Which Movie Characters Were Famously Backstabbed?

After years of investment from my company, my boyfriend finally broke into show business. At last, he won an Oscar. True to his promise, he married me. Then, during a backstage interview, he said, "It was transactional. I had to marry her in exchange for the funding." His braindead fans came after me soon afterward. They stalked me and, one day, poured sulfuric acid over my face. The attack left me disfigured. He sent me to the hospital, but that was just another part of his scheme. Before long, the world believed I had died from complications. When I returned to life, I decided to invest in someone else. After all, he was the only person who had mourned my death and given me a proper burial.

I went through 100 hormone shots for him—just to finally get pregnant. Five years begging those shots to work—all for Rafe Morello. The Don with ice in his veins... but also the guy who used to wipe sweat off my forehead in the middle of the night. Everyone thought we were goals. Then I handed over my lab results, and the nurse paused, blinking up at me. "Sorry, what's your relationship to Rafe Morello? There's already a pregnancy under his wife's name." I froze. Carmela Vitale. His dead brother's wife. Spouse listed: Rafe Morello. Breathing? Suddenly optional. No tears. No drama. I just slid off my ring and tucked it into my bag. Then I called the number buried at the bottom of my drawer. My voice? Freakishly calm. "Yeah. Three days. Pick me up." It wasn't about revenge. I left because I finally got it—some people, you gotta cut loose if you ever wanna stop bleeding. Three days later, he walked into a silent bedroom. On the nightstand: my wedding ring, the signed divorce papers, and a copy of the ultrasound. He sat on the floor and just... kept rubbing that ring. Regret doesn't knock. It floods. And that night, it drowned every lie he thought he could get away with. That was when he finally figured it out—love could wreck a person worse than hate ever could.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

On the third night of my business trip out of state, I scrolled past a video of my wife locking lips with my best friend at a music festival. Jack Wilson and I had been brothers for twenty years. The day I married Emily, he cried like a baby and swore he'd give up everything he had if it meant I'd be happy for the rest of my life. But tonight, my best friend and my wife proved that promises don't mean a damn thing. After a few minutes of silence, I called Jack. "Hey, you end up catching that Bruce Springsteen show? Heard the production was insane." He paused. Then, casual as ever: "Yeah, it looked good. Saw some clips online." "Too bad you weren't there, though. Kinda boring going alone. When you getting back? We'll catch the next one together." I said sure. Hung up. Caught the next red-eye straight to his apartment. They took everything I gave them—my loyalty, my trust, my love. Now I'm going to take everything they have.

Maddox Ventura fell in love with her sister's best friend. The first moment he saw Sariel Dixon, he told himself that she’d be the woman he would tie the knot with and cherish with all of his heart.   They became in close proximity since his sister dragged him along on every bit of their adventures of all kinds, and he’s even more attached to her, despite the fact that she tends to be stubborn all the time.   However, Maddox was very delusional in that moment, considering that he believed Sariel was the one he had been looking for, but it turns out she is the one who would destroy and betray him. Maddox Ventura is a seductive but merciless. He’s both deadly and lovely to look at, he poured out his revenge on Sariel Dixon. He tormented her, he blamed her for killing his parents deaths for the betrayal that she used him for, and for playing his love for her.    Sariel Dixon, on the other hand, was taken up in the retribution that was never intended for her. But then she accepted Maddox Ventura’s rage toward her, since she’s in love with him. The big day comes. There was an event where they were completely wasted on alcohol consumption because of her best friend. They were unable to resist the temptation, and something happened between the two of them one night. Author’s Note: This is the official English version of my novel, Billionaire’s Tale of Retaliation, now titled Game of Betrayal. (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.