Homewrecker Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

The battery in my artificial heart is about to run out, yet no matter where I look, I can't find the spare battery. When I turn around, I realize that my wife, Tracy Maddox, has installed it in a streaming camera. She is using it to livestream a fundraiser for her sick first love, Gavin Spade, who has a cold. "Come on, everyone. Send more gifts! Gavin feels terrible because of his cold. Once we raise enough money, I'll take him to get the most expensive imported cold injection available!" I am so enraged that my vision darkens for a moment, like I'm about to pass out. I shout, "Tracy, you know exactly what happens if my heart loses power. Are you going to just watch as I die?" Covering the microphone, Tracy turns to me and shouts back, "Gavin has a fever of 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit! Your heart is just out of power. Can't you just wait a little while? Once the livestream is over and we've raised enough money for his injection, I'll give the battery back to you!" Using the last of my strength, I activate the emergency communication system inside my artificial heart and contact the R&D center. "The artificial heart is about to stop permanently. Activating the black box... Uploading evidence of murder in real time..."

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?

After five years in a marriage without intimacy, I finally called my wife, Suzanna Jones, the youngest commander in the military, and asked her to spend the night with me. Five hundred and twenty times. That was how many times we had been interrupted over the years. Every time we came close to being together, an urgent call from her widowed brother‑in‑law, Eric Gibson, pulled her away before anything could happen. Then, on our wedding anniversary, Suzanna promised she would finally give me the perfect wedding night we never had. I held her by the waist and was about to cross the final line between us when Eric’s ringtone shattered the moment. “Suzanna… I was injured in an explosion down there. What if I am crippled for life…?” Panic filled her face. She pushed me aside and rushed for the door. I grabbed her wrist and tried to stop her. “Send him to the military hospital first.” She turned on me with anger and slapped me across the face. “Shane! Eric is seriously hurt! How can you be this heartless?” She pulled on her dress and ran out. When I caught up with her, the sight in front of me stopped me cold. The woman who once promised to give me her first night was wrapped around Eric in a position far more intimate than anything she had ever shared with me. When I asked for an explanation, she looked calm and unbothered. “Eric is in critical condition. Was I supposed to stand there and do nothing? It is not that important. If it bothers you that much, I can fix it later.” Something inside me went numb. For five years, I had been the only one trying to hold our marriage together. At that moment, I realized I was exhausted from fighting for something that had ended long ago.

Dad had 22 sons before he finally got me, a daughter at last. He was so thrilled that he replaced our century-old crest of two lions with a lily. I grew up surrounded by doting older brothers. But not one of them had a clue about girls. So when my brother Anthony Gambino brought Elena Bellini home from Milan, I was delighted. When we first met, she stroked my hair and promised to have afternoon tea with me every day. Anthony said she was the love of his life. When Dad saw how much I liked her, he approved the marriage on the spot. But the day after the wedding, she cornered me in the glass greenhouse at the back of the estate. "You stupid little girl. Did you really think I came here to be your playmate? "My husband controls shipping operations at every port in North America. One day, he'll have the final say in this family. "In two weeks, I'll have him send you to Mexico to marry a drug lord. "The only girl the Gambino family treasures will be my daughter." I stared at her smug smile, stunned. Does she really think Anthony got control of our shipping operations all by himself? Years ago, Dad had asked me which brother I liked best. I'd pointed to Anthony without giving it much thought. Dad had put him in charge of the organization's books right then and there. If his wife wanted to make my life miserable, I'd just have Dad pick a different heir.

On my wedding day, my groom's sister, Nadia Lawson, wears an elaborate ball gown and comes on stage to snatch the emcee's microphone. Before all the guests, she arrogantly says to me, "Can't you see the princess is here? Why didn't you curtsy and greet me? You deserve to be punished! Get on your knees and prostrate yourself before me as an apology!" My expression sours at her insolence. I turn around only to see the indulgent expressions on her parents' faces. The groom, Bowen Lawson, says dotingly, "We spoiled Nad silly since she was a child. You are her sister-in-law now. Don't make things hard for her." I am so mad that I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The clown thinks she's a princess, asking me to kneel before her? Ridiculous.

