Cerita Pendek & Novel Homewrecker Feel-Good Story

Everyone in the underworld knew Daniel Taylor loved me more than anything. He was a powerful mafia Don. Yet every year, he set aside a whole month to go to the monastery of San Colombano, climb its 102 stone steps one by one, and pray for me and the child we'd lost. And I had always believed I was the happiest woman in the world. Until the day I saw the video my best friend, Talia Marino, posted on Facebook for her son Renzo's fifth birthday. In the video, Renzo kept calling out for his daddy in a singsong voice. A moment later, a pair of hands reached into the frame and picked him up. Gentle, practiced hands. But I recognized the four-leaf clover bracelet on one wrist. I'd searched the whole city to find it for Daniel. I sat in front of a warm fire, but a chill crept through me. Just then, Rosa Santos, our housekeeper, came over. She took the 4D ultrasound printout from my hand. It had already started to yellow. "Donna, are you thinking about your daughter again?" I looked up. I hadn't even noticed the tears on my face. Yes. I was thinking about her again. Today was the anniversary of her death. I closed the video and called the cemetery office at the monastery. "Hello, this is Lucia Capello. I'd like to arrange for my daughter, Emma Taylor, to be reburied..." "Of course. You'll need to submit the paperwork, and the process takes three days." When I hung up, I booked a flight to Malmö for three days later.

My fiancé's stepsister, Adina Mercer, claimed to be a messenger of the Moon Goddess, able to relay divine decrees on Her behalf. Because of that, everything in our relationship had to be arranged by her. From when I should go to the hospital after an injury to the brand of protection we used in bed, she decided everything. Today marked the ninety-ninth time Kellan Ashford had skipped our mating ceremony because of something she said, leaving me standing alone at the altar. When I called, his voice was calm as he gave me the same line he always did. "Adina divined it. Today isn't a good day for us to mate. If we force it, we'll put both our lives at risk." I gripped my phone and laughed. "Did she also divine that if you keep refusing to mate with me, your pack will be destroyed?" A beat of stunned silence. Then he softened his tone. "I know you're upset, but there's nothing I can do. It's the Moon Goddess's decree. "Be good. There'll be another auspicious date next month, and I'll definitely mark you then. "Adina hurt her hand. I need to go bandage it for her. Figure out how to explain this to everyone." The call ended. Every wolf in the hall was watching me, waiting for my humiliation. I closed my eyes and let the stillness settle over me. They had no idea that their pack should have been swallowed whole by the far more powerful Mooncrest Pack long ago. I had fallen in love with their Alpha and begged my father to turn a conquest into a marriage alliance. That was the only reason they had known peace. Too bad they didn't appreciate it. Fine, then. Let Mooncrest's claws tear this land apart.

At our engagement party, my fiancé, James Pierce, and my best friend, Rachel Bellini, slipped into Italian again. Years ago, the two of them had gone off to college in Milan together, leaving me to study alone in America. Right before our engagement speeches, James leaned close to Rachel's ear and murmured in low, husky Italian, "If you were the one standing here beside me today, I'd be so much happier." I turned to stare at him in disbelief, every ounce of joy draining out of me in an instant. But James just smiled at me, all innocence, and switched to English. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Nerves getting to you?" I had lost count of how many times James and Rachel had talked in Italian right in front of my face. At dinner, they critiqued the dishes in Italian. At the movies, they joked about the plot in Italian. Over afternoon tea, they traded old stories and private jokes in Italian, things only the two of them understood. I had protested. We had even fought about it. But James would only say impatiently, "Isabella, this is how we lived for four years of college. Can you stop making a scene over nothing? If you can't understand Italian, go learn it yourself!" Rachel glanced at me, smothered a laugh, and went on in Italian, "Look at that shocked little face. She clearly has no idea how hard you went at it with me the night before your engagement party." James answered with utter contempt and absolute certainty. "So what if she found out? You think she could survive without me?" The note card with my speech slipped from my fingers and landed without a sound, but the weight of it hit me like a blow to the chest. They had no idea. My father is Italian. I was born in Italy. After my parents divorced, I moved to America with my mother, Eleanor Bennett, when I was ten. I understood every word they said in Italian.

