Homewrecker Melodramatic Short Stories & Novels

The day I confirmed I was three months pregnant, I went to Oliver's office to drop off some files. I was finally going to tell him the good news. The Pack was in the grip of a record heat wave, and with the temperature climbing toward 122 degrees, I reached over to switch on the AC. His secretary stopped me before I could. "Luna, I'm on my period, and our Pack wolves already carry the Cold Curse. It isn't hot enough to need the AC." But I was afraid the heat would hurt the tiny life growing inside me. I shot her a glance, said nothing, and turned it on anyway. Late that night, Oliver came home from a business dinner and led with an accusation the second he walked in. "Sophia already gets cramps and nausea on her period, and you blasted cold air at her for forty-one minutes and thirty-eight seconds. You put her in the ICU with stomach spasms." "Oliver, air conditioning doesn't hurt anyone, and I've had periods too. Never mind that. There's something important I need to tell you. I'm preg—" Oliver pulled the corner of his mouth into a smile, drew me into his arms, and cut off the words before I could finish. "I lost my head. You're right." He kissed my forehead the way he always did, murmuring softly until I fell asleep. But when I woke, I was inside a transparent glass freezer room. Every face around me belonged to someone important in the Pack. Outside the glass, Oliver stood with a hand on Sophia's soft waist, watching me with a smile. "You like the cold air? Then today you can have all you want." My heart sank. I pulled out my phone and photographed the people around me. Then I made a call. "Dad. None of these people need to live to see tomorrow's sun."

Throughout my five-year marriage with Irene Anderson, I never celebrated my birthday. That was because my birthday also was the death anniversary of her childhood friend’s mother, so she had to accompany Zac Reid, her childhood friend, to the cemetery to visit her. Not only that, but she also did not allow me to celebrate my birthday. She did not even allow me to smile. “Please be more considerate towards Zac. He’s very vulnerable on his mother’s death anniversary. Once he feels better, we’ll celebrate your birthday.” Every time my friends asked me carefully if they could celebrate my birthday, I could only force a smile and say, “Forget about it. Let’s do it next time.” It happened year after year, but she never fulfilled her promise. One year, Irene dressed in all black again and prepared herself to attend the memorial. Coincidentally, she saw the birthday cake that my family had specially ordered for me. She instantly grew angry and smashed the cake onto the floor. “You can eat cake at any time; why did you have to choose today? Are you that greedy?” I left the mess behind in the house and secretly followed behind her. In the cemetery, I saw her claiming herself as Zac’s wife and his mother’s daughter-in-law, and I felt exhausted. I walked over and took off my wedding ring. “Irene, let’s get a divorce.”

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.

On the last day of the long weekend, my childhood best friend asked to borrow my half-million-dollar Porsche so he could drive out to the next town over and meet some girl he had been set up with. We went way back, so I did not just fill up the tank for him. I went ahead and tossed a box of condoms in the glovebox too. Then my phone buzzed. The dashcam was still synced to my account, and my wife's voice came through the live feed. "Babe, I can't believe you actually took that idiot's car to drive us to a motel on the toll-free highway. This is so hot." I stood there and felt the ground drop out from under me. The "blind date" my best friend had gone to meet was my wife, the woman I had married less than three months ago. "You two love free rides that much? Then stay on that highway forever." I opened the Porsche's remote vehicle management app and typed in a single command. "Auto-lock all doors by midnight. Kill all power." Right then, they were cruising down an icy mountain expressway at 10,000 feet, and the temperature was dropping fast. Midnight was only minutes away.

Since it's already the end of the year, I'm slacking off at my job. That's when I come across a forum post on the Internet. "My husband has gone on a business trip on his own. This is the photo he sent me when he updated me on his situation. Everyone, can you please take a look at the photo and tell me if there are any problems with it?" The Internet users are quick to go into their Sherlock Holmes mode. Still, they aren't able to spot any problems with the photo. But a comment is quick to catch my attention. "Am I the only one who thinks that this post is a clickbait? Could it be that a disloyal jerk who's cheating on his wife wants to proclaim his devotion toward her but is scared that he might get caught? Maybe that's why this photo is uploaded here instead so that everyone can help him find out what's wrong with this photo!" As soon as the comment is posted, the original poster deletes the post instantly. This makes me frown. At the same time, my husband, Gavin Prescott, sends me a photo on WhatsApp. "Honey, here's my daily update! Your darling husband is still devoted to you as always!" As I stare at the photo, which is exactly the same one that was posted on the Internet, I feel my heart sinking. This is definitely not a coincidence!

