Homewrecker Countdown の短編小説 & 小説

Everyone thinks I've lost my mind when I marry Bryan Sable. That's because I'm the daughter of the richest family in town, while he's just the owner of a small company. Everyone says he's only marrying me for my money. They don't know that he's willing to risk his life just to be with me. He also spent years pursuing me. On the day of the wedding, apart from the wedding ring, I also give him 99 free passes, saying, "If you ever upset me, you can use one of the free passes to cancel it out. But once you've used up all 99 of them, this marriage ends." Bryan swears he will never even use a single one of the free passes. But not long after we get married, he gets involved with his secretary, Roxy Upton. From that moment onward, the free passes get used up in rapid succession. He uses one when he misses my birthday party because of her. He uses another when I find a hickey left on his neck by someone other than me. It gets to a point where even our butler can't help but remind Bryan, "Mr. Sable, I think Mrs. Sable is upset right now. Are you sure you want to leave now to go to Ms. Upton?" But Bryan doesn't think much of it. "If she's upset, let her be upset. What's the worst that can happen? I'll just use one of the free passes. I've only used about 50 of them. I've got plenty of chances left." He has no clue that he only has three free passes left. And by now, I no longer kick up a fuss. I'm simply waiting for the day he uses up the final chance. I'm going to watch him dig his own grave, losing me as well as everything I've given him.

I'm Sabrina Pembrook, Axel Callahan's stepsister, and the lover he's kept hidden for seven years. At first, I think that he'll keep me hidden for a lifetime… until the night of my birthday when he proposes. I'm so excited I can't fall asleep, and apparently, neither can Axel. In the middle of the night, I hear him walk out to the balcony to answer a call. "She said yes. Everything will proceed as planned." The voice on the other end hesitates slightly before saying, "Are you sure you can go through with it? She's your darling whom you've doted on for so long." Axel's voice turns to ice. "Well, it's her mother's fault for being a homewrecker. If it weren't for Elaine, my mom wouldn't have died. I want Elaine to die in the wedding car, just like how my mom died in a car crash." The person on the other end falls silent for a few beats before sighing. "You sure are cold-blooded. You've slept with Sabrina for so many years, and you're still going to kill her mother on the day of her wedding. And if she ever finds out she's not even the bride, she's going to lose her mind." Axel falls silent. Then, he says something else, but I don't want to listen to another word. What I thought was seven years of love finally coming to fruition… turns out to be nothing more than a plot to murder my mom. But Axel Callahan, I'm not going to let you get what you want.

My husband, Arthur Banks, had just been promoted to colonel and ordered to report to his new post in Miami immediately. Under the military relocation program, he could bring two family members with him. Our neighbors envied me. They thought my daughter and I would have a better life in Miami. But I knew he'd already promised those two spots to his widowed adopted sister, Emily Carter, and her daughter, Lucy. In my last life, his decision had hurt and angered me so much that I'd filed a complaint. That forced Arthur to change the list. A few years later, Arthur came home a success, ready to take Emily and Lucy to Miami, only to learn that Emily had sunk into depression and died. He took Lucy, thin and frail, back to Miami with him and divorced me. Soon after, he sent his own daughter more than 1,000 miles north to learn etiquette. No one expected the car to get caught in a blizzard on a mountain road. My daughter's body was never found. But he wasn't the least bit heartbroken. He even told everyone that Lucy was his real daughter. "Isabelle is your own daughter! How could you be so heartless!" When I confronted him, he backhanded me across the face. "If you hadn't filed that complaint, I could've taken Emily away from here, and she never would have died of depression! "You two killed her, so it's a life for a life!" Hatred swallowed me whole. I soaked the house in gasoline and dragged Arthur into the flames with me. When I opened my eyes again, Arthur and I were both back on the day he filled out the list of dependents.

