Bias Cheating Short Stories & Novels

Alyssa Lambert, the only daughter of the world's wealthiest family, falls in love with Justin Fuller, a poor man whose company went bankrupt and is burdened with billions in debt. In the third year of concealing her identity to stay by his side, Justin finally pays off all his debts, starts a new company, and makes his debut on the Nova Exchange. As Alyssa watches his confident figure on stage, she thinks it's time to reveal her true identity. When she arrives outside the private room booked for the celebratory banquet, she happens to overhear the lively chatter inside. "Justin, Alyssa has faithfully stayed by your side for three years and was even willing to live in a basement with you. Now that you've paid off your debts and the company is publicly listed, isn't it time to propose to her?" "Yeah! When the company was just starting up, and you had no money to hire people, Alyssa practically split herself into three and only slept four hours a day. She even took the initiative with every difficult deal. Where else would you be able to find such a great girlfriend? You'd better marry her soon!" Alyssa's hand freezes on the doorknob, and she feels a wave of unease creep over her. She had hinted about marriage before, but each time, Justin dodged the question by saying he still couldn't provide her with a good life. Now that the company went public, would he… finally bring up the topic of marriage? "I haven't forgotten the kindness Aly has shown me these past three years. I also believed she was the one for me, but…" Justin leans back on the couch with a glowing cigarette between his fingers. Everyone's gaze is fixed on him, while outside the door, Alyssa feels her heart skip a beat. "Claudia is back."

When my husband’s family was caught in a massive pileup on the highway, he was at the beach with his first love. I didn’t call and demand that he come back. I simply dialed 911. Because in my previous life, I’d stopped him from going to the beach with her. Instead, he came with me to rush his family to the hospital. While he was gone, his first love was swept out to sea and drowned. When I found out, I was overwhelmed with guilt. But my husband told me it wasn’t my fault. I thought he’d forgiven me. Then, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the beach. Right in front of me, he killed our daughter and threw her into the ocean for the sharks to devour. Then he held me underwater and waited for them to tear me apart. “This is all your fault! She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you! “You can die with her!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.

When we hiked deep in the mountains that day, my husband’s first love, Cindy Pepper, and I were both bitten by venomous snakes. Only one of us could be saved. There was only one dose of the antidote in the first-aid kit. Whoever received it would have a chance of surviving. At that critical moment, my husband, Gary Sapien, who was the head of the emergency department, injected the antidote into Cindy Pepper without hesitation. He also gave her the only stretcher and the satellite phone. “Cindy has a heart condition. She won’t make it down the mountain. You work out all the time, and you’re in good shape. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.” A torrential downpour cut off the mountain. No one rescued me until the following afternoon. By then, the venom had already spread throughout my body. My right leg was necrotic, my kidneys had failed, and I had no choice but to undergo an amputation high above the knee. Gary signed the surgical consent form on my behalf. His expression was still detached. “It’s only a leg. You can still live a normal life with a prosthetic. “You’re already my wife. You don’t need both legs to make a living. Cindy, on the other hand, is a dance teacher. She can’t afford to lose her legs.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat and let out a cold laugh. So, it looked like my life and my legs were worth less to him than Cindy’s dream of dancing. That night, I called a number I had not contacted in five years. “Tommy, I’m sorry. I lost. “Come take me home and withdraw all of our investments from Sapien Hospital. “Also, please get the divorce agreement ready for me.”

As soon as I leave the hospital after my abortion, I send my husband, Rykel Heffer, a message. "I terminated the pregnancy." I get an instant reply. "Okay." I stare at that single word and suddenly find it almost funny. For years, whenever I gave him a heads-up before heading into a high-risk assignment, the only reply I got was "okay". And whenever I reminded him that if he was unable to reach me for 24 hours, he should come looking for me, I also got a simple "okay". When I was trapped under the rubble after a building collapsed and lost contact for 72 hours, I sent Rykel 309 desperate messages, consumed by fear. He replied with 309 "okay"s. Only now do I realize that every reply I have ever received has been an automated response. Since Rykel never reads my messages, naturally, he has no idea that half a month ago, I told him I would be taking an overseas assignment and terminating the pregnancy today. His attention and affection have always belonged to the woman who fills his social media feed—Joey Mugbrey. "It's our thousand-day anniversary, and it's Joey's birthday too!" The post is accompanied by a screenshot of their chat history. Above the countless messages is a 1,000-day streak, celebrating their thousand days together. I tap "Like" on his post and leave a comment. "A wonderful day indeed." Today marks the anniversary of the day I narrowly escaped death in that collapse years ago. More importantly, it is the day I decide to leave Rykel for good.

