Homewrecker Revenge Short Stories & Novels

All it took was a single exchange between my sister and Giselle’s lover, and my daughter accused her of stealing a gold bracelet. As a result, my sister was left to die in a warehouse for three whole days. With my sister’s life hanging by a thread, I got on my knees and pleaded before my wife and daughter. “Please, let Lucy go. She won’t speak to Theo again.” Faced with my pleas, my daughter simply let out a cruel smile. “I can release her, but only if she returns the bracelet.” Lucy never took the bracelet in the first place. There was no way she could return something that was never in her possession. Agony ripped through me as I crawled toward Giselle. “Please, Giselle. I’m begging you. Please let her go. She’s going to die at this rate!” Giselle took one cold, hard look at me before uttering, “So she’s been hung to dry for three days. She won’t die. If you really want her release, you should hand over your mother’s keepsake to Theo.”

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.

My wife, Yasmin Lowe, falls in love with my pet snake. Every night, she claims she is too tired and refuses to let me touch her. In reality, she secretly climbs into the terrarium and spends intimate moments with the snake. After she leaves on a two-day business trip, the snake's temperament changes drastically and it nearly bites my father to death. Furious about this, he has the snake euthanized. What no one expects is that while the snake dies by euthanasia, my entire family dies at Yasmin's hands. "You killed the love of my life. All of you will go to hell with him!" When I open my eyes again, I am back on my wedding night. Beside me, Yasmin quietly lifts the blanket. I smile. Euthanasia? That would be letting them off far too easily.

I'm the avoidant type. When I was fifteen, my brother accused me of breaking his PlayStation. I didn't argue. I just made sure he didn't see my face for six months, until he wrote me three apology letters and sent me thirty thousand dollars. Years later, I mated his rival. Lucian Vance, Alpha of Northridge. When Lucian didn't answer my texts, I pretended I'd never sent them. When he skipped the dinner I'd spent all afternoon cooking, I ate it alone and said nothing. He bragged to my brother that I loved him too much to ever leave. Then his brilliant new assistant walked through my front door. The girl who bullied me out of high school. I asked him, once, to replace her. He told me to stop being jealous. So on my birthday, I packed everything I owned and got on a plane. That night, Lucian texted my brother a photo of my birthday cake. We're doing great. Hate it all you want. My brother wrote back: Oh, totally. My sister's the most forgiving person alive. Worst case, she never speaks to you again.

I was the only kid from St. Mary's Orphanage to get into college, but I was still broke and clueless. Sister Mary, the Mother Superior, sold the last of her jewelry to put me through school. Her biggest dream was that once I made something of myself, I'd buy the orphanage before developers could tear it down. For all my hard work, I only got into an ordinary state college. After graduation, I sent out more than 300 resumes, and the best job I could get paid less than $3,000 a month. So when Victor Amato, the head of the New York mafia, said I looked like his first love, I didn't say no. He offered me $2 million a month and put me up at his luxury estate in New York. He thought I was crazy about him. All I really wanted was the stand-in paycheck that arrived like clockwork. The bags he gave me became the streetlights outside the orphanage. The emerald necklace became the orphanage's new roof. The Ferrari I never drove became the children's library. Everyone in his circle wrote me off as a cheap, shameless stand-in who was only in it for the money. But things between Victor and me were surprisingly stable. Until his first love, Diana Laurent, came home from Europe. Victor started staying out all night and canceling our weekly dinners. He even left me alone at a society gala we'd long planned to attend together. The people around me watched with mocking smiles. But I was busy watching the video Sister Mary had just sent me of the property transfer, quietly doing the math. Five years of stand-in pay was enough to finish the last bridge in our neighborhood and fund ten years of medical coverage for every senior there. I finally let out a breath. Victor's first love had come back at just the right time. The road in our neighborhood was finished, and it was time for me to go home.

For ten years, my professor husband, Daniel Whitmore, and I loved each other deeply, treating each other with respect and care. Our only regret was that he had azoospermia, so we were never able to have a child. Then, on our tenth wedding anniversary, the housekeeper, Megan Wright, suddenly claimed she was pregnant with Daniel's child. I thought she was joking. Two days later, she threw a paternity test result in my face. The test proved that the child she was carrying was Daniel's. Megan sued us. On the day of the hearing, she cried in front of the courthouse, telling the media how Daniel had molested her. She said we were a pair of perverts who treated her like a breeding machine and kept her confined in our home. Daniel and I couldn't defend ourselves at all. The netizens labeled us demon employers and nailed us to a pillar of shame. Daniel lost his job at the university, and his students were ashamed of him. I was fired from my company that same day. In the end, Daniel couldn't withstand the pressure of public opinion and committed suicide in prison. I became a rat on the streets, hunted down and beaten by netizens. Driven insane, I wandered into traffic and died miserably in the middle of the road. Even at death, I couldn't understand how Megan had become pregnant with the child of my husband, who had azoospermia. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day before Megan claimed she was pregnant with Daniel's child.