My CEO boyfriend, Dylan Abbott, has a phobia of getting married. Because of that, he sets up a weird rule that requires me to pass all 99 trials set up by his secretary, Lynette Woods, before finally agreeing to marry me. The first time we're about to get married, I wait for Dylan at the marriage registration department for three hours. But that's when I'm informed that Lynette has lost Dylan's ID, causing our registration to get delayed. The second time we're about to get married, Lynette happens to be driving around in my car. She stages a brake failure and hits a passerby on purpose. By the time I'm done dealing with the accident and rush to the City Hall with Dylan, it's already closed for the day. The 98th time we're about to get married, Lynette laces my glass of water with rat poison. Because of that, I'm taken to the hospital immediately to have my stomach pumped out, hence missing out on the marriage registration. When it's the 99th time for us to get married, I'm under the impression that I've passed Lynette's trials, which means Dylan won't flake out on me anymore. But I spend the day waiting for Dylan at the City Hall till nightfall. I've spammed so many phone calls and text messages to him, and yet he never shows up. In the end, I come across a post Lynette has made on her social media feed about her and Dylan being officially married. "My boss loves me far too much! All I said was that I wanted to get married as well, and he was quick to marry me at the City Hall! I love him so much!" I just leave a like on the post without losing my temper or kicking up a ruckus. That's when Dylan calls me on the phone all of a sudden. "Don't misunderstand the whole thing, Felicia. This marriage is just a joke. Lynette is a graduate hailing from an overseas university. I merely married her because I want her to keep working for my company without any complaints. "Once the divorce procedures are over, I'll marry you immediately before throwing you the grandest wedding ever, okay?" What Dylan doesn't know is that I've already signed an agreement with the system. If I can't get married with Dylan in five years, that means I've lost the bet. My time will be up in three days. By then, I'll get annihilated by the system. There will no longer be a future for me and Dylan.

Three years ago, my father marries me off to Evan Blackwell, the CEO of Blackwell Group, for the family's interests. Everyone thinks I'm done for because Evan is known for being ruthless and cruel. Yet, he's nothing but gentle to me, and he never raises his voice at me. He even has my initials, SH, tattooed on his chest. Every year on our anniversary, fireworks bloom across the city right on the dot. They spell out my name and the loving words he dedicates to me. On our third anniversary, the fireworks suddenly replace my name, Selena Holloway, with Serena Harroway. Before I can ask about it, Evan immediately calls his subordinates and tears into them. "What's going on? How could you mess up my wife's name? Do you want to lose your jobs?" I hastily tell him it's fine and that the thought is what truly matters. In the end, he lets them off the hook. However, he pushes me until my legs are shaking and my voice is gone that night. When I wake from the night that leaves my whole body humming, he's already seated at his desk and buried in work. He asks me to grab a folder for him, yet I open the wrong drawer and stumble upon an old photo album. It contains intimate photos of him and a young woman who looks strikingly like me. There's a confession on the back of every single picture. "I miss you so much, Serena."

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

My husband was the Don of the DeLuca Family. As his Donna, I had spent years tolerating his indulgence of his stepsister. That was, until My five-year-old son and my husband's beloved stepsister were strapped to ticking time bombs. My terrified little boy screamed for me. As the DeLuca Family's lead bomb disposal expert, I knew I could save him. But my husband Matteo, the Don who ruled a mafia empire, pressed a cold gun barrel between my eyes. "Disarm Lilia's bomb first, or I'll shoot our son myself." He gave the order without a flicker of emotion, all to protect the stepsister who had perfected the helpless-innocent act. I could only watch as Noah vanished in a ball of fire. But Matteo forgot something. I wasn't merely his wife. I was the intelligence and explosives expert who kept his entire weapons empire alive. When I ripped his precious Family out by the roots and returned on the arm of his greatest enemy, the untouchable Don finally broke. He dropped to his knees and begged me to come back.

My best friend hands me the divorce papers she drafted. "You spent five years chasing Joe before you finally got him. Why do you suddenly want a divorce?" I force a smile. "Because he won't have dinner with me." Five hours earlier, I sent Joe Watson the address of a restaurant. "I made a reservation for our third anniversary." He replied almost immediately. "Busy right now." I spent five years chasing him and three years as his wife, only to get those words in return. Then I saw him outside his office, protectively guiding a short-haired woman into his car. When I first started pursuing Joe, I could barely get a response from him. But little by little, he opened up and began sharing all his joys and frustrations with me. Now, all I ever hear from him is, "Busy right now." I thought I wasn't trying as hard as I used to. But that wasn't it. He had simply fallen for someone else. My phone rings. It's the restaurant calling. "Ms. Gray, how many people will be dining tonight?" I slip the divorce papers into my bag. "Just one." I know Joe brought that woman to the same restaurant, which works out perfectly. From now on, he can share its signature dish with whoever he wants. It's none of my business anymore. I'll enjoy it by myself.

