Homewrecker Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

A few weeks before the wedding, my brother Adam, my childhood friend Liam Foster, and my best friend Celia Brooks moved into the house I shared with my fiancé, Julian Reed. From that day on, the smart lock seemed to forget who I was. The lock wouldn't recognize my fingerprint, and my code never worked. I kept getting locked out. Every time, Julian said, "There's nothing wrong with the lock. You're doing it wrong." My brother thought I was making a fuss over nothing. "Stop blaming everything on the lock. Everyone else can get in. Why can't you?" Liam tried to calm me down too. "Don't ruin everyone's mood over a stupid lock." Yesterday, I stood doubled over with stomach pain, trying the lock over and over. My fingers were stiff from the cold, and I still couldn't get into my own home. Just then, the others came home. Celia pressed her finger to the scanner, and the lock clicked open. I stood frozen outside the door. Julian shook his head. "We're getting married soon, and you still can't figure out how to unlock a door?" The next day, I had a repairman look at the lock. After checking it, he told me, "Nothing's wrong with the lock. Only four fingerprints are registered, and the code was recently changed." So the lock that was supposed to let me into my own home had been keeping me out all along. I checked the lock's access log, then texted the wedding planner, "The wedding is off."

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." ...

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.

The day I married Dante Moretti, I became the youngest Donna in New York. He took the Family seal from me and put the Family's ledgers and vault keys in the hands of his Underboss Valentina. She was his second-in-command and his lover. Even as Donna, I needed her signature before I could spend a dollar of the Family's money. Then Beatrice Moretti, Dante's mother and the former Donna, was attacked outside a church. The secret clinic demanded half a million dollars in cash before they would operate. I couldn't reach Dante, so I had to go to Valentina for access to the emergency vault. She sat behind Dante's desk, painting her nails. "You want money? Kneel, kiss my instep, and submit a request form." I did as I was told. Because my mother-in-law was lying on that operating table, and she was the only person who had ever treated me like a daughter. Valentina deliberately spilled coffee on the form and tore it to pieces. Not long after, the church bells tolled for the dead. And Dante, with his arm around Valentina, asked, "It's your mother who died. Why should we pay for her?"

My fiancé's stepsister, Adina Mercer, claimed to be a messenger of the Moon Goddess, able to relay divine decrees on Her behalf. Because of that, everything in our relationship had to be arranged by her. From when I should go to the hospital after an injury to the brand of protection we used in bed, she decided everything. Today marked the ninety-ninth time Kellan Ashford had skipped our mating ceremony because of something she said, leaving me standing alone at the altar. When I called, his voice was calm as he gave me the same line he always did. "Adina divined it. Today isn't a good day for us to mate. If we force it, we'll put both our lives at risk." I gripped my phone and laughed. "Did she also divine that if you keep refusing to mate with me, your pack will be destroyed?" A beat of stunned silence. Then he softened his tone. "I know you're upset, but there's nothing I can do. It's the Moon Goddess's decree. "Be good. There'll be another auspicious date next month, and I'll definitely mark you then. "Adina hurt her hand. I need to go bandage it for her. Figure out how to explain this to everyone." The call ended. Every wolf in the hall was watching me, waiting for my humiliation. I closed my eyes and let the stillness settle over me. They had no idea that their pack should have been swallowed whole by the far more powerful Mooncrest Pack long ago. I had fallen in love with their Alpha and begged my father to turn a conquest into a marriage alliance. That was the only reason they had known peace. Too bad they didn't appreciate it. Fine, then. Let Mooncrest's claws tear this land apart.

