After Death Short Stories & Bias Cheating Novels

My sister and I are twins, and we both have kidney failure. After a long wait, we finally find two matching kidneys. The doctor is prepared to transplant one for me and one for her. However, she breaks down in tears in my fiancé's arms—she wants both kidneys for herself. When I object, my fiancé locks me up at home. He has my sister undergo surgery to have both kidneys transplanted. "You haven't been sick for as long as your sister has. She just wants to live like a normal person—how can you be so selfish? Can't you wait for the next matching kidney?" He doesn't know that I can't wait any longer, though. I'm going to die soon.

After Cynthia Musich causes a surgical accident, my husband of eight years, Xavier Goodwin, forces me to take the fall for her. "Being suspended won't have any effect on you, but Cynthia's just starting out! Leaving a mark on her record this early in her career will ruin her!" The accident victim's family cause a scene and stab me thrice in my pregnant belly. I call Xavier and beg him to save me, but he says coldly, "Cynthia was stabbed, and her life is at stake, so can you please stop making trouble? Just come out on your own." Later, when my dead body is brought to his department, Xavier loses his mind.

To support Gavin Cooper’s work, I waited in our first-floor home with our son, who was burning with a high fever, while the hurricane raged outside. Yet as the head of the local emergency response team, he gave the last remaining life ring to his childhood sweetheart, Wendy Harper, on the tenth floor. When I voiced my dissatisfaction, he berated me over the phone. “Luna, you’re my wife. I can’t abuse my position for personal gain. I have to set an example. “But Wendy is different. She’s a widow raising a young daughter, so I have a responsibility to make sure they’re protected.” Once again, his argument about putting the greater good first won me over. That was until the floodwaters swallowed the first floor, and I hurriedly called the command center while holding my barely breathing son in my arms. The person on the other end apologized before informing me, “Ma’am, Mr. Cooper registered Miss Harper and her daughter as the first people to be evacuated. You and your son were placed in the final group.” As I watched my son slowly stop breathing, my heart turned to ash. “System, I accept your recommendation to leave this world with my son.” “Gavin, my son and I will never need you to save us again.”

On the fifth year of our hidden marriage, I died on the operating table of a hospital belonging to Allen Jones. Before I died, I called him ninety-nine times, begging for help. The last time, he finally answered. His voice was heavy with impatience. "Enough already. First, it's pregnancy, now it's liver cancer. Can you stop making a scene? I'm exhausted from work. "Mia, when did you learn to lie? Do you know how disgusting you are right now? "I'm warning you—if you keep this up, I'll divorce you. Don't even think about coming back home until you admit you're wrong." But this time, I could never go back. Just before the call ended, I heard him comforting Sadie with a gentleness he had never shown me. "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be over soon, and you'll be fine. Once you're out, I'll take you to see your favorite movie and eat at your favorite restaurant. I promised you, and I'll make it all come true." After he hung up, I called him for the hundredth time. He didn't answer. Later, when Allen saw my body on the operating table, he broke down completely.

On the snowy mountain, Shawn Foster's neighbor, Susan Taylor, suffered from altitude sickness. He blamed me for not bringing supplies in time. He tied me up and left me on the mountain, five thousand meters above sea level. "You should experience the pain Susan went through." I rushed up the mountain to find them, completely forgetting that I was already exhausted. Without an oxygen supply, I gasped for air desperately. He held Susan in his arms and headed down the mountain. I begged him for mercy, but he did not even glance at me. I struggled, but I could not break free from the Prusik knot he tied himself. The same knot I once taught him. Three days later, he asked his colleagues about my whereabouts. "I would never have forgiven her so quickly if it's not Susan's kindness." But he did not know—I had long been buried beneath the snow.

