Treacherous Journey Novels & Stories

Six years after marrying Rhiannon Westley, she takes a lover. He's like a puppy—timid and clingy. He flinches at the slightest raised voice, so Rhiannon never loses her temper in front of him. But when he acts up in front of me, Rhiannon snaps. She's furious, and she gives him a harsh scolding. The next day, he sends me a photo of his neck covered in red marks. "Zane, Ms. Westley is so fierce..."

When I witness my husband, Wayne Donaldson, and Valeria Meadows, a poor scholarship student he had been funding, exiting the hospital with a baby, I finally realize that Wayne has been lying to me about the fact that he got drugged by others. That day, I file for a divorce from him. But Wayne grips my hand and promises me, "Don't worry, you'll be the only Mrs. Donaldson. She won't be able to affect your position in any way." I just laugh in his face. He thinks I choose to be with him because of his money. But what he doesn't know is that my dad is the richest man in the city. Even the Donaldsons' ascent through the ranks is all thanks to my secretive help. That night, I send my dad two texts. The first one writes, "I agree to enter a marriage alliance with Mason Frost." The second one writes, "You can terminate all investments devoted to the Donaldsons right now."

The night before our big offline meetup, my roommate took one look at my internet boyfriend's photo and declared it was a fake. "Using a stolen photo for an online romance? He's definitely insecure and too ugly to show his real face!" The next day, my boyfriend texted: [Sorry, something came up at the last minute. Can you wait half an hour?] I breathed a sigh of relief because I had just been notified about an exclusive expert lecture on campus. Word was, the speaker was an academic powerhouse, and the university had paid a fortune to secure him. I snagged a seat in the front row. But the moment I looked up at the podium, my stomach dropped. Why did this famous scholar look so much like my boyfriend in the "stolen photo"?

When I was ten, Jonathan Cooper saved me and told me he would protect me for life. When I was 15, I met William Reed. He also told me he would protect me forever. Yet, the year I turned 23, the two men who swore to always keep me safe threw me into the ocean for the sake of their true love.

Three days after my death, Dominic Sharp receives a phone call asking him to identify my body. He has an arm wrapped around a woman's waist as he says indifferently, "I couldn't care less if she's dead. Call me once she's been cremated." My body is sent to the crematorium. After putting the ashes into an urn, an employee calls Dominic again. He clucks his tongue impatiently. "Alright, alright. I'll be there soon."

Three years after Vivian and I married into the Domingo family, our husbands' childhood crush Niama Guido came back to the town. Vivian and I had a whole escape plan. But the night before we bailed, Vivian threw herself off a high-rise. I called her husband, Pedro Domingo. He laughed, his tone nasty and cold. "Reena, my brother asked, since she jumped today, are you going to drown yourself tomorrow?"

The night I found out I was pregnant, my husband stayed out to be with his first love. Without a second thought, I packed my bags, signed the divorce agreement, and walked away. Single moms could survive just fine nowadays, and splitting his massive fortune to raise the child alone sounded like the perfect, sweet life.

Suzy was the only normal person in our family. While our father drank himself into oblivion, our mother gambled away everything, and I descended into mental illness, she sacrificed everything to pay our debts and keep us alive. She even found the best doctors to treat me. We all carried a lifetime of guilt for dragging her down. Then she became engaged to the heir of the most powerful family in the country. Only after I died in a psychiatric hospital did I uncover the horrifying truth. Suzy had been chosen by a system. My father's alcoholism, my mother's gambling addiction, and even my mental illness were never accidents. They had been carefully engineered to create the perfect tragic backstory for her, shaping her into the resilient, selfless heroine. We were nothing more than disposable tools in her mission, used until we had served our purpose and then discarded.

The moment I discover I'm pregnant, Courtney Smith, the leukemia patient I saved three years ago, turns up on my doorstep once again. She claims that her leukemia has relapsed again, so she wants me to abort my baby in order to save her life again. But I'm pregnant with my deceased police husband's baby. So, I tell her that I can only donate my bone marrow to her once I've given birth to my baby. After hearing my answer, not only do Courtney and her family not feel any gratitude toward me, but they also berate me for not helping them out till the end. "You can still have another baby once you lose this one! But if your pregnancy affects my illness in any way, will you be able to take responsibility over this?" Then, the Smiths abduct me to a shady hospital, where they forcibly put me through an abortion and remove my bone marrow. While their operation is a success, my baby and I end up dying on the surgical table. As they gaze at our corpses, the Smiths' faces are plastered with icy expressions. "Don't blame us for what we did. If you were the one with leukemia, we'd still make Court donate her bone marrow to you. One's life is determined by fate. If you can't survive, that just means you're fated to die." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the timeframe three days before Courtney finds out about her leukemia relapse.

I was Johan's secretary for seven years. After another night together, he tossed me a check. "I'm bored with you." I gave him a teasing smile. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" He frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place." My smile froze. He had no idea. I never joked about that. Later, he panicked. By then, it was too late.