On the eve of my wedding, I catch my boyfriend of seven years, Eddy Stark, and my best friend, Jane Holman, going at it in the company break room. All my coworkers crowd outside the glass door, watching the spectacle. "My gosh! That's your boyfriend, right? It turns out…" At the most humiliating moment in my life, Rylen Huff, the CEO who never got along with me, walks over and drapes his coat over my shoulders. Before everyone present, he makes an announcement. "She is my fiancée. Save your nonsense." From that day on, I go from being the company's joke to the CEO's wife who everyone envies. After we get married, Rylen treats me very well. He gives me everything from jewelry and mansion to power. But only one thing never goes as planned—we don't have a child. To give him an heir, I go through injections and egg retrieval again and again. After 99 IVF attempts, I finally get pregnant. But on the day of my prenatal checkup, I overhear his conversation with the doctor. "Mr. Huff, the IVF procedure has already severely damaged her health and body. If she finds out that this embryo is actually Jane's, I fear she may have a mental meltdown." Rylen falls silent for a moment. Then, he says evenly, "I've already given her a life most people could never have. She should feel contented. When she gives birth, I'll tell her that her body was too weak, and the baby didn't make it. "Jane cannot handle the pain and hardship of childbirth. We are childhood friends who grew up together, after all. Of course, I should handle a minor matter like this for her." So the timely rescue and unconditional favor from Rylen were nothing but lies. I immediately schedule an abortion, as I don't intend to give birth to a child that isn't mine. In addition, I won't stay with a man who has never loved me.

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband, Ethan Hale, took his childhood sweetheart Sienna Clarke and me to a gourmet market. The clerk smiled when she saw the two of them and asked, "The usual? One Musang King durian and a pound of Kobe wagyu?" Ethan nodded, then added without missing a beat, "Cut the wagyu thick. And make sure the durian is fully ripe. She hates it underripe." But I was allergic to durian, and I'd never liked beef. At checkout, the clerk handed over a gold cooler box with tuna, salmon, and a photo inside. "You two have been coming here for eight years now. This is your couples membership gift." In the photo, Sienna was leaning on Ethan's shoulder while he bent down to wipe a dab of whipped cream off her lip. The picture had been taken last year, on our wedding anniversary. That night he'd told me something had come up at work, and I'd waited alone until midnight. Sienna hugged the cooler box and asked, half joking, "Nora won't mind, will she?" Ethan put the wagyu she loved into the cart and said casually, "She's already married to me. She's not going to make a fuss over something this small." I didn't say a word. I just put my shopping bag back. When I got home, I canceled the custom anniversary gift I'd ordered for him and took out the divorce papers I'd already had drawn up. They could have another eight years together, and eight more after that. But our third anniversary would be our last.

I was selling some furniture that was collecting dust on a used-goods site when a girl messaged me about discounts. "Can I get it for a bit cheaper? I'm still in college, and I moved out of my dorm because I got into a fight with my roomies. My boyfriend found me a new place. He's rich and said he'd marry me after I graduate, but I don't want to burden him so much. Please, just twenty dollars off? I can pick it up myself!" I was reminded of my college days with Jonathan Mueller. We used to take shared bike rides for two hours just to save five dollars. I was only an ordinary employee now, but I still had more spare cash than a college student. My kindness took over, and I agreed to the discount. That night, two figures appeared at the entrance of my neighborhood. The girl looked proud of herself. "I spent less than a hundred and got a barely-used washing machine! Brilliant, right?" The man looked at her with unmistakable affection in his eyes. "Yes, darling. You're the best. But I'm making money for you. You don't have to save for me. I'm the CEO of Mueller Group. I can support you. Don't haggle next time." The man raised his head, still smiling. When our eyes met, I froze. That man was Jonathan Mueller—the same man who had told me he was on a three-month business trip to earn three times the travel expenses..

The private jet touched down in Solverno well past midnight. Behind me, an explosion rattled the terminal windows hard enough to make the glass shudder. Three days earlier, my husband, Damiano Salvato, had flown to Solverno to negotiate a deal. The city was now caught in crossfire, and his phone did not connect no matter how many times I tried. I dialed his Underboss, Enzo Conti, with shaking hands. The line rang for a long time before he picked up. His voice sounded strained. "Y-You're really in Solverno right now?" Another explosion hit, and the panic in my chest tightened another notch. "Where is Damiano? Which zone is he in?" The line went quiet for a moment before Enzo answered, almost reluctantly. "He never left Havenport." A second later, a photo flashed across my screen. Damiano was underwater with a woman, the two of them tangled together, laughing. I recognized her immediately. It was Valeria Caine. Three years ago, Damiano had stood before every Capo in the family and sworn he would never see that woman again. He had probably forgotten that today was our third wedding anniversary. "Signora Salvato, the truth is... they never stopped seeing each other. But the Don has treated you so well all these years that no one dared say a word." On the other end of the line, Enzo's voice trailed off into nothing. I looked down at the unsent message still sitting in the text box, the six words I had typed out for him. "I'm coming to bring you home." The cursor kept blinking. If that was how things stood, then there was no reason to keep waiting for him.

