Piccolo Smiling Novels & Stories

Victor’s private jet has barely cleared the runway when Amelia gives in to the one man she’s never allowed to touch: her husband’s son. She has everything money can buy, except the intense, raw passion her body craves. Ethan has the fierce intensity that finally gives it to her. For nineteen stolen days they turn the penthouse into their personal playground: the marble island where she loses herself in his embrace, the glass shower where he holds her dripping wet, the marital bed where they lose all control night after night while Victor is away thirty thousand feet in the air. She was a bored trophy wife. Now she’s obsessed, counting the hours until her husband leaves again, because only Ethan can break through her walls, ruin her composure, and make her forget she ever belonged to anyone else. Nineteen days. No limits. No mercy. And when Victor comes home, she’ll greet him with the memory of Ethan still burning inside her, smiling like the perfect wife.

When the heat wave hit, I was working at the National Weather Service and was the first to spot the climate irregularities. I warned my family to get ready ahead of time. My parents trusted me without question. They even proposed starting a "family survival fund." They told me to use the savings I'd built up since graduating to stock up on supplies, promising that they and my little sister would chip in every dollar they had too. If we were going to make it, we had to stick together as a family. I smiled. "Sure. I'll take care of the plans." That same night, I converted every penny into gold and locked it in a safe. I also went all out into building an apocalypse-proof bunker. When doomsday finally came, they showed up demanding the money we'd pooled together. "Hand over all the gold," they said coldly. "A deadweight like you is just wasting resources by staying alive." Smiling, I tossed them the safe with the gold inside, then sealed the bunker, locking them out completely. Laughing triumphantly, they opened the safe… and stared in shock at what they saw inside.

The project I had poured my heart and soul into earned the company over a hundred million in profit, yet the credit was handed to the vice president's nephew. I stood in a corner, the stack of source code documents trembling in my hands, nearly crushed by my grip. That nephew—who couldn't even get Hello World to compile—was now on stage, smiling brightly as he accepted the award. The vice president came over and draped an arm around my shoulder like we were old friends. "You're just an outsourced worker," he said casually. "These honors wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. Jason is new. He's got limitless potential. From now on, you'll be responsible for mentoring him properly." Only then did I realize that decades of struggle had been nothing more than laying out a red carpet for someone else's glory. That very night, while reviewing the project's code repository, I discovered a massive flaw—one serious enough to bring the entire system crashing down within three days.

I was six months pregnant when my husband's childhood sweetheart showed up on Christmas Eve, pregnant too, demanding her place in his life. Smiling, I welcomed her in. "Come on in. Make yourself at home." In my previous life, I had forced my husband to kick Shirley out. She collapsed from low blood sugar and froze to death that very Christmas Eve. Matthew did not hold it against me. On the contrary, he softened, stayed by my side and took care of me while I waited to give birth. However, when the baby came, despite being an obstetrician himself, Matthew sent our healthy newborn son straight to the morgue. I begged him desperately, but his face was twisted with hatred. "If you hadn't been so petty and dramatic, Shirley wouldn't have died along with her baby!" "You're heartbroken over your son? Then go freeze to death too. Pay for Shirley’s life with your own life." Just like that, I opened my eyes again, back to the moment Shirley arrived on Christmas Eve.

My mate and my brother hated me for twelve years. They believed I stole their precious Sarah's herbal research and bullied her for twelve years into silence. At my marking ceremony, they exposed my "crimes" to the entire supernatural world. "She's nothing but a bully who torments her packmates and a thief who stole the herb formula from Sarah!" But Sarah smiled through her tears: "The formula doesn't matter anymore." "As long as it saved our wolves from silver poisoning, what does it matter who created it?" "I've already forgiven her." She became the pack's angel of mercy. I was condemned by thousands, until the very wolf I'd saved with my medicine poured silver water over my head. In my despair, I dragged Sarah down with me into death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my second year of high school. Sarah was slicing her arm with a silver blade, smiling as she asked: "Have you thought about how you'll apologize to me?" Something in me snapped. My Alpha power surged forth, crushing her to her knees. I grabbed the blade: "Let me show you what real cuts look like."

