Plot Twists Short Stories & Homewrecker Marriage Novels

At the dinner on the third day after our wedding, my husband Ryan Lawson's adopted sister, Zelda Lawson, shoved a baby into my arms along with a legal document. "Victoria Sullivan, I know you can't have children, so I had one for Ryan. This baby is my wedding gift to you. Sign this custody agreement, and we can all still be one family." I did not take it. Instead, I turned to look at Ryan standing beside me. He stepped in front of Zelda protectively and said coldly, "Just sign it, Victoria. I can't let the family line end with me." As I looked at his matter-of-fact expression, I suddenly laughed. Since that was the case, this marriage was no longer worth keeping.

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?]

During our eight years together, Lorenzo, the Falcone family Don’s heir, cheated on me with eight women. A dancer, a college student, a sex worker... Every one of them was nothing like me. Eight times, I fought, I raged, and I even cut my wrists. And every time, Lorenzo knelt before me and swore it would never happen again. "I swear to God, Beatrice, I was just tempted by someone new. You're the only woman I love." I believed him. Today was our ninth anniversary. Then I found the ninth: my best friend, Giuliana. They were holding each other like real lovers. Hands shaking, I called home, expecting the comfort my family had given me the other eight times. Instead, my parents said I had it coming. A daughter from a minor noble house had never been good enough for the Falcone heir. My brother said I was too stupid to make myself lovable, and that was why I'd finally driven Lorenzo to cheat. Eventually, even I began to wonder if it was all my fault. I saw a therapist. She advised me to divorce as soon as possible and stop clinging to someone I wasn't good enough for. I came back to the estate in a daze, only to hear Lorenzo's voice in the study, warm with laughter. "Giuliana, you're the clever one. You suggested I fake those affairs so she'd get used to me cheating and wouldn't lose her mind and hurt you. "I've taken care of the therapist. Her parents and brother will keep pressuring her. Soon enough, she'll ask for the divorce herself. "As soon as she's gone, I'll marry you." I stood there listening as tears slipped down my cheeks. I'd been living inside a lie they had all helped build. I was done playing the fool in their elaborate charade.

After my prenatal appointment, the doctor at the private hospital stopped me. "Mrs. Marchetti, your husband specifically asked me to make sure you didn't leave alone after your appointment. "He said it isn't safe for you to go home alone in this snow. He'll be here to pick you up soon." The staff around us laughed and told me what a wonderful husband I had. Seven months pregnant, I rested a hand on my belly and felt a rush of warmth. But even after dark, when the last of the staff had gone home, my husband, Chris Marchetti, still hadn't shown up. Outside the window, the wind screamed and the snow came down hard. I couldn't help it. I called him. Once... twice... The line was busy both times. Then a notification popped up on my screen. Ivy Bellini, Don Angelo Bellini's daughter, had posted on Instagram. "Look at this haul! Shout-out to Chris for spending the whole day shopping with me. Heading home now." The photos showed more gift boxes than one trunk could hold, and Chris in profile, focused on the road. The chill of the phone against my fingers seemed to spread to my heart. It wasn't the first time. Before our wedding, Chris had promised to come to my dress fitting, but he'd helped Ivy pick a gown instead. On my birthday, he promised me dinner but went to watch fireworks with Ivy. On our anniversary, he promised to take me back to the estate but took Ivy to an auction instead. For three years, every promise he broke, he broke for Ivy. A message from Chris popped up. "Sorry, baby. A last-minute meeting came up. Can you grab a cab home?" "Don't be upset. It's bad for your health." I smiled bitterly and typed back. "Okay." I was never going to be upset with him again.

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.

On the day of our engagement, my fiance, Adrian Kinsley, and I are just about to exchange rings. His adopted younger sister, Sarah Nott, suddenly rushes onto the stage and exclaims, "She starred in porn movies, did you know that? How can you marry such a tainted woman?" All of our guests gasp in surprise. At first, everyone thinks it's some kind of prank. But in the next second, Sarah plays a video on the big screen and says, "The woman is quite the celebrity. She shoots more than 60 films a year, and her starting rate is 2,000 dollars per film." I stare at the face in the video that looks almost identical to mine. I'm stunned, as I'm the daughter of a crime boss with a fortune worth hundreds of billions. I casually hand out millions to my subordinates as rewards. Sell my body for 2,000 dollars? I have to be out of my mind to do that.

