Contos sobre Plot Twists e Romances com Bias e Cheating

The first time I found out that Jessica Blake was cheating on me was in our own bedroom. I was young and hot-headed, and I wanted a divorce on the spot. She cried and said she'd gotten drunk and mistaken the guy for me. She fell to her knees, begging me to forgive her. "If you divorce me, I'll jump from this window right now." That one line softened my heart for the next five years. During those years, she was gentle and caring, as if that night had never happened. Everyone could see it—Jessica loved me so much she was willing to die for me. But then came her mother's 60th birthday party. Out of nowhere, my mother-in-law, Linda, asked her, "Jess, where's my grandson? Why didn't he come?" I was confused. I thought she was just having a moment, so I smiled and said, "Mom, you forgot—Jess's due date is still two months away." Linda glanced at me calmly and murmured, "Oh… so you still don't know." My heart sank. I looked over at Jessica instinctively. She quietly put down her fork, as if she were talking about something as ordinary as the weather. "Actually, I have a son. He's five years old."

Just before the end of my shift, the last patient I see is my wife, Tracy Montgomery. Her prenatal test report clearly states that she is three weeks pregnant. She is the mother, and the father is her lover of five years, Max Lockwood. Calmly, I slide the report across the desk and say softly, "Congratulations. You finally got what you wanted." Tracy pauses for a moment before frowning hard. "That's it? Are you just congratulating me? Don't you have anything else to say?" I stare at the piece of paper and at the child who isn't mine. I initially think I would react the way I always do, which entails throwing away my pride and causing a huge scene in front of her. But in the end, I don't even have the strength for that anymore. Her fingertips brush gently across her stomach as she says, "I've had my fun over the years. Once the baby is born, I'll settle down." Hearing those words, I lift my head and meet her eyes. I say evenly, "Tracy, our contract has expired."

After Halle Anderson cheated on me and came back to me, I gave her three chances to cut ties with her lover. She grabbed the opportunity and spent those times with him. They had dinners together, did crafts, and she even spent whole nights with him. After that, she threw everything that was related to her lover away and held my hand again. “Believe me, I’ll never betray you again.” One day, I got into a car accident with an energetic young man. He angrily gave someone a call, and I heard my wife’s best friend’s voice coming through. “Halle, I’m telling you to not go. You’ve used up all three chances. Grant will definitely divorce you if you do so.” Immediately after, I heard Halle say fearlessly, “Grant’s an orphan. He’s been deprived of love his whole life, so he’s even more terrified of divorce than I am. “Just keep this a secret. I know where to draw the line. This is going to be the last time.” I lay in a pool of my blood and felt cold. It turned out that this confident young man standing before me was the lover Halle was protecting. Twenty minutes later, Halle, who had promised to come back to me for good, arrived at the hospital in a rush.

I was born into a line of vampire hunters, but I was hopeless at it. I couldn't pass a single trial, couldn't make a single kill, so my family dumped me in the countryside and left me to rot. When they brought me back at eighteen, they packaged me up and handed me to the vampire noble Lucian von Karstein as his lowest blood-slave. I had already made my peace with being drained dry and tortured to death. He turned out to be nothing like what I expected. He built me a villa with good light. Every morning before dawn he went out to the garden and picked flowers still wet with dew, and left them by my pillow. When his family ordered him to kill me, he gave up five hundred years of glory for my sake. He surrendered his power, his title, his castle. He traded everything he had to keep me safe, and in the end he ran with me, away from the whole vampire world. But there was a curse in my blood. Every time I let myself feel something for him, it punished me, gnawing my heart to pieces one inch at a time. So all I could do was call him useless, force him to buy me jewelry, drive him away from my bed, and humiliate him every way I knew how. He ended up living in the garage, hauling cargo to survive, supporting a spoiled, vicious wife who treated him like dirt. One night I crept into his little partition and pulled back his collar. There was a burn the length of my hand, gotten from hauling freight day and night just to buy me a gift. I hid in the bathroom and ran the tap to cover the sound of crying. Dabbing ointment on the wound, sniffling, I asked the thing in my blood: "Curse. When is he finally going to hate me and leave?" The curse looked at the back of his hand, wet where my tears had fallen, then at the faint tremor of his lashes, and sighed. He's going to love you for the rest of his life.