The Moretti family had an old tradition. Whenever a new Don took over, he raised his first glass to the person he was most grateful to. When Damian Moretti became Don, everyone assumed that first glass would be mine. When he was at his lowest, I married him, bringing with me two of my family's shipping routes and 200 million dollars in cash. I was the one who made him Don. But Damian raised his glass and said softly, "The person I'm most grateful to is Rosie Carter." The whole room broke into an uproar. She was a member of the Moretti family I'd never even noticed before. Beaming with excitement, she took the glass from Damian and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't get all sappy on me. We're practically brothers. We've even shared a bed." Awkward laughter rippled around the room. Damian didn't laugh. "Ten years ago, I was badly wounded and on the run. Rosie hid me in the safe house beneath the nightclub. "We slept in the same bed in that cramped little room for four months. "But without her, I wouldn't have survived." Rosie tipped back her head and drained the glass that should have been mine. Every eye in the room turned to me, waiting to see how the Bellini family's heir would handle it. I removed the brooch symbolizing the alliance between our two families, set it on the table, and texted my father. "Withdraw our votes for Damian." "Starting tonight, Don Moretti can fend for himself."

After five years of keeping the demon sealed away, I finally saw my sister again—inside a coffin, her body mangled beyond recognition. The men carrying the coffin were whispering to each other. "She died like this, and nobody even investigated? Isn't her brother-in-law some big shot?" "Shh! She's only his sister-in-law. How could she matter more than his new lover? Mr. Smith even helped cover the whole thing up!" "His ex-wife has been dead for five years. Ms. Sophia runs the house now!" "They say the wedding is tomorrow, and it's going to be huge!" For five years, I'd stayed in a graveyard, keeping a demon sealed away for my husband, Victor Smith. Meanwhile, he'd found another woman to replace me. Worse, he'd stood by while she erased every trace of my existence and tortured my only sister for years. When my sister finally tried to escape and come looking for me, Sophia ran her over and killed her. I stroked what remained of my sister's face and smiled. I'd given up everything to protect Victor. This was how he repaid me. Fine. Then I'll stop protecting him. It's time to let the demon have him.

During a team-building event, we are playing King's Game, a game where anyone who draws the King card gets to order another player around. The company's new intern, Daniel Zugler, draws the King card. His eyes narrow as he sweeps a glance across everyone present. At last, his gaze lands on my fiancee, Sharon Solt. "Then how about… Sharon, feed me a grape using your mouth." There is an immediate uproar, with people slamming their hands on the table, wolf-whistling, or even holding their phones up in preparation to record the moment. Their loud jeering is almost deafening. I initially think that Sharon will refuse coldly, yet to my surprise, she actually blushes and playfully scolds them, "You guys are seriously too much!" Following that, she plucks a grape from the fruit platter, bites it gently between her teeth, then leans closer to Daniel. Daniel smoothly wraps an arm around her shoulders and brings his lips close to hers, almost brushing against them. However, his eyes aren't focused on her. Instead, he gazes past her to shoot me a provocative look. I immediately jump to my feet, my hand snapping out to seize her wrist. Silence descends upon the room at my action. Yet, Sharon yanks her arm out of my grip. "It's just a game. Why are you making such a huge deal about it? Danny's new here, and this is his first team-building event with us. Are you trying to make things difficult for him and humiliate him?" Subsequently, I don't bother stopping them again, allowing their lips and teeth to clash together. That night, after we return home, the phone she left on the coffee table suddenly vibrates. A WhatsApp message appears on the screen, sent from someone she saved as "Sunshine" in her contacts. "Sharon, the grape was quite sweet. Are you going to feed me again next time?" I lock her phone screen and don't ask any questions. One week later, Sharon goes on a work trip and has to bring an assistant with her. She chooses Daniel, who has zero experience. Still, I say nothing, but I do hand in my resignation letter to the HR department. This time, I won't look back again.

I stood by Carlos Mancini for 50 years. I watched him rise from a nobody on the streets of Sicily to the cold-blooded Don of a Mafia empire. I thought we were soulmates who could never be pulled apart. I believed that until the day he lay dying. I leaned over his bed, sobbing my heart out. But his cloudy, unfocused eyes looked straight through me, fixed on something far away. He murmured, "Nina, in the next life, we can finally be together..." In that moment, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. Nina Russo was the widow of one of Carlos's fallen men. 40 years ago, he'd brought that timid woman back to the estate and looked at me hopefully. "Sam Russo died for me. It's my responsibility to take care of her for the rest of her life." I pulled out my revolver, pressed it to my temple, and made him choose between Nina and me. He was terrified. He snatched the gun away, pulled me into his arms, and tried to calm me down. "You're overthinking this. You're the only woman I've ever loved. I don't feel anything like that for her." He sent Nina overseas with a large sum of money, enough to make sure she'd never want for anything. But from that day on, the light went out of his eyes. When I opened my eyes again, I'd gone back 40 years. Young and handsome in his black trench coat, Carlos stood tall before me while Nina hid behind him, looking fragile. Carlos looked at me with a hint of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes. "Alice, she's Sam's wife. I promised Sam I'd take care of her..." I swirled the glass in my hand and let out a soft laugh. "Of course. Let her stay at the estate." This time, I chose to let them have each other while I walked away.