Vanessa Allen and I were the envy of everyone who knew us—we were the perfect, loving couple. What none of them knew was that I was never anything more than a stand-in for my younger brother. One offhand complaint from him that he wasn't feeling well, and Vanessa would drop me the second my heart gave out. I begged her, in tears, to save me. All I got back was a cold, "Stop making a scene." Mom frowned and told me to be the bigger person, to stop pulling petty stunts out of jealousy. Dad looked at me like I disgusted him and said if I really wanted to die, I should just hurry up and do it. Even my elder brother, the one who'd doted on me since we were kids, turned on me. "Miles has bipolar disorder. You know that. Why can't you just let it go for once?" After that, I finally let go of any illusions I had about love or family. That was when they finally started to regret it—when they came to me in tears, begging for forgiveness.

I've always been clingy. Even when I'm asleep, I like having someone close. However, I end up with Dylan Ladner, a man who seems completely incapable of affection. Everyone says we're all wrong for each other. What they don't know is that Dylan is even clingier than I am. Whenever I'm fast asleep, he drops the cold act and whispers in my ear, "Babe, you're so cute. Give me a kiss." I'm usually too sleepy to respond. Then one night, a nightmare startles me awake, and I hear him murmuring those same sweet words again. My heart softens, and I reach for him. That's when I notice the earbuds in his ears. He's on a call with someone else. I go completely still. I yank the cord out, and a woman's breathy voice fills the room. "Dylan, let me hear you pant for me, okay?" I know that voice. It's my younger sister, Julia Farwell.

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?

I struck a deal with the richest corporation on behalf of my company. My wife was the CEO, Natalie Ford, and she hurriedly said she would give me a villa as a reward. However, what I got was just a children's drawing of the villa. "Honey, the company is about to go public this year, and we're having trouble with capital turnover. I'll give you a large villa next year." Later, I came across the TikTok account of her male assistant. Morgan Shaw was showing off how Natalie had spent 300 million dollars to buy him a large penthouse in the business district. The caption was: [Those who truly love you will give you a warm home.] It turned out it was not that the company was short of funds; it was that she did not think it was worth it to spend that money on me. I saw that the commenters were full of envy for Morgan, so I liked and reposted the video. Immediately, people flooded his post with more comments. Less than a minute later, Natalia called anxiously. "Honey, have you misunderstood something? I bought Morgan a house just to make it easier for him to get to work. Hurry and remove your like and repost. "If you help him clarify things, I promise to go to your family's house for Christmas this year, okay?" She always broke her promises. This time, I refused to believe her again. "Forget it. Let's get a divorce."

"Jump. You love me to death, don't you? Didn't you say you'd do anything for me?" Ethan Hart wanted me to throw myself off the observation deck of the tallest tower downtown, live, in front of the millions of people watching the broadcast. I stood on the wrong side of the railing. Below me, traffic streamed through the streets and neon flickered in the distance. His friends clapped and cheered. Vivian Lane laughed softly and curled herself against his arm. Ethan's grin turned vicious. "Come on, don't waste everyone's time. Jump, and I'll marry you." He'd made me a promise once. Finish a hundred of his demands, and he would marry me. When his company was circling bankruptcy, he told me to hand over everything I owned, and I did. Then he moved Vivian into my house in the suburbs and left me to sleep in a motel. The night he was tangled up with Vivian at a private party, he sent me over with something for his hangover, and made a point of telling me to bring a box of condoms, the right size. I stood at the door holding the soup I'd made, and heard him laugh. "She's my ATM. I use her, then I throw her out." No matter how far it went, I'd done all ninety-nine. This was the last one: jump. He thought I'd hesitate, thought I'd cry and beg him to pick something else. I didn't. I let go and fell. The wind roared in my ears, and the whole lit-up city slid past me. I heard him shout, heard the crowd scream, and underneath all of it, the one voice I'd waited too long to hear. [Congratulations, host. Emotional conquest progress: one hundred percent. Reward delivered. Your mother's terminal illness is fully cured.]

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

On the day my boyfriend, Antonio Vinci, proposes to me, his adoptive sister, Lucia Falcone, remarks on a whim, "How romantic. It makes me want to get married now as well." On the very same night, Antonio gives me an agreement. "You should leave. Here's a 50-million-dollar compensation. I'm going to get married soon." If this were to happen in the past, I'd have kicked up a huge ruckus and threatened to take my own life if Antonio didn't marry me. But now, I just ask for another 50 million dollars calmly. When I'm about to sign the agreement, I hear Antonio talking on the phone in another language. "Thank goodness I gave Daniela a marriage agreement. Otherwise, she'd seriously think I'd break up with her. I knew that Daniela would be perfect as my wife. She's obedient and docile, just like a loyal mutt. "As for Lucia, I can give her everything but a legitimate position by my side." My hand pauses momentarily. Then, I scribble Lucia's name on the agreement. What Antonio doesn't know is that I have an ongoing bet with Lucia. If I can ensnare Antonio's heart in ten years, she will back out of our relationship. If I fail to do so, I'll disappear permanently from their lives.

