Homewrecker Melodramatic Short Stories & Novels

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

I've gotten into an accident three days before my SAT exam. As a result, my right leg is completely busted. As Selena Surrey stands before my hospital bed, she suddenly reveals the truth. "I'm the one who arranged the accident." She points at my broken leg, which is still sealed in a cast. A cruel smile blossoms on her face. "It's your fault for displeasing Aaron. You only broke one leg anyway. It's way better than watching Aaron continue to waste away in depression." I widen my eyes in disbelief. As I struggle against Selena, I leave fresh scratches on her arms. But Selena just pushes me away coldly, only to pat me on the head gently as she did in the past. "I think I understand how your parents feel now. No wonder they insisted on sending you to the orphanage back then. It's true that you aren't as likeable as Aaron." Aaron Lindt is my biological older brother. 15 years ago, I had gotten hurt just to save him from getting hit by a car. But he cried to our parents, claiming that I was the one who had pushed him. Our parents were quick to send me to an orphanage, completely disregarding my injuries. Just as I thought it was over for me, Selena showed up and promised me that she'd be the person I could rely on for the rest of my life. But now, she decides to ruin me with her own hands for the sake of the same person she has promised to protect me from.

All the paparazzi in Glorisia knows that Wanda Foster would rather sleep with an escort from a nightclub than with me, her legally-wedded husband. The daily question they ask is, "When will Mr. Gulliver give his precious first time away?" When faced with the paparazzi's cameras, Wanda turns to look at me arrogantly. "We can just lead different romantic lives on our own. If you don't like how I act, feel free to sleep with someone else too." After that, Wanda turns to leave. That night, the spicy photos of her and her latest beau go viral on the news once again. Just when everyone thinks I will spend yet another sleepless night agonizing over the news, I contact some paparazzi and place a reservation on a spot for sensational news. Then, I strip down and mess up the bedsheets before taking a nude photo of myself from another person's POV. After that, I use an unknown number to text Wanda. "Oh my, James is seriously amazing in bed! Let me know when you're going to divorce him!"

On the drive back from picking up our marriage license, Emily Adair suddenly spoke up. "I cheated on you." She pointed at the passenger seat where I was sitting and smiled with cruel amusement. "He was sitting right there yesterday, kissing me. He's an amazing kisser. I couldn't help myself, so I slept with him." Betrayed for the second time. I froze, the pain crushing my chest so hard I couldn't make a single sound. But Emily's smile only grew wider. "I finally get what Jessica saw in him. Honestly? Dylan is way more of a man than you'll ever be." Jessica was my ex-wife. Dylan used to be my closest friend. Five years ago, I walked in on the two of them together in bed. When I'd lost all hope, Emily came into my life and saved me. But now, she had betrayed me with the same exact man.

I was on vacation with my mother at our country vineyard when a message arrived from Ava, my husband's personal secretary. He was the new Don of the Falcone family. The photo showed a woman, bruised and naked, curled up on the floor of a cold cellar. It was followed by a voice message, her tone arrogant: "Helen, is this what you peasants do? Claw your way out of the mud just to leech off the Don?" "Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered mother wander in here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity." "This is the price for trespassing on the Don's estate!" I froze, my eyes lifting to the other side of the long table where my mother was sipping her red wine, perfectly safe. I zoomed in on the photo. The moment I saw the details, my heart seized. On a pale hand was a familiar ring. It was the heirloom the Falcone Madre never took off. I immediately dialed Ava's number. "Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!" A careless, almost flirtatious laugh came from the other end of the line. "The Don may consider you his property, but he never agreed to take in your dirt-poor family."

On Valentine's Day, my husband, Jason Smith, gets sent to the hospital after getting into a car crash. He's not alone—his naked adopted sister, Susan Lane, is sent there as well. The police officer explains to me, "Your boyfriend got distracted when he was driving, resulting in him crashing into a car that was in the opposite lane." After that, I retrieve the items that have survived the crash. They consist of a diamond ring, a pair of stockings, a pack of condoms, and an agreement. "I, Jason Smith, promise that I will never see Susan Lane ever again!" Three days later, Jason gets discharged from the hospital. He shows up in front of me with a bouquet. "Happy Valentine's Day, honey! Susan thinks these flowers are rather fresh, and that it's a waste to throw them away. I remember you loving flowers the most. You should get them placed in a vase. Don't let them go to waste." I just shake my head as I stare at the bouquet. The flowers are as rotten as my five-year marriage. That's why it's time to throw everything into the bin once and for all.

