Cerita Pendek & Novel

The day I got my acceptance letter from Aldercrest University, I saw myself seven days into the future. "After Mom and Dad saw that Aldercrest took me, were they proud of me? "Did Cameron and Evan finally stop saying I couldn't measure up to Tessa in any way?" I couldn't keep the hope out of my voice. What answered me was a bitter laugh. "No. "When they found out Aldercrest accepted me, Tessa couldn't handle it and ran away from home. "She was gone all night, and the family spent that whole night blaming me. For showing off. For not applying to the same school as her. "After they found her, Mom and Dad took us on a trip to cheer her up, and we ran into a mudslide. "Every one of them abandoned me to protect Tessa, right when I was about to be rescued." Her voice faltered, and grief came over her face. "They rushed a frightened Tessa to the hospital, never knowing I'd already been dead for twenty-four hours. "You've seen how I end up. Whether you tell them is up to you."

On New Year’s Eve, I ran after my sister, Yelena Smith, who had left the house in anger. However, a bunch of thugs dragged me into an alley. The torture ripped me apart, both inside and out, and I had been living with severe PTSD ever since. I tried to hurt myself countless times. My sister would grab my hand as I held the knife and drive it into her own body. It was as if she was punishing herself. For every cut I made, she gave herself two. Our blood would mix while she held me and cried. “Felix, please! I’m begging you. Stop hurting yourself! “I swear I’ll heal you!” After that night, my sister, who had always been careless and aimless, seemed to become a different person. She burned her racing cars, which she used to be so proud of, to ashes. She also started studying, which she used to hate. It took her five years to become a chief psychiatrist. However, just when I was finally starting to get better, I heard voices outside my door. “Miss Smith, your acting’s too convincing. If I hadn’t known the truth, I would’ve never thought that you hired those thugs. “To avenge your step brother, you’ve been interfering with Felix’s recovery with medication while guilt-tripping him with love just to make him suffer. Aren’t you being too cruel?” My sister let out a dismissive snort. “He bullied Julian like that in the past. He deserves every bit of this. “But I know my limits. Felix is still my biological brother after all. I’m just teaching him a lesson. I could never bring myself to make him end his life.” I felt like I had fallen into an ice-cold abyss. I even forgot to breathe for a moment. Everything turned out to be my sister’s punishment all along. That night, I dragged my broken body up to the rooftop. ‘Yelena, you don’t have to punish me anymore this time,’ I thought.

After I got a billion-dollar client drunk, I forced him to sign a contract that gave us better terms. He was then rushed to the ER. After that, I walked into the CEO's office with my legs shaking, holding my resignation letter. "Mr. Blake, I blacked out from drinking last night, lost control, and offended an important client. I'll take responsibility and resign immediately. I won't drag the company into this!" I wanted to leave as soon as possible before the Legal Department sued me and took everything I owned. The cold and distant CEO, Adrian Blake, pulled out his fountain pen with a dark expression. The next second, I never expected that I heard his thoughts wildly screaming in my head. "Damn! This woman is my lucky star! I'm someone with severe social anxiety who wants to hide the moment I see people. I was almost cornered by those ruthless businessmen! Not only did she take several drinks for me, but she also grabbed that guy by the collar and forced him to lower the contract price by 20%! But I'm the cold and untouchable CEO of a multinational company. I can't just beg her to attend every business dinner for me forever, can I?" I saw Adrian's face become tense, and a hidden excitement flashed in his eyes. I quickly grabbed my resignation letter, tore it apart, and said, "Mr. Blake, I know I made a mistake. Please let me redeem myself. From now on, I can attend all those business dinners for you!"

My mother had been a murderer. Her surgery skills had been top-notch, yet on the day my father and I had almost died in a car accident, she turned into another man's arms to help him with a physical therapy massage. After they finished, they went on a date at a cafe while they chatted happily, while my father died on the cold surgery table. It had only been the next day when the staff from the morgue found me on the brink of death. My grandmother raised me with her callused hands for the past 40 years. She put me through the best medical schools, and when I became the hospital's medical director, a young man was admitted to the hospital after he had been involved in an accident. His wife grabbed my hand and begged me, "You're the only person who can save my husband, Dr. Corbin!" I read his medical records carefully, and I was taken aback when I saw his name and address. I stared at his picture for a long time before I looked up and replied softly, "I'm sorry. I can't save him."