When my husband, a college professor, suddenly asked to sleep in separate rooms, I knew he had developed feelings for one of his female students. Then that student hit our seven-year-old son with her car, leaving him paralyzed. I gave Cedric Langley two choices. Either send her to prison, or make sure she never graduated and force her to spend the rest of her life paying for what she'd done. But when Cedric came home, he dropped to his knees beside me, his eyes rimmed red. "She was so ashamed that she took her own life. I'll never betray you or our child again." He smashed the student's gravestone, burned everything connected to her, and became the devoted husband and father he had once been. Three years after our son was paralyzed, I happened to see a file open on Cedric's computer. "100 Reconciliation Coupons: Usage History." "Coupon No. 100: Forgive Elara for her unintended mistake and help her evade legal punishment." A loud buzz exploded inside my head. Elara Beaumont—the woman who should have been burning in hell for what she had done—was actually his teaching assistant, Evelyn Montrose, living under a new name. One reconciliation coupon was enough for him to completely forgive the woman who had left our son paralyzed. But there was something Cedric did not know. That very day, the last reconciliation coupon between us had just been used up.

When the Irwins were on the brink of bankruptcy, I proposed a marriage of convenience to Ryan and saved them from collapse. Ever the playboy, Ryan was so grateful that he swore eternal loyalty to me, even getting a vasectomy immediately to prove his devotion. He took me across mountains and rivers, saying he wanted to etch our love into every corner of the world. Three years later, he got me drunk, stole my phone, and used it to infiltrate the Knights’ estate. That night, he orchestrated the complete downfall of my family’s legacy. My parents overdosed on sleeping pills. My sister was dragged into an alley by his men, violated, filmed, and the footage was auctioned off to amuse wealthy heirs. I begged him to let my family go. However, he gripped my face and forced me to watch as my parents were cremated. “You think marrying me back then was some noble sacrifice? Sure, the whole city praised your family for helping mine in our darkest hour. But what did they say about me? “They call me your lapdog, Lily!” Ryan destroyed the Knights to prove he was better than us and not anyone’s dog. He tore up the divorce papers and shoved the shreds into my mouth. Ryan wanted me to watch as he rose to power and made the world kneel before him. To humiliate me, he brought home a different woman every night, turning our house into a hotel while I served them. “What’s the Knights’ worth now? With your status, cooking for them and massaging their feet like this is only fitting.” It didn’t matter. When I saved him from that avalanche, a shard of stone slashed my heart. Now, I only have three days left to live.

Four years after my death, my wife—the CEO—was desperate. Her first love was dying of an incurable disease, and I was the only surgeon in the world who could save him. To force me out of hiding, she ran my mother down with her car, leaving her brain-dead with no chance of recovery. She had my father hanged from a tree beside my grave—while he was still alive. Then she went live on social media, threatening to burn my younger sister to death. She was waiting for me—the selfish man, in her eyes—to come crawling back, beg for mercy, and agree to operate on her one true love. But then her men finally looked into my records. "Boss... he's been dead for four years. "He died on the very day he gave you his heart."

As Zayla Scott, my husband's first love, pushes me down the stairs, he's in the kitchen, thoughtfully making her a warm drink. When she sees I survived, she hires someone to assault me and has me thrown into the bear enclosure at the zoo. It's only after the bears tore me apart that my husband finally remembers I exist. "All I did was refuse to take time off to pay my respects to your mother with you. How could you be so cruel, Joey? You're a zookeeper—it's your job! Why would you force Zayla, who's pregnant, to care for savage creatures? "Get over here and give Zayla a blood transfusion right now, or I'll dig up your mother's grave myself!" He doesn't know that all that's left of me is my broken body.

Three years after I died, Stella, my wife, decided to divorce me and marry her dying ex. She stormed into my old house like she owned the place, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Mom told her the truth—I was already gone. Stella rolled her eyes. "Why's he still pretending? Harvey's dying. I just wanna be there for him. What's so wrong about that? If he won't come out, I'm done paying your medical bills." She thought threatening Mom would shake something loose. But what Stella didn't get? Mom had already stopped treatment. She was just hanging on to watch her crack.

After losing his entire retirement savings to a scam, my father-in-law, Kyle Knight, tried to kill himself by overdosing on pills. I frantically called my husband, Joshua Knight, a psychology expert, hoping he could talk his father out of it. "Dad lost his entire retirement fund to a scam. He left a suicide note, and he's trying to kill himself. Come home!" Instead, Joshua snapped at me for making such a big deal out of it. "Your dad's made plenty of bad decisions before. Maybe this'll finally teach him a lesson. Don't bother me with stupid stuff like this again. I'm trying to watch a movie with Vanessa." For a second, I thought he hadn't heard me clearly. I was about to tell him that the man dying was his own father. Then Vanessa Morgan's voice came through the phone. The horror movie scared her. Joshua immediately turned to comfort her. Later, he casually told me to put together a PowerPoint on how my dad got scammed so he could use the case in one of his anti-scam livestreams. I swallowed everything I was about to say and obediently said, "Okay." After all, the person who scammed Kyle out of his retirement savings and drove him to suicide was Vanessa's mother.

