The Eight Novels & Stories

The princess of Oberlin City scorns the poor, and I'm the biggest thorn in her side—I live in squalor but am specially admitted by a prestigious college meant for the rich. "What right does a peasant like you have to study at the same college as me?" Nails appear on my seat, and the shampoo in my bathroom is switched to glue. Chantelle Gorman even daringly tries to ram me over at the campus entrance—all because I'm a poor young woman from the countryside. To survive, I set my sights on her father, a perfect gentleman. He's a domineering CEO who's never had a shortage of women in his life. It's too bad he has no other children besides Chantelle. Chantelle thinks I'm a piece of trash who'll get kicked to the curb after a night of pleasure, but she doesn't know how easily the women in my family conceive. I give birth to seven sons and a daughter for the domineering CEO. How can Chantelle possibly go up against me and my eight children?

My lawyer husband, Evan Henderson, has sued me for the eighth time over the custody of our pet dog. During the trial, Evan finally yields to me by texting me on the phone. "You can name any condition you want as long as you agree to give the dog to Minnie." Evan used to be a fair and just person. After all, he stood by and watched my dad get framed and thrown into prison just to avoid any suspicion of favoritism. To think that he has gone ahead and fabricated up to 26 pieces of evidence just so he can help Minerva Henderson steal the custody of our pet dog… Not only has he fabricated the dog's birth certificate, but he's also forged the purchasing history of the dog. I refuse to let my dog go, which is why I've argued with him about this matter seven times. But what stuns everyone is the fact that I choose not to make a statement. "I'm not going to fight for custody anymore." After that, I send Evan a text. "My only condition is that you reopen my dad's financial crime case for me." Evan heaves a sigh of relief from the plaintiff's podium. But what he doesn't know is that there's a divorce agreement included in the pile of custody-transfer paperwork he signed earlier.

No one knows that Ingrid Steele, the CEO who's currently talking about how her company bans office romances on the podium, has begged me to do it with her eight times in a row last night. Her secretary leans in and murmurs into my ear, "I heard that our cold and aloof CEO has plans to reveal her husband's identity recently. Rumors say that she even plans on throwing him an extremely grand wedding just to make it up to him." Warmth floods my heart at that moment. It's then I decide to make the great news of me winning a billion dollars in the lottery a wedding gift for Ingrid. Our daughter, Gaby Newman, no longer has to hide anymore in life. The three of us can publicly spend time together as a family now! The next day, I put on the suit that Ingrid has given me eight years ago. Then, I enter the wedding venue. As soon as I open the door, I see Ingrid leading her first love, Hank Conley, up the stage. After they exchange rings with each other, they share a sweet kiss in front of everyone in a tight embrace. In the end, Ingrid tosses her wedding bouquet at the guests. Coincidentally, it lands right in my hands. Someone next to me gives me a light shove. "What are you waiting for? Give them your blessings already!" I just clap for the newlyweds while walking toward them. "Congratulations, you two! I hope that you can live happily ever after and that you'll have a bundle of joy soon! No, make it 108 babies, how about that?" As soon as my words fall, I turn on my heel and stride away. As expected, Ingrid doesn't chase after me. She doesn't even bother calling me nor explaining everything to me.

At the Mercer family's annual dinner, I accidentally wore a couture gown that belonged to Lucian's late wife. The eight-year-old boy I had raised myself, in front of every key member of the Family, threw a glass of expensive red wine all over my pure white dress. He just stood there, his cold, condescending expression a mirror of his father's. "Don't think you can become the mistress of this house just by dressing like my Mamma." "I swear, when I'm old enough to take over the family business, I'll make you disappear for good!" The cold liquid soaked through the fabric, clinging to my skin. But I felt nothing. My heart had frozen solid the moment I signed my life away eight years ago. I looked at the child I had raised as my own for eight years. There was no anger. The faintest smile touched my lips. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You won't have to wait that long, my little lion. I'm leaving, and it will be very soon."

