Obsessive Short Stories & Homewrecker Marriage Novels

In the last six months, I have been away for work. But when I come home, I find out that my wife, Vanessa Hudson, is now three months pregnant. She insists that she hasn't been cheating on me. But her ex-boyfriend's post online tells a different story. Harold Quinton writes, "Thank you, Vanessa, for fulfilling my dream of becoming a father. You've worked so hard through ovulation, egg retrieval, and implantation, mother of my child." Harold has a very severe case of erectile dysfunction. The moment I find out my wife has gotten pregnant with another man's test tube baby, I feel bitter inside. I dial my boss' number and say to her, "I'm willing to take on the overseas general manager position that you offered me previously." Then, I turn to Vanessa and say, "Let's get a divorce."

Three years into our long-distance relationship, my daily conversations with Evan Crawford turned into a three-person group chat. He said the company was busy preparing for its IPO and that he didn't have time to check his phone. If I needed anything, I should tell his "buddy," Nicole Pearce, and she'd pass it along. From then on, everything came through Nicole: what time he left the office, when he traveled for work, what he took for his stomach pain. She knew every moment of his day. Every message I sent him just sat there on "unread." On my birthday, I asked in the group chat if he could spare ten minutes for a video call. Nicole replied, "The launch event is right around the corner. Don't distract him." And yet somehow he had time to like her latest Instagram post. The night the company went public, I took an overnight bus to the celebration dinner and arrived in time to hear him raise a toast. "I owe these past six months to Nicole. She took care of all the little things for me." When he spotted me, he frowned. "Why didn't you check in through the group chat first?" Nicole took the gift from my hands. "He's exhausted. Whatever you need to say, I'll pass it along." A wave of helplessness hit me. I pulled my hand back and left the group chat. If even missing him had to go through her, I had no reason to report my life to him anymore.

My boyfriend had a border collie named Milo that he treated like his own child. No matter how broke we were, Milo never went without. We waited outside the warehouse club for its 10 p.m. bread markdowns, then bought Milo fresh seafood flown in that morning. We worked until conjunctivitis left our eyes bloodshot and still didn't dare take a day off, all so we could send Milo to a summer camp that cost more than three thousand dollars. I always thought Lucian simply loved animals too much, that people could tough it out but Milo shouldn't have to suffer. Until the Calloway heir threw a lavish banquet in the north end of town for his beloved pet's birthday. I snuck in hoping to take home some food for Milo, only to discover that the host was my boyfriend, Lucian Calloway, and the birthday pet was Milo. A single napkin at their table was worth more than my entire year's salary. A guest tossing off a casual compliment about how silky the coat looked walked away with a generous reward. That was when it hit me: with a snap of his fingers, Lucian could have paid to treat the stomach and eye problems I'd developed from overwork. And there I was, the fool who'd hidden my medical reports to save money, gutting it out year after year. Maybe in his mind, spending money on strangers and the dog was a better investment than spending it on me. So it was time for me to leave. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "The marriage alliance with the Bennetts. I accept."

The ninth time I tried to divorce my husband, Don Louis Romano, my best friend Jenny Parker, who had always talked me out of it, handed me the papers herself. Every time before, she'd done everything in her power to stop me. She'd even taken over the Family's day-to-day affairs just to create chances for us to see each other and reconcile. I took the papers and couldn't help but ask. Years of pent-up exhaustion showed in Jenny's eyes, and to my shock, her voice was edged with resentment. "You got Vivian shot this time. She nearly didn't make it. How long are you going to keep this up?!" Vivian Hale was the woman Louis had been seeing. I stared at her in disbelief. "Vivian's had a hard life. I'm the one who introduced her to Louis. "I know it's not fair to you, so I've been trying to make it up to you. But you've been at this long enough. It's time to stop." Jenny sighed. "Back during the arms shipment ambush, Louis and I risked our lives to pull you out of that firefight. "If our saving your life means anything, stop using divorce as a way to get Louis's attention." I couldn't speak. My fingers clenched. The love and friendship I'd treasured for years had only ever been real to me. The last ember of loyalty in my heart burned out completely. The moment Jenny looked away, I picked up the pen and signed my name without hesitation. Sherry Bennett. This time, I was really getting a divorce.