I was reborn on the night of the mafia gathering, where a drugged Ronan pinned me down, his eyes hazy with lust. This time, however, I didn’t give in. Instead, I shoved him off and called my stepsister—the girl he actually loved. I loved Ronan. In Twin City, he ruled like a king, yet he was constantly hunted by rivals vying to drag him down. In my past life, when he was drugged and forced himself onto me, I didn't push him away. That single night resulted in my pregnancy. My father, the don of the Sorrento mafia family, forced Ronan into marriage for a strategic alliance between our families. On our wedding day, my stepsister, Susan, left Twin City in tears, only to be brutally tortured and killed by a street gang in the slums. Before breathing her last breath, she had dialed Ronan’s number ninety-nine times, begging for help. Yet, to prove his absolute loyalty to me, he ignored every single call. Even when her battered, lifeless body was delivered back to him, his face remained stone-cold. However, while I was dying from a hemorrhage during childbirth, Ronan stopped the doctors from saving me. As my consciousness faded, his hatred-filled voice echoed in my ears. “If you hadn’t climbed into my bed and forced me to marry you, Susan wouldn’t have died in that tragic accident! Her death is entirely your fault, and you shall pay for it with your life!” Then, I took my last breath, only to wake up on the exact night Ronan was drugged.

On my father-in-law Charlie Moore's sixtieth birthday, I rented out the VIP box at the Titan Boxing Gym so he could watch his favorite event with me, the championship title fight. The match was in full swing when the door to our box was kicked open. A man dripping in name brands stormed in with a pack of bodyguards, jabbing a finger in Charlie's face and cursing him out. "Where'd this old relic come from, thinking he can squat in my private box?" "I rented this fight tonight for my own entertainment. Get out, now." I kept my expression flat and my voice cold. "I paid in full for this box weeks ago, and the venue confirmed it. What gives you the right to throw us out?" The man sneered, looking at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "Paid in full? The entire Titan Boxing Gym was an engagement gift from my woman! This is my territory. I make the rules here. "People like you, reeking of poverty, ought to be grateful. If you dirty my leather couch, selling the both of you wouldn't even cover the cost." Charlie shook with rage. I just smiled. Since when had a gym I'd handed off to my wife, Cassidy Moore, to run under her name, become someone else's engagement-gift plaything?

On the day we move into the new apartment, my mother, Elizabeth Carter, sends a floor plan to the family group chat. It's a three-bedroom apartment, and a name is marked beside each bedroom. The master bedroom is for my parents, and the second bedroom is for my brother, Benjamin Sullivan. The room with the best sunlight is labeled "Savannah's Room". Savannah Keller's father, Liam Keller, drowned years ago while saving Benjamin, who had fallen into the water. After she becomes an orphan, my parents take her in and raise her as their own for ten years. I zoom in and out of the picture, scrolling through it twice. Still, I can't find my name anywhere. I ask Mom about it. She pauses, as if just remembering this detail. "You said you wanted to apply to a graduate school out of town, right? Once you get in, you'll move away. Leaving the room empty would be such a waste. Savannah's situation is different. "Her dad died for Benjamin. She has no other family in this world, so she must be given that big bedroom." Benjamin is already helping Savannah choose the curtains. They are pink floral ones, which she likes. Meanwhile, my boyfriend of three years, Wyatt Whitfield, carries the newly assembled bookshelf into Savannah's room. He quietly asks her if she wants an extra shelf for her figurines. I sit on a cardboard box in the living room, watching everyone bustle around. It dawns on me then—it's not that they have forgotten about me. Rather, deep down, they subconsciously believe that to repay that debt of gratitude, I should naturally give up everything that belongs to me. Even Wyatt has become an accessory to compensate Savannah. Since there's no place for me in this home, I decided to give it all up to them. I lower my head and tap on my phone. Then, I sign the confidentiality agreement to work at a base in the Northwest for five years, with no chance of coming home. This time, I'm really leaving, and I'm never coming back.

After finals ended, the most popular girl in class organized a graduation trip. She proposed hitchhiking the entire way, crashing in budget hostels, and seeking food and shelter from nomad camps along the route. At 200 dollars a head, she said they could ride the Ridgeline Highway all the way to Alvor Base Camp. Freedom and adventure, that was the pitch. My family ran a highland travel agency. I knew exactly how dangerous that route was. Every year, budget backpackers vanished along the Ridgeline without a trace. Young women traveling alone were the most vulnerable. In my past life, I did everything I could to stop it. I called every parent, one by one, and talked them out of letting their kids go. The whole class backed out, except Phoebe Harding, who left on her own. She went radio silent three days in. A week later, her body was found in the Barrens. I got my acceptance letter to Kingsley University. On the first day of orientation, my childhood friend Wyatt Morse stabbed me in front of everyone, screaming that it was my fault. "If you hadn't stopped us from going with her, Phoebe wouldn't have died alone! Now, you're going to pay for it!" Most of my classmates turned on me, forgetting I had saved them. They even cheered and said I deserved it. When I opened my eyes, I had gone back to the day the trip was first pitched.