I had seven days left to live. My father was the God of War. My mother was the Goddess of the Harvest. I was born with divine power running through my veins, and like all gods, I should have lived forever. But I'd been poisoned by Godsbane, a plant so deadly that even the Healer had no cure. I forced myself back to the temple through the pain, one step at a time. That was when my husband Caelum, the King of the Gods, came home. His expression was grave. "Lyra," he said, "your sister Selene has collapsed. Her divine blood is completely spent. The Healer says she won't survive the month. The only way to save her is for someone who shares her bloodline to give her half their divine blood." "You're twins. Your blood is perfectly matched." He paused. "Would you reconsider donating half of yours?" "I know it's a lot to ask." He hesitated, then reached into his robe and placed a divine decree on the table before me. It called for the revocation of my title as Queen. "But if you won't save Selene, I'll have to honor her last wish. She says she wants to marry me before she dies." I looked at the decree for a long moment. "Don't worry," he said, his voice softening as he took my hand. "Once this is over, I'll burn it myself and marry you again as my Queen. Lyra, you know you're the only one for me." I looked at him trying so carefully not to push too hard, and something hollow settled in my chest. He wasn't the only one. Even my parents, when I'd refused before, had turned cold and driven me from our home: "If you'd rather watch your sister die than help her, then get out. Don't ever come back." If that was what they all wanted, fine. I had seven days left anyway. "All right," I said. "I'll give her the blood." My father and mother were pleased. They said I'd finally come to my senses. I finally became the Queen they'd always wanted me to be. A good daughter. But when I died, why did they all cry?

I went to my best friend's place for her birthday, and out of nowhere, she started complaining. "I'm so jealous of you," she said. "Your boyfriend has basically no sex drive." "Mine's the complete opposite. He wanted it seven times last night. I was crying so hard I lost my voice, and he still wouldn't stop." I gave her a sympathetic smile. "That just means he's crazy about you. Unlike mine—he's practically celibate. Like a monk." She raised an eyebrow, casually stroking the two-million-dollar ruby bangle on her wrist. "He's not bad," she said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "He was with his ex for five years, but he still chose to marry me behind her back. He was so afraid she'd push for marriage that he faked going bankrupt and told her he had ALS. "The girl wouldn't let go, though. She sold her blood, her kidney—whatever it took—to scrape together money for his treatment. "She was working the graveyard shift at a factory, while he and I were fooling around in a twenty-million-dollar villa." I froze. To help my boyfriend Nathan Whitley pay for his ALS treatment, I had done all of those things. Before I could even process it, the door opened, and a tall, sharply dressed man walked in. "Babe," he said, "I got that strawberry flavor you like. How about wearing that silk nightie tonight?" Our eyes met. I stood there, frozen in shock, a chill running down my spine. It was Nathan Whitley—the man who was supposed to be broke, bedridden, and dying of ALS.

While we're playing King's Game, Olivia Bennett's male best friend, Damien Hayes, has drawn the punishment lot that requires him to spill one of Olivia's secrets. He turns to look at me, a mysterious smile curling on his lips. "Olivia needs to get my permission whenever she wishes to sleep with Ethan." The atmosphere goes quiet immediately. As Damien licks his lips, he adds, "C'mon, there's no such thing as taboo when it comes to Olivia's birthday party! Why are you guys so quiet? I thought y'all are the type who's capable of taking jokes of any kind!"

I had hosted a late-night radio show for ten years. On the final call before the program went off the air, a male college student came on the line. "Mr. Miles, hello. I am in a lot of pain. I fell in love with my college professor. "She is married, but she treats me differently. "When I get sick, she cooks for me. When I am upset, we chat late into the night. She even takes me out on trips to clear my head..." After listening patiently, I spoke slowly and tried to counsel him. "It is normal to develop admiration for someone excellent and older than you, but right now, the most important thing is finishing school. "Actually, I once had a crush on a student teacher in high school. It was not until I met my wife that I understood what mature love really was. I hope you meet the right person one day too." The boy laughed in a way I could not quite read. "Well, good for you, Professor Cole's hubby."

