เรื่องสั้นแนว Tragic Love และนิยาย Homewrecker Cheating

Vanessa Langley lay on my operating table, pregnant for the eighth time by the man she'd grown up with. This time, I didn't break down the way I had the previous seven. Instead I calmly closed the incision and went over the aftercare with her. Seven times I'd performed the procedure on my own wife because she was carrying another man's child. I had long since become the joke of the hospital, the story everyone traded over coffee. From getting pregnant by him to pressuring me into ending it, she always had a reason she considered perfectly respectable. This time, Vanessa's eyes reddened and she caught my sleeve. "Adrian, someone drugged Damian. I couldn't just leave him... "Don't worry, I'll end the pregnancy. You're my husband. You're the only man I'd ever have a child with." Even the nurses talked during the procedure, wondering whether I'd fold the way I always had, worn down by a few soft words and a few tears. But nobody knew we'd signed an agreement before the wedding. I gave Vanessa eight chances to get it wrong, and she had used them all. The agreement took effect, and every asset in her name passed to me.

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

My son, Nick Hammerback's grades suddenly skyrocket after he spends the summer supposedly getting tutored at his classmate's house. Wanting to thank the family, I bring his classmate's mother a gift at the first parent-teacher meeting of the school year. Instead, she looks completely confused. "Tutoring? That never happened. Our whole family spent the summer in Rosta." My smile freezes. When I get home, I demand to know where Nick has really been going all summer. Instead of answering, he gets irritated and storms off. "Why does it matter? You're the one who's always telling me to study harder. Now I'm getting good grades, and you're still not happy?" Then I notice an essay he's left on the table. The assignment is titled "The Person I Want to Thank Most." His title makes my heart soften. It reads, "My Mom." But the warmth lasts only a second. According to the essay, his mom spends the entire summer helping him study. She loves wearing white dresses, while I never wear white because I'm always doing housework. Just before school starts, the three of them even take a family vacation together. The dates match the exact days my husband, David Hammerback, claims he's away on a business trip. I stare at Nick's perfect-score essay and finally understand. David is lying to me, and now my son has learned to lie too. They haven't just built a second family behind my back. Nick has already fallen in love with his new "mom". That evening, after dinner, Nick announces that he's heading out for another "tutoring session". David immediately offers to drive him, claiming he needs to stop by the office anyway. This time, I simply smile and let them go. If they love their other family so much, they can keep it. Starting tonight, neither of them needs to come home.

"Can I undergo surgery to widen my vaginal canal? My husband is… on the larger side. It's a bit too much for me to handle," a woman says. I stare at the attractive young lady before me, feeling slightly surprised. Most of my patients come to me for vaginal tightening procedures or hymen reconstruction surgery. Requests for vaginal widening surgeries are extremely rare. According to her medical file, the woman's name is Melanie Sanders. After a brief consultation, I examine her. Her vaginal canal is somewhat narrow, but her condition isn't severe enough to warrant surgery. I advise her against the procedure, but she refuses to reconsider. "My husband is quite… well-endowed. He's afraid of hurting me during sex, so he always tries very hard to hold himself back," she explains. "I can't bear to see him suffer. Please schedule the surgery for me as soon as possible, Dr. Smith." Her words make me think of my husband, Zachary Hudson, whose size has caused me pain during intimate moments on several occasions. Feeling my face grow hot, I quickly push the thought aside and schedule the woman's surgery. All of a sudden, the door to the consultation room bursts open, and a man marches inside. Before I can say anything, Melanie throws herself into the man's arms, calling him "honey". I stare at the couple, my blood running cold. As it turns out, the man she has been talking about is the same man I've been married to for two years.