Sophia is thrown out by her husband, Marvin Carson, after being plotted against by her mother-in-law and her husband's childhood love as they drugged her. And, made her sleep with a complete stranger. A complete stranger who fell in love with Sophia in just a night. However, his love was only rewarded with a note of being abandoned in the morning rather than the smiling face of the woman he decided to spend eternity with. But, bounded by the words on the note left by his lover and his love for her. He couldn't search for the love of his life. The one who made his stone cold heart beat. And then, stole it away. As for Sophia, she got involved in an accident and forgot all the memories that she and the stranger shared in one night. The memories of trust, respect, dependency and matters of heart. As the two were forced to spend seven years apart, according to the wishes of fate. So, what happens when fate determines that their suffering is now to be over? Now, that these two people have children that deserve the affection from both of their parents? "There are 100% chances of your plans failing." "Hey! Who are you, Mister!?" "Yes! Who are you?" "Your father and your mother's man, whose position you are desperately trying to give away to another man."

I had funded Tilly Jenkins for five years—and spent those same five years chasing after her. Just when I thought I had finally won her heart—when I believed she was ready to spend her life with me—I discovered the truth: the one she had loved all along was her childhood sweetheart, the boy who had grown up by her side. I, on the other hand, to her, was nothing more than a privileged elite who used money to grind her pride into the dirt. A few years into our marriage, she secretly transferred my assets away—and even had a child with that childhood sweetheart of hers. In the end, I died filled with resentment, trapped in a raging fire. The flames reflected the sight of the three of them together, smiling like a perfect family, while I cried myself to death in despair. After I was reborn, Tilly's childhood sweetheart shoved me hard, sneering with open contempt. "What do you take us for? Toys for rich people like you?!" I slipped my bank card back into my pocket at once. "Sorry, having money doesn't mean I'm brain-dead. I'm not interested in trashy toys like that."

Anna Whitmore dated Lucas Caldwell, a young heir from New York’s old-money circle, for three years. When the time was right, she decided to reveal who she truly was and formally proposed a strategic marriage. On the day she planned to propose, he made an excuse and walked away. That same night, he was seen at a nightclub, arms wrapped around another woman, openly mocking the idea of marrying someone “without status or value.” Anna saw his true face and walked away for good. If marriage in their world had always been a transaction, then choosing a man with greater power and influence was only fair. So she married his uncle. Later, on the day Lucas Caldwell announced his engagement to the daughter her father chose to acknowledge, he saw her at the banquet. The so-called “unfavored” Whitmore heiress. His former girlfriend. She stood beside his uncle under the spotlight, smiling— calm, radiant, untouchable. The man next to her was the one who truly controlled New York’s upper circle, a level of power Lucas Caldwell would never reach. His uncle spoke lightly, and the entire room fell silent. “She is my wife.”

In the second month of my relationship with my best friend Sophie Vaughn's older brother, Elias Vaughn, Thanksgiving arrives. Sophie leans in, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Elias is bringing his girlfriend home for the holiday. Let's see what all the fuss is about." I take my time getting ready, heart fluttering with hope. Just maybe, I'll finally be formally introduced as his girlfriend. But the moment I step inside, I see him with another elegant, beautiful woman, smiling as he introduces her to his parents. "This is my girlfriend," he says. He then inadvertently looks over at me, stiffening for a moment, clearly caught off guard. But just as quickly, he recovers and turns to the woman beside him. "That woman over there is my sister's friend and a part-time student. You could say she's a maid in our household." A maid? As it turns out, I'm nothing more than someone for him to kiss and sleep with. I was never someone worthy of standing by his side publicly. I turn away and board the train back to Ashcroft University, choosing my future over another night in his bedroom.

Late one night, my wife called me, her voice carrying a hint of apology. "Drew, I'm sorry. I cheated." Everyone in our lives knew she loved me more than anything. So how could she possibly cheat? After realizing it was April Fool's Day, I replied with a smile, "I cheated too." She didn't sound surprised at all. Instead, she seemed relieved. "That's good. At least I don't feel as guilty now. "The divorce papers are in the second drawer of the study. Just sign them." I was about to tell her she was putting on a pretty convincing act when the call suddenly ended. Smiling, I opened the drawer and froze. The divorce agreement was real, with her unmistakable signature at the bottom of the final page. My eyes stung as I reached for my phone, about to ask whether this was really some kind of joke, when a message arrived from one of my wife's graduate students. [Mr. Jensen, so it turns out you cheated too. In that case, just step aside already. Then Ms. Jones and I can finally celebrate our first anniversary out in the open!]