After Dustin Horne cheated and returned to our marriage, my entire family turned into my surveillance team. When he went out to take out the trash, my dad trailed him and sent me a video. "He's behaving himself. Didn't even look at his phone once." When he went to his law firm for a meeting, my mom disguised herself as a cleaner to sneak in. "There wasn't a single woman within ten feet of him." When he came back from trying a case out of state, my best friend scanned him top to bottom with a detector. "No stray hairs, no lipstick marks... all clean." Everyone swore to me that Dustin's heart was back where it belonged. Even Dustin himself stayed by my bedside every night, taking vows that he would only ever love me and our baby. That was until seven months into my pregnancy, when he went away on a business trip and I went in for a routine checkup alone. Passing by the maternity ward, I caught sight of him cradling a baby, kissing the woman in the hospital bed with tears of joy. My parents and my best friend were standing around the bed, cheering right along with him. I recognized the woman in an instant. It was his former mistress, Hattie Shields. Everyone panicked at the sight of me, instinctively bracing themselves to shield the baby. Yet I simply stepped forward and straightened Dustin's collar. "The baby's cute. Looks just like you. I won't interrupt you guys. I need to get back home and do the laundry."

In the eighth year of our marriage, I was on my way to drop my daughter off at school when I got a call from a hotel. "Is this Ms. Ariel Winters? Your husband, Vince Weaver, left his watch here." My blood went cold. Ariel Winters was my wife. Vince Weaver was my sworn brother. I rushed to my sister, desperate for her to deny it. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she gave me a calm, steady lecture. "Edwin, they already have a child together. Just pretend you don't know. Ariel didn't want you to get hurt. That's the only reason we agreed to keep it from you." Before I could speak, my brother-in-law cut in. "Yeah, Edwin, don't blame Vince for this. You're both fathers. Try to see it from his side." My brother-in-law was another member of our so-called sworn brotherhood. And now, he wanted me to forgive the man who had wrecked my family — and his secret child. Turns out I was the extra piece in every relationship I had: family, friendship, and love.

Clara Cooper, my girlfriend of nine years, suddenly changes her WhatsApp display name to "Mozzarella Lover". I ask her about it, but she refuses to tell me the reason behind the change. I finally realize what's happening when Thomas Zimmerman, her assistant, sends me intimate photos of the two of them, using "Mozerella Stick" as his WhatsApp display name. I calmly save the photos, open my chat window with Dad, and send him a message. "I'll go through with the arranged marriage, Dad." Dad sees my message and immediately video calls me. "Your wedding is scheduled for the end of this month then, Hunter!" It means I only have 15 days left with Clara.

Zane Mercer and I had grown up together. Both our families took it for granted that we would end up together after graduation. He never bothered to hide it, either. Whenever someone brought us up, he would say, “Vivian gets scared so easily. She can’t manage without me.” I believed him for over a decade. Until the first department dinner at college. The prettiest girl in our department carried her drink over and sat beside him, smiling as she asked, “I heard you have a childhood sweetheart. Is she your girlfriend?” Amid the teasing and excited chatter, my cheeks flushed. I waited for him to nod. But Zane hesitated. “No. She’s just the girl next door.” Someone nudged the girl beside him. “Then you’ve got a chance!” She smiled brightly. “I’ll be counting on you to look after me from now on.” Zane didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled back. “Sure.” In that moment, I remembered how he’d worried about me getting sunburned during the summer camp and gone out in the middle of the night to buy me sunscreen. I remembered how he’d held my hand while we filled out our college applications and promised we’d keep walking through life together. So all those years of affection meant nothing compared to one smile from her. On the way back, he caught up with me to explain. “Selene’s pretty straightforward. I just didn’t want to embarrass her.” I asked, “So it’s fine to embarrass me instead?” He frowned. “Vivian, since when did you get so sensitive?” I said nothing more. That night, I changed all our photos to private. From then on, I would be nothing more than the girl next door.

