—he’s the father!" Silence filled the room. Everyone turned to me. I stood, forced a smile, and started clapping. The crowd erupted. Watching Sophia glow in Bryan’s arms, I realized—if this was her happiness, I wouldn’t stand in her way. I walked out and called my father: "Kill Sophia’s funding. Let her figure out the IPO alone."

My sister’s restaurant. I was just about to leave when the manager called out, “Sir, you haven’t paid your bill yet.”

In my eighth year working in a top-secret unit, someone in my high school class group suddenly started tagging me nonstop.

The first time my childhood sweetheart’s werewolf traits awakened, his friends called me to help calm him down. But what they didn’t know was that I heard him say: “I really don’t want to waste my first time on her. A werewolf’s love is for life. Whoever we mark first becomes our only mate. When Chloe gets here, I’ll have to resist, even if she begs me to let her help.” But he waited and waited, and I never came. What he didn’t know was that his older brother’s bodyguard had been blowing up my phone. “Miss Hayes, the young master marked you as his mate a long time ago. Please, I’m begging you, can you come and kiss him?” It turns out, five years ago when I died in a skiing accident, his brother saved me. He performed a blood bond, giving me half of his own werewolf lifespan to pull me back from the brink of death. That night, I wrapped my arms around his brother’s neck, my voice a low, seductive whisper. “Come on, Matthew. Don’t hold back. Tell me… how many years have you been secretly in love with me?”

My husband, Gabriel Buckner, and I had been married for three years. I'd gotten pregnant twice, but I'd lost both babies. It was all because of my in-laws' parrot that could talk.

I was trying to catch up on sleep during the flight when a flight attendant nudged me awake. “Ma’am, I noticed you didn’t order a meal. Are you feeling unwell?” I shook my head. “Just tired. I’m going to sleep, no meal for me, thanks.” But ten minutes later, the same flight attendant woke me up again. “Are you sure? We have a wide variety of meal options.” I waved her away. “Please, I just really need to sleep. I’m not eating.” I’d just managed to drift off again when, through a hazy fog, I found myself staring into the same pair of concerned eyes. “If you’re not eating, could you please take a moment to fill out this survey and let us know why?” she asked, her voice impossibly cheerful. “And you can’t just check the boxes. The written feedback helps us provide better service in the future.”

Some trust-fund kid strolled into the amusement park and, not wanting to wait in line, offered to buy my best friend and me out of our spots near the front. When Mia heard the offer, she exploded. "Money can't buy you everything! We may be poor, but we have dignity. You want our spots? Dream on!" She grabbed my arm, her voice a fierce whisper. "Leah, we worked hard for this day out. You're not just going to give up our spots, right? We have to have some self-respect." Her words almost convinced me to tell the guy to get lost. But then, a series of comments scrolled across my vision, like some kind of augmented reality feed: 【The main character is so naive. Last time, after she refused the rich heir, her 'best friend' immediately added him on social media behind her back, sold him the spots, and pocketed fifty grand.】 【Later, when the MC's parents got sick and she needed money, that same 'friend' not only refused to lend her a dime but pretended she didn't even know her. The MC ended up dying on the streets. A total tragedy.】 I froze, staring at the phantom text. Fifty grand? Just for giving up a spot in line? You should have led with that.

The day before Valentine’s, my fiancée—who feared water—announced she was taking swimming lessons. I knew instantly: she’d fallen for the instructor downstairs. I went to one class, then gave her an ultimatum: call off the wedding or cut ties with him. Vivian stormed out and didn’t return all night. The next day, she came back exhausted and aching, but swore I was the only one from then on. At our wedding, as the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” she shoved me away. “I can’t kiss someone I don’t love,” she choked out. “I can’t lie to my heart.” In a flash of white silk, she ran from the altar straight into the weeping instructor’s arms in the crowd. The room erupted. Cameras flashed like a supernova. I became the city’s laughingstock overnight. The top trending video was their passionate kiss at my wedding. My heart turned to ash. Since you chose to betray me again, don’t blame me for burning your world down. …

The day I found out my mother was having an affair with my piano teacher, my father was eerily calm. All he said was that he wanted to hear me play one last piece. But as the final note faded into silence, he leaped from the roof of our three-story home. I watched him fall. I saw his body shatter against the flagstones, his blood staining the white roses in the garden a sickening crimson. From that moment on, the piano became my deepest, darkest nightmare. That’s why, on my wedding day, I told my wife, Aurora, "If you ever want to divorce me, just play a song on the piano."