Since my daughter, Lucy Shepherd, is an only child, my husband, Felix Shepherd, and I have decided to find her a live-in son-in-law. I ask on an online forum, "If my future son-in-law has a master's degree from a top university and earns over 10,000 dollars a month, what kind of wedding gift would seem appropriate to welcome him into the family?" Someone jokingly replies, "You'd probably have to be loaded to get a son-in-law like that. Why not give him ten million dollars as a wedding gift?" Without any hesitation, I take the person's advice and give Paul Cranston, my future son-in-law, and his family ten million dollars, along with a riverfront apartment. However, to guard against the possibility of Paul and his family seizing Lucy's inheritance for themselves once we're gone, I make Paul sign a prenuptial agreement. It clearly states that all their children must take the Shepherd family name and that the family's assets will not go to anyone with a different last name. Paul agrees to it and even thanks me profusely for everything. Yet, when Lucy gives birth to her second child, he immediately grabs the baby and changes his tune. "Even though I married into the Shepherd family, that doesn't mean I'm no longer my own person! My son must take my family name! This affects my dignity as a man!" I scoff in anger, but before I can say anything, Lucy, who is completely blinded by love, tearfully takes Paul's side. "Just go along with it, Mom. We're all a family anyway. Why must you harp on whose last name is used?" I hold my ground and refuse to back down. But the very next day, Lucy flies abroad with Paul, bringing along her two children. They have no qualms about moving into the property that Felix and I had bought abroad, as if it were their own. Despite being 58 years old, I am so enraged by her foolishness that I drag Felix to a fertility clinic. We start the IVF process. After turning 59 years old, I give birth to a son. Just as the nurse brings him to me, the door to the hospital room flies open. The family of four, who have just rushed back in a hurry, freeze in place.

The night I planned to tell him who I really was—under the full moon—my boyfriend of three years, Logan, walked up to me with another woman on his arm. He looked down at me and said: "Seraphina. I've been formally appointed the new Alpha of the Greywolf Pack. Only an elder's daughter is fit to be my Luna. A pack-doctor with blood as thin as yours can crawl back to the slums and patch up Omegas where you belong." But I was the highest-born princess of the Werewolf Royal Pack. So tell me—shouldn't I just have my brother, the Werewolf King, strip the Alpha title off this man and exile him to the Frostlands to keep company with the rogues?

My Rival Bragged About Her Don Husband, But He Was My Secret Husband I was the heiress of a Mafia family. Since I always kept a low profile, the head cheerleader Selena Hartwell mocked me throughout high school. After graduation, I cut contact with every last classmate and threw myself into family business. Then, just as our family was reestablishing its foothold on the East Coast, an old high school group chat blew up. Selena went crazy tagging me: "Ava Costanzo, I'm getting married — and my husband is a Don! I'm ordering you to come to my wedding!" The wedding photo she posted showed the groom cropped out, but I recognized the cufflinks. The man beside her was Julian Moretti, the second son of the Moretti family, a crew that couldn't even manage two shipping routes without leaning on us.

On Mother’s Day, I was driving an intoxicated wealthy woman home when she suddenly said, “You know, I stole my husband from another woman.” Then she handed me a photo. The moment I saw it, my entire body went numb. The man smiling with his arm around her looked exactly like my husband — who had supposedly died eight years ago. After my husband, Cedric Foster, died in an accident, he left me drowning in debt and caring for his comatose mother. To pay everything off, I worked a day job and drove for a rideshare service at night. When creditors came knocking and I had no money left, I sold my blood more times than I could count. “Handsome, isn’t he?” said the woman with a smug smile. “He was married back then, but for me, he walked away from his wife and abandoned his family.” As we entered an exclusive luxury neighborhood, the woman rushed toward two figures waiting ahead. The moment I recognized them, every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I could barely breathe.

