Melodramatic Short Stories & Homewrecker Marriage Novels

The Alpha King was ambushed on his way to the Alliance summit. Eight months pregnant, I threw myself in front of him without thinking and took the silver bullet meant for him. In my last life, my husband, Lucas Mercer, had been in charge of the Alpha King’s security. But when the ambush struck, he was secretly meeting his first love, Serena Vale. Worse, he had taken his entire elite unit with him as cover, claiming they were on assignment. I sent Lucas one mind-link after another, but he never answered. With no other choice, I triggered a level-one alarm myself and ordered his unit back. Afterward, Lucas received the Alliance’s top commendation and was promoted to Minister of War. But Serena was cornered and killed by rogues. Lucas blamed me for her death. On the night of his victory banquet, I went into labor. Instead of taking me to a healer, Lucas personally injected me with wolfsbane and dragged me to the rogue pit. “You were jealous of Serena, so you got her killed on purpose,” he snarled. “Now you and that child are going to suffer exactly the way she did!” He threw me into the pit while our baby was still inside me. My last memory was the sound of my newborn crying once before the starving rogues tore us apart. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the ambush. This time, I did not sound the alarm. When the assassin raised his gun, I moved before I could think. I wrapped both arms around my swollen belly and threw myself in front of the Alpha King. I did not know whether I would live. I only knew that if Lucas wanted Serena more than his duty, I would never save his future for him again.

My wife, Claire Mercer, ran the hospital, and she still handed my mother's surgery to a junior physician. Only because he was the one child her late mentor had left behind. "Noah needs this chance to prove himself. Let him take your mother's surgery." I refused, and Claire decided I was doing it to spite her. "My mentor asked me before he died to look after Noah. Can't you try to understand me, just once?" Every urgent word of it was in Noah's defense. I looked at her and was suddenly very tired. Anything to do with Noah, and I was the one who gave way. A car crash put me in the hospital and the doctors issued three critical-condition notices; she was at Noah's birthday party. My mother's health collapsed; she took Noah traveling to cheer him up. Even in the house she and I were married in, there was always a bedroom kept empty for him. For ten full years, Noah had been wedged between us. I raised my eyes, my voice dry. "This time you're still choosing him, aren't you?"

On the night Wynnie Moore is done recovering from childbirth, she suddenly brings up the traumatic nightmare that I never wish to revisit. "Actually, the person who imprisoned and assaulted you five years ago was Margaret Silva." Margaret is Logan Jameson's wife, and Logan is the adopted younger brother she raised. My mind goes blank as I blurt, "What?" Wynnie continues as if she's discussing something insignificant. "Back then, Logan found out he was infertile. His mother-in-law never liked him to begin with. To help him secure his position in the Silva family, I agreed to his proposal that you would provide the sperm. "Meanwhile, Margaret had always harbored feelings for you. So..." It turns out the three of them have worked together to imprison and assault me over the course of a few days until Margaret becomes pregnant. I try hard to suppress the nauseous sensation rising in the back of my throat. My lips tremble as I ask shakily, "Why are you telling me this now?" Wynnie lets out a long sigh, as if a burden she's carried for years has finally been lifted. She says, "I've been keeping this a secret for five years. It's exhausting. Also, I've already made up for the child that I once owed you. They say a man takes on a much softer character after becoming a father. Well, that certainly seems to be the case. "You're not losing your temper like you used to. You've finally become calmer and more agreeable." I force a strained and ugly smile. She has no idea that I haven't mellowed down the slightest. It's just that I have a secret that I've never revealed to her too.

My mate, Alex, had a childhood friend named Emily who was a healer. When she discovered that I was a highly sensitive person, she volunteered to put me through what she called 'desensitization therapy.' The first time, she told me I needed to learn to control my emotions, so she locked me in a noisy bar's storage room for an entire night. The second time, she said I needed to overcome my tactile sensitivity. She drenched me in ice-cold water and forced me to stand in the freezing wind for three hours. Alex was present every single time. Each time, he told her, "Thank you for all your hard work, Emily. I know how much you're doing for her." Then came the banquet, where she poured an entire vial of wolfsbane-laced potion into my champagne and announced that this would be my final desensitization therapy session. I clutched my swollen throat and collapsed to the floor. I couldn't speak or catch my breath. Alex merely frowned and said coldly, "Elena, this is for your own good. Just get through this one last session." Lying among the shattered glass, I closed my eyes and pressed the beacon badge I had never used before. When Dad finally burst through the doors, tears I'd held back for three years streamed down my face. It was time to end this.