On my 24th birthday, an app suddenly appears on all the other digital devices in my family except my phone. The one inside that app is another version of me, another Cordelia Winchester. But she's so much better at everything than I am. Mom's bakery has been in the red for three years. "Cordelia" casually tweaks one recipe, and the cakes sell out that same day. Dad has failed to earn his promotion three times. "Cordelia" revises his presentation, and the very next day, his boss grants his promotion. My fiance, Chase Jensen's company is about to run out of cash. "Cordelia" spends ten minutes reworking his pitch deck, and the investors immediately put in another 20 million dollars. From then on, Mom starts asking her how to develop every new dessert. Dad prints out screenshots of everything she says. Even when Chase chooses an engagement ring, he asks her opinion first. On my 25th birthday, before we even cut the cake, Mom suddenly stares at the app and asks, "Does she really have to stay inside the phone?" Dad lowers his voice. "Is there any way to bring her here for real?" Chase taps open customer support. [Apply for a parallel-life exchange?] Customer support replies, [After the exchange, the Cordelia from your world will be sent to the other world. Confirm exchange?] They barely hesitate. I watch as they hit "confirm", my nails digging into my palms and drawing blood. I force a strained smile. "Since you guys adore her so much, I hope you don't regret this." The next second, a red line of notification appears on the screen. [Exchange sequence initiated. Countdown: 7 days.]

My husband, Vincent Moretti, had a nightmare. In the dream, he'd had a one-night stand at a hotel with a young woman who had a tragic past and no family. When I found out he'd cheated, I tricked him into signing divorce papers and faked my death to escape. Then I vanished from his life for good. After that dream, the Don whose word had once been law in New York became a different man. Every time he went out, he sent me three location updates. Even a warehouse inspection meant getting on a video call with me to prove there were no women around. I laughed and told him he was overreacting. Then, at our third-anniversary dinner, I went into shock after eating the dessert a server had brought me. When I opened my eyes, Lia Romano, the nun Vincent had once rescued, was standing beside my hospital bed. "I'm sorry, Eve. I didn't mean to..." Everyone there thought she was finished. A maid had once left a jar of hazelnut spread on the dining table. The next day, he'd had her thrown into the sea to feed the sharks. This time, he only frowned. "Eve, she didn't mean any harm." "I almost died from that allergy! Vincent! Get her out of my sight!" He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he nodded. That night, I got a text from an unknown number. "Tonight. The Queen's Hotel." "Sweetheart, will you join me for the fireworks? Let me make it up to you." My friends teased me, saying he spoiled me like a princess. I forgot all about that ridiculous dream. Until I opened the hotel room door and saw something I couldn't believe. Lia, who was supposed to have been driven out of New York, was kissing my husband. And he was kissing her back.

We had been together for seven years, yet my CEO boyfriend canceled our marriage registration 99 times. The first time, his newly hired assistant got locked in the office. He rushed back to deal with it, leaving me standing outside the County Clerk's Office until midnight. The fifth time, we were about to sign when he heard his assistant had been harassed by a client. He left me there and ran off to "rescue" her, while I was left behind, humiliated and laughed at by others. After that, no matter when we scheduled our registration, there was always some emergency with his assistant that needed him more. Eventually, I gave up completely and chose to leave. However, after I moved away from Twilight City, he spent the next five years desperately searching for me, like a man who had finally lost his mind.

A few weeks before the wedding, my brother Adam, my childhood friend Liam Foster, and my best friend Celia Brooks moved into the house I shared with my fiancé, Julian Reed. From that day on, the smart lock seemed to forget who I was. The lock wouldn't recognize my fingerprint, and my code never worked. I kept getting locked out. Every time, Julian said, "There's nothing wrong with the lock. You're doing it wrong." My brother thought I was making a fuss over nothing. "Stop blaming everything on the lock. Everyone else can get in. Why can't you?" Liam tried to calm me down too. "Don't ruin everyone's mood over a stupid lock." Yesterday, I stood doubled over with stomach pain, trying the lock over and over. My fingers were stiff from the cold, and I still couldn't get into my own home. Just then, the others came home. Celia pressed her finger to the scanner, and the lock clicked open. I stood frozen outside the door. Julian shook his head. "We're getting married soon, and you still can't figure out how to unlock a door?" The next day, I had a repairman look at the lock. After checking it, he told me, "Nothing's wrong with the lock. Only four fingerprints are registered, and the code was recently changed." So the lock that was supposed to let me into my own home had been keeping me out all along. I checked the lock's access log, then texted the wedding planner, "The wedding is off."