I had just walked out of the Pack Healer's cabin, clutching the crumpled paper of my official pregnancy report, when I refreshed my social media feed. An anonymous post on the local pack forum caught my eye. "I've been sleeping with the Alpha for a while now, and I just found out I'm pregnant. But his Luna is knocked up too, and she's months ahead of me. I hate the idea of him having a pup with someone else. I want to carry his firstborn. How can I make him force his mate to get rid of it?" The comments section was flooded with curses and insults calling the poster a home-wrecker. But the original poster had liked one particularly vicious comment. "That's easy. Tell the Alpha that his Luna is too weak and that she is carrying an abomination corrupted by wolfsbane. Tell him it will be a stillborn anyway." I usually just lurked in these threads, but my wolf, Selene, growled within me. My fingers flew across the screen as I replied. "Aren't you afraid of the Moon Goddess's wrath for defying Her will like this?" The moment I hit send, my mate Kael, the Alpha of the Starlight Pack, walked up to me. He was holding a forged diagnosis report from the Healer, his face a mask of pained hesitation. "Seraphina," he said, his voice trembling. " The Healer says our pup's soul is fragmented. It has been judged as a stillborn. For your safety, we have to terminate the pregnancy immediately." He took a breath, looking deep into my eyes. "I have already made the arrangements. Tomorrow, before the Moon Goddess's altar, I will supervise the surgery personally to ensure your absolute safety."

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.

At the top of the dark web’s most heavily encrypted bounty board was a contract on the wife of Chicago’s most powerful crime boss. **Make Valentina survive one hundred attempts on her life before she dies. Progress: 79/100.** In the past three months, I’d survived a man-made avalanche, nerve gas, and an electrified swimming pool. Every time, my husband, Damian, had dragged me back from the brink, covered in blood. He’d even driven out everyone in the family who suspected me of killing his mistress. I was so grateful I burned the divorce papers I’d already signed. I looked forward to our anniversary, when I planned to tell him I was five months pregnant with his heir. Then, hoping to help him find the traitor in our ranks, I used my highest-level access to break into the account behind the bounty. Damian’s private encryption key appeared on the screen. Beneath it was a voice message from him. “Claudia spent a hundred seconds knowing her plane was going down. This is only number seventy-nine. Leave Valentina breathing every time. She doesn’t get to die that easily.” “On our anniversary, seven days from now, blow up her private jet. Let her pay for Claudia’s life.” So he had believed it was me all along. I stared at the screen for ten minutes. Then I cleared my browsing history and called a cleaner who specialized in making people disappear from the underworld. On our anniversary, I slipped the ultrasound image of our five-month-old baby into Damian’s jacket pocket. On the plane, I left a woman’s body in my place, fitted with dental work that matched mine and wearing my wedding ring. One second before the fire started, I escaped through a maintenance hatch beneath the cabin and detonated the main fuel tank. I heard that when the plane burst into a rain of fire over the tarmac, the man who had ruled Chicago for ten years vomited blood on the spot. Then he fell to his knees with the ultrasound image in his hands—the baby’s tiny form already visible—and stayed there all night.

After seven years with Luca Lorenzetti, I was finally in a wedding dress. We were at a private photography studio in Sicily that served only members of the Lorenzetti family. My best friend, Avery Conti, who'd introduced me to Luca years earlier, was trying on her bridesmaid dress nearby. The moment Avery stepped out in her custom silver gown, Luca's eyes lit up in a way I'd never seen before. Luca asked Avery to join us for a few shots. "Think of it as a keepsake from before the wedding." I stood in the middle in my wedding gown. Avery fussed with her skirt off to the side and laughed softly. "Maybe not. Standing next to Chloe in this, I'd look like an ugly duckling." Without a word, Luca walked over, pushed me aside, and gave Avery the spot right in the center. When the shutter clicked, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder like a couple made for each other. As we looked through the photos, Luca pointed to one of the three of us. He wanted it enlarged, framed, and used as the welcome poster for our wedding. I frowned. "Avery's in the middle of our wedding poster? That doesn't seem right." Luca gave me a disapproving look. "Chloe, why are you being so difficult? If Avery hadn't introduced us, you'd never even have met me. "So what if we use one group photo? You're still the one standing at the altar with me in the end, aren't you?" I looked at myself in the photo. Even in the most expensive dress there, I looked like an outsider who'd wandered into the frame by mistake. Some places aren't yours, even when you're standing in them. If that's how it is, I don't want to be his bride anymore.

