Good Novel Ph Novels & Stories

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

After returning home from a flight, I realize that my bottle of hair conditioner has run out in the bathroom. The thing is, my husband, Carlos Zappa, doesn't use hair conditioner at all. Seeing Carlos through the frosted glass, I decide to probe him for answers. "Did any guests stay over lately? Or have you started doing hair care?" Carlos flips through the documents, which are stamped with the Zappa family crest, impatiently at my questions. "Maybe a maid accidentally toppled the bottle over when she was cleaning the bathroom. Also, why are you annoying me with such minuscule matters?" When I put on the bathrobe, I feel a ticklish sensation coming from the collar. As soon as I look down, I notice a strand of dried yellow hair being entangled in the collar. The moment the steam dissipates, I see two pairs of intertwining handprints on the bathroom's glass door. I never thought that my home would grow this popular during my one-week trip away from home. I've been married to Carlos for three years, and yet this is my first time finding out that he's actually this wild in bed. So, I secretly text my father, the Don of the Carozza family. "Dad, Carlos has cheated on me. Does the bet we made three years ago still count?"

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

I paid for our future home in full, but my boyfriend, Felix Carter, insisted I gave the master bedroom to his so-called "sister", who wasn't even related to him. "Zoe has never had it easy. She can have the south-facing master bedroom," he said. "You're an only child and lived a pampered life. What's wrong with you giving up a little?" His mother, Bertha Walker, jumped in too and said I was unreasonable and not good enough to be part of their family. I looked at the apartment they had already turned into a mess. I call a moving company and a locksmith right away. "Fine, if I have to give up a little, then I'm done with this marriage!" I said. I listed the unit for sale and froze Felix's supplementary credit card. "Take your precious so-called sister and get out. You can sleep on the streets!"

A week before the wedding, my fiancé, Luke Graham, announced that he needed to marry his first love, Mandy Lynch, before marrying me. “It’s because her mother passed away,” he explained, “and her dying wish was to see Mandy married to a good man. I’m just fulfilling an elder’s final request. Don’t overthink it.” But the company had already planned to launch the “True Love” jewelry line on the day of our grand wedding. Impatiently, he dismissed my concerns: “It’s just a few million. Does that compare to Mandy’s love for her mother? If you’re so eager to make those millions, go find someone else to marry.” Hearing his cold and heartless words, I understood everything. Without another word, I turned and dialled my family. “Brother, help me find a new groom.”

During the family gathering, my fiance's mom takes out their heirloom brooch, intending to give it to the next lady of the Sullivan household. The guests all clap and offer their blessings. "Karli, you've been dating Douglas for six years. Now, you guys are finally going to settle down for real." But there isn't even a trace of a smile on Douglas Sullivan's face. He takes away the brooch calmly and pins it on his adopted sister, Isabelle Sullivan. After that, he pinches my face and says, "Belle likes it. Let her have it." When he sees the thick disappointment in my eyes, he explains in a gentle voice, "In the future, Belle will marry someone else. Everything that belongs to the Sullivan family will then become yours. It's just a brooch. There's no need to be so hung up on it." Surprised, Isabelle clutches the brooch on her chest fondly. Then, she gives Douglas a light peck on the cheek. She says, "Thank you, Dougie. You're the best to me!" A bitter smile plays on my lips as I look at the two of them behaving intimately right in front of me. It's been six years, and Douglas still hasn't made good on his promise to marry me. I've told my parents that I agree to go through with the arranged marriage and will return in three days to honor it.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

My sister always prided herself on her self-control. Even after six years of dating, she still insisted she was untouched. One day, I noticed something strange–her tongue was covered in metal piercings. That was when I realized… she had been using a different way all along. When I confronted her, she only smirked. "This way, men enjoy it more–and they become obsessed precisely because they can't have me. You wouldn't understand." However, looking at the damage already spreading through her mouth, I could not stay silent. I told her the risks–disease, even cancer–and that men obsessed with that kind of "purity" weren't good people to begin with. She did not listen. That very night, she gave herself to a powerful heir. Later, when the woman he truly loved returned, he discarded her without hesitation. She laughed it off, calling him a scumbag. However, on my birthday, she hid a knife inside a cake–and slammed it into my face. As the blade pierced through me, she burst into laughter. "If you hadn't pushed me to give it away, why would he stop valuing me? Why would he leave me? "This is all your fault. You deserve to die." When I opened my eyes again– I was back to the day I first saw the piercings on her tongue.

On her sister’s wedding day, everything falls apart. Rumors swirl that the groom is crippled, poor, and an illegitimate child. Determined to protect her family’s reputation, their mother makes a shocking decision—she forces her quiet, overlooked younger daughter to take her sister’s place at the altar. Humbled, humiliated, and powerless, she steps into a marriage everyone expects to be miserable. But the man she married is nothing like she—or anyone—expects. Strange things begin to happen, whispers of wealth, influence, and power follow him everywhere, and suddenly, the life she thought she was trapped in becomes unpredictable and dangerous. Now, the woman everyone overlooked must navigate a web of secrets, betrayal, and desires—and discover whether this forced marriage is her undoing… or her greatest chance at love. And when the truth finally comes to light, what will become of her mother, her sister, and everyone who betrayed her? Will they pay the price—or be left in the shadows of her triumph?