Leon, drink up. Finish every drop in this glass." As my wife, Alice Carr, holds a glass of warm milk, she keeps staring at my Adam's apple intensely. Every night, she needs to watch me finish the entire glass of milk. At first, I think this is Alice's way of showing me her love. That is, until something occurred last month. Back then, my neighbor's fire alarm blared extremely loudly due to a fire breaking out. Yet, I had slept like a log the whole time. Only then do I realize that something is wrong with the milk. Last night, I pretended to go on a business trip. When I secretly go home in the middle of the night, I find out that my bedroom door is locked. When I peek through the gap in the door, I feel my hairs rising on their ends. It turns out that Alice isn't asleep at all. She's standing on the balcony while holding my pillow and burying her face into it. Then, she inhales the scent deeply, as though she were a drug addict. Her shoulders keep trembling violently the whole time. It's one thing if Alice is madly addicted to my scent. The thing is, the pillowcase is a part of the bedroom set that my mom has dug up from my childhood home last week. I never have a chance to use that pillow, so there's no way my scent lingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, Alice halts in her actions and raises her head. She looks up at the moon while licking her lips in an euphoric haze. Then, she mumbles softly, "Your dad's scent… is fading away…"

I, Darcy Cowell, have been secretly married to my husband, Frank Winston, for seven years. He is the president of a company and has just hired a new assistant. The new assistant, Johanna Scott, is well-behaved and has a voluptuous figure. Scandalous rumors about her and Frank quickly spread throughout the company. Feeling uneasy, I seek Frank out for answers, only to overhear him telling his good friend over the phone. "I'm not interested in her. My wife, Darcy, will always be my only love." I am filled with warmth and relief at those words. A fire suddenly breaks out at the company banquet, and I get crushed under a falling cabinet. Yet, as my life hangs in the balance, Frank turns to run toward Johanna. When I next regain consciousness, I find that I have survived but lost my unborn child forever. This time, I truly lose all faith in Frank. Our child is gone, and I want him gone from my life as well.

My father-in-law, Arthur, was the rightful heir to the Mosby family fortune. When he insisted on marrying, Judith, my mother-in-law, who ran a small neighborhood restaurant, everyone said he had lost his mind. One morning over breakfast, Arthur suggested that we stop by Judith's restaurant. "Judith came home yesterday with a burn on her hand." Concern flashed in his eyes. "She refused to tell me what happened." The tenderness between them warmed my heart, so I immediately agreed to take him there. But while we were waiting in line, a broad-shouldered man suddenly shoved Arthur hard. "Move it, old man! You're blocking the way!" I caught Arthur before he fell and shook with anger. "What gives you the right to insult him or cut the line?" The man sneered and tossed a foul-smelling used napkin at our feet. "Because my wife owns this place! I can do whatever I want. Keep talking and I'll have her throw both of you out!" The air went still. All the color drained from Arthur's face, and the luxury bag he had just bought for Judith slipped from his hand. I froze. Could the woman Arthur had adored all his life really be having an affair?

Delaney Sterling and I have been childhood sweethearts for ten years, but she disappears on the eve of our wedding. When I find her again, she has lost her memories and is with another man. It isn't until after she regains her memories that she finally remembers I am her true love, and the man is nothing more than a liar taking advantage of her amnesia. She disgustedly gives the man a sum of money and deletes all his contact information in front of me. Later on, we go ahead with the wedding we'd once planned. Five years of marriage pass in bliss. I've almost forgotten that brief episode until I accidentally damage our marriage certificate and have to get it reissued at the courthouse. The staff tells me, "Mr. Carrington, the official seal on your marriage certificate is forged." The words strike me like a blow, leaving me dizzy. "That's impossible. My wife, Delaney Sterling, and I registered our marriage three years ago. Please check again." "The system shows that Ms. Delaney Sterling is indeed married, but you are unmarried." "Then who is she married to?" "Tristan Prescott." It is the very man who once deceived Delaney.