My boyfriend of six years, Liam Sherman, proposes to his long-time crush, Vivi Johansen, on my birthday. With that, the passionate love between us is a thing of the past. I come to my senses and distance myself from him, choosing to put our relationship behind us. As such, I decided to go along with the arranged marriage my family has planned.

My husband, Joe Anderson, was a captain of a cargo ship. He would usually spend about ten months a year at sea. I always trusted him, but I had a habit that no one really knew about. Whenever he docked at a port for replenishment, I would go for a drink with the vice captain’s wife, Helen Scott. Luke Henson was a quiet man, but Helen was very talkative with a very low alcohol tolerance. We were chatting about life and our husbands away on the ship. Third drink in, she suddenly leaned in and said, “Joe’s too romantic. “Last month, when they were docked, he deliberately looked for a local jeweler to customize a wave-themed jewelry set. “There were necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and more. He even asked for the items to be shipped back. I’m so envious of you.” I said in a low voice, “Is that so? Why didn’t I receive it?” I did not ask any further questions, and she changed the topic tactfully. That night, when I got home, I looked through his shipping logbook and saw that the jewelry delivery address was not my home. The tides had turned, and it was time for me to leave.

My fiancé, Everett Prescott, spent five whole years designing my wedding dress, and it finally arrived today. Except I couldn't zip it up. It stayed wide open until my best friend, Sienna Hart, slipped into the dress perfectly. The fabric hugged her curves like a second skin. She turned to my fiancé with an exasperated sigh. "Everett, are you serious? You got Leah’s size wrong. Again." My blood ran cold. Over the five years Everett and I had been together, this wasn't the first time he'd conveniently forgotten my measurements. When he bought me pajamas that were a size too small, he just blinked, flashing that easy grin of his. "Oh, wait. I think this is Sienna's size, right? Let's just give it to her. I'll buy you another set." When my engagement ring turned out to be too small, he scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "My bad. Well, we already bought it, so we might as well give it to Sienna. Lucky her." Our wedding was in two days, and once again, he got the measurements dead wrong. Everett rubbed his nose, giving a weak laugh. "Totally my fault, babe. My bad. I'll just take it back to the shop and get it altered." "Everett, altering a custom wedding dress takes at least six months," I said, my voice barely a whisper. He offered a helpless smile. "Well, you can't exactly walk down the aisle without a dress, right? Don't worry about it. As soon as the dress is altered, we'll have the wedding immediately. We've already waited five years. What's another six months?" Right then, my phone buzzed in my palm. [Sweetheart, the guy you have an arranged marriage with is flying back into the country in two days. I don't care what excuse you have this time. You’re coming home and marrying him!] I stared at the screen for a long time before replying: [Got it. I'll be there.] I spent five long years waiting around for this wedding. I'm not waiting another six months.

My wife, Claire, wanted our son to give up a kidney to save her childhood sweetheart's daughter. I refused. I fought her so hard that I thought she'd finally let it go. Then our son vanished, and Claire stopped answering my calls. I went to the hospital to find her. There, I learned that the little girl had finally found a donor. Claire would perform the transplant herself. She'd promised to keep her safe. Then I saw the name listed under deceased organ donor. It was my son's.

After clawing my way to the top and driving out the first wife, I lived by one rule only. Whoever paid was king. So I became Jesse Fleming's perfect trophy wife. He liked innocent, delicate girls, so I looked at him with wide, clear eyes. He hated materialistic women, so I wore faded dresses and told him love could conquer anything. Then he fell for a wild, redheaded girl from the streets. "You can't give me what Gina does. Let's break up." He slid a bank card across the table. "Sarah, sign the papers, and the 50 million is yours. You don't want to walk away with nothing, do you?" I looked down at the agreement, clenching my fists. Then a live chat popped up. 'Just sign it already. He's got HIV. You'll die if you stay with him!' I was about to sign the papers, but froze and tore the papers into pieces the next second.

