Historias cortas de Feel-Good Story y novelas con Bias ambientadas en Cheating

At a company party, Taylor Kennedy plays a game of mouth-to-mouth cookie biting with his female assistant as everyone watches. I blend into the crowd and laugh along. The room instantly falls silent. The assistant bursts into tears and plays the victim. Taylor lets go of her, turns to me, and coldly scolds me in front of the entire company. He berates me for not knowing how to read the room and being a buzzkill. Then, without hesitation, he wraps his arm around the assistant and kisses her deeply as I watch. If this were before, I would've stormed over in a rage and ripped them apart. Then, I would've humiliated her in front of everyone, not caring whose pride I trampled. But now, I feel nothing. Not even as I watch them kiss. Not even though today marks my ten-year anniversary with Taylor.

When my fiance, Evan Ziegler, and I wake up, the world as we know it has already ended. He's now the commander of the safe zone, and I'm clinging to his arm, pleading with him. "Don't send me out. There are infected people everywhere out there." However, he merely stands on a high platform. His expression is icy as he announces, "Resources are limited in the safe zone. Zoe is frail and has to stay. As for Daphne, she should be sent to the contaminated zone as bait since she doesn't have any abilities." I'm bound and stuffed into an armored truck. Right before the doors shut, Evan's first love, Zoe Lodge, gives me a gentle smile while nestled in his arms. She says, "Don't worry, Daph. I'll take good care of Evan for you." I lose all hope. Then, to my surprise, the satellite phone I've been carrying, which hasn't had any signal so far, suddenly lights up. It's a message from my brother, Dominic Sadler. "Daphne, how's the stay at our apocalypse experience center? Have you figured out what kind of man your fiance really is yet? Hurry up and give me the verdict. We hired over 3,000 extras, and they've been cooped up in the underground base for a month. They're about to lose their minds."

My mother is the Royal duchy and I am her sole heir. My mother was once deceived by my father, which nearly bankrupted our family. That bastard father of mine disappeared without a trace, taking the fortune he'd stolen from my mother and running off with his mistress. To prevent me from falling for the same kind of man in the future—to keep me from being fooled and robbed blind—my mother adopted two war orphans. She planned to raise them as potential husband candidates for me. But mother never knew the truth. These two men appeared respectful and obedient to her arrangements on the surface. But privately, they were both infatuated with my maid Josie. They constantly neglected me and made my life difficult, all to win her favor. My favorite, Marcus Reed, even gave up his own last name. He changed it to Josie's—Marcus Thompson. The betrayal cut deeper than I'd expected. Before mother died, she asked me the question I'd been dreading. "Which one do you want to choose as your husband?" But I had heard something interesting lately. There was a mafia heir—Vincent Rossi—who was notorious for his violence. He'd killed innocent people. Years of brutal fighting had left him severely injured. The doctors said he had less than six months to live. The mafia Rossi family wanted to marry him to a noblewoman before he died. I didn't hesitate to reach out to him. I offered an alliance through marriage. To my surprise, the Rossi family agreed. But on my wedding day, Marcus and the other candidate burst into the ceremony. They begged me to reconsider. "Please, don't do this!" Marcus shouted, his face desperate. "You can't marry him!" I stood there in my wedding dress, looking at the two men who had spent years ignoring me for my maid. Now they wanted me back? How interesting.

While cleaning the house, I noticed my box of new razor blades had been opened. Without hesitation, I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement and send it to my wife, Rachel Jackman. She called me right away. "Are you kicking up a fuss again? What is it this time?" I fought to keep my emotions under control and said, "One of the razor blades in the drawer is missing."

My fiance, Dante de Rossi, is the heir to a mafia family in Manhorne, and he loves me dearly. Yet, a month before our wedding, he says his family has arranged for him to have a baby with his childhood friend, Isobel de Luca. Despite my refusal to agree to it, he brings it up daily and tries to push me into it. Half a month before the wedding, I receive a pregnancy report. I find out that Isobel is over a month pregnant. I have yet to give Dante my permission. This is when I realize just how fragile our years-long relationship is. I cancel the wedding and destroy everything he has ever given me. On the day of the wedding, I set off for Etolia to further my medical career. I accept a role with an international medical organization, severing all ties with the mafia. From that moment onward, he and I no longer have anything to do with each other!