The day before my period, I found a note on my fiancé's phone. [Her period starts tomorrow. I already packed pads and painkillers in her bag.] I smiled. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful. The next day, a dull ache twisted in my lower stomach. Pale and uncomfortable, I dug through my crossbody bag. Nothing. Dark red blood stained my pants. Students pointed behind me and whispered with awkward laughs. I figured he'd just forgotten at the last minute. Then the new intern teacher posted on social media. [Just started working, and my supervising teacher is literally the sweetest! He even got me pads and painkillers. This period has been pain-free!] The photo showed a pack of pads, an ibuprofen tablet, and a mug of ginger tea. The painkillers were mine—the ones I'd kept stocked at home for years because of my cramps. The pads were the only brand my skin could tolerate. I turned off my phone and stared at the engagement ring on my finger for a long time. Then I stood up and headed to the principal's office to apply for the overseas teacher exchange program. Seven years. He still couldn't remember my cycle. And now, he never would have to.

At the police station, the officer turned the tablet around and showed it to me. I stared at the screen and read it a few times. The household registration showed my familial relationship: divorced with a daughter. Daughter's name: Sandy Evans Birthdate: 1st of June, 2019 However, I was a man who had been single my whole life and had never married. "Mr. Evans," the officer began, frowning. "She got lost in the shopping mall. As the girl's parent and guardian, how can you deny she's your daughter?" First of June, 2019. Back then, I was flying all around the world while planning an exhibition. I had spent almost three hundred days in a year in budget hotels and the plastic chairs in airport departure halls. During that International Children's Day, my Grab app's log also showed my tiring trip from the convention center to the Central City International Airport. I barely had time for a girlfriend. How could I have possibly fathered a daughter? Which begged the question: whose daughter was sitting on the bench in the police station as she sobbed?

Lily Harper was my husband Victor Carter's first love. The day she got divorced, Victor dressed up and headed out with the newest toy on the market for her son. That was the day I started teaching our son, Arthur, to call him "Mr. Carter." He skipped Arthur's first-day-of-school assembly to take Lily's son, Leo, to an amusement park. I told Arthur, "Mr. Carter has a lot of work to do." When Lily called to say her place felt empty, Victor walked out on us on Christmas Day. I comforted my heartbroken son. "Let Mr. Carter go do his work. Mommy will always be here with you." Later, the two boys got into a fight at school, and the teacher called us in. Victor stood across from Arthur and me, right beside Lily. Arthur clenched his fists. "Mr. Carter, your precious Leo hit me first." When we got home, Victor realized how badly he'd hurt Arthur and decided to throw him a huge birthday party. In the middle of the party, Lily called again, crying because Leo had a fever. Victor put his phone down and gave Arthur an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I..." Arthur looked back at him, his face blank. "It's okay, Mr. Carter. I have Mom. That's enough."

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.

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

My fiancé, Luciano Marino, was the Don of the Marino family, and he was an extremely careful man. For the five years we'd known each other, he'd kept me on his estate outside the city. "Eleanor, you're my weak spot. I'll never let any of my enemies lay a finger on you." "The fewer people who know about you, the safer you are." So I'd never once appeared in public with him, let alone met his family. Three days before our wedding, I was outside the study when I overheard him talking to the butler. "Don, are you sure you want to schedule your wedding to Ms. Vanderhall for the same day, three days from now?" "That's right." "Then... what about Ms. Ashford?" He took a deep drag on his cigar. "Eleanor has always been understanding. She won't mind if I'm a little late." My hand froze before I could push the door open, and my mind went blank. Hands shaking, I opened Instagram on my phone and searched for Eileen Vanderhall's account. Her feed was filled with photos of the two of them. She came and went from Luciano's armory as she pleased, attended his family dinners, and even sat in on meetings with his crew. "He says that when you love someone, you share every part of your life with them." So it wasn't that he refused to let the woman he loved into his life. It was just that the woman wasn't me. Back in my room, I dialed a number. "Dad, I lost the bet. I'm ready to come home and marry the man you picked." ...

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.