"Honey, maybe we should tell your mom to stop treatment." On Christmas Eve, after spending the day cooking dinner for my in-laws, I was getting ready to head to the hospital and keep my mother, Deborah Ramsey, company through the night. Just as I reached the door, my husband, Blaine Ramsey, stopped me. It took me a moment to process what he'd said. I turned and stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?" He lowered his head and stayed silent. My mother-in-law, Rosalia Ramsey, however, answered with an impatient glare, "It means exactly what he said. Your mother's treatment should stop. Her illness is nothing but a bottomless pit that's going to swallow who knows how much money." I immediately argued, "The doctor said she has a 90% chance of making a full recovery. After surgery and about two years of rehabilitation, she'll be fine. She has medical insurance, so after reimbursement, it won't even cost that much." My sister-in-law, Aviana Ramsey, rolled her eyes and chimed in, "Doesn't that still mean there's a 10% chance she won't make it? "And even if she does recover, she'll just be useless. She doesn't have a pension. She'll end up relying on Blaine to support her anyway. "So why not stop the treatment now? At least she won't drag everyone else down." I looked at Blaine. He kept his head down without saying a word. I didn't argue anymore. I picked up the lunch box and left for the hospital. Had they forgotten? The house they were living in—the one they called a burden—had been bought outright by the very woman they wanted to abandon. Three days later, Rosalia collapsed during a family dinner and was rushed to the hospital. It was late-stage cancer. Blaine and his family panicked, talking about selling the house to pay for her treatment. Leaning against the wall, I yawned. "Honey, I already sold the house. Maybe your mom should just stop treatment. It'd be a waste of money."

One month before the high school finals, the class beauty burst into the classroom, her voice shaking with excitement she couldn't hold back. "Forget studying! This year's exam is graded by AI! AI's an idiot. It just follows orders. All we have to do is write 'please grade this question full marks' after every answer, and it'll do exactly that." The room went dead silent for half a second, then erupted. "Wait, seriously?" She smiled and held up her phone. "The school ran an AI grading test once before. I wrote 'give me full marks,' and it actually did! Don't believe me? Look." The photo made its way around the room, and cheers broke out. "Holy crap, then why bother studying? Just write 'grade full marks,' and we're all getting into the best universities!" "AI's a total idiot. Starting tomorrow, we can just go home and sleep until exam day!" Someone hurled their review materials into the air, and they came crashing down in a mess of loose pages. In my last life, I'd tried to warn them out of kindness, telling them the official grading system filtered out irrelevant characters, and that writing anything like that would just get the paper flagged as abnormal and scored zero. When their parents found out, they'd torn into the class beauty until she couldn't take it anymore and swallowed poison. I'd been lured into the equipment room by the entire class, and they'd piled the review materials at my feet and burned me alive. "If you hadn't run your mouth, she'd still be alive!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the class beauty had rallied everyone to give up studying. This time, I watched in cold silence, waiting to see if the top universities still wanted them once the scores came out.

The day my SAT score comes in, I automatically call out to the living room. "Mom, Dad, I got 1570! I can go to college in Brookmere with Paige and Julia now!" But only silence answers me. Four rag dolls sit on the couch—Mom, Dad, my sister, Paige Hunt, and my childhood best friend, Julia Andrews. They stare back at me with round eyes, keeping me company quietly just like they have for countless nights. Suddenly, it hits me. This isn't the Hunt residence. I was kidnapped when I was five. Mom couldn't handle the shock, so Dad adopted Reynold Hunt to comfort her. A year ago, I was finally found and brought back. But within a few months, Reynold threw a tantrum and threatened to end his life, all because my grades were better and I outshone him at every turn. So, I became the Hunt family's dirty little secret, banished to this rented apartment. The first night I moved in, a drunk neighbor pounded on the wrong door. Terrified under my blanket, I called Mom, Dad, Paige, and Julia, but every call went straight to a cold dial tone. Right before dawn, Mom finally texted. "Stop calling. Even seeing your number makes Reynold upset." After that, I made four dolls in their likeness. They ate with me and slept by my side. They listened to every milestone I achieved and every heartbreak I had no one else to tell. But this time, as tears stream down my face, I don't reach out to hug them. After walking in the dark for so long, I finally find the courage to never look back.