Ten years into my marriage with Shannon Jervis, the golden girl of the elite world, I received a video that changed everything. When I confronted her with my phone in hand, she remained calm and simply shrugged. “I have nothing to explain. Your health has always been poor. I didn’t dare push you to try something you couldn’t handle. But people have needs, don’t they?” I froze in place. My arm went numb as I held onto my phone. “So, that’s your excuse?” Shannon did not reply. She only looked at me with a detached, indifferent gaze. “To be honest, you haven’t been someone I could proudly show off for years.” I stared at her, and something inside me went cold. The forever we had promised each other had only lasted ten short years.

My best friend and her boyfriend started a couples' vlog channel together, and it recently went viral online. I immediately followed it, watching every single upload. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that her blurred-out boyfriend acted suspiciously like my husband. When I mentioned it to her, she just flicked my forehead. "Girl, you're so crazy in love that you see your husband everywhere! Keep this up, and I'm gonna start getting jealous!" Blushing, I rubbed my head and quickly changed the subject. That was until my husband's company retreat, where I dragged Barbara Moore along to keep me company. Out of nowhere, our flight back suffered a severe emergency. Flight attendants handed out paper for everyone to write down their final words. With trembling hands, I finished writing mine, only to catch a glance at theirs. They had written down each other's names! My husband turned on his camera, framing both of them in the shot. "Barbara, I'm content to spend my final moments with you. Everyone, this channel won't be updating anymore. Goodbye." Neither of them noticed that off-camera, my face had gone deathly pale. Yet in the end, the plane managed to land safely. None of us died. I didn't cry or throw a scene. Instead, I simply tore up my final note, opened the car door, and got in. "What are you guys standing there for? Get in."

For the 18th time, Tyra Stone calls off our wedding because I'm a beat too slow during the vows. She looks at me with utter disappointment. "You know I'm a perfectionist. Why can't you follow the wedding schedule exactly? If you can't keep up next time either, maybe you should just let your best friend marry me instead." My so-called best friend, Jeremiah Young, is known for being obsessively punctual. For some reason, Tyra has made him the standard I'm expected to meet. If I come downstairs a minute later than he does after work, she will drive off with him without looking back. If I arrive at the restaurant half a step after him on Valentine's Day, she will give him the candlelit dinner meant for me. If I reach the airport 20 seconds after him for our anniversary trip, she will cancel my ticket and board the plane with him instead. As a result, our wedding has been canceled 17 times. Each time, Jeremiah takes my place and goes through the entire ceremony with her. To ensure the 18th attempt finally goes smoothly, I fill the hall with countdown clocks and spend more than 200 nights practicing in secret. However, ten seconds before the vows are supposed to begin, Jeremiah jumps the gun and says, "I do." Tyra chooses to go by his timing. She ignores me as the hundred-something clocks around us chime in unison. For the 18th time, she calls off the wedding. It turns out the problem is never my timing. The problem is that I'm the groom, not Jeremiah. If that's what she wants, I'll give her the perfect wedding she's been blindly chasing. Tyra takes Jeremiah's hand again. "Watch closely. We'll show you one more time." I laugh and casually slip the wedding rings onto their fingers. "Save it. I hope you two have a long and happy marriage instead."

When Ethan Thamson was broke and struggling, his first love left him for a richer man who could give her the designer lifestyle she wanted. He spiraled until I found him unconscious on the side of the road and took him in. On my 18th birthday, our friendship became something more, and before long, we were inseparable. For the next eight years, I stayed by Ethan's side as he fought his way from a nobody on the streets to one of the most powerful men in the city. And through it all, Ethan treated me like I was the center of his world. Even after all these years, he still remembers the smallest things, like bringing me a heating pad and a warm drink whenever I have cramps. I never doubt his love—until I'm eight months pregnant and find an almost-empty box of condoms in his car. Ethan laughs it off. "I lent the car to Mason. I'll tell him to clean up after himself next time." After eight years together, I believe him. One month later, Vanessa Coleman, Ethan's first love, shows up at our door. She's pregnant. Vanessa pulls down her collar just enough to reveal the marks scattered across her skin and smiles. "Has Ethan ever wanted you this badly? In the past year alone, we've been together 108 times in hotels, 15 times in his car, and 18 times in the bed you share with him. "You were never the love of his life, Natalie. You were just the woman he used to get over me. "And now that I'm back, he doesn't need you anymore. So why are you still holding on?"

