Horror Hello Kitty Novels & Stories

When Ethan was at his poorest, he came home drunk after negotiating a deal with a client. He could not even stand straight when he reached home, but he desperately pulled out two pieces of melting chocolate from his pocket. “Honey, for you! Your favorite!” During those endless days of arguments that followed, I always thought back to those two pieces of chocolate. They were the reason I compromised with him, fell pregnant for him, even miscarried for him. It all ended just now, when he forgot to log out of his WhatsApp on his computer. His friend messaged him. [Hey, your wife doesn’t know Anna joined your company yet, does she?] [Back when she was about to leave the country, you searched the whole city for her favorite chocolate, but you still couldn’t convince her to stay. After that, you got dead drunk and cried the entire way home.] [That was when I knew you would never get over her.]

When I married mafia don Paul Garcia, I was twenty-two, and he was thirty-two. By day, he was the cold, dangerous king of the underworld. By night, he was my daddy. Everyone in New Haven knew how much he loved me. I casually mentioned I disliked the ballerina competing with me for the principal role. The next day, she “accidentally” broke her leg and never returned to the stage. One night, I craved pasta from a specific restaurant. Without a word, he led his men into the kitchen, pressed a gun to the chef’s head, and forced him to recreate the dish overnight. I once joked about wanting to sleep among the clouds. He turned around, had the building of a rival family blown up, then bought the tallest one in the city and engraved my name on the top floor. However, in bed, he would exhaust me completely and refuse to let me go. Even when the doctor warned that I was in early pregnancy and needed restraint, he ignored my cries, tied my wrists with his tie, and went on until dawn. The next day, I started bleeding. I called him ninety-nine times, yet he rejected every single call. In my panic, I suddenly received a video from my best friend. “Emily, your don is pinning a woman down and kissing her at the bar of the Four Seasons in Moscovia.” When I opened the video, my heart stopped. The man was Paul, and the woman was my aunt. In that case, I’ll give him two gifts when he comes back: an abortion report and a divorce agreement.

Half a year into my death, my wife, Serena Beckett, wants me to donate my kidney to William Clark, her heavily ill first love. Serena smashes my tombstone like a madwoman in the graveyard. Then, she kicks the tokens aside. "He's dead? What sort of sick joke is this? Jason Shaw is a coward! He definitely doesn't have the guts to die! "I think he just doesn't want to save William's life! To think that he actually roped you guys into putting up this act just to pretend that he's actually dead!" Serena is furious, to say the least. The graveyard's staff members are so frightened that they dare not speak up at all. A newly-recruited staff member finally muster the courage to say something. "Ma'am, Mr. Shaw really is dead. Apparently, he died in the donation surgery that had taken place half a year ago… He—" "Shut up!" Serena slaps him while cutting him off. "You really think I'll believe that bullshit? Tell him that if he doesn't show his face in three days, his little sister can forget about getting off the surgical table alive! I mean what I said!" With a dark expression, Serena turns on her heel and leaves angrily afterward. But the staff member looks toward another tombstone not far away. Then, he lets out a heavy sigh. "It's a shame that his sister has already died due to her illness taking a turn for the worse."

I had just been discharged from surgery for a collapsed lung when my boyfriend took me to a childhood friend’s birthday party. At the party, he yanked off my ventilator and used it to inflate party balloons. My chest seized violently, as if my lung had been torn open. Justin Miller turned to Sophie Shaw proudly and said, “See? This is so much easier than blowing them up with your mouth.” I gripped the doorframe. I was gasping as my vision blurred. “Justin, I need that to survive! I can’t breathe!” His expression darkened. “Sophie was kind enough to invite you to her birthday party. Know your place! Besides, she put in a lot of effort for this day and spent hours preparing for it. Are you really going to ruin the celebration?” I struggled to speak through the pain. “Is her surprise more important than my life?” I extended a trembling hand toward the ventilator, but Justin waved it aside. He said impatiently, “I already checked. You won’t die from holding your breath for just a moment. Don’t be so selfish!” At that moment, pain stabbed me in the chest, and I used every ounce of my strength to press the emergency call button my brother had given me.