Kieran Blackwood hated two things: being slow and waiting. As the youngest Alpha in the Blackwood Pack, he expected everything to be done fast. I was his fated mate—and the slowest wolf in the pack. My wolf didn't awaken until I was nineteen. While others needed five seconds to shift, I needed ten. Kieran never yelled at me. He just kept telling me to hurry up, to keep up, to be more like Valerie. Valerie Blackwood was the widow of Kieran's older brother, Marcus. Five months ago, Marcus died saving Kieran at the border. With his dying breath, he made Kieran promise to take care of Valerie and their unborn pup. Soon, Valerie could do no wrong, and I could never do anything fast enough. Still, I believed Kieran loved me. During the first three months of my pregnancy, he never missed a single Healer's appointment. He even promised he'd never miss an important moment in our pup's life. Then the Blood Moon came. Valerie and I went into labor on the same night, and there was only one dose of Moonveil Elixir left—the potion that could protect a mother and her pup during a dangerous Blood Moon birth. My daughter's heartbeat was failing. I begged Kieran to save her. He gave the Moonveil to Valerie. He stayed by her side while she delivered Marcus's son. I gave birth alone. My daughter didn't breathe for ninety seconds, and I nearly died. Kieran never came to see us. That was the night I finally stopped waiting for him.

At the height of my career, I became the youngest law professor in the field and married my childhood sweetheart, Daisy Reid. We were known as the "golden couple of the legal world," and in the eyes of many, we were the perfect loving couple. In the tenth year of our marriage, my mother took my son, Caleb Davis, out, and they were involved in a car accident. The driver had been speeding while intoxicated. My mother only had enough time to shield Caleb in her arms before she died on the spot. To my surprise, my wife, Daisy, appeared and sat next to the murderer, James Benton, as his defense attorney in the courtroom. "Our client was just driving normally when the deceased suddenly rushed out in an attempt to stage an accident, which ultimately led to the accident. The deceased party should bear the main responsibility for the accident." Upon hearing that, I stared at her in disbelief. Soon after, anger surged within me. My eyes bloodshot, I growled, "My mom would never stage an accident! I have a witness!" However, the ten-year-old Caleb, who was to testify as a witness, grabbed James' arm and said, "I testify that Grandma was trying to fake an accident by purposely crashing into Mr. Benton's car. Dad even tried to make me lie. I would never hurt Mr. Benton." The moment those words left his mouth, my heart sank completely.

After I was diagnosed with delusional disorder, I kept seeing images of my wife cheating on me. My psychiatrist told me to avoid intimacy for a while. To ease the symptoms, I started sleeping in a separate room. Three years later, a doctor told me I'd recovered. I went home to share the good news, only to find my wife tangled up with my closest friend on the living room couch. I assumed the delusions were back. As I turned toward the bedroom, my friend asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Does it get you off more, knowing Declan's right here? "Aren't you afraid he'll file for divorce?" Sabrina laughed, contemptuous. "We'll tell him the delusions are back. It wouldn't be the first time." Standing a few feet away, I felt like I'd dropped through the ice.

During an avalanche, I risk my life to save my girlfriend, Naomi Sutton. I end up losing a leg and an eye. On the day I'm discharged from the hospital, she tells me, "I've done my part by taking care of you this whole time. There's no way I'll spend the rest of my life with a cripple. You understand why I need to do this, right, Caleb?" I've already resigned myself to a life of constant darkness when Zoey Rivers shows up. She doesn't mind that I'm disabled. She gently heals all of my wounds. Following our decision to get married, I start going through our belongings to prepare for our upcoming move to our new marital home. Unexpectedly, I stumble across Zoey's backup phone in the house. I find a secondary social media account that Zoey has been using to track the moving journey of her sister's battle against a crippling illness. The latest update reads, "I'm about to get married. Once it's official, I'll get him to donate a kidney to my sister at once, and she'll be saved." Posted with the caption is a photo of Zoey with a woman lying on a hospital bed—Naomi. At that very moment, the door opens behind me. "What's the matter, Caleb? Since you're at home, why didn't you answer me when I called for you?"

I begged my husband 304 times before he finally agreed to spend a birthday with our seriously ill daughter. We waited until the cake on the table melted and the warmth slowly left our daughter’s body, but he never showed up. Then, his first love shared a photo on social media. In it, my husband had one arm around her and the other holding her child. Behind them stood a towering birthday cake display. Our daughter had waited five years for a birthday cake that never came. Yet another child received it without even trying. The caption read: The promised tiered cake is finally here! I quietly liked the post. Soon after, he texted me, demanding an explanation. [How many times do I have to tell you? Miranda’s daughter is dealing with depression, and I need to be there for her. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.] I looked down at the child in my arms, whose body had gone completely cold. “Alright,” I said softly. “I won’t do that again.”