On the day of my third wedding anniversary, I wait for my husband, Jonathan Myers, in the heavy downpour for four hours even though I'm already nine months pregnant. I can feel the rain drenching me from head to toe. At the same time, I keep suffering from the irregular contractions. Jonathan sends me a voice message. I can hear a bell tolling and a woman's laughter in the background. "Honey, I'll be home late. Quinn told me that she's never admired the cityscape at night before." The moment I'm hoisted onto a stretcher, I glance at my phone. Coincidentally, Jonathan's social media feed has just refreshed, showing a grid of nine photos. Quinn Farris can be seen standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, where an array of the city lights stretch out behind her. The caption reads, "I'm admiring the world with my baby girl." Meanwhile, I've lost a lot of blood in the delivery room. On the surgical forms, the spot that's supposed to bear my husband's signature is left empty. At 3:00 am, Jonathan wakes up in Quinn's bed. He then transfers me 5000 dollars and leaves a note on the transaction history. "Thanks for your hard work." I reject the transaction before dialing a number. "Dad, I've thought things through. I want to leave the country."

Caitlin Wiggins' assistant, Bryan Shepard, complains about a client's bad breath, causing the company's project to be ruined. I do everything I can to help Bryan salvage the situation. But all I do is remind Bryan to watch his words, and yet he has the audacity to pin the blame on me. "Zane, your incapability is the reason why the client got mad at us. I used my family's resources to help you salvage the situation out of the kindness of my heart, you know! How could you accuse me like that?" Despite knowing the truth, Caitlin still chooses to side with Bryan. The punishment she issues me is a one-month suspension from my position. On top of that, I need to transfer the project to Bryan. Everyone in the meeting room turns to look at me. They think I'll definitely argue with Caitlin and fight for my rights. But I just hand over the rights of the project to Bryan obediently. Seeing as I've finally learned my lesson, Caitlin happily promises me that she'll marry me once the project turns out to be a huge success and that she gets promoted to the CEO's position. But what she doesn't know is that the client isn't Bryan's relative at all, but rather, my own uncle, Donovan Eaton. It all depends on me whether or not he wishes to continue working with Caitlin's company. In fact, I don't plan on helping Caitlin clean up her mess anymore. When the time comes, not only will she lose her promotion, but she'll also get kicked out of the company.

On Labor Day, my husband worked himself to death in another woman's bed. Halfway through the funeral, my mother-in-law said to me, "Malcolm's gone, but this family still doesn't have an heir. Clara, you're still young. Have a child with Vincent. The sooner the better." I stared at my brother-in-law in his wheelchair, my mind going blank. "But he's Malcolm's brother." "Better to keep it in the family," Nora Stroud said with a smile. "This is my decision. Even if Malcolm were still alive, he'd listen to me." Something in me snapped, and a quiet laugh slipped out. They wanted an heir, didn't they? Fine. Then my father-in-law could have one.

Kelly and I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years. After working overtime for a month to make time so I could see her, she could not be reached. I waited alone in that unfamiliar place for ten whole hours before I finally got a reply from her. My best friend, Hayden, called me and said gleefully, "Zachary, surprise! I've already explored Stranton for you. It's amazing. Kelly is a great tour guide!" He excitedly shared his experiences, as if he had not noticed the 30 missed calls I left on Kelly's phone. I listened quietly until he mentioned feeling cold. Kelly took the phone and said bluntly, "I'll take him back to the hotel first. Give us a minute." After she finished speaking, I asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Kelly paused, her tone turning cold. "He's your friend. Are you really going to make a fuss out of this?" The blatant rebuke completely extinguished my desire to reply. After hanging up, my ride back to Jazzville arrived. The driver glanced at me and could not help but say, "Young man, it's the middle of the night. This area is quite dangerous. What urgent matter kept you waiting until now?" Looking at my shoes, which had been soaked by the snow, I softly replied, "It was urgent at the time." Then, I smiled and continued, "But not anymore."