After her boyfriend bailed on their wedding, my best friend broke down crying and begged my fiance to step in and save the day. Blake Keller comforted me gently. "Dawn, Noelle and I grew up together. We've been close for years—closer than family, honestly. Today is just for show. Besides, our wedding's next week anyway, so think of it as a rehearsal in advance." I felt terrible for my best friend. After struggling with myself for a long time, I finally gritted my teeth and nodded. Just like that, I watched with my own eyes as my boyfriend, who was supposed to be the best man, became my best friend's "groom." At the wedding, Blake held Noelle's hand, his eyes filled with affection. When the officiant asked whether he was willing, he answered even more firmly than he had when he proposed to me. I kept telling myself not to take it seriously, that it was just an act and I should not overthink it. That was what I believed—until after they exchanged rings. The officiant smiled and said, "You may now kiss the bride." The crowd instantly started cheering, urging them to kiss. Blushing, Noelle hurriedly reassured me. "Dawn, don't worry. We'll fake it with the camera angle." I believed her. But in the very next second, Blake lifted her chin and deeply kissed her for real in front of everyone.

A month before my wedding, I've discovered a series of suspicious transfers made by my fiancee, Irene Lambert. The recipient is none other than her first love, Blake Chandler—the man she has never truly forgotten. For seven years, she has sent him 50 thousand dollars every month without fail. When I place the bank statements before Irene and demand an explanation, she barely looks up from her work. "Blake injured his right hand saving me. The money is simply compensation for what happened. Don't worry, money's the only thing I'll ever give him," she says evenly. I refuse to let the matter go, but even my friends urge me to overlook it. "It's only 50 thousand dollars. With how wealthy Irene is, she'd consider a watch at that price too cheap to buy for you. As a man, you've got to be the bigger person," they argue. With our wedding only a month away and seven years of history between us, I finally give in. That is, until I discover that our housekeeper, Olivia Harper, prepares a child's meal every afternoon and delivers it to Irene's office. When I confront Olivia, she stares at me in confusion. "Isn't that your child, Mr. Sanford? He's already around five or six years old—and he calls Ms. Lambert 'Mommy'."

Half an hour before I was to seal a blood bond, my vampire fiance's steward stopped me outside my own bedchamber. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but your key doesn't fit this lock." His words made my stomach drop. "That's impossible. Crowley Ashbourne handed it to me himself." "According to our records, the bedchamber is currently occupied by Lady Elsa Ashbourne, Lord Crowley's adopted sister. She set a ward over it, and only Lord Crowley's blood seal can open the door." My lady's maid, Marta Bell, went white at the steward's answer. The bonding gown, the moonstone ring, every single thing the ceremony required, all of it was still inside that room. In half an hour, vampire nobles from every territory would be seated in the great hall. And I, the bride, could not even get to my own ceremonial dress. I sent Crowley a blood message at once. He came quickly, but his gaze went first to the closed door. Only after he had sensed that Elsa's aura was steady did he turn to me. "Elsa has spent every day helping us prepare this ceremony. She has only just managed to lie down. Go and get ready in my room. Don't wake her." I looked straight at him as he blocked the doorway. "Crowley, everything we need for the bond is in that room!" "What's the rush? When she wakes up, I'll get everything for you." I didn't argue with him any further. I looked at the clock on the wall and gave him an ultimatum. "You have three more minutes to open this door. Otherwise, there will be no blood bond."

At a Halloween costume parade, I suddenly spotted a familiar figure. I watched him with a she-wolf. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. The she-wolf was draped against him in a succubus costume that showed off her curves. The male wolf was dressed as a lord of Hell. His face was flushed, his body tense, and his hands gripped the she-wolf's waist tightly. The people around them laughed good-naturedly. I froze. That was my father, Elias Thorne, the stiff, conservative man who had rushed off to work late even on Halloween. I called him right away and kept my tone casual. "Dad, can you come pick me up in a little while?" His voice faltered for a moment, then returned to its usual warmth. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm at the office working late. I can't come get you. When I get home tonight, I'll make you the apple pie you love." I didn't argue. I said yes like a good daughter and smiled into the phone. When the call ended, I let out a breath and walked toward the couple who should never have been together.