It happened on Thanksgiving Day. I was on my way to my girlfriend's house when a car slammed straight into mine. The road was deserted, not a single person was around. The doors were jammed shut from the impact, and flames were licking toward the engine. I fumbled for the safety hammer, only to find that someone had replaced it with a toy hammer shaped like a cartoon bear. Panicking, I called my girlfriend. But before she could even pick up, her ringtone started playing from the car that had just hit me. Luna Hill stepped out, hand in hand with her childhood sweetheart, Julian Ford. Julian put on a show of alarm. "Oh no, I'm such an idiot! My first time driving, and I already hit a car." When Luna saw that it was me in the crushed car, she quickly tried to calm him down. "It's fine. He probably did it on purpose." I pounded on the window, shouting for her. "Luna, the safety hammer's been switched out! Please, help me get out!" Julian burst into a grin. "Sebastian, that was me! The little bear hammer's adorable, isn't it?" Luna's face twisted in disgust. "You're fine. Stop being dramatic. Figure it out yourself." Thick smoke was billowing inside the car, and it was about to explode. I begged her to get me out. Julian chuckled. "Sebastian, are you cooking in there or what? That smoke's killing me!" He patted his stomach and said with a laugh, "Man, I'm starving. Luna, let's go home and eat." Luna hooked her arm through his and tossed a parting line over her shoulder. "Enough already. My parents are waiting for us to start dinner." Just as I was about to pass out from the smoke, I slammed my hand on the car's emergency button.

Ever since I was a pup, I could see everyone's loyalty score toward their mate. The day my mom walked out, the number above her head dropped from 69% to 23%. The day my brother betrayed his mate, his loyalty score crashed to 7%. So every time I ran into an unfaithful wolf, I always got out in time. Then I met my fated mate, Alexander. His loyalty score toward me had always been a hundred percent. I thought I'd finally found real love. But on our pup's third birthday, he didn't show. When he came home that night, the number above his head had plummeted from 100% to 87%. His excuse? He'd been handling pack business with the newly appointed female Beta. After that, he came home less and less, and his loyalty score kept dropping. Whenever I asked, he'd just say it was pack business and tell me to be more understanding. Changing numbers didn't really say much. But disappointment, piled up day after day, was what broke a wolf. I figured it was time to start planning my exit again.

I am the only daughter of the Alpha King. When I was eight, I rescued a starving rogue pup named Alex from the border. I begged my father to take him in, and we grew up together. At eighteen, I discovered he was my fated mate. My father happily gave me to him in marriage, carved out a stretch of territory, and made him an Alpha. Everyone said we were a perfect match. Until a year ago — while I was pregnant — the boy who had always protected me and adored me fell in love with a Healer named Vivian. He told me that he'd always seen me as a little sister. He got on his knees and begged me to let him go. He was willing to give up the entire territory and his Alpha title. My hands trembled as I signed the Mate Bond dissolution agreement. But before it could take effect, that healer slipped wolfsbane into my medicine. I miscarried. When I finally opened my eyes, Alex rushed to my side with bloodshot eyes, held me tight like he was terrified of losing me, and apologized over and over. He said he was wrong. He swore he would devote himself to me completely. I was consumed by hatred. I ordered Vivian's execution. But Alex grabbed my hand and stopped me. He told me he'd already banished her permanently. For the next year, Alex was perfectly devoted — attentive to my every need. Then, seven months into my second pregnancy, I stumbled upon the woman who should have been long banished — Vivian, quietly settled at the edge of the territory. And Alex, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. If he loves Vivian that much, then I'll take back everything I ever gave him — and let him have his "true love." But if that's what he wanted... then why is he on his knees again, begging me to come back?

I'm the Donna of the Vitale family, the wife of Domenico Vitale, the woman everyone is expected to bow to. Yet whether I need to access family funds, arrange a car, make a doctor's appointment, or even prepare a gown for a party, I must submit an application first. The woman who approves every request is Camilla Marino, Domenico's most trusted secretary. He says this is family protocol. As the Donna, I should be the first to follow the rules. Things change when I suffer a massive hemorrhage during my pregnancy. My request for emergency medical treatment is pending approval, yet I have already waited longer than I should have. I call Domenico and beg, "Domenico, please. Tell Camilla to approve it. We're going to lose our baby." He gently scolds me for trying to bypass family protocol. "Do as Camilla says." Just like that, he hangs up. That night, I lose my baby, as well as whatever love I have left for Domenico. I file for divorce and leave with nothing but a few clothes I owned before the marriage. He's convinced I'm doing this out of jealousy toward Camilla, that it is a calculated scheme to make him come crawling after me. He even tracks me down at my new place of work and publicly orders my medical treatment to be stopped, certain that once I lose the Vitale family's money and protection, I'll have no choice but to beg him. Trembling, our private physician tells him the truth. "Don Vitale, Signora miscarried a long time ago."