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

I was in love with a man who was already married to another woman. When he divorced her and married me, I thought I had won, only to find out later I was a tool he had been using to produce his heir, his wife couldn't. By the time I saw his true face, I was already pregnant with his child. But he isn't going to get his hands on my baby. I won't let it happen. Later he forced me to stay at his mother's residence while he was busy in spending time with his ex-wife. Despite my desperate pleas against his abusive mother, he rejected all my calls. And by the time he returned, holding hands of his ex-wife, it was too late. The child he was so desperately waiting for... was gone.

In my past life, my wealthy parents, Josiah Gunther and Yvonne Jackson, found me and brought me back into the family. I tried so hard to play the part of a sweet, dutiful son just to make them happy, but in the end, they wrongfully pinned a crime on me and drove me to my death. After being reborn, I stop holding back and show Josiah and Yvonne just how ruthless I can be. I completely change their perception of me, so they never dare to boss me around or talk down to me again. The moment I return home, I pick a fight with Mabel Gunther, my biological sister, and Nicholas Gunther, my adopted brother. After that, I deliberately provoke Mabel into striking me, resulting in me driving a knife through her palm. Later on, I seize the chance to bash open Nicholas' bedroom door and expose the sick truth about him drugging and raping Mabel. Josiah and Yvonne are forced to get rid of Nicholas to save the Gunther family's reputation. But that doesn't stop me from locking Mabel up in a psychiatric ward. In the end, I successfully seize control of everything in the Gunther family.

Five years after I broke up with Damon, Alpha of the Greyrock Pack, I was invited to a celebration for his one-month-old pup. Just as the guard was about to verify my identity, Damon's voice came from behind me. "No need. She can go straight in." With that, he walked past me and headed into the banquet hall without another glance. I still handed my invitation to the guard and waited until it had been verified before stepping inside. Damon was waiting for me up ahead, his tone smug and suggestive. "You can say whatever you want, but here you are. You just couldn't stay away from me." "You've been hiding somewhere nearby all these years, haven't you? Otherwise, how would you know I was holding a celebration today?" I smiled but said nothing. Five years ago, Damon had betrayed me for the Alpha position and marked my best friend, Vivian. From that moment on, I had decided I was done with him for good. I was about to walk around him when Damon reached out and blocked my way. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand as he lowered his voice. "I'm glad you came back. As long as you take good care of Vivian and the pup, I'll still love you the way I used to." I slapped his hand away and looked toward the two high-backed chairs placed side by side at the center of the banquet hall. One was reserved for Kieran, Alpha King of the Frostmoon Pack, who carried the pure bloodline of the Lane family. The other was for his Luna Queen, Evelyn. Me.

My husband sent me to prison on our third wedding anniversary. I thought Bryce Holloway was the love of my life. My high school sweetheart and husband. The man I had spent three years trying to build a family with. So when I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t wait to surprise him. But instead of celebrating our anniversary, I was arrested for my father’s murder. “I didn’t kill my father!” The evidence said otherwise. And when Bryce finally came to the police station, I thought he would save me. Instead, he leaned closer and whispered, “Didn’t you say you wanted something unforgettable for our anniversary?” My heart shattered when he added, “Enjoy your life sentence.” He had framed me. While I was rotting in prison, he divorced me and married my stepsister, Daniella. “He should’ve chosen me from the beginning.” Daniella said. I thought my life was over. Then I discovered I wasn’t carrying one baby. I was carrying twins. And I made one decision… Bryce would never know they existed. But keeping my children a secret wasn’t enough. My stepmother wanted me dead, my inheritance was at risk, and the people who destroyed my life were determined to make sure I never walked out of prison. Until someone helped me disappear. My father’s attorney, Roman Ashford. Two years later, everyone believed Kaia Bennett was dead. But they were wrong. I returned to California under a new identity, with my twins by my side and one goal in mind. Taking back everything that belonged to me.