The day I got my terminal cancer diagnosis, I stumbled upon a hidden album on my mafia husband’s phone. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-six intimate photos. All of the same woman. None of me. Three years into our marriage, all of New York still feared Damian Moretti. Even as his only legal wife, I never dared ask about the blood on his cuffs—or the stranger’s perfume clinging to his skin late at night. I used to think he was simply born cold-blooded. Until I saw her on his screen, wearing his shirt in a secret penthouse I didn’t know existed, smiling freely in his arms. The cruelest part? The timestamp on the last photo was from two hours ago—the exact moment I was sitting alone at the hospital, signing my own Do-Not-Resuscitate form. When Damian walked out of the bathroom, he caught me staring at the screen. No guilt. No panic. He just walked over, took the phone from my frozen hand, and hit delete without a flicker of emotion. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you,” he said flatly. “Forget what you saw.” Before the screen could even go dark, it lit up again with a text message: Damian, you left your shirt in my bed again. Whatever was left inside me finally shattered. I pushed the prepared divorce papers toward him. “Sign them,” I said quietly. “I’m setting you free.” Damian’s gaze turned lethal. In one swift motion, he pinned my wrist against the headboard, the heavy Moretti signet ring on his right hand digging brutally into my bone. “Don’t test my limits, Vivian,” he murmured, leaning over me, his voice low and merciless. “Moretti marriages only end with a funeral.” I met his icy stare and didn’t say another word. He had no idea I only had three months left to live. The funeral he asked for was already on its way.

Jocelyn Nicols was celebrated as the police department's genius detective. I'd spent ten quiet years at her side as her assistant, unnoticed by anyone. By her eighth year on the force, she still hadn't cracked the decade-old cold case that had haunted her career. "You know the rule," she told me. "I won't marry until this case is solved." I didn't say anything back. I just packed her bags for another out-of-town assignment and wished her a safe trip. What she didn't know was that the moment she finally cracked the case and became a household name across the country, I'd just received a notice from the hospital. It told me I was going to die.

I was with a mob boss for ten years, and I had twelve abortions. He always claimed that he had too many enemies and that the presence of a child would pose a threat. When I became pregnant for the 13th time, Chris Felt finally agreed to let me keep the baby. Once my condition stabilized, he went completely legitimate and washed his hands clean of the underworld. Seven months into the pregnancy, I accidentally discovered that he had another woman. That woman was also pregnant, and her due date was two months ahead of mine. With tears in my eyes, I confronted him. Chris only frowned slightly. "Jessica is different from you. She's just an ordinary woman, she needs the companionship of a child. "Even if she has a child, you know she won't compete with you for anything. You will always be the de facto Mrs. Felt." Looking into his indifferent gaze, I clenched my fists tightly. Then, I took a deep breath and said calmly, "Forget it. Let's break up."

After being pushed down the stairs by my husband's first love, I suffered a difficult labor with our second child and died in a corner of their family's private hospital. Before I died, my six-year-old son cried and begged for his father to save me. The first time, Shawn sneered. "Your mom's gotten smarter, using you to play the victim and trick people." After that, he flung my son's hand away and left heartlessly. The second time, my son told him I was bleeding uncontrollably. Shawn was clearly impatient. "She's being so dramatic, it's just a miscarriage, nothing serious. She's always made mountains out of molehills!" After chasing my son away, he even told the doctors not to care for me. "It's my fault for spoiling her. She'll know what she did wrong once I let her have a hard time for a few days." The last time, my son went to my husband's first love Jasmine, kneeling in front of her and knocking his head on the ground, begging her. Shawn flew into a rage and ordered bodyguards to throw my battered and bruised son out of the hospital room, allowing others to laugh at his misfortune. "If you come bother Jasmine while she's resting again, I'll kick your mom out of our family! She'll never see you again!" My son crawled to my side, leaving behind a long trail of blood. And so, I laid there helplessly as I felt the warmth escape both my son and I. 'Are you happy now, Shawn? You'll never see us again.'