I'm a stripper who works in the red light district of Las Poverla. By sheer accident, I bring the mafia heir, Alessandro Pushkin, home with me while he's completely drenched in blood. In order to cover Alessandro's astronomical hospital bills, I choose to sell my blood and my body. Before we part ways, Alessandro gives the ring that symbolizes his family's authority to me. He promises me that once he purges his family of all traitors, he'll marry me and make me the future Donna. But I don't receive any news from him since then. I'm worried that Alessandro's met with danger again, so I keep asking around for news related to him. But that's when I see the scandal of him making out with his new lover, Cristina Romano, on the news. In order to demand an explanation from him, I find my way to Alessandro's villa, only to be treated as a homeless person. As such, I get kicked out by his bodyguards. On top of that, I also get humiliated by his Cristina. When Alessandro's enemy kidnaps both me and Cristina, he forces Alessandro to choose one of us. He immediately abandons me, even though I'm pregnant with his baby. A gunshot rings out, causing me to collapse to the ground. Soon, Alessandro and Cristina leave. That's when I get up from the ground and wipe the fake blood off my body. The man who shot me earlier looks at me, his heart aching for me. "Principessa, how are we going to get revenge on them?" That's right. I'm no ordinary stripper—I'm actually the only daughter of the Columbo family's Don, making me the Principessa of the most powerful family ever.

Six years after my younger brother and my fiancée passed away, I picked out a grave for myself. Before my final visit to their graves, my mother suddenly said, “Miles, you don’t have to go this year. The truth is that they never died.” I was startled for a moment before the two of them walked right out of my brother’s room. My brother, Sean, put on a teasing smile as he draped an arm around the woman beside him. “I won the bet! I told you my brother would never figure it out. “Who’s going to be on top tonight, huh, Vera?” My so-called late fiancée, who used to cry whenever she saw me suffer even the slightest grievance, looked at me with open disdain. “He’s just too stupid. We’ve been living next door this entire time, yet he never noticed.” It was only then that I realized my mother forbad me from entering Sean's room, not because it would make her grieve her son again, but because it was directly connected to the house next door. I was truly too foolish. Right up until a month before my death, I was still thinking about visiting their graves.

As the owner of a small private business, I had never been stingy with my employees. Having made a million in profit, I distributed $850,000 to them. I believed this would win people’s hearts. I never expected it would lead to being reported by my own employees. "We have received an anonymous tip-off from your company’s employees alleging arbitrary wage deductions and unfair profit distribution. The report further states that company discipline is disorganized and that employees are being compelled to work overtime, constituting a serious violation of labor laws. Immediate corrective action is hereby required, along with a fine of $500,000." Fine. Since they were so dissatisfied with my policies, then we would do things by the book—by the rules every other company followed. I would keep every last cent of this one million in profit.

I give my grandmother a gift she'll never forget on her 60th birthday. My husband and I get into a fight on the highway back to my hometown. He pulls over in the emergency lane and chases me out of the car. He then drives off, leaving me stranded on the highway. He later gets into a major accident on the highway. His car is totaled, and he dies. It's actually not an accident—it's homicide. I'm the murderer.

One year ago, Frank Luccasio, the heir to the future Don of Newborough's underworld, saved me when I attempted to commit suicide. He cleared my school debt, admitted my younger sister, Ariana Romano, into rehab, and hired the best doctors in the world to treat my mom's cancer. His only request? I had to become his mistress. I thought Frank was a gift from God—that he was a beam of light illuminating my dark world. When he got ambushed by assassins, I used my body to block the fragments caused by the explosion for him. As Frank scooped my blood-drenched form into his arms, he screamed hysterically, "Isabella!" But… my name was Selena… After I got admitted into the ICU, the real Isabella Messina returned to Frank's life. Knowing that I was just a replacement, I sensibly left Frank, only to be brought back by force. Since then, I became a plaything for the both of them. They humiliated and tormented me incessantly while flaunting their love for each other. Unable to take it anymore, I sent a text to a certain someone and attached a photo to it. "Don Luccasio, the one giving your son head in the photo happens to be your darling wife, Isabella Messina. Those who betray the family must never be forgiven." This time, I would be the one sending Frank and Isabella to hell.

My executive boyfriend, Marcus Winters, had always wanted the regional president seat. Then his favorite protégée, Sophie Moresby, complained that I always got the spotlight, and he deliberately sabotaged my car. The crash broke both my hands, leaving me unable to compete in the design contest that could decide the board vote. He handed my entry slot to Sophie and expected me to accept it quietly. When I confronted him, he said it was only one competition and that, as design director, I should give younger employees a chance. To prove his "fairness," he stripped me of my director title and docked six months of my pay to compensate the team. Everyone waited for me to fight back. Instead, I nodded, calm and silent. Marcus was pleased. He promised that once his promotion came through, he would restore my position and publicly announce our relationship. I smiled coldly and told him we were done. I had already submitted my resignation. What Marcus did not know was that the board and I had made a private agreement: if I won the championship and secured the decisive vote, the person I named would become regional president. I had been preparing to name him. Now he had not only replaced me with Sophie, but also encouraged her to submit a fraudulent design. Once the contest ended, the only thing waiting for him was termination, a ruined career, and a bill he could never afford.