As Dad lies on his death bed, he rasps to me that his only wish is to watch me get married. I keep crying to the point that my sobs come out silent. My entire family turns to look at Whitney Pearson, who stands behind me. She lets out a small sigh before wiping my tears away for me gently. Then, she leads me out of the ward. But as soon as the door is closed behind us, Whitney's expression turns icy. "Joseph, we've been dating for seven years. You of all people should know very well that I hate getting coerced into doing something the most. "Love is all about going with the flow. We shouldn't let others determine how our relationship should progress." Then, she caresses my cheek reassuringly. "Let's not rush our marriage. We'll talk more about this once things settle down after my company goes public. What do you think? "Anyway, I still have a meeting to get to tonight. You should deal with your family as you see fit. I'll bring a gift for you when I come home later." Before I can say anything, Whitney spins on her heel and leaves with her secretary, Kaiden Xavier. The moment both of them disappear into the elevator, I witness Kaiden bending over slightly to brush Whitney's hair from her face for her. She makes no move to stop him at all. After drying my tears, I return to the ward and take Dad's hand with a smile. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll get married in three days. In fact, I'm still waiting for you to do my tie for me before the start of the ceremony."

I spent six months and over $20,000 to plan a family vacation. However, when my mate's childhood sweetheart Ethan heard about our trip, he wanted to join us. Chloe didn't hesitate. She cancelled my spot in the protected convoy and gave it to him instead. She forced me to travel alone through deadly Shadow Pack territory — a thirty-six hour journey where three wolves had died last month. The whole family supported Chloe's decision without a thought for my safety. So I changed my travel plans. I headed north instead of south. I spent three months enjoying myself, ignoring their mindlink messages. That's when the family started to panic...

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.

Vivian was wheeled out of the delivery room for the third time after a massive hemorrhage. The baby was stillborn. The doctor told her that her womb had been damaged by too many pregnancies. She would never carry another child. Numb and hollowed out, Vivian dragged herself toward the morgue to see her baby one last time, and that was when she saw her husband Ethan standing in the corridor, talking quietly to one of his men. "Don, your wife's baby was a perfect marrow match again. One more extraction and Claire's son will be cured." Vivian froze mid-step, every nerve in her body going still. Then came Ethan's voice, light and almost amused, and it shattered something she didn't know was still whole. His man hesitated, something pained moving across his face,"If Claire's boy pulls through, then losing those three kids was worth it." "Don, if the Donna ever finds out what really happened to those babies…" A cold shudder ran through Vivian, and her eyes locked on Ethan. But the curve of his mouth turned sharp, almost cruel. "She won't. I'll make it up to her, get her pregnant again with a healthy one this time. She'll be too busy with the baby to go digging." "And if she does find out, then what?" "Her mother gave her life for mine. That debt has chained me to her for ten years, and I can barely breathe under it. But now there's someone I actually want to protect. She has no right to stand in the way." Something softened in Ethan's face then, something Vivian had never seen turned toward her. "Claire was my brother's wife, and I'll never forget that he died protecting this family. So protecting his widow and his blood are our family’s and my duty." "She's the only person who's ever made me feel like a husband. Like a father." "I have to take care of her."

On the day Serena's company went public, she announced her engagement to her assistant, Hugo Snow. Meanwhile, I, her husband who had quietly stayed by her side for four years, watched as Hugo walked up to the press conference stage. "None of this would have been possible without Hugo's support," Serena stated. "I thank you all for trusting Serena. From now on, the two of us will be completing this project together, hand in hand," Hugo added. As I listened to the crowd shower them with congratulations, my clenched fist slowly loosened. It was finally time for me to let go of this four-year marriage.

After her boyfriend bailed on their wedding, my best friend broke down crying and begged my fiance to step in and save the day. Blake Keller comforted me gently. "Dawn, Noelle and I grew up together. We've been close for years—closer than family, honestly. Today is just for show. Besides, our wedding's next week anyway, so think of it as a rehearsal in advance." I felt terrible for my best friend. After struggling with myself for a long time, I finally gritted my teeth and nodded. Just like that, I watched with my own eyes as my boyfriend, who was supposed to be the best man, became my best friend's "groom." At the wedding, Blake held Noelle's hand, his eyes filled with affection. When the officiant asked whether he was willing, he answered even more firmly than he had when he proposed to me. I kept telling myself not to take it seriously, that it was just an act and I should not overthink it. That was what I believed—until after they exchanged rings. The officiant smiled and said, "You may now kiss the bride." The crowd instantly started cheering, urging them to kiss. Blushing, Noelle hurriedly reassured me. "Dawn, don't worry. We'll fake it with the camera angle." I believed her. But in the very next second, Blake lifted her chin and deeply kissed her for real in front of everyone.