My five-year-old son and my husband’s mistress were both trapped inside the vampire hunters’ Sun fire Array. As the most powerful Shadow Wielder in the vampire realm, I was certain I could save them both. But my husband, the revered vampire Prince Arthur, had my mother dragged before me in silver chains, stopping just inches from the blazing sunlight. “Give Ella the Shadow Shield first, or I’ll turn your mother to ash.” He gave the order without a trace of emotion, all to protect the human woman he loved. I had no choice but to shield Ella first. Seconds later, the Sun fire Array detonated ahead of schedule. I could only watch as Noah crumbled to ash, still screaming for me. I lunged toward where he had disappeared and scooped up his scorching ashes with my bare hands, even as the white light burned my fingers bloody and raw. Ella nestled against Arthur’s chest. “Noah may be dead, but at least you saved me, Serena. Why are you so determined to blame Arthur? Shouldn’t you be grateful that two people didn’t die today?” “Exactly,” Arthur said coldly. “Serena, if you hadn’t deliberately stalled, someone with your power could have saved them both.” I stared at Arthur, and every last trace of love I had carried for him over the past century turned to hatred. Arthur had forgotten one thing. I was more than his wife and the clan’s High Priestess. I was the sole master of the Shadow Barrier. The barrier that had protected his territory for a century had never belonged to him. When I appeared before Arthur again on the arm of Lucas Kane, the First King of the North, the once-untouchable vampire prince finally broke. Arthur fell to his knees in the tundra snow and begged me to come back. But this time, his territory, his throne, and his life were all mine to decide.

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.

Five years ago, I finally had my father’s killer at gunpoint—only for my husband, Don Salvatore Rizzo, to pull the killer’s daughter into his arms. "Julia, don't kill her. She had nothing to do with our fathers' feud." My grip tightened on the gun. "Do you know my parents were tied to stones and dumped into the sea because of one lie she told?" Salvatore sighed and pressed down on my wrist. "Darling, calm down. Caterina is just an innocent girl. She was forced into it." To keep me from killing Caterina, he insisted on bringing her into the Rizzo Family. From then on, there was nothing left between us but hatred. Whenever I held a knife to Caterina's throat, Salvatore aimed a gun at my back. When I tore up the gown Caterina's mother had left her, Salvatore made me stand outside all night in the freezing cold. Until today, when Caterina appeared behind Salvatore with a pregnancy report from the Family doctor in her hand. Salvatore shielded her with his body. "She's pregnant. I can't stand by and let you hurt her." Caterina said timidly, "Julia, please. For the sake of the Rizzo heir I'm carrying, put down the gun." I was the biggest joke in the world. I took half a step back and drew the gun at my waist. "Let's play a game. There's only one bullet in this gun." "If I die, no one will stand in the way of your happy little family." "If I survive, let me go."

For all seven years of our marriage, I believed Nolan Harris was an orphan who'd never been to school and could only find work hauling cargo at the docks. Nolan brought home so little money each month that I worked two jobs every day to help make ends meet. Nolan practically lived at the docks and was hardly ever home. Every day, I cooked for him and had someone take him the food. Then complications during labor sent me to the hospital. There, I saw Nolan in a room with a woman I'd never seen before. She was crying in his arms. Nolan wore a sharp, expensive suit, and a crowd of his men stood behind him. That was when I found out Nolan had never been a dockworker at all. He was the Don of the Harris family. The woman in his arms was Christine Walsh, the widow of his best friend. Matthew Walsh had died saving Nolan's life. To repay that debt, Nolan had given Christine the best of everything and kept it all from me for seven years. And now a rival had brutally murdered Christine's child, Jamie Walsh. To comfort Christine, Nolan wanted me to give her my baby. Once I learned the truth, I gave up on Nolan completely. I decided to walk away from our seven-year sham of a marriage and break free of Nolan for good.

The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass. I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson. And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile. She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees. "Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof." I just raised an eyebrow. The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo. So when did a Falcone become gutter trash? I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made. "I hear the Falcone family has a new heir." Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.

In New York's Cosa Nostra, girls were lining up to marry Matteo Rinaldi. The Don’s heir. My sister, Stella, and I both attended the selection gala. Stella was the favorite. The future Donna. But she wasn't chosen. The family swarmed her. Comforting her. I stood in the corner with the diamond ring in my hand. The one from Matteo. I wanted to tell them. He chose me. But the words wouldn't come out. Because a nightmare had just flashed through my mind. A vision of my future. In that vision, I told them everything that Matteo picked me. Stella, humiliated, bought a ticket to Europe the next day. I married Matteo. But my family wasn't happy for me. They saw me in my wedding dress at the church. Their first words: "If you hadn't stolen Matteo, Stella would still be here. She wouldn't be suffering in Europe." Later, Stella met Nolan in Europe. The Pakhan of the Russian Bratva. The Rinaldi family's mortal enemy. My parents used me. They spied on the Rinaldis, feeding intel to Stella to help her marry Nolan. Matteo found out. He called me a traitor. Threw me in a dungeon. Ruined my face. I finally escaped. I begged my parents to save me. But they were gone. They had a new life in Russia. That's when I knew they never loved me. And now, I clutched the ring in my hand. A bitter taste in my mouth. I'll give the ring back. I’m not marrying into the Rinaldi family. If they never loved me, then I’m gone for good.