At the party the night before our wedding, I came across a couples' challenge post online: [If I weren't an option, who would you most want to marry?] I smiled as I asked my fiance, Julian Hayes. He didn't hesitate. "Vivian." Vivian Bennett was my younger sister. My best friend chimed in. "Honestly, Vivian does understand him best. Every time you two fight, she's the one who stays up talking to Julian until dawn." Vivian reached over and gave him a playful punch on the chest. "Better keep your fiance in line, sis. Can't have him pining after me all the time." The whole table erupted in laughter. My mother, Margaret Bennett, gave an amused tsk. "It's just a joke. Besides, Vivian never complains the way you do. It's only natural that Julian likes her." Julian glanced at me. "It was just a joke. What, you can't take one again?" I didn't respond. I looked down at the confirmation form the wedding planner had just sent over. The gown, the bouquet, the music, the menu. All chosen to Vivian's taste. So this wedding, from start to finish, had only one thing that was mine: my name in the bride's place. If it didn't matter who the bride was, then there was no point in having this wedding at all.

Five years into our secret marriage, Alex finally agreed to give me a wedding. But the day before the ceremony, I was the one who called it off. The Castellano Family butler asked me, stunned, "Ma'am, the ceremony is tomorrow. Are you sure you don't want to wait for Mr. Castellano to come home?" I picked up my packed suitcase. My voice came out light, almost relieved. "He isn't coming. Right now he's in a church in New York, saying his vows with his adopted sister."

I'd been in a secret relationship with Nathan for six years. He said we couldn't go public because of his career. So we always split the bill, and anniversary gifts never cost more than fifteen dollars. The night before our anniversary, I asked him for the sixth time when he'd come home with me to meet my family. He turned me down again. "Ivy, I just think things are moving a little fast. Marriage is a lifetime commitment, after all." So I went home alone, carrying the expensive cheese and wine he'd bought for my mom. I pushed open the door and found the living room trashed. My stepsister Chloe stood there with a smug grin on her face. "Mrs. Mercer, you owe my family a million dollars. You've been stalling long enough. Time to settle up, don't you think?" Years ago, my father had an affair, and Chloe's mother orchestrated the whole thing. My mom ended up saddled with a mountain of debt, and my father took the easy way out with a divorce. When I said nothing, Chloe scoffed, "What's wrong? Don't want to own up to it? "That's fine. My husband happens to be the best lawyer in the city. He's never lost a case. "This is his first year coming home with me for the holidays. Perfect time to show you what 'pay what you owe' really means." I crouched down to shield my mother, the words of protest dying on my lips. The next second, a familiar figure stepped out from behind Chloe. It was Nathan.

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."

My mother, Diane Sutton, was helping me into the bridal suite when she suddenly stumbled forward. Someone had smeared strong adhesive across the red carpet. Her shoe came off, and four of her toes poked through her torn stocking. My father, Martin Sutton, rushed over to help her, but as soon as he turned, everyone saw the sticky note on his back. "Clearance! 99 cents!" The room fell silent. Chiara Lombardi, Enzo Valli's assistant, couldn't hold back anymore. She burst out laughing, then said, "Look how embarrassing they look! I hereby declare the 100th test officially underway!" I froze. "Wasn't it already over?" Three years ago, Enzo told me he wanted to marry me. His father, Don Marco Valli, respected me as an attorney but believed my family background made me unfit to marry his son. So Marco and his advisor came up with 99 tests and put Chiara in charge of them. They hoped I'd eventually give up and call off the wedding myself. Over the next three years, Chiara replaced my toothpaste with mustard, swapped my shampoo for depilatory cream, and even released rats into my room at night. Whenever I felt like I couldn't take it anymore, Enzo would pull me into his arms and murmur, "Nora, just hang on a little longer. Once the tests are over, I promise no one will ever hurt you again." He could not openly defy the procedure the advisor had set, but he never once bothered to ask what Chiara had put me through. As long as we got married in the end, what I endured along the way didn't matter. Last night was the 99th test. I thought the nightmare was finally over. Then Chiara announced, "You passed. But your parents haven't! You're going to be the Donna one day. Your parents represent the Family too. If they can't handle something this minor, what good are they?" I turned to Enzo for help. He ruffled my hair as if soothing a petulant child. "Do as Chiara says. Just hang on a little longer." I'd put up with this for three years. I was done enduring it.