The day my rich parents come to claim me, all eight of my godfathers weep while sending me off. But just two days later, because I score a whole hundred points higher than the fake heiress, Sharon Staton, on a mock exam, my parents drag me to some black-market underground hospital. They want to dig out my brain and transplant it into Sharon. "With your return, Sharon is no longer the only princess in our family. Giving her your smart brain is the least you can do to make it up to her." "Relax, we'll have them put an ordinary brain in you afterward. We'll care for you for the rest of your life!" Sharon giggles and says, "I'll let you in on a little secret. I already bribed the doctor. The brain they're putting in you belongs to an idiot. You're done for." I struggle with everything I have. Then, the second I'm dragged out of the car, I can't help feeling amused. Isn't this the hospital owned by my eight godfathers? When I left home, Big Pops, a CEO, had looked at me with bloodshot eyes. He'd told me that if the Stanton family so much as laid a finger on me, he would bankrupt them without hesitation. Second Pops, a surgeon, hadn't said a word. He had just quietly wiped down his scalpel. This time, it looks like Sharon and my parents won't be walking out of here alive.

"Be my wife for eight months and I will save you from this hell. But if you fall in love with me? I will destroy you." She wasn't sold for a price. She was lost in a bet. A dark deal made in the shadows between a father who sold his own daughter without thinking twice and the man who runs the Blackwood empire. The CEO who doesn't just own money. He owns the city. He owns the law. He owns the men and their fates. She was just a normal designer until she became his wife on paper. A wife to a man who knows no mercy. A man who never loses a deal. A man who refuses to let the woman carrying his name be weak. Eight months. A marriage with no love. Strict rules. Forbidden feelings. But what happens when the deal turns into a deep hunger? What happens when the contract becomes a cage? What happens when she finds out that running away from her father put her in the trap of a man who is a thousand times more dangerous? Her father sold her in a bet. And her only escape was the man who owns the city.

I'm the second child of the family. Because of that, I'm also the one everyone neglects by nature. The birthdays of my older brother, Joe Thompson, and my younger sister, Lyra Thompson, are jotted down on the calendar by my parents. But they always fail to remember my own birthday. Joe and Lyra often have new clothes to wear, whereas my parents keep forgetting to buy new clothes for me. Heck, Joe and Lyra often receive holiday gifts! Meanwhile, my parents never bother giving me anything during the holidays. In fact, when we're traveling back to our hometown, my parents end up ditching me at a deserted highway rest stop when the temperature is extremely low…

At the award-giving ceremony of the end-of-the-year gala, my boss, George White, suddenly announces that he will be adding a bonus round on a whim. "This is the annual department evaluation! The department that comes last shall come onto the stage and receive a tiny encouragement from me!" The huge screen lights up at that moment. The sales achievements accumulated by all departments are being shown in a ranking system. The sales department is ranked first. The operations department comes second, and the marketing department gets third place. As for the administrative department, the sales achievements shown on the screen are none. After all, that department has no KPI to achieve at all. George beams at us from the administrative department. "Everyone from the administrative department, come on up and receive your prize!" Two people can be seen carrying a basket of brooms up the stage. Everyone bursts into laughter instantly. "Come now, sweep away your bad luck with the brooms! Try not to come up as the bottom-ranked department again next year!" George personally thrusts the brooms into our hands. Camera flashes go off beneath the stage—people are clearly taking photos of us. The people from the sales department are the ones laughing the hardest. "Finally, the peeps from the administrative department are getting the recognition they deserve!"

Eight years ago, I broke the heart of the boy I loved. Now, after eight years overseas, Liam Hayes was finally coming home with his new girlfriend to meet his family. That same day, the hospital gave me its final answer. The cancer had won. There was nothing left to treat. Nothing left to try. They sent me home with only time. When Liam saw my mother helping me into a wheelchair, a cold smile touched his mouth. “Eight years,” he said. “And this is what became of you? You can’t even walk anymore?” Disgust laced every word. I only tugged the sleeve of my down coat lower, hiding the cluster of needle marks across the back of my hand. “It’s nothing,” I said quietly. “I fell and broke a bone. That’s all.” Liam gave a short, bitter laugh. “In that case, I’m getting married soon. Why don’t you come be my fiancée’s bridesmaid?” I smiled as if it did not hurt at all. “No, thank you. I’m about to leave for somewhere very far away.” Then I patted the back of Mom’s hand, silently asking her to take me home.

Eight years after I married that award-winning actor, he publicly declared he was dating the top starlet, Celine James. He even posted a picture of the two of them celebrating their adopted “baby’s” birthday. I did not call him to interrogate him as usual. Instead, he hurriedly explained, “It’s just a pet we adopted. As its ‘dad’, I have to be there for its birthday.” I said calmly, “Rather than adopting a furbaby, why don’t we get a divorce? Then you can have an actual baby with her.”