Henry Upton and I have been secretly dating for five years now. One day, I pay a visit to our mentor, Professor Elaine Harding, bringing a gift basket with me. During our conversation, she suddenly mentions my good friend, Ruby McCain. "You know, during our time at the lab, Henry and Ruby showed the best chemistry. They were practically inseparable, always having their meals and going everywhere together. I've always wondered when they will finally make things official and get married." My smile stiffens, but Professor Harding doesn't notice a thing. She pats the back of my hand and says gladly, "Fortunately, the good news is finally about to come. Henry told me that he intends to propose to Ruby as soon as the awards ceremony is over tomorrow. He even asked me to be there and witness the moment. Considering your relationship with Ruby, I'm sure you'll be the maid of honor." For a moment, I forget to breathe. Just then, the doorbell rings. Henry stands on the doorstep with a gift basket in one hand. The other is tightly clasped with Ruby's hand, their fingers intertwined. The air seems to freeze. Henry's eyes meet mine, and his flash with panic. However, his instinctive reaction is to step to the side a little, shielding Ruby behind him. My fingers clench around my phone until my palm starts to ache. On the screen is the message Henry sent me this morning. "Darling, once the awards ceremony is over tomorrow, I'll make our relationship public. I'll make you the happiest bride in the world." But as it turns out, it's not his relationship with me that's about to go public tomorrow. The future he speaks of has never included me. I remain standing as I watch Professor Harding greet the couple with a smile. Seeing the two of them stand side by side sends a sharp wave of pain through my chest, radiating throughout my body. It is at this very moment that I finally realize the truth. At last, I understand why my relationship with Henry has been a secret all these years. The truth is, I was always meant to remain in the shadows for good.

The day I caught Joel Kemper in bed with another woman, she slashed up her own face. Joel pulled her tightly into his arms, refusing to let me see her no matter how hysterical I got. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at me. "This is all my fault, Valerie. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'm begging you. Don't go after her." After that day, Joel gave up every shred of privacy. He handed over his phone every day and even installed hidden cameras throughout his car. If a female patient so much as texted him, I would question him over and over, and he never once complained. He went along with everything, asking only that I take him back. Then, three days before our wedding, I went to pick up my dress, only for the sales associate to stare at me in confusion. "Ms. Clayton, you already picked up your wedding dress this morning. I actually just saw a video from your ceremony online." She pulled up the clip. The same friends of Joel's, who had still been acting like I was the one he was going to marry yesterday were now handing the rings to the bride and groom, with several of our mutual friends standing nearby. Joel leaned toward the bride with a smile and murmured tenderly, "I love you, Daphne." The name, and the face that looked exactly like mine, left me frozen in place.

My fiancé, Lucas Hale, was known in our circle for his charity work. He looked after Ella, a student from a poor background, as if she were made of glass. When his first project bonus came in, he spent it on a limited-edition bracelet for Ella. The day we got the keys to the apartment we'd bought to live in after the wedding, he let her pick her room first. Even when I had appendicitis and was in so much pain I could barely stand, he sent me to the hospital alone in a cab because Ella had a slight headache and wanted company. When I woke up from the anesthesia, I'd finally had enough. I made him choose between Ella and me. He frowned as if he had no idea what I meant. "Freya, Ella grew up with no one. I just show her a little extra kindness. Do you have to keep score like this? "Look. I swear that from now on, I'll put you first in everything. All right?" I saw the promise in his eyes and swallowed my hurt one more time. But the whole wedding still reflected Ella's tastes, and he had the dress made in her size. At the wedding rehearsal, Lucas brought Ella to the venue. He smiled at me and said, "Ella says she may never get married. She wants to experience a full wedding ceremony just once. Let her stand in for you at the rehearsal. "You'll still be the bride on the day. Think of it as helping her live out a dream. Okay?"