When I stepped aside and handed the starting spot on the esports team to the guy Zara Moody had always loved, she saw how obedient I had been and moved our wedding up as a reward. But at the ceremony, the man she could never forget suddenly pulled out a knife and cut himself, jealousy burning in his eyes. "Please don't marry him!" Zara, who was usually so calm, instantly lost her composure. She turned to me, panic written all over her face as she begged me to help save him. Every guest in the room was watching, waiting to see how I would react. I didn't argue or cause a scene. Instead, I quietly stepped aside and gave up the groom's place. When Zara saw how reasonable I was, just like always, her eyes reddened at the corners. "I promise this is the last time I'll ever put you through something like this. After the ceremony, we'll go register our marriage." What she forgot was that this was the 96th time she had hurt me. And I had no intention of spending the rest of my life with her. I was only waiting for three more promises. Once I repaid the debt I owed her for saving my grandmother's life all those years ago, I would walk away from her for good. After that, we would never see each other again.

A week before our wedding, my fiancee announces that she is pregnant using my younger brother's frozen sperm. "I'm grateful that our love can carry on in another way," she gushes on social media, showing off the test results. My brother replies, "Meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me." Then Mom chimes in. "Jenny, you've been through so much. Nathan's apartment should be under your name alone." I don't argue and simply reply with a single word—"Congratulations". My phone rings almost seconds later. "Your brother can't have kids anymore. It's just one child, and it's still related to you. Why are you being so petty?" she snaps. I laugh under my breath, hang up, and dial another number. "Want to get married?"

Before I realized it, I’d become the invisible wife standing beside my mafia Don husband, Adrian Kane. A stay-at-home mom buried in chores while my husband paraded around with his secretary, Viola, ten years younger than me. “She’s smart,” Adrian said once. “She knows how to help me.” Tonight marked our tenth anniversary. I saw an elegant designer dress and a necklace presenting in the living room. For a second, I was happy. Looks like Adrian finally decided to take me to this year’s annual mafia gathering and introduce me as his Donna. Turns out the dress and the jewelry was for Viola. Later that night, I caught Adrian sneaking in with Viola—both drunk, hands all over each other like I didn’t exist. I just made one phone call. “I will join the Doctors Without Borders program. Send me away.” Before I married Adrian, I had a future in medicine. But I gave it all up for him. Now? It was time to choose myself and leave behind everything that was never really mine.

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

"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.]

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.

Everyone is envious of my flawless husband, Samuel Copeland, who indulges in everything I say. But what they are unaware of is the fact that he has betrayed me thrice. The first time is when he cheated on me with his secretary, Tiffany Finch. He fires her and explains to me repeatedly that it's just a misunderstanding. I choose to believe him. The second time is when I'm at my pregnancy checkup at the hospital, alone. Then, I end up seeing him accompanying Tiffany on her pregnancy checkup when he's supposed to be on a business trip. I have a huge fight with Samuel over it and almost had a miscarriage. Frightened out of his wits, he makes Tiffany get an abortion, then sends her away overnight. He pleads with me for half a year before I agree to return home for our child's sake. The last thing I expect is for him to cheat on me a third time, when he actually brings our child to acknowledge Tiffany as his mother. Angered, I fail to avoid the car that's coming right in my direction. In the end, I die a tragic death in a traffic accident. The next time I open my eyes, I have returned to the day when Samuel accompanies Tiffany on her pregnancy checkup. This time, I am prepared with a divorce agreement as I have decided to let them have their way. Yet, Samuel gives up everything he has, just so that he can beg me to change my mind.