The stray cat I adopted had recently started looking at my boyfriend, Logan Bennett, and his female best friend, Chloe Dawson, like they were complete idiots. Then one day, Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of Logan’s car again and shot me a provocative smile. A fierce little voice suddenly rang out in my head: “Human, that woman is calling you an idiot in her head! She’s also planning to get your man drunk tonight! Hurry up and slap her! If you do, I’ll make sure you find money on the street when you leave!” I froze and stared down at Mochi in my arms. So my cat could not only talk, but also read minds and predict the future? Fine. From today on, Mochi and I would make these two shameless cheaters pay—and make sure everyone knew exactly who they were!

The man I'd been with for three years, my fiancé, had promised to leave everything behind in the States and move to Europe to join my family. For our future together, I had quietly arranged a transfer of massive assets in his name. The night I was finally ready to tell him everything, I came back to our safehouse and heard voices I wasn't supposed to hear. "Kane, are you seriously giving up your entire place in the mafia for some ordinary girl?" That was Alicia Holt, the daughter of a small-time mob boss who scraped by at the edges of New York. Kane let out a cold laugh, his voice dripping with contempt and calculation. "Give it all up? For that useless woman? Alicia, you're underestimating me. I'm only playing along to get her to sign over that Manhattan townhouse and her offshore funds into my name." He knew exactly how much I'd sacrificed to be with him. He knew I'd even defied my father. And none of it meant a damn thing to him. He just found me clingy, embarrassing, like a dog he couldn't shake. "That idiot actually thinks she's something. If it weren't for her money, I wouldn't even waste a glance on her." Kane pulled Alicia closer, his voice thick with arrogant contempt. "Once I've drained every last asset, I'm breaking off the engagement. Then it's just you and me, baby." Alicia giggled and playfully swatted at his chest. "What if she finds out?" "Finds out? She's just some sheltered rich girl with no backup and no clue." Kane scoffed like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. "What's she going to do?" I stood there and felt my fury turn into something ice-cold and perfectly still. Kane had no idea. For a few scraps of easy money, he'd just thrown away an entire European crime empire.

It was my son Milo Lawson's school open day, and his teacher had arranged for both parents to appear onstage together. My wife, Katherine Sommer, stopped me outside the auditorium. She had her first love, Gabriel Connors, hold our son's hand and take a seat in the designated "happy family" area. When someone asked who I was, she answered without hesitation, "The driver. He brought us here." The parents nearby burst into laughter and told me to wait in the car. This was the eighth time she had asked another man to pose as our son's father. I stood at the entrance for a few seconds but didn't go inside. Instead, I handed the principal the completed transfer paperwork. "I'm taking him back to my hometown next week," I said. After the event, Katherine discovered that our son's enrollment was being transferred to another school. She chased me into the parking lot, her heels clicking against the pavement. "Micah, who gave you permission to take him?!"

My best friend said she was just protecting me from bad men. So every time I started dating someone new, she would turn herself into his dream girl. She'd flirt, chase him, and seduce him until she ended up in his bed. And every time, she'd send me the photos. Always with the same cheerful caption: "Bestie! If I hadn't tested him, you'd be heartbroken again. Aren't I good to you?" I was tortured, broken, humiliated. Eventually, I cut her off completely and moved to another city. Then I met the man I thought was my true love—Liam. He was kind, devoted, and loving. I thought I could finally be happy. On my wedding day, I found Madison standing in my dressing room, disguised as my makeup artist. She smiled at me, just like she used to. "Don't worry, bestie," she whispered. "Let me test this one for you. Then you can marry him." She drugged me, then put on my wedding gown and got into bed with Liam. But I woke up in time. I burst into the room with our families. I caught them together. Later, I got pregnant. During labor, I hemorrhaged. Liam watched me bleed and refused to sign the emergency consent form. "Madison just wanted to give herself to me before our wedding—to fulfill her wish," he said coldly. "You humiliated her. You drove her to suicide. She died carrying my child." "You and the bastard in your belly deserve to die too." That was when I realized—the man I loved had already fallen for my best friend. I died in agony. My ashes were thrown into a ditch. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. On my wedding day. And Madison was standing right in front of me, pretending to be my makeup artist.

When I asked Avery to settle the bill for tearing down her walls, she jammed her car keys and a bank card into my hands instead. “There’s thirty million in this account. No password required.” While I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to give her change, I looked up and saw her clutching her pregnant belly, running straight for the balcony where I had just knocked down the guardrail. I dropped my sledgehammer, dove forward, and grabbed her by the ankle. “Don’t jump! If you jump, I become the prime suspect! I have an elderly mother and young kids to feed—you can’t ruin my life like this!” She kicked frantically, screaming in absolute despair. “My dad was practically sent to the ICU because of my ex! He even drugged me to try to force a miscarriage just so his mistress could move in! “He said someone like me deserves to be conned. I have nothing left now. I’m better off dead!” Ah, so she was just a poor soul systematically broken by a toxic scumbag. I slammed my sledgehammer onto the floor. “Why destroy yourself when you can destroy them instead? “Ever heard of the Scumbag Demolition Project? Not only will I get your house back, but I’ll also send him straight to federal prison to spend the rest of his life behind bars.”