All eighteen of my assistants got pregnant at the same time, and every one of them demanded that I take responsibility. I was certain I had never touched any of them, yet they stood together on the rooftop, threatening to jump unless I acknowledged their babies. Left with no choice, I livestreamed amniocentesis tests to prove my innocence. The results showed that I was the biological father of all eighteen unborn children. My wife slapped me again and again, calling me a cheating bastard and forcing me to divorce her with nothing. I went to drink with my best friend and pour out my misery, only for him to kick me so hard that he broke eight of my ribs. “Daniel Cooper, you sick bastard! You slept with every woman you could get your hands on! I hate trash like you who can’t keep it in their pants!” I fled back to my hometown to seek comfort from my parents, but before I could say much, they beat me to death with their hoes. Even as I died, I could not understand why all eighteen assistants had been carrying my children. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the assistants forced me to acknowledge the babies.

After my son was abducted, my husband took me to an adoption center to bring home a baby boy born the same year as the child we'd lost. I poured every ounce of love I had into raising him. He had a sensitive stomach, so I pushed through my chronic back pain to cook him special meals every single day. When he spiked a fever in the middle of the night, I carried him twenty miles through the rain to the nearest hospital. When he couldn't focus in school, I was constantly at his classroom door, flattering his teachers and bringing them gifts, just to get them to pay a little extra attention to him. Fifteen years of grinding sacrifice, and it all came down to one moment at his college acceptance party. "I couldn't have gotten into Harvard without my mother's love and hard work," he said into the microphone. He raised his glass, eyes drifting toward where I was sitting. The cameras flashed as I started to rise from my seat, matching his silent lip movements. And then I heard a name I didn't expect. "She is Rachel Lynch." I froze. That was my best friend's name.

One month after Mom died, Dad brought his mistress home. I screamed, cried, and hurled a glass at the woman and her daughter. The mistress immediately put on her fragile little act. Clutching her head, she leaned against my father and insisted she was fine. Dad flew into a rage. For the first time in my life, he yelled at me and ordered me back to my room. I was so furious that I ran away from home. He nearly gave himself a heart attack. “If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” But I left anyway. I didn’t even take a single cent with me. I wanted him to regret cheating on Mom. I wanted him to regret losing both of us. Only after I left did I realize how brutal the real world could be. I hadn’t even finished high school, so the only jobs I could get were manual labor, food delivery, and hourly gigs. I made just six hundred dollars a month. I couldn’t afford a decent apartment, so I had to share a cramped basement with strangers. Then one night, while rushing to make a delivery, I ran a red light. A semi-truck hit me head-on. I died alone in a morgue, unclaimed. Meanwhile, Dad was hosting a one-month birthday celebration for his newborn son at the family estate. He had a gentle wife, a son and a daughter, and a picture-perfect, happy family. And I died alone on a freezing winter night. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day his mistress and her daughter first showed up at our house. This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I simply slipped my father a drug that would leave him infertile.

During our family's trip over the holiday season, my cousin, Ginnie Lane, suggested "swapping accommodations" with an online friend. The second I objected, her eyes welled with tears, and she started sobbing. "Zach, you just look down on me because I'm an orphan! That's why you don't want to go to my friend's place!" My parents softened and gave in. In the end, we went to the Northern Grasslands and stayed in a drafty tent where wind blew in from every side. A massive blizzard hit that night, and our whole family froze to death in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day we discussed where to spend the holiday season.

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.