At a royal banquet, the king drunkenly points at me on a whim and orders me to marry Sebastian Page, the Marquess of Gainsworth—the man my elder sister loves, and who loves her in return. On our wedding night, Sebastian lifts my veil and speaks calmly. "His Majesty's command cannot be defied, and neither of us has a choice. Now that you're my wife, I'll treat you with respect and keep you safe." In our six years of marriage, he has protected me from his mother's wrath. When I fall gravely ill, he stays by my side until dawn. He even puts me in charge of his entire household. I believe that after so many years together, I can finally win his heart over the love he's carried for my sister, Juliet Jameston, since they were young. That belief lasts until the late king dies and the new king, Frederick Lancaster, takes the throne. Though Sebastian earns great merit by helping Frederick claim the throne, he seeks neither promotion nor honors. He wants only to end our marriage and wed Juliet. That evening, Sebastian returns to the manor and places the divorce agreement before me. Beside it lies a document outlining another man's circumstances as a prospective husband. "Josiah Hewitt is my second-in-command, and he's an honorable man who keeps no mistresses." I study the papers for a long moment before letting out a short, bitter laugh. "If we're ending this marriage, we should part in peace and let each other go. You can wed Juliet, and I'll make my own arrangements. Why find me another husband?" Sebastian furrows his brow slightly. "I've already discussed this with your parents, and they're quite pleased with the match. "I simply don't want you to be left without support. Josiah serves under me, so if anyone mistreats you in the future, I can make sure you're looked after." So when it comes to deciding the rest of my life, my wishes are the only thing that doesn't matter. I pick up the pen and sign the divorce agreement. Then I take the document about Josiah.

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've been married to my Mafia Boss husband for 15 years. When we first got married, he couldn't even afford a ring, but I didn't care; I loved him. I hid my identity. I secretly used my family's influence to help him build his empire from scratch, and I even bore him two children. His adopted sister always mocked me, calling me an old-fashioned housewife and saying I wasn't good enough for him. To avoid embarrassing him, I always endured it. Until our 15th anniversary, because both me and his adopted sister wore red dresses, he told me to stay in the kitchen: "Sofia's right. That red doesn't suit you. Don't come out until the banquet actually ends. Stay in the kitchen. I don't need the Dons from New York seeing you and getting the wrong impression." I was completely heartbroken and didn't argue anymore. I dialed a number I hadn't made in 15 years: "Principessa?" "It's me," I said, my voice steady. "Tell those old fossils on the Council... Isabella Corleone is coming home."

On my father-in-law Charlie Moore's sixtieth birthday, I rented out the VIP box at the Titan Boxing Gym so he could watch his favorite event with me, the championship title fight. The match was in full swing when the door to our box was kicked open. A man dripping in name brands stormed in with a pack of bodyguards, jabbing a finger in Charlie's face and cursing him out. "Where'd this old relic come from, thinking he can squat in my private box?" "I rented this fight tonight for my own entertainment. Get out, now." I kept my expression flat and my voice cold. "I paid in full for this box weeks ago, and the venue confirmed it. What gives you the right to throw us out?" The man sneered, looking at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "Paid in full? The entire Titan Boxing Gym was an engagement gift from my woman! This is my territory. I make the rules here. "People like you, reeking of poverty, ought to be grateful. If you dirty my leather couch, selling the both of you wouldn't even cover the cost." Charlie shook with rage. I just smiled. Since when had a gym I'd handed off to my wife, Cassidy Moore, to run under her name, become someone else's engagement-gift plaything?