When Adrian Cozner went to a get-together with his fiancée and her friends, Lacey Mirren excused herself, saying she had something to take care of. Two hours passed. She still hadn't come back. Just as he was about to get up and look for her, he overheard her close friends mocking him in Portuguese. "This dumbass doesn't even know he's been cheated on." "Right about now, Lacey and Kevin are probably going at it." "Lacey said Adrian isn't as hung as Kevin. They've been childhood sweethearts. This poor idiot—ha, look at him, we're talking crap right in front of him, and he has no idea. So pathetic." Adrian had just started to stand up, but his body froze, his mind going blank. Right then, Lacey pushed through the door, face flushed, completely satisfied, sweat still glistening on her skin. "Haha, how was it? Isn't sneaking around a thrill? You're something else." "Absolutely. Couldn't get enough."

Five years ago, I witnessed my wife, a university professor, having an affair with Henry Bale, her teaching assistant. Mindy Holmes knelt begging me not to expose her, saying that it would destroy his reputation as a student. I agreed on the condition that he would drop out of school, leave this city, and never return. She would have to sign an agreement to leave the marriage without a single cent if she were to be unfaithful to me again. Everyone rebuked me for being vain and for treasuring money more than our relationship. However, Mindy was willing to go against the entire Holmes family just to preserve Henry’s reputation. Five years later, when I went on a business trip in another city, I found a little girl. I sent her to a police station and had her contact her family. When the policeman dialed the number the girl recited to him, I heard a familiar voice through the phone. “Be good. Don’t be afraid, I’ll come pick you up right away.” Less than half an hour later, Mindy rushed into the station when she was supposed to be at her class miles away. I sat on the bench, my gaze meeting hers. She stood stunned. I stood up with a smile. “Mindy, I didn’t know you had a daughter behind my back. Looks like you can bid goodbye to your reputation as a highly-esteemed professor.”

After Melody cheated and returned to the family, I started posting online every day. [Is cheating addictive?] [Just how thrilling is cheating, really?] [When a woman cheats, does she feel worse for her kids or her lover?] … I tagged her school in every post, making sure each one appeared right in front of her students, her colleagues, and even her lover. Everyone told me to stop making such an ugly scene and be the bigger person. Only Melody stood up for me. "I'm the one who did something wrong. It's only fair to let Tony vent a little." That lasted until my 99th post. Then Melody stormed in as if she'd lost her mind and smashed my computer. "Anthony, are you ever going to stop? I already came back. What more do you want from me? How much longer do you have to torture me before you're satisfied?" I didn't answer. I simply washed every pot and plate until they were spotless. Then I smiled at her and asked, "Are you hungry? Want me to make you something to eat?"

Before the wedding, I received a deduction alert from our joint account. Amount: $1,314. Merchant: Love hotel. Note: One last fling before the wedding. The cardholder was Ethan Greyson. The one who’d used it was his childhood friend, Sophie. I stared at my phone, my fingers ice cold. Sophie was sitting in the bridesmaids’ dressing room touching up her lipstick, wearing Ethan’s suit jacket over her shoulders. She saw the notification and came over with a smile. “Amber, don’t get the wrong idea. “I forgot my wallet, so I used your husband’s joint account to get a room to rest. “He said you’d be sharing finances anyway, so he let me charge it this once.” I looked at Ethan. His first instinct wasn’t to explain, but to turn off my phone. “Sophie just went through a breakup. She’s in a bad place. “Don’t humiliate her over a little money right before the wedding.” Before, she’d charged things to his supplementary card, and he’d say she was short on cash. She’d book couple’s suites using his membership, and he’d say the hotel was safer. She’d send him suggestive selfies at midnight asking how she looked, and he’d say friends joke around like that. And now, she was spending our marital assets to sleep in a room he’d booked. Ethan coaxed me in a low voice, “After the wedding, I’ll transfer the money back to you. “From now on, I won’t let Sophie spend your money. “The apartment, the hotel rooms, me. All yours. Forever.” I looked at him and suddenly found those words laughable. So he did know these things were supposed to have boundaries. I didn’t argue anymore. Because there would be no forever.

