The Final Countdown Novel Novels & Stories

I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years. He never told his family about me. But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco! "Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless." But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before. A possessiveness that bordered on resentment. Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her. In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself. "Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?" He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish. In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die. Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

I had just suffered a miscarriage. With trembling fingers, I called my husband, only to hear the sounds of a rowdy party on the other end. "Don, this was supposed to be your anniversary gift for your wife," a voice teased amidst the cheers. "Giving it to Miss Lena instead—aren't you afraid your lady will throw a fit?" Vincent's voice was deep and dismissive. "Lena's brother died saving my life. I owe her. As for Isabella... she's gentle. She'll understand." He paused, his tone turning colder. "Besides, she came to me with those scandalous rumors surrounding her past. The resources the Corleone family has given her over the years are more than enough to compensate for these little grievances." As blood stained the hem of my skirt, I silently pressed the end-call button. Tears fell uncontrollably. He doesn't know yet—the baby is gone, and I am finally done with him.

"System, I want to go home." The system responds to Tabitha Samson immediately. "Understood, Tabitha. Exit procedures are now activated. You'll be able to leave this world in half a month." Weirdly enough, the system, which has always followed its own programming, pauses for a few seconds. It soon brings up a question, its tone slightly confused. "You have a husband who dotes on you and a son who always takes your side, Tabitha. Isn't this your home? These people are your family, you know." The moment Tabitha hears the word "family", her gaze slowly fixes on the TV before her.

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter. I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife. The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years. “The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?” Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.” John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too? “Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.” After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.” I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash. There was no need for them to test me anymore. I no longer needed to pretend.

By our sixth year of marriage, Derrick hadn't touched me in three months. Said he was swamped at work. Always tired. After everything, I still believed him. Then on my birthday, I caught his friend talking in Garmenian—a language Derrick didn't think I understood. "You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?" Derrick let out a smoke ring. "Haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not over her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll have the baby overseas." My hands curled into fists. Silent tears streamed down my face. He glanced over, nervous. "What's wrong?" I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched." It was sweet—but when you understand Garmenian, all you taste is betrayal.

My parents adopted a kid, and I treated him like treasure. Then he started looking uncannily like my husband, Brian. And I caught him whispering "Mom" to my sister, Ruby. Yeah. Plot twist: Brian had been cheating on me the whole time. With Ruby. They played house behind my back, smiling for family pics—with my parents' blessing. When the truth blew up, Ruby had the audacity to beg me to step aside. My parents told me to get over it. And that kid I loved like my own? Told me I deserved to die. But here's the kicker—Brian wouldn't even sign the divorce. Dude broke down, said he still loved me, swore the kid was a mistake. So I smiled and said, "Cool. You've got seven days. Prove it, and I'll forgive you." He went full simp mode. Emptied his bank account, treated me like I was gold. Even kicked Ruby down and yelled at her to apologize. Everyone thought I'd cave. Then the cops called, asked him to ID a body—and Brian totally lost it. He never knew I'd been dead this whole time. The Reaper gave me one last week to say goodbye.

On the eve of our wedding, Ellis Stewart threw a tantrum and hurled the wedding ring I had given her. I spent the entire night searching through the icy lake until my numb fingers finally closed around it. When I went to return the ring to her, I overheard her speaking with a close friend. “How many times have you toyed with Jonathan already? “It’s been three years since Gregory’s passing, and you still can’t forget him?” “If Jonathan hadn’t clung to me three years ago, begging me to pick him up, how could Gregory have died in that car accident?” Ellis replied coldly. “He’s the one who killed Gregory. Everything that happened was nothing but his own doing.” My knuckles whitened around the ring, and for an instant, it felt as though all the blood in my body had turned cold. So Ellis had never loved me at all. My unwavering devotion had been nothing more than a crucial piece of her revenge. In silence, I let the ring fall from my hand. Then I pulled out my phone. “Dad, Mom, I’ve figured things out. I agree to the marriage you’ve arranged. Let the wedding be in three days.”

The day before my wedding, I went to our cathedral early to get familiar with the place. Instead, I found my fiancé and my stepsister, Isabella fucking on the altar. Our altar. I caught them. He didn't even apologize and just threw me out into the storm. I collapsed in the pouring rain. That’s when he found me. Alistair, the Vampire Prince. He moved like a god through the storm. He pulled me from the mud, and gave me a palace. He told the world I was his soulmate. The one he’d spent centuries searching for. His one and only. For five years, his devotion made me the envy of the supernatural world. I thought I was the one exception in his eternal life. Until I found his secret room. My fingers brushed against an ancient scroll. The script was written in blood. The first line was her name: Isabella. Beneath it, in Alistair's own hand: “Absolute priority. Above all else.” Underneath was a healer's log I’d never seen before. A vampire's healing log. The date was from the night I found out I was pregnant. The night I was attacked by werewolves. They brought me back to the castle, covered in blood. The healers never came for me. I woke up alone. The baby was gone. Our child. His blood, my blood—gone. And my clothes were soaked in what was left of it. I cleaned every trace of it. When he came home, I broke down in his arms. I never told him. I couldn’t bear for him to feel the pain I felt. Now I understood. That same night, Isabella was also being attacked by werewolves. And Alistair’s order to his council was: “Send every healer. Isabella is the priority.” My heart stopped. Despair was a poison in my veins. “If I was never the one... then you can keep your eternity. I want no part of it.”

Sienna Lewis had been with Sea City’s cold and distant CEO, Zayden Scott, for four years, but he still refused to let his guard down. So, she called her mother. “Mom, you can go ahead and arrange that pilot interview for me now.” On the other end, Helen Bennett sounded shocked. “Really? Didn’t you want to stay in Sea City and get married? You even gave up your dream of becoming a pilot.” Sienna looked at Zayden under the dim lights. He was madly obsessed with that girl and terrified of losing her. She smiled self-deprecatingly. Once she returned to Helmswick, her career would pick up again. From then on, nothing would hold her back. She would be Sienna Lewis, the pilot, again, not some pathetic woman—trapped in a forbidden love affair.