The night before our engagement party, my fiancé's childhood sweetheart, Sabrina Payton, told me she had a special bridal surprise planned for me. She lured me into the glass conservatory on the hotel rooftop, locked the doors from the outside, and turned on every sprinkler. It was December, and a storm was raging outside. Freezing water poured down on me while I stood trapped inside a room made entirely of glass. The guests held up their phones downstairs, filming as I stood there soaked and shivering. She smiled at me, looking sweet and innocent despite the cruelty shining in her eyes. "Doesn't Melanie love acting like she's above everyone else? Let's see what she looks like when she's freezing and begging for mercy." On the other hand, my fiancé, Jay Harrison, stood downstairs and watched me through the pouring rain. He said in a cold voice, "Just make sure she doesn't die. Someone from a background like hers needs to learn the hard way that marrying into the Harrison family isn't that easy." Later, I smashed through the glass and made my way down from the rooftop. After that, I wiped the blood from my face and called my attorney. "Notify the board. Pull our investment from Harrison Group, freeze their accounts, and stop every payment scheduled to go out for Harrison Group's projects tomorrow morning. "Also, send tonight's footage to the police. Unlawful imprisonment, assault, invasion of privacy—I don't want a single charge overlooked. I want them hit with every charge that fits their crime."

After I switched from a private company to a foreign enterprise, my salary rose accordingly. My husband, who was always frugal, suggested that I hand over my entire salary to him. He claimed it would be used for daily household expenses. Watching him calculate the numbers, I asked, “What about your salary?” He said casually, “I’m saving it for our retirement.” I said nothing and followed his instructions. I spent my entire salary within a month. My husband finally felt uneasy when he saw how many packages kept showing up at our home. Seeing his doubts, I happily said, “You’re the one who said to use my whole salary for household expenses.” He exclaimed, “What are we, the Rockefellers?! How can one month cost this much?” That was funny. It turned out that he knew that a normal family’s expenses would never take my entire salary.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"

Five years into therapy, my doctor pushed a consent form across the desk. "Electroconvulsive therapy is the most effective treatment available. But there's a strong chance you'll lose a significant portion of your memories." I stared at the form for a long moment, then picked up the phone and called my wife, Celeste Kendrick. As always, the call was routed to her company's front desk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hartley. Ms. Kendrick is in a meeting." The receptionist's response was brief and professional. The whole exchange lasted less than three seconds. Five years ago, my mother died in an accident on the same day as our wedding. I left Celeste at the altar. After that, we were married on paper and strangers in every way that mattered. When I called to ask if she was coming home, the call would go straight to the front desk. When I needed a family member's signature for surgery, the call would go to the front desk. Even when I was falling apart and just needed to hear her voice, all I ever got was the receptionist's rehearsed reply. I opened our message history. She had read every single message and never replied to one. Yet just one minute earlier, she had posted on social media.

Kyson Ellis, the young man sponsored by my wife, Lara Sterling, earned a near-perfect SAT score and was accepted into one of the country's most prestigious universities. As a reward, Lara granted him "Adult Privilege." At a business dinner, Lara had him sit in my seat while our clients toasted him. Smiling, she introduced him to our partners. "He just turned eighteen, so I'm letting him experience the adult world a little early. Turns out he's even more mature and gracious than Nolan Taylor, my husband." She even handed him access to our joint bank account, claiming it was to "teach him how adults manage money." When I merely glanced through the transaction history, she instinctively stepped in front of him and shot me a cold look. "He only bought ten Rolex watches. Kyson is learning how adults handle money. What's wrong with that? You weren't even this responsible with money back then." After a long day at the office, I came home to find Kyson wearing my silk pajamas, sprawled across the bed in our master bedroom, scrolling through his phone. Lara sat beside him, feeding him blueberries. She looked up at me and said matter-of-factly, "The guest room doesn't get enough light. It'll strain his eyes if he uses his phone in there. You can sleep in the guest room tonight. You're an adult. Don't pick on a kid." I stared into her eyes without saying a word. So this was how it worked. Whenever it suited her, Kyson was old enough to enjoy "Adult Privilege." And the moment it didn't, he was a child again.