Five years ago, I was his life and I thought we would be the end game until Rosalin, his new assistant, seeped into our life. It began with urgent late night meetings. Our dinner conversations, once filled with shared secrets and soft laughter, were replaced by the rhythmic tapping of his thumbs against his phone. He stopped looking at me across the table, his gaze permanently fixed on the glowing screen as he replied to her "emergency" texts. When I’d walk into his office, the air would turn brittle. He’d stop talking mid-sentence, Rosalin leaning over his shoulder with a look that wasn't professional. But the breaking point was when he left me waiting for six hours on our anniversary Gala to celebrate Rosaline’s birthday. “We got occupied with something, Victoria.” He said, “Rosaline has brought cake for you. It was her birthday as well.” Just then a notification came into my phone. It was Rosaline’s post. She had posted a picture minutes before entering the gala. She was sitting in a seven-star hotel, the one I asked Jayden to book for our Anniversary but he refused after saying it was full. She had been cutting her birthday cake surrounded by red candles’ flames and a pair of hands had cupped hers. Jayden’s hands. He had ghosted our Anniversary Gala to celebrate Rosaline’s birthday! That was when I realised, I had no future with this man. I will disappear from his world, taking his child with me.

When the kidnappers shoved a gun into Elena Vaughn's mouth and demanded ten million dollars from her husband, Julian Vaughn was busy with another woman. He focused all his attention on slowly zipping up Chloe Bennett's gown, without a thought for what Elena was going through. Julian only agreed to pay the ransom after Elena said through gritted teeth that the kidnappers might actually kill her. Soon after, a transfer landed in the kidnappers' account. Amount received: one dollar. Then Julian's ice-cold voice came through the phone. "Elena, consider this dollar your acting fee. "Chloe's having an asthma attack. I don't have time for your little show." The line went dead. Her face covered in blood, Elena begged the kidnappers for three days. This time, she didn't want his love. She wanted to survive.

For ten years, I loved Silas Wolfe with everything I had. I followed him from the moment he rescued me from an orphanage at seventeen. I became his secretary, his confidante, his secret lover, and eventually, his hidden wife. Even when the Wolfe family mocked me for being a poor orphan unworthy of him, I endured it all because Silas always promised me the same thing. “Once Grandpa accepts you, I’ll make our marriage public.” I believed him until his first love returned. That was when I realized the horrifying truth. I was never the woman Silas loved. I was only a replacement for the woman who broke his heart. The night Silas forced me to abort our baby, he promised that afterward he would finally announce me as his wife. Less than twenty-four hours later, I woke up in the hospital and saw him publicly announcing his engagement to Evelyn instead. And while reporters mocked me as a pathetic woman clinging desperately to the Wolfe family, my own husband smiled coldly and said: “She misunderstood our relationship and became emotionally dependent.” But what Silas Wolfe doesn’t know is this: Two weeks ago, I discovered I was never an orphan. And in three days, my real family is coming to take me home.

Everyone in Phantom Pack knew their Alpha, Riven Drake, was devoted to me — completely and without question. No matter how slammed he was, he always called to check in, right on time, every time. But the night before our marking ceremony, he vanished. No call, no word, nothing. I lost all sense of him through our mate bond, and my gut told me he was in danger. I was ready to drop everything and go find him — body wrecked as I was — when he finally walked through the door. He came in holding a woman who reeked of him, barely able to stand, and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Natasha, Helen got hurt saving my life. I can't just let her die." To atone for his sins before me, he stabbed himself with a silver dagger. Then, not even an hour after our marking ceremony ended, I heard his Beta laughing with him: "Alpha, that aphrodisiac must've been something else. Helen looked like she was about to pass out." Riven's voice had a satisfied edge to it. "Yeah, I'll have to go easier next time. Don't want her cutting me off." "Anyway — my little troublemaker's calling." It hit me like a punch to the chest. I picked up my phone and called my brother. "Cole. I want to come home to Starlight Pack. Can you send someone in five days?" He sounded surprised, then happy. "Of course. I'll have someone there in five days." Five days. I was giving myself five days. Giving Riven five days. He thought I was just another werewolf. Thought he had me completely figured out. He had no idea I was something else entirely — a descendant of the Dragon Clan, something out of legend. I was never his to control.