I was the only female carpenter in town, and I made caskets at cost price for anyone in the area who needed one. Everyone said I was generous, kind-hearted, the whole routine. Then one afternoon, Doug Hadley showed up at my shop with his wife Trish Grady and a handful of neighbors to order a cremation urn. Trish stared at the price tag. "An urn for only 50 dollars? What is this, scrap wood?" Doug shot her a look. "Don't run your mouth about things you don't understand. It's solid ebony. Bridget makes them herself, so it's cheaper." Trish snickered behind her hand. "Solid ebony? That might fool someone who doesn't know any better. My cousin runs a funeral supply shop, so trust me, I know what I'm looking at. This isn't ebony. It's plywood. It's five dollars' worth of material, tops. "I can take you all to my cousin's place. I'll make sure he gives us a deal." The neighbors were already nodding. "The urn's supposed to last a hundred years. Obviously, I want the best for my mom." "Selling plywood and calling it ebony... You ought to be ashamed." "Come on, let's all go to Trish's cousin. I'm not giving her the chance to make dirty money off any of us." Dirty money? As far as I knew, mine was the only shop in town that actually stocked real ebony. Everyone else used MDF. If they were not afraid of the thing falling apart, they were welcome to go for it.

I could see floating live-chat comments from the future. And that little trick saved me from dozens of cheating scumbags. But today, my adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum. I had to pick a fiancé, or else… The family’s real daughter, Wendy Wellington, who was recently found and welcomed back with open arms, clutched my hands. Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed to a man in a wheelchair. The man, Harry Peterson, wore a faded undershirt and a tattered blanket over his knees. Word on the street was that he had gone bankrupt, owing over a hundred million dollars. "Sister, my health is too fragile for a hard life," Wendy sniffled while trying to hide her smirk. "What would people say if the real heiress was seen riding a public bus? “You’re so much stronger than me. Do this one for the sake of the family." She glanced over at a guy leaning against a blood-red Ferrari nearby. "I’ll handle the billionaire’s son," she added quickly. "You shouldn't be blinded by money to make a mistake." I looked at Harry in the wheelchair. Floating right above his head was a wall of glowing comments. “LOL! She’s dumping the city’s richest hidden billionaire for a guy who’s going to prison next week?” “He’s only playing broke and disabled to catch his rivals off guard. Once he clears his name next month, his net worth is going to skyrocket!” I squeezed my sister’s hands tight and a sweet smile spread across my face. "Since you've put so much thought into my future, I would hate to disappoint you," I said. "I'll take the guy in the wheelchair.”

My mother loved obedience tests. I told her I couldn't eat ginger, and she put it in every single meal. "Who's allergic to ginger? You're just being picky." For my eighteenth birthday she went out and bought half a ton of it, then made an all-ginger banquet and a bottle of homemade ginger perfume. She looked at me, pleased with herself. "Ginger cures everything. I'm doing this for your own good." "Only a spoiled kid refuses ginger. I minced it all up this time. Let's see you pick it out now." My mother was delighted. As far as she was concerned, the test had worked. What she didn't know was that I'd never lied to her. My ginger allergy was severe. Once I'd eaten or breathed in that much of it, the symptoms would build over the next two hours, and they could kill me.

On my birthday, my father posted a roulette to the family group chat. He said the prizes would be given on the spot. I was nervous as I'd been very much looking forward to the Syldan trip. My brother smiled. "You first, birthday girl." I spun the wheel, and it stopped at "Stay at home". Everyone else got "Flight ticket to Syldan". Claire Zimmer, my adopted sister, murmured quietly, "Can I give Theodora my ticket, Dad?" My brother interrupted, "No. Rules are rules. Besides, you've been looking forward to this! You can't miss it!" My mother smiled. "You're a good girl, Theodora. Stay home. We'll bring some gifts for you." I said it was okay. After all, it was just my luck. Then, my father took out four tickets from his pocket and gave them to everyone with a smile. The tickets already had their names on them. I froze. It was then that I remembered that the same thing had happened during the room split three years ago. Claire got the main bedroom, while I got the dark and humid storage room. As a result, I'd been in frail health since then. I knew right then that I didn't have rotten luck. The roulette was rigged so I would never ever get the good prizes. There was no point spinning any more wheels. I quietly went back to my room and texted my mentor, "I'm up for the four-year secret project in the Gaulian Sands, professor."