The news came that Raymond had been shot. I was seven months pregnant, but I flew straight across the country to the family's East Coast compound—and got detained the moment I stepped inside. “Never heard of the Don having a fiancée, and pregnant no less. You've got some nerve running a con on Carraso turf.” The barrel of a gun pressed cold against my temple. My heart was clawing its way up my throat when I caught sight of a familiar figure across the room. “Raffina,” I shouted, “tell them I'm your brother-in-law's fiancée.” Raffina gave a small wave of her hand, and the man holding the gun immediately bent at the waist. “Donna, I didn't know she was a friend of yours. My mistake.” I stared with wide eyes, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. Inside the compound, the same man crossed to where Raymond sat on the couch without a scratch on him, and gave a formal nod. “Don, she claims she's your fiancée.” Raymond took a slow sip of his whiskey and shook his head, just barely. They dragged me out, and on the way the man slapped me across the face, warning me not to try my con act anywhere near the family again. I pulled the engagement ring off my finger and went straight to International Financial Tower.

On the night before our engagement party, my fiancée went radio silent for five hours—just to buy her male assistant stomach medicine. When she finally came back, I gave her two choices: fire him, or call off the wedding. She disappeared for three full days. The next time I saw her, she showed up at our doorstep soaking wet. She threw her arms around me and said, "I don't want anyone but you." Then, on our wedding night, she vanished again. I'm an ER doctor. I got called in for an emergency. When I got to the hospital, I found out the patient was her assistant. He had a groin injury. My fiancée was standing by his bedside, disheveled, her clothes a mess. I didn't raise my voice. I just looked at her and said, "Cut ties with him right now. We can still make this work." Her eyes filled with conflict. She hesitated. Then she reached down and took his hand.

Joanna Cross's fiance, who had supposedly died seven years ago, suddenly came back. When I went to find her, the two of them were discussing their wedding. Adrian Shaw pointed at me, standing at the very back of the crowd, and asked, "Jo, who is he?" Joanna answered without hesitation. "Our wedding officiant." I clutched my chest, faintly feeling my heart condition beginning to flare. Before I could question her, the bodyguards escorted me out of the living room. Inside, laughter filled the room. Outside, my hands and feet went cold, and the pain nearly tore me apart. Two hours later, Joanna came out with a smile still on her face. When she saw the state I was in, she panicked and immediately wrapped me tightly in her coat. But the words she spoke were colder than ice. "Adrian has forgotten everything except that I was his fiancee. "The doctors said any stimulation could make him try to kill himself. The wedding is fake. It is only to make him happy. The person I love has always been you." I could not hold on anymore and collapsed. Joanna hurriedly helped me into the car, her voice shaking. "Mason, don't be scared. The matching heart was prepared long ago. I won't let anything happen to you. "I will take you to the best hospital right now." But just as she helped me into the passenger seat, she ran into Adrian, whose eyes were full of tears. "Jo, are you abandoning me?" In a single second, Joanna made her choice. She peeled my fingers away from her one by one, then shut the car door. After that, Joanna never appeared again. Instead, she sent me a message. [Your surgery was successful. That's wonderful!] [Adrian cannot handle any stimulation. Can you disappear for three months? After that, we will spend the rest of our lives together.] Her promises were so vivid. But Joanna did not know the surgery had never succeeded. Three months was too long. I could not make it that far.

On the day my daughter, Dakota Bradshaw, gets into a car accident, I rush over to save her, only to get crippled instead. Both my wife, Delilah Rowland, and Dakota don't mind the fact that I'm being a burden to them. Instead, they put in a lot of effort to take good care of me. But one day, a fire breaks out at home. Yet, Delilah personally closes my room door. Since I'm crippled, I end up falling to the floor in my state of panic. That's when I notice Dakota's shoes through the gap under the door. "Dakota, save me!" I call for help at the top of my lungs. But only the sounds of the crackling flames respond to me. I have no idea how much time has passed when I catch wisps of a conversation hazily. "Mom, the firefighters are here. What should we do?" Dakota's voice is very low. Delilah replies calmly, "Tell the police that your father started the fire when he was cooking. We just reached the corridor at that time, so the doorknob was already warped from the fire." Dakota simply says one word. "Okay."