On my wedding day, I had just stepped onto the aisle when a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. "Take it all off, and she's got a body on her! Look at her face, like she's enjoying it!" I turned toward the voices and saw my ex-husband's photos of me blown up across the giant screen. They kept changing, one after another, explicit and impossible to ignore. All around the room, phones were already coming up as people started taking pictures. My hands began to shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother collapse. Behind Leon Coleman, Allison Fleming slapped her thigh and raised her voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh, wow. Leon showed these to the guys yesterday, just messing around. Guess they accidentally put it on the big screen. Gemma, you're not gonna make a big deal out of it, right?" The groomsmen laughed. "Come on, Allison. Leon always lets you get away with anything. Gemma had to beg for this wedding. There's no way she'd dare complain." With all those eyes on me, Leon reached for my hand and held it, his tone easy. "Allison's one of my closest friends. We joke around like that. She didn't mean anything by it, so don't take it personally. It's just a few private photos. I'll have someone take them down. It's our wedding day, so just bear with it for now."

On their 30th wedding anniversary, my parents decided to revisit the place where they'd first met to celebrate their love. But an accident took their lives in Everpeak, the very place where their love story had begun. Charlie Fenton promised to go with me to settle their affairs. But along the way, he cruelly abandoned me for another girl. I clung to him, tears streaming down, and begged him not to leave me. But he ignored my pleas and walked away without looking back. Just when I'd fallen into complete despair, a man wearing a highland robe rode toward me through the night. He saved my life and made me give up on Charlie for good. Later, word had it that even after using every bit of the Fenton family's power and influence, their golden boy still couldn't win back the little princess he'd lost to that mysterious, powerful man.

By their tenth anniversary, Claire Carlisle and Elliot Paulson were Auremont City's most infamous feuding couple. He lit up the skyline with a public love confession—to another woman. Claire fired back by burning down the private estate where he kept his mistress. In two years, their fights had landed them in the hospital ninety-nine times. Everyone thought the cycle would never end. Then eighteen-year-old Elliot showed up. He looked nothing like the cold, polished man he'd become. Just a faded T-shirt and eyes full of fierce, reckless love for Claire. Young. Clueless. Completely devoted. The second he saw how pale and frail she'd become, he stormed into Paulson Tower, tackled his older self, and beat him like he'd lost his mind. "She's the person I love most. How could you do this to her?!" From that day on, Claire finally had someone willing to stand between her and the world.

Three days before my wedding, my younger sister staged a scene—one where I supposedly abandoned her in the mountains. She claimed I locked her in a cabin, left her to be nearly assaulted, and that she barely escaped with her life. Furious, my fiancé dragged me up the mountain and locked me in that same cabin. He said, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day." I begged him, over and over, but my scorched throat could only force out hoarse, grating sounds. Three days later, Mickey O'Brien stood at the altar in his suit, waiting for me. What he got instead was my remains.

On the day of her daughter Nina’s funeral, before the pastor could finish the eulogy, Rosalind answered Samson’s phone call. “Change of plans. Let’s meet earlier. I’m on my way now.” Ethan held the small cremation urn in his arms. His knuckles turned white from gripping it too tightly. Nina had been critically ill with leukemia. Only Samson’s bone marrow matched hers. Driven to the brink, Ethan desperately begged Rosalind to go along with Samson’s request. She promised that she would only be playing pretend and would not fall for Samson. However, as time passed, she eventually fell for Samson and indulged him in every way. On the night when Nina needed the transplant the most, Ethan called her, frantic. However, she was unreachable because she was camping deep in the mountains. Ethan helplessly watched the three-year-old die in the emergency room. Later, Rosalind even protected Samson and let him stomp on Nina’s cross necklace. She even forcibly confined Ethan to a sanatorium and forced him to donate blood to Samson. It was not until Rosalind learned that Samson had deceived her from the very beginning that she felt piercing regret. She gave him fifty percent of her shares, knelt for hours at the cemetery, and tried to make amends wherever she could. However, no amount of regret could bring back the man she had deeply wounded.