On our wedding night, my wife, Gwen Everett, has received a classified mission that requires her to go on an urgent business trip. After watching her leave with a smile on my face, I quickly turn on the GPS locator in her phone right away. The locator shows that she's making a beeline toward a love motel. Immediately, I hack into the motel's security cameras. In the monitor, I can see Gwen making love to my younger brother, Deacon Hopkins, passionately. After they've used three packs of condoms, Gwen shields her belly while whining cutely to Deacon, "Be gentle to me. Don't hurt the baby, okay?" Deacon just smirks as he begins peppering kisses all over her, making her blush brightly. "Then you should get pregnant for a few more times. At the end of the day, Derek's the one raising them anyway." My heart feels as though it has gotten plunged into the icy abyss. At that moment, my department calls me and asks me about Gwen's whereabouts. As I watch the couple entangling with each other on the screen, I reply calmly, "I want to report Gwen Everett for forging her schedule. She might have betrayed the nation by fleeing with core technology."

We were engaged for three years. Yet Kyros delayed our vow ceremony at Hera's temple thirty-three times. The first time, he went to guide his fragile apprentice, Lyris, on her first mission. I waited alone all night by Hera’s sacred fire. I endured the agony of divine punishment. The contract mark on my ring finger burned my flesh to a crisp. The second time, Lyris whined over the comm-stone that she was scared. Kyros dropped my hand without a second thought. He left me to fight a lesser beast for her. After that, every single time we stood at the altar, Lyris somehow ran into a "deadly crisis." Then came today. "We'll have our ceremony, I promise. But I'm responsible for Lyris. She doesn't feel well, so I have to go." He kissed my ear, tossing me a casual excuse, and walked away. Through the comm-stone, I heard him laughing with his friends. "Who cares if I delay it? She's an orphan. Where is she going to go without me and the guild?" I wiped my tears. I swallowed the soul-shredding agony of Hera's wrath. I was done. He didn't know I wasn't an orphan at all. I was a Goddess from Mount Olympus. My only reason for coming to the mortal world was to spend the rest of my life with him. Now, thirty-three divine punishments later, it was time to let go of this pointless romance. It was time to go home. But when I crossed the Gates of Olympus—a place no mortal could ever reach—he broke. He fell to his knees at the foot of the mountain. He even tried to rip out his own Demon Hunter heart with his bare hands, just begging for one last look from me.

When my old phone finally died after eight years, I picked a new model and asked my wife, Mandy Sudds, for her opinion. When she saw the price, her face fell. "A marriage should involve compromise from both parties. Last week, you wanted $1,000 for a trip, and this week, you want another $1,000 for a phone. “Why didn't you think about how much I make from waking up early in the morning and coming home late at night? Have some sense, Mick." I had never traveled with her before, and all I wanted was a picture of her to commemorate the trip. Just one picture. I glanced at the latest model in her hand, and I suddenly wanted to buy a his-and-hers phone. She added, "If you really want a phone, just get a second-hand one." I looked up in delight and immediately went on an online marketplace to buy the phone I wanted at a 70% discount. When I received it, I realized the original owner had forgotten to do a factory reset, so the phone was filled with his pictures. The owner had traveled to rivers and deserts, enjoyed the night view at Wallace Harbor, and kissed his lover under the Northern Lights. When I looked closer at the pictures, I was shocked. It was Mandy and my buddy. They had traveled hundreds of thousands of miles over the last eight years. They had cheated on me behind my back for eight long years, and I had only just found out about them. My phone suddenly buzzed with a text. [Are you the buyer? I sold off that phone because my sweetheart was mad at me. I bought him the phone, and it means a lot to us. Could you return it to us?] When I did not reply, she got anxious. [Price is not an issue. Can we meet?]

