Johnny Test's Sisters Names Novels & Stories

I had proposed seven times, but Winnie Smith continued refusing to marry me. This was because the Smith family had a special test. To marry their daughters, their sons-in-law had to refrain from sleeping with their fiancees after being drugged. I tried seven times. However, every time after I regained consciousness, Winnie would be sleeping naked next to me. She would cry and throw herself into my arms. “It’s fine. We can try again. I trust you.” It was not until the eighth time that I overheard her instructing the butler, “Switch the aphrodisiac to sleeping pills, and make sure it’s a high dosage. “After he falls asleep, I’ll take it from there as usual.” While I kept my eyes shut tight, I could hear her taking off her long dress. Then, she came over to unbutton my shirt. I heard her sigh. “I’m sorry, Benjamin Lowe. Joe Anderson’s been diagnosed with cancer, and his last wish is to be with me. “Don’t worry, though. After he passes, I’ll marry you immediately.” Right then, I realized that her family’s test had been a lie she told just to marry her childhood best friend. The next day, my parents pressured me again to leave the country and inherit the family business. So, I agreed to their request. Since she wanted to marry Joe, I would wish the couple well.

On the day the SAT scores are released, the reporters track me down, the top scorer of the entire nation, in order to get an interview with me. That's when they find me fishing for a corpse by the river. When the reporters ask me who I'm thankful to the most, my mom, who's allegedly been dead for ten years, makes an appearance. She gets out of the Maybach, looking very high and mighty. "Your dad didn't remarry for ten years, and you've become the top scorer of the nation. As expected, both of you have passed my test." I can only grip my pole while staring at her in confusion. It turns out that ten years ago, Mom's adopted younger brother, Donald Ferguson, suggested to her, "Why don't you fake your death and test your husband's mettle? You should pretend to go bankrupt and jump off a building. If he can stay single for your sake for the next ten years, that should prove that he didn't marry you just for your money." Mom had laughed back then. "When we were still dating, I pretended to be poor for three years. Walter could take five jobs just to put food on the table for me. It's so evident that he loves me to the moon and back. Ten years isn't a problem; heck, he'll definitely remain unmarried for 20 years, or even for the rest of his life!" The fact that I, the top scorer of the nation, am actually the wealthiest woman, Eloise Ferguson's son, gives a huge boost to the shares of her company. The entire nation looks forward to seeing Mom and me hugging each other while bawling at the top of our lungs. Mom looks around her surroundings. "Where's Walter? I'm here to take both of you home with me." "He's dead." The pole in my hands slowly cracks into splinters as I look up at Mom and spit out the answer word by word. "Three years ago, Dad kept working his ass off day and night just to buy the best burial plot for you. That was when he died in this very river."

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My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

Explicit sexual content, age gap (17 years), father’s best friend taboo, dirty talk, claiming, strong language. Reader discretion strongly advised. Fantasizing about the man 17 years older than you is dangerous. Being jealous while he fucks other ladies in your presence is another. That was me. My dad’s best friend. Our hockey coach. Knox Vance. Now I’m trapped alone with him in his isolated lakeside cabin for the entire summer. He lays down the rules like commands on the ice: no parties, no boys, keep your distance or else. But I’m done being the good little girl everyone cages. I push him. I tease him. I bend over in nothing but tiny shorts and beg him to destroy every boundary to stretch me open, fuck me raw, and breed his best friend’s daughter while my father is miles away. He’ll ruin me. Claim me. Own me so completely I’ll never want anyone else again. Don’t Tempt Me, Little GirlA Forbidden age-gap hockey romance that would make you begging for more.