My best friend Bianca Russo was born to work a room, and my engagement to Matteo Rinaldi was almost entirely her doing. Before we made things official, Matteo personally picked me up for opening night at the opera. He opened the car door for me. "I hear you've been looking forward to tonight." "Bianca bought the tickets," I told him honestly. "I'm just keeping her company." Bianca pinched me from behind and nudged me into the passenger seat with a laugh. "What she means is, she's hoping you'll drive her home after the show." Even after Matteo and I got engaged, he would say openly at family dinners that I wasn't as sharp as Bianca. "Looks like once we're married, I'll have to keep a room for Bianca at the estate." Family members and their business partners chuckled, but my heart sank with every laugh. Bianca was also the one who'd suggested the venue for our first charity ball as an engaged couple. By Rinaldi family tradition, the opening dance belonged to the Don and his fiancée. I'd practiced day and night for two weeks, until the backs of my heels were rubbed raw and crusted with blood. But when the band struck up the opening number, Matteo held out his hand to Bianca. "We have important guests tonight. The opening dance has to go off without a hitch." He looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Bianca knows these people better than you do, and she knows how to handle an event like this. Watch from the sidelines for now. You can have the second dance." Bianca didn't take Matteo's hand right away. She sounded torn. "Why don't you let Elena do it? She's your fiancée." That was what she said, but her eyes never left Matteo's outstretched hand. "Do I really have to ask you twice, Ms. Russo?" Matteo raised an eyebrow. The chandelier light cast a shadow beneath his sharply defined brow. The moment they stepped onto the dance floor side by side, the conversation around the room died away. The spotlight fell on the two of them, and their slightly

I'd been married to my vampire husband for three years, and he had always cherished me like a treasure. He held me close every night before I went to sleep. He never let go of my hand when we went out. He worried, always, that I might get hurt. A common cold was enough to make him cancel everything and stay up all night beside me. James told me no one in the world mattered more to him than I did. Everyone said he loved me to pieces. I believed it too. Until the day of the ceremony — the night he was supposed to turn me into a vampire. A woman who should have been dead walked back into his life. She had my face, tear-streaked, calling his name in a small voice. That was when I understood. I'd only ever been the stand-in for the woman he couldn't let go of. My stubbornness, my refusal to give up — all of it broke under the disappointment that kept piling up. So I gave up on him for good. I decided to keep our child to myself, and disappear from his world without a word. But later, he came back. Down on his knees, again and again, begging me to come home.

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood friend, Sophia York, is busy policing what I eat. "This one's too spicy. You can't have it." "This one won't do. It's far too greasy." "This one is deep-fried, too. You can't eat it." She smacks my fork away before taking my glass of orange juice away from me too. Once she's done, all that's left in front of me is a bowl of plain pasta. There are 12 dishes on the table, but plain pasta is the only thing I'm allowed to eat. Looking at me sympathetically, my husband, Ivan Jefferson, picks up a piece of beef that's been rinsed with water and places it on my plate. "Listen to Sophia, okay? She's a nutritionist. Once you recover from gastritis, you'll be able to eat whatever you want." I've been eating like this for three whole years, and my gastritis still hasn't gotten any better. Later, I become pregnant. As I struggle with morning sickness, I suddenly crave blueberries. Ivan rushes out to buy some, only to return with Sophia in tow. She slips into one of our indoor slippers as if she belongs here and immediately starts to clear out my refrigerator. "You've always had a sensitive stomach, Lily. Now that you're pregnant, it's even more important for you to watch what you eat," she says. "Let me take care of you for the next couple of months." Ivan feeds me a blueberry and gently coaxes, "I feel uneasy about leaving you home alone while you're pregnant, Lily. Sophia's a professional." Sophia pulls out her credentials and shows them to me. I stare at the name of the shady association and suddenly burst out laughing. Is this what he calls a professional? All that's left in my refrigerator are vegetables and some beef. As I stare at the nearly empty refrigerator, I suddenly feel tired of living this way. Once my morning sickness eases, I'll move somewhere else and start a new life.