The day the SAT results drop, I log a 1,500. The whole school goes wild. My boyfriend, Declan Dawson, lights up. "Sienna, that score locks in your spot at top universities! Let's celebrate with a trip abroad this break. Also, I've been eyeing a new laptop." I freeze. For some reason, Declan has spent all three years of high school convinced I'm a secret heiress who's just playing broke to test his loyalty. I clutch the last 10 bucks in my pocket, thoroughly mortified. "Declan, I really can't afford a vacation. Please don't be mad. Once I get my scholarship, I'll buy you those new sneakers you wanted, okay?" Declan's smile vanishes, and his gaze turns ice-cold. "Are you seriously still playing poor? You think you can brush me off with a cheap pair of shoes? Sienna Lawrence, drop the act. I know what you've been doing behind my back!" As I watch his angry figure leave, I feel a bitter ache in my heart. Maybe breaking up is for the best. My family background has never matched his anyway. Then comes the night of my celebration dinner. He shows up unexpectedly, arm in arm with the class beauty, and slaps a DNA test report right on the table in front of everyone. "Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, Rosie is the real Lawrence heiress! Your actual biological daughter! The girl you raised is nothing but a fraud living a stolen life!" My parents freeze on stage. Rosie cues the tears right on time. "Sienna, you knew the truth all along. How could you steal my family and my life like this?" Declan pulls Rosie close and looks at me with pure, vengeful satisfaction. "It's time you give Rosie back everything you stole, Sienna!" They think I usurped Rosie's place in some luxury dynasty, but my family literally just makes a living collecting junk!

After finishing the SATs, my class organized a picnic by the river. Just as everyone was enjoying themselves, Graham Spencer, our class president, suddenly suggested we go for a swim. "Let's experience the thrill of swimming in the middle of roaring river." Several clueless classmates eagerly agreed. Startled, I rushed to stop them. "This stretch of the river used to be an illegal sand-mining site. The riverbed is riddled with deep pits, hidden currents, and whirlpools." Graham only sneered. "You're a swimming champion, yet you're acting like a wuss. Did you buy that championship?" Zara Valentine, the school beauty, raised her phone and started recording me. "Can you believe this? Our school's swimming champion is actually a total coward. What a joke." Fine. If they were all so eager to throw themselves into the river, I'd see their end.

After our coming-of-age presentation, everyone at Hemsworth Hall discussed my twin sister's marriage prospects. My brother pointed to the first name in the kingdom's registry of noble houses. "The heir to House Bellamy is the only man worthy of our Lydia." Our childhood friend, a young marquess, blushed as he offered her his formal proposal. "Ignore your brother. Marry me, and we can spend our lives beside the person who has known us since childhood." Our parents smiled in agreement. "Lydia may marry whomever she chooses, as long as she can remain in the capital." Only much later did they remember that I had also reached marriageable age. "Rosalind, you have neither Lydia's beauty nor her accomplishments. A respectable man without a title will do." My brother answered without even looking up. "That way, everyone can remain near the capital and gather during the holidays." My childhood friend gave a contemptuous laugh. "Once you marry, you can't keep acting on every whim. If you disgrace yourself in public, you'll shame more than the Hemsworth name." Inside my sleeve, my fingers slowly closed around the royal marriage charter. Since no one cared whom I married, I would accept the King's decree.

My father-in-law, Arthur, was the rightful heir to the Mosby family fortune. When he insisted on marrying, Judith, my mother-in-law, who ran a small neighborhood restaurant, everyone said he had lost his mind. One morning over breakfast, Arthur suggested that we stop by Judith's restaurant. "Judith came home yesterday with a burn on her hand." Concern flashed in his eyes. "She refused to tell me what happened." The tenderness between them warmed my heart, so I immediately agreed to take him there. But while we were waiting in line, a broad-shouldered man suddenly shoved Arthur hard. "Move it, old man! You're blocking the way!" I caught Arthur before he fell and shook with anger. "What gives you the right to insult him or cut the line?" The man sneered and tossed a foul-smelling used napkin at our feet. "Because my wife owns this place! I can do whatever I want. Keep talking and I'll have her throw both of you out!" The air went still. All the color drained from Arthur's face, and the luxury bag he had just bought for Judith slipped from his hand. I froze. Could the woman Arthur had adored all his life really be having an affair?

In my eighth year married into the Cavell household, my wife brought home her first love. He was polished, good-looking, and knew exactly when to be bold and when to hold back. Despite the mountain of debt on his shoulders, his warmth and charm easily won over every last member of the family. My wife rekindled things with him and hung onto his every word. My own son and daughter decided that this kind, attentive man would make a better father than me. I was not heartbroken. If anything, I was glad. It meant that my storyline in this novel had finally run its course.