Novels

"That trashy tramp in #19, you keep messing with my man, and I swear I'll break both your legs!" The message popped up on our neighborhood group chat, followed by a grainy, night-time video. Even with the low quality, I recognized it: it was a recording of my husband, our son, and me taking a walk through the neighborhood the other night, holding hands. "Umm, lady in #18, you got the wrong house. That's just my family on a walk. Why are you filming us?" "You lying, cheating hussy! You're hooking up with my husband and having his love child. I'm gonna get

Christmas Eve, and Sarah, the sales superstar at work, posted a picture on Instagram of a solid gold apple. Like, a huge one. "My boss gifted me this sweet little apple," she captioned it. I commented, "The boss's wife might want one too." The post was deleted faster than you can say "Santa." Next thing I knew, Mark, my husband, was barging into my office, yelling, “Why are you trying to shame her? She’s the top seller! She deserves it!” Outside, Sarah was putting on a tearful show, with everyone at the office gathered around, cooing at her. Mark stormed out to join them,

After I was murdered, my son, whom I’d always treated like dirt, risked his life to avenge me, and my philandering husband, after bankrupting the rival corporation, committed suicide, clutching my urn. My disembodied soul was spinning with disbelief. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back in my mansion, screaming at my son for only coming in second in his class, and smashing my husband’s collection of designer watches. Me: “…” Time to put the brakes on this toxic behavior and try a different script. 1. Broken watch glass littered the floor, along with torn-up test papers, while the butler and maids hovered

After I was dragged back from the edge of that cliff, I just… stopped obsessing over Ethan. No more chasing him around, smothering him with questions, bending over backward to please him. Instead, I locked myself in the sunroom, now my makeshift prayer room, chanting like crazy. Even when he showed up to break off our engagement, I just nodded and said, "Fine." Then, I went right back to my knees, begging: "God, please, have mercy on me! That night at the bottom of the cliff, I was poisoned, that's why I did what I did to that guy. It was only

My daughter, Lily, had just started kindergarten when I got a notification from the class group chat: [Hi everyone, I'm Sarah Miller, and my daughter, Tiffany, just transferred here today.] The chat lit up with a string of "Welcomes!" and "Hellos!" Just as I was about to type out my own greeting, a huge block of text appeared. [Important Notice from Tiffany's Mom: “Girls in the class, please take note: Starting next week, I'll be posting a picture of what my daughter is wearing each day, please make sure your child doesn’t wear the same thing. “Also, I request that everyone please switch to the

When I was seventeen, I had a major crush. My family wasn't exactly rolling in dough, so I spent a whole year saving up to buy him a birthday gift. The day my mom had her accident, I skipped out early from school. And that's when I overheard him, all smiles, saying to his friend, "This thing? A three-dollar prize from some diner would probably be better." His friend guffawed, "I knew Chase wouldn't want it. Just give it to me, I can probably sell it for a couple of bucks to spend online.” "Whatever, here." Chase tossed it to his friend like it was garbage,

My flight to Hokkaido for Christmas was cancelled. I dragged my suitcase back home, defeated. The moment I opened the door, I saw it – candlelight dinner for two on the table, and clothes scattered like fallen leaves across the floor. This wasn't the first time I'd walked in on Mark and his little secretary doing this. I'd honestly lost count. The sounds of labored breathing coming from the bedroom were like a fingernail on a chalkboard. But, unlike the old me, I didn't scream or cry. I just sat down on the living room couch and waited for the ridiculous scene to play

"He said he had to work late on Christmas Eve. Yeah, right." I knew my husband, Chris, was up to something. I’d seen the receipt in his coat pocket - a custom-designed diamond jewelry set, worth a cool fortune. I figured he was planning some big romantic gesture. Instead, I got a picture of him dressed as Santa, handing out a gift to his assistant, Tiffany. She had it all over her social media, captioned: "You're the best Christmas present ever!" Chris even changed his profile pic to a shot of the two of them all cozy. I tossed the photo a like,

It was the eve of my due date, and my husband’s nemesis had broken into our house for revenge. I was sliced open, my baby ripped from my womb. And yet, I refused to call my husband, Mark, for help. Last time, in my frantic, terrified pleas, he’d abandoned his charity student, Wendy, who he was supposed to spend Christmas with, just to rush home. Wendy ended up dead, a victim of a date rape drug overdose after being picked up at a bar that night. Then Mark, fueled by rage, had locked me in the dog kennel, letting the animals