The day someone told me I was legitimate blood of the Mafia family, I went from being the Don's daughter's personal maid to being the Don's daughter myself. Three days after they brought me home to the family estate, I went looking for Luciano, the man I'd secretly married, and found him in the study, talking to Don Moretti. "Nina is obedient. She wouldn't dare utter a word even when bullied. She is the perfect person to take the fall for Avery at that bloody party and she won't crack." "Good, Luciano. You think of everything! She's nobody — a street girl. She walks into that bloodbath and dies, nobody's going to miss her. Let her go. Avery's waiting for you to make underboss first, then we do the wedding proper." I stumbled back three steps. My heel hit the marble floor and the pain shot straight up my leg, but it was nothing compared to what just exploded in my chest. I wasn't Don Moretti's real blood. And the man who had sworn his life to me, my own husband, was planning to send me into that slaughterhouse so he could marry the Don's actual daughter. I'd already heard what happened to the last stand-in at one of those events. Shot to pieces. That news drove into my spine like an ice pick. But what they didn't know, what I'd only just found out, was this: My brother, who'd been missing for years, was the highest power in the Cosa Nostra. The one they called the Shadow King.

The birthday gift I gave my husband was found in a doghouse by the side of the road. I spent the next five years as the butt of all jokes made by Cascade City's high society wives. Every year when Julian Carter's birthday came around, they would bring it up again, teasing that the gift I bought him was surely the most expensive one of all. "That's nouveau riche taste for you. She thinks the more expensive it is, the better." "Yeah, but I wonder where they'll find it this year. Another doghouse, maybe?" The women burst into laughter. Then, they realized something was different. This year, I had not given Julian anything at all. In fact, as his birthday drew to a close, I still had not shown up. "Laura, where's my birthday present? And what kind of behavior is this? You disappeared for the entire day. Do you have any idea how unhappy everyone in the family has been?" Julian's eyes were dark with irritation. I pushed back my sleep-mussed hair, only then remembering that it seemed to be Julian's birthday. "Oh, sorry. I forgot." After a brief pause, I added casually, "I'll have my assistant pick something out tomorrow and send it over." For a moment, he simply stared at me, as if he could not believe what he had just heard. "What did you just say?"

In the fifth year of my marriage with Lionel Kruger, I suddenly develop an ability to see everyone's ranking system. To my mom, I'm ranked first. To my best friend, I'm ranked second after her daughter. Even the owner of the breakfast cart in the neighborhood views me as his sixth favorite person in his life. Delighted, I rush off to see Lionel's ranking system. His mom ranks first, whereas Natalie Cooper is ranked second. That's me! I'm ranked second! That piece of news makes me smile throughout the day. That is, until I see an unfamiliar name taking up the sixth spot—Lindsay Sloan. I tell myself that it's fine. I'm ranked second, while she's ranked sixth. But the next few days, I witness Lindsey's name climbing slowly up the ranks to the point she's almost reaching my rank. That evening, Lionel comes home and hugs me as usual. "I missed you." As I stare at the ranking system above his head, I notice that Lindsay, who's now ranked third, is slowly climbing upward as he speaks. "Lionel, who's Lindsey Sloan?" At that moment, Lionel freezes up while hugging me.

Since my bone cancer is already terminal, my doctor asks me if I wish to receive an amputation. My breath is lodged in my throat. After hesitating for a few moments, I end up texting my husband, Jordan Parker. "If I undergo the amputation surgery, I'll get to live for another year. Do you want me to take up the surgery?" One minute before I'm scheduled to undergo the surgery, my phone finally buzzes. "Best wishes." It's the same response as the one I've been receiving for every message I've sent him over the past three years. Of course, Jordan has responded by transferring me money and a note that says "best wishes". I put down my phone quietly. Ever since I've borrowed 500 thousand dollars from him on our wedding night, Jordan has already determined that I'm a gold digger, just like what his friends have been saying about me. That's why Jordan transfers me money when I go through a miscarriage. When I beg him to attend my dad's funeral, he gives me money as well. Half a year ago, I'm diagnosed with bone cancer. The thought about having to live my life with tubes inserted into various parts of my body while lying on my sick bed and waiting for Death to grace me with its presence in the near future triggers a mental breakdown immediately. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I send 97 long audio messages to Jordan. In return, I've received 97 money transfers. Now, I'm about to get amputated just so I can extend my life span, and here Jordan is, fusing beads with his childhood sweetheart, Camille Laurent. As I stare at Camille's romantic social media post and the barrage of comments that wish her and Jordan well, I pluck out the needle with a bitter smile on my face. There is once when Jordan has told me in a tone filled with hatred and resentment that his biggest regret is his decision to call off his engagement with Camille over a gold digger like me. Well, I hope that this time, he won't have any regrets anymore.