Late that night, I came across a post online. [I've been with my boyfriend for seven months. Out of nowhere, he dumped me, saying I got eliminated from the girlfriend selection. That's when I found out that in their rich social circle, it's normal to date a dozen girls at the same time, score them regularly, kick out the lowest, and pick the best one to marry.] It sounded so ridiculous. I couldn't help but jump into the comments and tear into the guy. Then I saw a reply from my boyfriend's secretary, Ayla Butler. [Well, considering his status, it's only fair. For high-value men like him, a selection process makes sense.] I rolled my eyes so hard that it almost hurt. I was just about to fire back when I heard the front door open. Fred Thompson and I had been together for five years. He had always been attentive, gentle, and endlessly patient. I had already made up my mind that the moment he proposed, I would tell him the truth about who I really was, the daughter of the richest man in the country. I never expected to catch a glimpse of his phone lighting up with a message. [You hooked up with Ayla again today? Gave her such a high score, too. Keep this up, and Hannah's gonna lose!]

My daughter Mia's congenital heart condition had worsened. She desperately needed the one-of-a-kind miniature artificial heart I'd spent five years developing. The night before surgery, my wife Victoria stole it from the cold storage unit. I rushed to the hospital like a madman, only to find her at the bedside of her first love Dominic Forsythe's son, prepping him for surgery. "Mia can hold on for another six months. Dominic's son can't wait." "What kind of father are you, being this selfish?" Victoria stood there, righteous indignation written all over her face. I looked at my daughter lying in her hospital bed, barely clinging to life, and dialed the overseas number I'd refused a dozen times before. "Professor Ellsworth, this is Nathan Hartley." "I'll accept your offer. But I need you to arrange a medical transport—immediately—to bring my daughter to your facility. Her heart needs emergency intervention." I spent five years developing a life-saving heart for my daughter. Victoria stole it overnight and gave it to Dominic Forsythe’s son. “Mia can hold on for another six months. Dominic's son can't wait.” She had no idea I held all the core patents for that heart. That same night, I took my daughter aboard a medical jet and fled the country. The next time we met, you would be on your knees begging me.

Sebastian and I were married in secret for six years, and he slept in a separate room the whole time. I tried to enter his room once, but he turned me away at the door. "No. It would upset Cara. "If it weren't for you, she and I would never have been separated. Don't ask too much of me." Cara Lindell is the woman he's wanted for years. I stood there awkwardly. After a long moment, I sighed. "All right." The marriage had been arranged in the first place to pull my family out of a financial crisis and repair the reputation of his family's company. Everybody got what they came for. Whenever he went out, he took Cara with him. Whenever people speculated about their relationship, he only smiled and said nothing. Then, at this year's family dinner, he stepped in front of the cameras, holding her hand. The room went still, and someone asked hesitantly, "Is Mr. Grant making it official?" Sebastian looked at Cara and didn't deny it. I stood alone outside the door and shut it quietly. Now that everything is settled, it's time for me to leave.

I was a princess ennobled by my father, the late king. Marrying the general of the northern frontier, Griffin Quenell was already a great show of royal favor. On my wedding day, just as my royal carriage arrived at the Quenell family’s courtyard, a woman dressed in grey wool knelt before the castle gate. She held a swaddled infant in her arms. Griffin, as the groom of the day, dressed in his wedding tunic, blocked my path with a troubled expression. “Your Grace, Joan is someone I met in the borderlands. She bore me a son and now has no place to go. Please let her move in with me on this special occasion. You’ll be my first wife, and she’ll be my second wife. It’s all for the sake of the Quenell bloodline.” The guests at the gate erupted into commotion. His grandmother, Wilma Quenell, spoke firmly. “Your Grace, you were born into royalty. You certainly do not lack a title. However, Griffin is the only son the Quenell family has had in three generations. This child bears the Quenell name. We surely can’t make him an illegitimate child.” The border soldiers knelt and said in unison, “Your Grace, have mercy!” I looked down at the child in the swaddle, then at Griffin’s pleading gaze. I smiled, removed my coronet from my head, and placed it on the wedding table. Then, I turned and boarded my carriage. “General Quenell, I will not stop you from wanting an heir, but my late father’s decree said I am to be married, not given away as a gift. If your family cannot abide by his words, then I shall take the decree back with me.”