My wife, Denise Hawkins, and I are invited to a hypnosis reality show. The hypnotist, Magnus Pitt, asks her, "What's the most unforgettable day in your life?" Denise's answer is our wedding night. While I'm secretly happy about it, I hear her add, "Back then, the fun I had with Alan was too intense and spicy that we ended up ruining the sheets." I initially thought that Denise is working with the production crew to play a prank on me. After all, she was with me the entire night. How is it possible for her to sleep with her childhood friend, Alan Parker, anyway? But then Denise continues, "Alan came when it was past midnight. I was afraid that I might wake my husband up, so I dared not make a sound at all." Immediately, the entire studio goes eerily quiet.

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.”

After my younger sister went abroad, I married the mafia Don in her place. Five years after we married, we became each other’s greatest enemies. He hated me for driving my sister away and scheming my way into becoming his wife. I hated him for always treating me as a stand-in, never once acknowledging me in front of the world. My lack of status brought humiliation to my vain parents, and from that moment on, their love for me turned into hatred. In the end, he and my parents left me behind on a snowy mountain while celebrating Christmas with my sister. In the bitter cold, I died together with the child I never got to meet. Meanwhile, my sister basked in everyone’s love and had the happiest Christmas of her life. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister returned from abroad. This time, I would not beg Gideon or my parents to love me ever again.

I was the one who first spotted the pimple on my husband Ryan Bennett's back. It was plump, red, and swollen, topped with a whitehead that looked ready to burst at any moment. I rubbed my hands together in excitement and told him not to move. Once the extraction tool I'd ordered arrived, I was going to perform a little "operation" on it. He laughed and said sure, adding that he loved this weird little hobby of mine. Two days later, he came back from his business trip. I rushed over with my brand-new "surgical instruments," only to find that patch of skin smooth and clear, with nothing left but a faint red mark. My heart deflated just like that pimple. Someone had beaten me to it.

The first time I have an affair, it's with my wife, Josephine Yates' best friend, Lydia Bennett. When Josephine catches us red-handed in bed, I'm in the middle of enjoying myself, my cheeks insanely flushed. Josephine gets into a huge fight with Lydia afterward. Then, she proceeds to drink her sorrows away that night before choosing to forgive me. After we've patched things up, we grow even more lovey-dovey than when we first got married. In fact, we're known as the golden couple who are envied by all. That is, when Josephine catches me cheating on her again on our tenth year anniversary. This time, I'm sleeping with Victoria Fairfax, the senior whom Josephine admires and respects the most. Josephine is so furious that she almost suffers from a seizure on the spot. Having gone batshit crazy, she decides to commit joint suicide with Victoria. I can only sigh before pulling her into my arms. "This is my last time doing this. I promise that you're the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life." Josephine is in so much pain and agony that she's on the brink of despair. Still, she believes my words and treats me even better now. She showers me with lavish gifts, be it luxury watches, unique custom-fitted apparel, or limited-edition racing cars. As long as she can afford it, she'll strive to give me the best. Some people call me a freeloading husband. That night, Josephine makes sure that those people have vanished off the face of the earth. When I tell Josephine that I don't want children, she gets her tubes tied immediately. Everyone praises Josephine for being devoted. They also claim that I've married the right woman. I just smile and nod. "I've used up all of my luck to meet Josephine in my life." But on Josephine's 34th birthday, she spies a paternity test report on my desk. That's when she suffers from a complete mental breakdown. The child is mine, and yet she's never given birth before.

The day I learned I was pregnant, I walked out of a private clinic holding the test results, ready to tell my husband that we were finally going to have a child. I never got the chance to make the call. A sports car driven by Damian's foster sister, Serena, struck me outside the clinic. When Damian arrived, he rushed past the paramedics and lifted Serena into his arms, even though she had suffered only minor injuries. He never recognized his wife being loaded into the ambulance. After surgery, he called to tell me that Serena had been in an accident and needed him beside her. "I am sorry, but I have to cancel our anniversary dinner." I did not tell him that I was the other person involved in the crash. I did not tell him that the child we had wanted for five years was gone. He gave me the title of Donna while reserving his forbidden devotion for her. Since he could not bear to lose either of us, I would make the choice for him. In seven days, I would leave New York and return to my parents in Sicily. Damian would receive the two gifts I left behind. The first would be a divorce that restored his freedom. The second would be the wedding he and Serena had always wanted. This time, I would not ask why he betrayed me. I would quietly give them my blessing, and then I would disappear forever.