As the future daughter-in-law, I am making my first formal visit to my fiancé Patrick Underwood's family on Thanksgiving. At the dinner table, I raise my glass to make a toast when Patrick's childhood sweetheart, Lana Rowe, suddenly stands up and says to my future father-in-law, Alfred Underwood, "Dad, thank you for letting Patrick give me a son." I freeze on the spot. Mr. Underwood looks at Lana with emotion and says, "You've always known how to repay kindness, and you and Patrick grew up together. He should consider himself lucky to have you bear his child." Everyone at the table nods in agreement. Not a single person thinks there is anything wrong with this. Only then does Patrick finally notice me standing off to the side. He explains, "Don't get the wrong idea. Lana has no intention of ever getting married. She'd be lonely in her old age if she didn't have a child, so I was just helping her out. "Agnes, you already have me, so whether we have kids or not doesn't change anything." Dad shoots me a stern look. "If you dare cause a scene at Thanksgiving dinner, you can get out!" Lana suddenly laughs. "Come on, don't be so serious, everyone. Agnes has always been so understanding—surely she won't make a fuss over something so trivial." She then turns to me. "If Patrick and I really had something going on, you wouldn't have had a chance to marry him in the first place. Besides, you can be our son Douglas Underwood's godmother. The three of us can raise him together." I don't take the glass of wine Lana offers me. Instead, I glance at Patrick again. He gestures for me not to make a scene. A lump forms in my throat. In that instant, I find the whole situation utterly ridiculous. I immediately message my professor, Gary Massey, who has been hoping I would become his daughter-in-law. "Professor Massey, does your son, Bradley Massey, know about my situation?" Professor Massey replies instantly, "Yes. As long as you're willing, this marriage is as good as settled." "Okay, I'll marry Bradley."

Chuck's beloved ex, Ella, got divorced and showed up with her two-year-old daughter. Without asking me, he let Ella and her kid move into our home. Then Ella posted a photo of Chuck holding the child, captioned: [My husband cheated, so I filed for divorce, gave my baby a new dad, and found myself a new husband.] The comments were full of praise: [Real-life boss woman drama!] I had to laugh—so being a homewrecker is what counts as a strong woman now? Chuck didn't see a problem. He even told the child to call me "Momma." "Ella's husband cheated on her. She's raising a kid alone. As a woman, can't you have a little empathy? I'm just helping her out." Well, I had no empathy to give—not for the mistress, and definitely not for the scumbag.

On Christmas Day, I put on a reindeer-themed lingerie set, ready to spend an unforgettable night with my CEO boyfriend. Noah Levine eagerly unbuttons my top, kissing my body with feverish intensity. Just then, his phone rings. He answers impatiently. "What is it?" A sweet voice comes through from the other end, speaking in Farylian. "Noah, what time are you coming tonight? I have a Christmas present for you." Hearing those words, my eyes fly wide open. That woman is my younger sister, Heidi Miller. Noah's expression turns serious, like he's handling a work call. He responds in Farylian. "What present?" The voice on the other end laughs softly. "The present is me, wrapped head to toe in red ribbon. Come over and help me unwrap it. I can't wait anymore." That night, Noah doesn't touch me. He helps me dress, kissing my cheek with reluctance. "Work call. Something urgent at the company I need to handle. We'll pick this up another time. "Remember to wear this outfit next time, though. It's very enticing." His lie sounds calm and natural. He clearly assumes I don't understand, but I know Farylian. I hear everything crystal clear. I pretend to nod calmly. After he leaves, I accept the company's overseas assignment. In three days, I'll vanish completely from his world.

On our last trip before the wedding, someone drugs me and leaves me in another woman's bed. When my fiancee, Sophia Sullivan, and my brother, Sean Jefferson, rush in to save me, I hear Sophia suddenly ask Sean in Lutenian, "Did you get enough footage?" "Yeah," he replies. "But isn't this bad for Ethan? Everyone's going to think he's a rapist." Sophia's expression hardens. "It's all an act. Nothing actually happened. We're just getting some footage. I just have to make sure I don't abandon him. Once you run this story, you'll win a Pulitzer. That's what matters the most." Lying in Sophia's arms, I feel a chill run through my entire body. Afraid I might've misheard her, I ask, "What are you two talking about?" Sophia wipes the tears from my eyes. "We're talking about what happened to you," she says, her voice as gentle as ever. "Why don't you let Sean report what happened to you? He can clear your name." Thinking I still don't understand Lutenian, she turns to Sean and starts talking about how they can get more attention for the story. She has no idea that I've spent the past year learning Lutenian just to fit in with them. I never expect that the first time I finally understand what they're saying will be the moment I discover that they're betraying me.

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.