Good Roast Lines Novels & Stories

After my best buddy, Jack Hughes, certified my 20th girlfriend as 'another gold digger', I finally agreed to an arranged marriage to the wealthy heiress Cyndi White. My family was delighted. Later, at a gathering with friends, Jack snatched Cyndi’s half-eaten cake and said like he was her real husband, "Cyndi, this cake is too sweet. Eating too much won't be good for you. I'll eat it for you." I stopped him, but he did not just think he was in the right. He even exploded and said, "I was just testing your wife's character. Why all the fuss? We've been bros for over a decade. Do you think I've got my eye on your wife?" If it were in the past, I might have believed him. However, I had been reborn. I grabbed the cake from the table and slammed it into his face. "What kind of character do you have, testing other people's character like that? You're just my late driver's son! Why are you pretending to be some wealthy heir? I bet you've not only got your eye on my wife, but you've already planned how to get into her bed!"

My best friend, Sydney Cox, is a troublemaker by nature. She thinks everyone around her owes her a good life. During summer break, she insisted on working in a factory. I was worried that she might get tricked, so I let her work in my family's factory out of the kindness of my own heart. In fact, I even gave her the easiest position with the lightest work. But I didn't expect her to think that her salary was lower than that of the veteran employees in the factory, leading to her setting fire to my neighborhood. The blaze was far too strong. Even though the firefighters came as soon as possible, my family and I still ended up dying in the fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before Sydney's first day in a factory.

In my past life, my father arranged betrothals for both my brother and me, leaving the choice to us. Without hesitation, my brother chose the wealthy heiress, forcing me to marry the housekeeper's daughter. But the heiress turned out to be a cruel woman. She brought her first love home and humiliated my brother every day. Meanwhile, the housekeeper's daughter I married ended up winning hundreds of millions in the lottery, granting me a life free from financial worries. Jealous of my prosperous life, my brother deliberately drove his car straight into me. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day we're supposed to choose our betrothed. My brother rushes to choose the housekeeper's daughter first. "Jason Wright, it's my turn to enjoy the good life! You can go keep that awful woman company!" I smile. He doesn't know that my comfortable life was never dependent on my wife.

I gave Julian Marchetti thirty years of my life after the war ended. I built his empire, raised his children, and held the family together behind the scenes. But when he died, his will didn’t even mention my name. Half his fortune went to our children. The other half went to Lydia Carter, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life in Normandy. The same Lydia who’d stolen my identity.The same Lydia who’d built her entire life on the ruins of mine. All he left me was a single note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting. I loved you. We had thirty good years. But I owe Lydia. This is the least I can do. I dropped dead of a heart attack right there in his study, clutching that pathetic piece of paper. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn in 1945, when the war had just ended This time I will not swallow my anger and suffer in silence; I will fight back. And I will take back every single thing that is rightfully mine.

My family was supposed to be the richest of the land, yet I had to refund even a cheap delivery. Why? In my previous life, my housekeeper's daughter got her hands on a trading system. Every cent of money I spent would be hers. She started trying to guilt-trip me into donating to all the impoverished students in her school. It was charity anyway, so I signed a check worth 300 grand. The moment I did, that money became part of her savings, and the amount on my check was zero. Everyone called me names, called me a charlatan. Even the boy toy I spent good money on broke up with me. That girl used my money to donate to charities and became the kind and beautiful heiress. She told everyone I was the housekeeper's daughter instead. Furious, I grabbed my black card and started shopping like crazy. I wanted to prove I was the real heiress, but the balance in my account was cleared immediately. That girl then spent 1.2 million right away, like it was one dollar. She scoffed at me. "Don't try to act like you're rich when you're a broke loser. Your mother doesn't make enough as a housekeeper." The Internet decided to hunt me down. I could not handle the stress, and my mind broke. For some reason, my body withered away at a blistering rate. Before my father could save me, I drew my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to that fateful day. The day the housekeeper's daughter made me donate to the school.

I had just given birth when the country sent me on a secret mission that kept me undercover for seven years. When it finally ended, I came home on leave. I was eager to see my husband and children, whom I had missed every single day. However, the moment my car stopped at the gate, I saw my two children—my most precious treasures—being shoved down the steps by a woman. They tumbled hard, and they were covered in bruises. The next second, three snarling wolfhounds were released from the house, and they pounced on the children with bared teeth. Fury surged through me, and I charged forward. I got the dogs away with a few swift kicks and punches. Amid the animals’ pitiful howls, my ten-year-old son instinctively shielded his sister. His young face was pale with fear. Meanwhile, my eight-year-old daughter snapped out of her daze and trembled as she urged me to leave. “Miss, run! You hurt her dogs, and if Dad finds out, he won’t let you get away with it!” I forced down my anger and gently said, “She set the dogs on you first. Even if your dad were here, he’d protect you just like I did.” I did not expect this to make their eyes instantly fill with tears. Alarmed, I was about to ask what was wrong when a woman’s arrogant voice rang out. “You vagrant! I have a close relationship with Martin Gray, and I’m also the lady of the Gray family! “You and these two brats who dirtied my house aren’t leaving in one piece today!” I froze for a second before I took a deep breath and called my husband. “Martin, who’s this woman proclaiming to be the lady of the Gray family? Where did she come from? You’d better have a good explanation for this. And tell me, when did the house I left for John and Katy get a new owner?”

My mother-in-law, Barbara Morris, insisted that a load-bearing wall was blocking our home's good energy. She even hired someone to tear it down for a panoramic floor-to-ceiling window. The contractor, Peter Stone, kept refusing. "Ma'am, we really can't do this. If we take this wall down, the whole building will collapse." In my past life, I fought desperately to stop them, even getting on my knees and begging them not to touch this wall that held the entire building together. My husband, Tom Williams, thought I was embarrassing him. He slapped me so hard that my left ear went deaf, and he forced them to demolish the wall anyway. That night, the entire building suffered a catastrophic structural failure. I was trapped under the rubble for seven days and nights with ruptured internal organs. Right before I died, I heard Tom shouting at the rescue team. "Save my mom first! That other woman has insurance. If she dies, we'll get the payout and buy a new place!" At that moment, the resentment inside me hardened. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment when the construction crew had just arrived. Looking at that thick load-bearing wall and Tom's hand about to rise up and strike me, I smiled and handed him the eighty-pound sledgehammer nearby. I said, "Mom's absolutely right. Once we knock down this wall, our place will turn into a luxurious river-view apartment. Anyone who tries to stop us is a complete idiot."

The housekeeper deliberately reveals her busty chest when I'm out of the house. She says coquettishly to my husband, "Oh, my. This is an accident, Mr. Houston …" My husband looks like he's focusing on his drink, but he keeps sneaking looks at her. I see all of this from the housekeeper's livestream.

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”

My mother-in-law, Maryam Smith, had a heart attack and was in a critical condition. However, my wife, Lily Smith, took the only available heart for her intern’s mother. Jared Anderson’s mother did not have a serious heart condition. She did not need a heart transplant at all. In the end, Maryam died on the operating table because she did not receive a heart transplant in time. “I already tried my best to find another donated heart for your mother. It’s too bad that she was unlucky. She couldn’t even manage to make it through that short while. “Even though she’s dead, Jared was still kind enough to offer to retrieve all her organs to be donated. That way, she can still contribute something good to the world.” I was shocked by her shameless speech. However, she was not aware that my mother was not the person she harmed with her abuse of power. The person she hurt was her mother!