My husband, Jake Langford, gets poisoned with the toxic aphrodisiac in order to save me. Apparently, he needs to sleep with 99 virgins in order to get cured. Every time he's done with a session, Jake looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. "You mustn't think badly of me, Lily!" Whenever he says that, the jealousy and resentment I feel get drowned out by guilt immediately. I count the days, thinking that things between Jake and me will go back to how they were like before once we've gone through 99 days of hell. That is, until I discover the second phone hiding inside our closet. Only then do I realize that there's no such thing as 99 virgins. It turns out that Jake has been sleeping with the same woman every night this whole time.

Brian Stanton was the definition of a textbook husband in everyone's eyes. He left work on time every single day, rain or shine, and whenever he traveled for business, his video calls arrived like clockwork to report his whereabouts. If a dinner involved even a single female colleague, he would call me first to ask for my explicit permission. Even the honey-ginger tea he prepared for me during my periods had never skipped a single month in half a decade. Yet, the better he treated me, the more it felt like I was serving a life sentence. Five years ago, his assistant had shown up at our wedding, her heavily pregnant belly protruding as she begged me to let them be together. Brian had violently dragged her away. When he finally returned, he was covered in blood, collapsing before me and trembling. "Honey, I was wrong. I've taken care of her. She won't ever show up again." He hadn't slipped up once since then. In fact, he had been so flawless and so completely beyond reproach that I thought it was finally time to forgive him. I went to his company, hoping to ask him out for lunch. But a child's voice drifted out from inside his office. "Dad, it's Mom's birthday today. Let's go home and celebrate with her." "Okay." In the next instant, my phone screen lit up with an incoming message. [Honey, I'm working late tonight. Will be home later.] Peering through the narrow crack in the door, I looked at the father and son, who looked as if they had been cast from the same mold. All at once, I flashed back to the moment when his assistant begged me, her belly so massive she was on the absolute verge of giving birth. The pregnancy test result I had been clutching so tightly in my hand slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.

I've been married to Ryland Webster for eight years. In that time, we got divorced nine times. I met every woman he dated after our wedding. Whenever he grew tired of someone and wanted out, I became his favorite excuse. "If you marry him, you'll end up like me," I told them. "Cleaning up his messes, signing divorce papers over and over, and walking away with nothing." On New Year's Eve, I sat beside another woman he'd abandoned, handing her tissues as she cried. Across the city, Ryland was setting off a fireworks display for his newest girlfriend. As I watched her sob through an entire box of tissues, I saw a younger version of myself. For the first time, I asked Ryland for a divorce. He looked genuinely confused. "We'll be remarried in three days," he said. "Do we really need to go through this again?" I smiled and shook my head. No. Not this time. Ryland, I'm done waiting for you.

I applied for paid time off to visit my wife, Luna Reid, a scientist who was away on an overseas assignment. As I was bored on the plane, I scrolled through social media when I was bored on the plane. Then, I came across a post. [My ex-girlfriend, who’s married, invited me to go on an overseas trip. What should I bring on that trip?] The netizens made fun of him. [Naturally you have to bring condoms. If you accidentally get her pregnant, her current husband will become the father of your child.] Some other netizens chastised them. Initially, I was reading it for my own entertainment. At that moment, I came across a comment left by a private account. [I’m that married ex-girlfriend. I hope that everyone can be mindful of their words.] [We’re not doing this for any immoral reasons. We just want to make up for lost time.] [The coming two weeks are the only time we have left together. I just want time to pass a little slower. I just ask for it to be a little slower.] I stared at that profile picture intently. The woman in the profile picture was none other than Luna, who had been overseas for three years. She had a two-week break, and she initially planned to return to the country to be with me. However, a day before her break, she suddenly told me that her research was at a critical stage, so her time-off had been cancelled. I missed her terribly, so I secretly applied for time off at work to give her a surprise. I had not expected that surprise to turn sour on me. At the same time, I received a text message from Luna. [Baby, starting tomorrow, for two weeks, my work has a do-not-disturb policy, so please don’t contact me.]