On Christmas Eve, our three-year-old daughter, Noelle Gilder, who has cancer, takes a turn for the worse. All she wants is for her mother, Ivana Lance, to dress as Santarina and bring her a gift. I frantically call Ivana, but she impatiently yells into the phone, saying, "Why are you calling me nonstop? I am helping Charles look for Bubbles! Do you really have to make a scene over this? If Bubbles is gone, Charles will be so heartbroken that he will not be able to sleep for days!" Bubbles? So she was looking for the dog of her first love, Charles Larsson! Suppressing my anger, I tell her that Noelle might not survive the night. She laughs disbelievingly, "Mr. Gilder, do not think for a second that I'm not aware that you've spoiled Noelle rotten! If she had not suddenly kicked Bubbles, he would not have run away. Make Noelle apologize to Charles tomorrow." After hanging up, I accompany Noelle as she spends her final Christmas Eve with tears in my eyes. The next day, Ivana publishes a post on Instagram, still looking for the dog. Meanwhile, my post is Noelle's obituary. Ten years of marriage melt away into nothingness like snow.

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.

After an extreme dust storm swallowed half the mall, I was searching for my missing daughter when I received a call from Evelyn Mercer five years in the future. [Ryan, you have to do exactly what I say. I'm the only one who can save my little girl.] Without hesitating, I led the rescue team to the collapsed section she named. Sure enough, I heard a weak child's voice. I shouted in relief, "Thank God for you, Evelyn! I found her!" Evelyn laughed softly. [That's right. I came back to fix a regret.] But when the rescue crew lifted the concrete slab, the child they pulled out was not my daughter. It was the daughter of Evelyn's childhood sweetheart, Marcus Hale. I froze. Evelyn, however, sounded relieved. [Five years ago, Marcus lost his daughter and nearly broke. After that, he only had me. That night, we ended up together.] [I'm sorry, Ryan. I came back to fix Marcus's regret.] [Our daughter is buried on the other side of the mall. Hurry. Go save her.] When I rushed back, Evelyn's future voice was smug. [Well? Was she there?] I looked at my daughter's body, already cold and breathless. Then I clenched my fist and hung up.

Everyone in college has gone home for winter break. A guy from the next class shares a photo in our group chat, bragging about his Christmas gift—ten thousand and one 100-dollar bills. The entire group chat goes wild. I jump on the bandwagon, sending a couple of envious memes before tapping on the photo to zoom in. Ten thousand and one consecutive bills. But my eyes lock onto the family portrait peeking out from the edge of the frame. The woman in the photo… is Mom? I dial her number immediately. "Hey Mom, what Christmas gift are you going to get me this year?" On the other end of the line, her laughter falters. Then she replies casually, "Same as always—200 dollars. It's just a formality anyway. Why do you ask?" I force a smile and tell her it's nothing. I hang up and immediately hail a cab to that guy's house.

I am the Oracle, the High Priestess who connects the divine realm to the mortal world. My daughter, however, was born with only a trace of divine power, leaving her little different from an ordinary human. I brought four orphans back from the beastman world and raised them myself. I gave them only one condition: protect my daughter from harm. For years, her four brothers shielded her, leaving her free to be as willful as she liked. Then, on the day of her coming-of-age rite, her prayer reached me. "Mother, my brothers are going to sacrifice me so Daisy can receive the Goddess's protection." By the time I got there, my daughter was bound to the altar. My four sons were busy preparing the altar. Daisy preened at their side. I was about to begin the chant that would punish them. Christopher, the serpent, pulled Daisy close and wrapped a protective arm around her. Gardner, the polar bear, talked back to me for the first time. "Mother, our little sister hurt Daisy first. "We only meant to frighten her. "The rite only takes away her ability to speak with the Goddess. She is useless anyway. She may as well be ordinary." I looked at the ingrates I had personally raised and scoffed. They had forgotten something. Every skill, every power, every title they held had come from me. I had made them. I could unmake them just as easily.