"Your brother's gone to Korea. Make sure you send him an extra $300 next month for his loan repayment." I was swamped at my desk when I received that text. My mind went blank. I asked Dad how much my brother had borrowed, and he casually replied: "The surgery costs $83,000, but you only have $75,000 in your bank account, so we took out an $8,000 loan for two years." Seeing my brother's selfie from a luxury hospital room in Seoul, posted on his social media, a chill ran through me. That was my life savings, scraped together by selling my car and pulling all-nighters for three months! Perhaps sensing my emotion, my father sent another text: "Put off your treatment for now. Once your brother becomes handsome, he can snag a rich woman, and then you'll have all the money you need for treatment." Without another word, I immediately called the bank to report the loss and filed a police report for theft. My bank account was instantly frozen. Within days, my brother, who was kicked off the operating table because the payment couldn't go through, called me and begged. His face half-stitched, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

On the day we were supposed to get married, my girlfriend blew me off again, saying she was too busy. When I got home, there was a marriage certificate waiting for me in the mailbox—hers and her male assistant's. The date filed was today. I gave a small, bitter smile, set the certificate down on my desk, turned around, and ended things with her. The next second, my phone rang. Her annoyed voice came through right away. "Patrick, what is your problem? Why are you throwing a tantrum? You're a grown man—act like one." Before I could even say anything, I heard her assistant sobbing in the background. "Olivia, do you think Patrick got the wrong idea? You should go home. I'll be fine on my own." "Forget about him. He always pulls stuff like this—I'm so tired of it. You're the one who matters right now." The sound of my girlfriend gently comforting another man cut right through me. The call ended, and so did any last shred of hope I had left.

Five years into my marriage to Ethan Morgan, I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. He'd bought a private island in my name. He'd asked me to quit my career to rest. He called me his queen. What he didn't know was that I never stopped designing — under a different name, a secret identity no one knew about. Not even him. Then his secretary left a review on my designer account, raving about the dress her "billionaire boyfriend" had gifted her. The island in the photo was mine. The man beside her was my husband. [He says his wife doesn't satisfy his real needs.] [Only if he didn't need an heir from her, she'd already be gone.] I was pregnant with that heir. And he would never know. I made one call: "I need a new identity. And a divorce agreement."

In my fifth year of serving the Moon Goddess on behalf of the pack, the mother-and-child necklace around my neck suddenly shattered. It had been passed down from one Luna to the next, carrying the bond between mother and child. When the mother's half breaks, it means the child is dead. Something had happened to my daughter. I gathered the broken pieces in my hands and saw a vision of her final moments. She lay facedown on the ground, her body covered in wounds, repeating the same words over and over: "Mom, it hurts so much." I could hear the werewolves around her laughing. "Poor thing. The Luna's been gone for years, and things have only gotten worse for her daughter. Now she's been poisoned with wolfsbane, and she can't even get the antidote." "That's what she gets for not being able to have pups. She can't give the Alpha an heir, and she can't even keep her mate, Mark, interested in her." "The Alpha's bloodline can't be allowed to die out. If she can't give him an heir, then naturally, that responsibility falls to Faye. She has Alpha blood too, after all." "Honestly, the wolfsbane is a blessing. Mark is the son-in-law the Alpha chose himself. Once she's gone, he can take Faye as his mate and give the pack an heir with Alpha blood." The voices cut off, and a chill ran through me. Five years ago, for the sake of the pack, I'd agreed to my mate Lucas's request and secluded myself on Moon Goddess Mountain to serve the Moon Goddess. He'd promised to take care of our only daughter. By the time I came home, I'd be a grandmother. Instead, he used her inability to have pups as an excuse and turned a blind eye while Mark slept with Faye, Lucas's niece and the daughter of his widowed sister-in-law, Mina. When my daughter was poisoned with wolfsbane, he stood by and watched her die. I felt her wolf fading, along with the pup inside her. Tears slipped down my cheeks. I raised my hand and shattered the crystal pillar. It had taken five years of offerings and was almost ready

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.