Ever since my wife, Allison Strong, gives birth to our son, Noel Russell, she becomes unable to speak. The doctors say it is likely a psychological issue. For three whole years, she does not say a single word to me. Even when there's a gas leak in the house, she simply waits for me to discover it myself. When Noel cries from hunger, she never tries to comfort him. After my company goes bankrupt, I don't even have time to grieve. I spend my days delivering packages to support the family while taking my wife to see psychologists and specialists. One day, I am dead tired after working from morning until night. As I back my car into the garage, I fail to notice that Allison has left three-year-old Noel to play behind the vehicle. The moment I feel the car roll over something, my gut tells me something is very wrong. Noel's cries last only a few moments before he falls silent. My legs nearly give out beneath me. Forcing myself to stay upright, I scoop up Noel and rush him to the hospital with my hands trembling uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Allison stands silently somewhere to the side. Just like always, she says nothing. Her expression remains absolutely unfazed. Though she is the one who has given birth to Noel, everything seems completely unrelated to her. I have a mental breakdown. Grabbing her by the shoulders, I shake her desperately and yell, "You saw what was happening, why didn't you warn me? Why did you let him play there? What kind of psychological problem do you have that you can just stand by and watch your own son die? "Are you trying to destroy me, Allison?" I scream hysterically, but she still does not open her mouth or make a sound. Despair engulfs me. Three years of complete silence from her crushes me. Just when I am about to give up, Allison pushes through the crowd and softly speaks her first words in three years. They are quiet, but I hear them clearly. "Clarence..." Clarence Welch is the name of her first love. Only then do I realize that her psychological issue is with Noel and me.

I was born into the Valerie family, with the noble blood that could give a vampire a powerful hybrid heir. I was meant to marry Ethan, heir to the Prince. But the night before the engagement, his younger brother Adrian knelt in the rain in front of me. “Elena, I’d give up everything.” “I love you. You’re all I want.” So I broke the engagement, let my family disown me, and married him without a backward glance. Then I got pregnant. He started keeping me at arm’s length, finding reasons not to touch me, not even willing to stay in the same room as me. Until the night I heard him tell his men: “Once Elena has the baby, we’ll hand it over to Ethan and Sophia.” “Sophia’s health is fragile. I can’t bear to put her through a pregnancy.” That was when I finally understood. Adrian had never loved me. He’d married me only to free up the place beside Ethan for my cousin Sophia. Even the child I’d struggled so hard to carry had already been promised away to the woman he truly loved. I rested a hand on my belly and called my father. “Dad, I was wrong about him.” Adrian thought I’d stay trapped in his web of lies forever. He had no idea. Two months from now, I would vanish from his world for good.

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.

I went to my best friend's place for her birthday, and out of nowhere, she started complaining. "I'm so jealous of you," she said. "Your boyfriend has basically no sex drive." "Mine's the complete opposite. He wanted it seven times last night. I was crying so hard I lost my voice, and he still wouldn't stop." I gave her a sympathetic smile. "That just means he's crazy about you. Unlike mine—he's practically celibate. Like a monk." She raised an eyebrow, casually stroking the two-million-dollar ruby bangle on her wrist. "He's not bad," she said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "He was with his ex for five years, but he still chose to marry me behind her back. He was so afraid she'd push for marriage that he faked going bankrupt and told her he had ALS. "The girl wouldn't let go, though. She sold her blood, her kidney—whatever it took—to scrape together money for his treatment. "She was working the graveyard shift at a factory, while he and I were fooling around in a twenty-million-dollar villa." I froze. To help my boyfriend Nathan Whitley pay for his ALS treatment, I had done all of those things. Before I could even process it, the door opened, and a tall, sharply dressed man walked in. "Babe," he said, "I got that strawberry flavor you like. How about wearing that silk nightie tonight?" Our eyes met. I stood there, frozen in shock, a chill running down my spine. It was Nathan Whitley—the man who was supposed to be broke, bedridden, and dying of ALS.