Just days before our wedding, I was told that my fiancé, Matteo Ferrara, had died in a car crash. The car had been completely destroyed. The only thing his men recovered was a bloodstained diamond tiara. His father, the Don, pressed a pistol to my forehead and growled, “If Matteo hadn't been rushing to give you the tiara he designed himself, he would still be alive!” His adopted older sister, Isabella Ferrara, was at the Don's feet, playing a video of Matteo's last words as he sank into the sea. “Don! Matteo's last wish was for Layla to live! Please don't kill her. Let him rest in peace.” So I was locked in the Ferrara family's punishment room and made to kneel for 72 straight hours. They didn't let me out until the fourth night. But Matteo's funeral was already over. I never even got to see him one last time. Numb with grief, I slipped into my wedding dress, swallowed poison, and made my way to the dock where Matteo had supposedly died. I'd just climbed over the railing when applause and whistles erupted behind me. Isabella rushed over, practically jumping for joy. “I won, Matteo!” The crowd parted. Matteo stepped out of an armored car with a cashmere wrap. He ruffled Isabella's hair and gave a resigned sigh. “A bet's a bet. You wanted a dress just like Layla's, right? I'll have one made for you when we get back.” Only then did he look at me. He draped the wrap over my shoulders. “It's freezing out here, and you're soaked. You'll catch a cold.” Then he smiled. “Isabella was worried you only wanted to become the next Donna, that you didn't actually love me. So she came up with this little test. “Well, congratulations. You passed. Now let's go get married.” I stared at him, struggling to process what I'd just heard. None of it had been real. The fatal crash and the video of his last words as he sank into the sea were all part of Isabella's elaborate prank. Matteo had staked my life on their bet. A metallic taste filled my mouth. I struggled to steady my trembling body against the pain, then shook my head. “Call off the wedding. “I don't want to marry you anymore.”

Everyone in the underworld knew Daniel Taylor loved me more than anything. He was a powerful mafia Don. Yet every year, he set aside a whole month to go to the monastery of San Colombano, climb its 102 stone steps one by one, and pray for me and the child we'd lost. And I had always believed I was the happiest woman in the world. Until the day I saw the video my best friend, Talia Marino, posted on Facebook for her son Renzo's fifth birthday. In the video, Renzo kept calling out for his daddy in a singsong voice. A moment later, a pair of hands reached into the frame and picked him up. Gentle, practiced hands. But I recognized the four-leaf clover bracelet on one wrist. I'd searched the whole city to find it for Daniel. I sat in front of a warm fire, but a chill crept through me. Just then, Rosa Santos, our housekeeper, came over. She took the 4D ultrasound printout from my hand. It had already started to yellow. "Donna, are you thinking about your daughter again?" I looked up. I hadn't even noticed the tears on my face. Yes. I was thinking about her again. Today was the anniversary of her death. I closed the video and called the cemetery office at the monastery. "Hello, this is Lucia Capello. I'd like to arrange for my daughter, Emma Taylor, to be reburied..." "Of course. You'll need to submit the paperwork, and the process takes three days." When I hung up, I booked a flight to Malmö for three days later.

Three days before I got married, Evan Jones' claustrophobic ex-girlfriend cornered my car at the cliff of a winding road and rammed into me 12 times. When Evan arrived with the police, I was being rescued by the firefighters from my driver's seat, which had been smashed out of shape. However, Evan went to the limited-edition sports car, which had only lost some paint, and carried the trembling Nikki Shore in his arms. "Evan, Madison is bleeding on her forehead; she needs to get it stitched up at the hospital." However, Evan stopped my stretcher from getting into the car and glanced at my bleeding forehead and bruised arms. "These are just minor injuries, but Nikki has claustrophobia. Her condition will only get worse, and she has to go to the hospital first." As I was about to be left behind, I used the last of my strength to grab Evan by his pant leg. He frowned and pried off my fingers. "Nikki didn't crash into you on purpose. It's just her condition acting up. You're a lawyer, and you should know how some things are beyond our control, so stop making a fuss right now." With that, his assistant handed him a settlement agreement, and Evan grabbed my limp wrist to print my fingerprint on the papers. "Just bear with this. The ambulance will be coming soon."

My father-in-law, Lawrence Richards, suddenly becomes gravely ill. After seeing the exorbitant medical fees, I call up my wife, Victoria Richards. She doesn't ask questions and instructs her people to transfer five million dollars to my bank account. But even as Lawrence is prepped for surgery, the money doesn't show up. Out in the hospital hallway, I repeatedly call Victoria, but my calls go unanswered. Finally, the 7th call gets connected. "Tori! The surgery's about to start, and Dad's in a lot of pain right now. Please tell the finance department to hurry! He's—" The call gets cut off. I continue to wait. In the end, all I receive is the official death verification from the hospital, confirming that Lawrence has died. I also see a photo of a ridiculously expensive watch that Victoria's assistant, Simon Lewis, uploads to his social media. "I only said that I fancied it, and Ms. Richards gives me five million dollars without any hesitation! Now that's a boss I will happily serve for life." Victoria finally sends me a message. "The finance department needs some time to clear the transaction. Can't your dad just wait a little longer?" I looked at my dad, who was waiting outside the operating room with me. It now occurs to me that Victoria has assumed that it's my dad who died.