My mom treated me like the dirt beneath her shoes but worshiped my cousin like a queen. Since I could walk, I had scrubbed clothes and cooked meals, but I would still be yelled at or smacked if I messed up. On the contrary, my cousin twirled in princess dresses and played the piano. She was cherished by my aunt and uncle like she was the center of their world. Then came the day everything changed. At my cousin's birthday party, my mom got drunk and spilled the secret—she switched me and my cousin at birth. It turned out that I wasn't her daughter; I was my aunt's daughter. I was over the moon. Finally, I thought I'd found my real family, people who might actually care about me. But when I told my aunt, she just smirked. "You think I didn't know? I don't want you. You'll never be my daughter." Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I couldn't understand. Why didn't anyone want me? But that day, I made a vow—I'd never beg for anyone's love again. Years later, when I got into Mayward University—the best educational institution in the country—I threw two DNA test reports on the table in front of them. For the first time, they both looked terrified.

Brielle Davenport tells me to test out rat poison on her childhood sweetheart, Trevor Whitlock's live stream, just so the popularity can be boosted. "All you lose is a life, you know. Meanwhile, Trev has always dreamed of becoming a popular streamer." Then, Brielle hands the rat poison to me. I don't turn her down. Instead, I lift the rat poison to my lips and drink it right in front of the camera. Naturally, my actions boost Trevor to the top spot of the platform, making him the most popular male streamer. The delighted Brielle is quick to throw him an afterparty to celebrate his success. The next day, when Brielle opens the door to the studio, she notices my stiff figure on the floor, my lips still bluish-purple from the poison. She has always been cold and aloof, and yet, she crumbles from anxiety on the spot. I used to come back to life within two hours after my death. Yet, this time, I show no signs of life. Brielle keeps calling out my name. Later on, she can only listen in disbelief as the doctor pronounces my death. Meanwhile, I've already stirred awake in my original world and started my life anew. The truth is, I've transmigrated into this book eight times in a row. In the first seven times, Brielle had saved me seven times, but she also hurt me that many times. In the eighth attempt, I return seven lives to her. Finally, I'm able to leave this world once and for all.

Mom has picked two potential brides for my younger brother, Elliot Wilson, and me. One is Sarah Hawkins, a wealthy heiress whose eyes never leave Elliot. I'm left with Melissa Wright, a daughter from a family of scholars. She's blind and confined to a wheelchair. I don't look down on her. Instead, I take her to see every specialist I can find. For that, I spend all my savings and continue working hard to support her. Every doctor says there is nothing physically wrong with her legs, suggesting that it might be psychological. So, I take Melissa to the beach to feel the ocean breeze. I take her traveling, letting her experience the rivers and the warmth of spring. Then, Elliot and I get abducted. When a kidnapper is about to stab Elliot in the chest, Melissa suddenly sprints forward. She grabs me and shoves me directly in front of Elliot. I watch in horror as the knife pierces my heart. Behind her, a crowd of bodyguards calls her "Ms. Wright" respectfully. That's when I realize she isn't paralyzed, she isn't blind, and she isn't from some modest family of scholars. She just doesn't want to stand by my side or even have me in her sight. "I'm sorry. My family is the richest in town. My dad wanted me to fake it to test your character. You passed, but I just can't love you. Even if Elliot didn't choose me, I couldn't let him die. I'll make it up to you in another life." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mom is choosing our brides.

My younger sister, Joey Crawford, and I have taken the exam 20 times in a row. Yet, our answer sheet shows the exact same answers every time. No matter how fast I complete the exam, Joey is able to turn in her paper one second before me. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, has spoken with me three times regarding this matter. At the same time, I receive my first warning for cheating on the exams. Whenever my classmates see me, they say to me, "Hey, cheater! You got busted this time, huh?" The thing is, I've never even touched Joey's paper. How can our answers be exactly the same? During the college entrance exam, I suddenly awaken to the ability to see the live comments dangling in midair. "The female lead is the chosen one! It must feel amazing to have awakened the mind-reading ability and all!" "She relies on reading the side character's mind just to obtain all the answers. So what if the side character excels in her studies? Her role is to become the female lead's stepping stone to success!" It turns out that Joey has been stealing my answers by reading my mind this whole time. As I flip the exam papers over, I start singing the alphabet song mentally. "A-B-C-D-E-F-G…"