When I reach the underground parking lot, I find out that my husband, Victor Blake, has parked his car in a slanted manner. Great, his car has taken over my parking slot again. I call him and tell him to get his ass downstairs so that he can move the car out of my parking slot. While waiting for him, I come across a post on the Internet. "I'm screwing the brains out of my mistress right now. What should I do to avoid getting discovered by my wife, who might be home anytime soon?" The comment section goes nuts. Apparently, the original poster has left a like on one of the comments. "Park your car in a way that it eats into your wife's parking slot. That way, she'll have to call you every time she gets home. Not only do you have time to clean up the scene and protect your mistress, but you also get to tell your wife in a righteous manner that you're reserving a parking slot for her." I frown immediately. As soon as I tap on the WhatsApp chat, I hear someone knocking on my window. Victor can be seen jiggling his car keys outside the car. "What's with the rush? I did this just so I can reserve a parking slot for you, you know."

The Alliance's Awakening Trials were finally over. The proctors from the Capital called me a fighting prodigy. I shattered the all-time pack record. That alone scored me an exceptional admission offer to the Royal Elite Academy. I ran home, screaming with excitement. "I can finally go to the Royal Elite Academy! I can go to the Capital to see Rowan and Julian!" Dead silence answered me. Four stuffed wolves sat on my creaky bed. I sewed them myself. Dad, Mom, my brother Rowan, and my childhood crush and fated Mate, Julian. Their button eyes stared at me coldly. They kept me silent company, just like they had for countless suffocating nights. I looked down. A year ago, my twin sister Willow got terribly sick. Everyone said it was my fault. My awakened power was too aggressive. My dominant aura crushed her weak inner wolf. So, I was banished. Sent to this drafty, broken shack on the edge of the territory. The first night here, a rogue wolf howled and almost broke my door down. I curled up under the bed, hiding my scent. I was too terrified to even whimper. I desperately reached out through the pack mind-link to my parents, my brother, and Julian. Over and over again. I called their phones. No one answered. At dawn, Mom finally texted back. "Stop calling. Hearing your name makes Willow's wolf sick." I made these four stuffed wolves. One for each of them. They slept with me on freezing nights when the fire died out. They listened to my progress in every trial. They listened to me swallow my unheard heartbreak. But right now, hot tears rolled down my face, and I didn't hug them. After being abandoned for so long, I was finally ready to cut ties. No looking back.

On our wedding anniversary, I order a cake and wait until midnight. My wife, Hailey Miller, never comes home. Her secretary, Jaxon Preston, sends me photos and messages to show off. "Sorry, it is my birthday today, so your wife is with me. Oh, and she gave me a watch worth 3 million dollars. Hope you don't mind." I reply, "I don't. What matters is you two are happy." Then, I block him. The next second, Hailey calls to scold me. "He is my secretary and does an excellent job. So what if I give him a watch? Is there a need for you to go after him? You narrow-minded loser!" I laugh coldly to myself. How am I narrow-minded? I am actually quite generous. I do not even want a wife I've had for three years anymore—let alone a watch.

My fiancee, Natalie Crenshaw, has always had a phenomenal memory. She never forgets a thing. Yet, when I propose, she forgets to hold out her hand for the diamond ring. When we go to get our marriage certificate, she forgets to bring her identification papers. And on our wedding day, she forgets she's supposed to be there altogether. Why? Because she's busy saving her childhood sweetheart's wedding next door—by stepping in as the bride herself. Seeing all this, Mom suffers a heart attack. I beg Natalie to go to the hospital and explain things, but she simply links her arm with Erik Cuoco's mother, sweetly calling her "Mom", and claims that I'm nothing more than a pursuer who doesn't know when to give up. Later, I handle Mom's funeral alone. And right after, I apply for an overseas assignment. When I return home to pack my things, Natalie just happens to come back from her honeymoon with Erik. She looks perfectly content, and a smile plays in her eyes. "Robert, how's your mom doing? Let's pick a good date to reschedule the wedding. It'll make her happy." What she doesn't know is that the moment my Mom died, any chance of a future between us died with her.