My best friend, Ricky Watson, yanked the oxygen tube from my nose as he grinned down at me maliciously. "I guess there's no point pretending anymore. Remember those leaked files that cost you the promotion? I'm the one who planted them in that storage box under your bed." Then, he slipped an arm around my wife, Andrea Gates, looking even more pleased with himself. "And that son you've spent the last 10 years raising?" His grin widened. "He's mine." Andrea slowly turned the gold bracelet around her wrist and looked at me with open contempt. "I would've taken the kid and left you for Ricky years ago if you hadn't been so subservient to my needs and given me all your paycheck every month." Her gaze swept over me. "A loser like you isn't even fit to shine his shoes." I stared at the two of them as rage burned through me. Alas, I couldn't even force out a curse due to the lack of oxygen. Years earlier, I had been in line for a promotion to Chief Engineer. However, that was also when someone accused me of leaking confidential company documents. That single accusation destroyed my life. It went on my record, cost me my promotion, and ended my engineering career almost overnight. Still, I did whatever it took to support my wife and the son I believed was mine for the next 10 years. During the day, I would haul rebar and equipment across construction sites. When night fell, I would stay up taking freelance drafting and design jobs just to earn a little more to support my little family. I worked myself to the bone. I wasn't even 40 when my heart finally gave out. Meanwhile, Ricky stepped straight into the position that should have been mine. He used the project proposal I had created to climb up the corporate ladder year after year until he became one of the most respected engineering directors in the industry. I thought that was how my life would end, miserable and wrathful. However, that was when I opened my eyes again. I was back on the night before my Chief Engineer promotion interview.

My baby brother was barely a month old when my father's mistress threw him off the upstairs balcony to his death. Then she turned around and said my mother had done it. And my father, the Don, took the mistress at her word and had my mother killed. That woman framed me too, and I was cast out of the house. For the next fifteen years, I clawed my way up through begging and reckless grit, until I became the Donna of the Vanetti family. Then one day, my adopted son Daniel Vanetti brought his new girlfriend to meet me. "Mother, this is Via, the Principessa of the Vitale family. I want to marry her." I looked at Via. Her face was the spitting image of my father's mistress. What a small world. The daughter of the woman who killed my mother had walked right up to my door. So I refused without a second's hesitation. "I don't approve."

I came home after a meeting with the Vitale Family's capos and carried Elena from the front door all the way into the living room. Her legs were wrapped around my waist as she leaned in to kiss me. Just as I was about to kiss her back, I spotted a cream pastry on the table. Elena and I were both allergic to cream. In seven years of marriage, nothing made with cream had ever entered this estate. “Who bought this?” Elena paused for a moment, then tightened her arms around my neck. “Sophia brought it last night and forgot to take it with her.” But in the early hours of yesterday, I’d been at a dock three hundred miles away, watching Sophia sign off on a sealed shipment. That was the moment I knew my Donna had betrayed me.

In the fifth year of my secret marriage to Dante Greco, a notorious Los Angeles mafia heir, I became pregnant. While I was at the family hospital for a prenatal checkup, I happened to see Vivienne Sarti's Instagram. "He says I'm still pretty even when I'm pregnant!" In the photo, she was lying lazily in a man's arms. My chest tightened at once. On his finger was the lion-head ring worn by the Greco Don. I tapped the "Like" button. Seconds later, Vivienne called me. "Ana, I wasn't trying to upset you. I was—" Before Vivienne could finish, Dante snatched the phone from her. "Anna Reid, who gave you permission to monitor our social media accounts? I've explained it to you plenty of times. We grew up together, and our families work together. If you keep getting jealous like this, how are the rest of us supposed to function?" I gripped my phone. For five years, Vivienne had used their childhood bond as an excuse to insult me. I had endured it every time. Dante would spend whole nights with Vivienne under the pretext of discussing family business. The moment I asked about it, he refused to say a word. He always said it was because I had no mafia background of my own. It wasn't my world, and I was done trying to force my way into it. I took off my wedding ring and dropped it in a trash can on the street. Then I called the private hospital. "Hello. I want today's prenatal record deleted. No one can know about it."

I once believed that saving my vampire fiancé from the hunters was the best thing I had ever done. At that banquet, I drew the hunters away from him. A bullet struck my shoulder. But when I woke in the hospital, everyone said my cousin Sophia Ashford was the one who had saved him. Cassian Vale wanted to repay her by breaking off our engagement and marrying her instead. I tried to explain, again and again, but no one believed me. They all assumed I was lying to keep my place as his vampire bride. The dispute went before the Elder Council, but Cassian's plan was rejected because Sophia lacked a pure human noble bloodline. In the end, I married Cassian after all. Not because he believed me, but because of my bloodline. Because I could bear him a powerful half-blood child. Soon after, Sophia was married off to the North, where she fell ill and died. From that day on, Cassian was convinced that my jealousy had killed her. After our wedding, hunters attacked again. In the chaos, I threw myself in front of a bullet meant for him and lost my baby when I was eight months pregnant. Still, he regarded me with nothing but coldness. In the months before I died, wasting away from illness, he never came to see me. Not once. I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day Sophia claimed the credit for saving his life. This time, I did not explain. I simply took off the ring. "Cassian, I agree to end the engagement."

While presiding over a transnational meeting, I received a distressing call from my daughter's kindergarten teacher. "Mrs. Payton, a kid drew a massive clown on Anna's face during nap time! No matter how much I try to wash it off, it won't come off!" I immediately rushed to the kindergarten. My daughter, Anna Payton, was sobbing at the door. Her usually fair and tender face was now red and swollen. The clown drawing on it was particularly eye-catching. The new teacher was so panicked that she was crying herself, her voice trembling. "The parent of the other child is in the office. They said they're willing to compensate any amount, but... But there's no way you can make their son apologize." My anger surged as I kicked open the office door. However, I instantly froze in place. In the office, my husband, Arlo Payton, who was supposed to be in Swizor for a year of intensive studies, was holding up the bully. The next second, the little boy in his arms pointed at Anna and laughed. "Look, Dad. Clownface is here!"

Nine years ago, my family used me to pay off their debts. That was how I ended up married to the most dangerous man in the Rivoli underworld, Vincenzo Casanova. Everyone said I was lucky. My family was ruined, and I was its last heir. Marrying Vincenzo was supposed to be my one chance at a new life. I believed them. I thought if I played my part and never caused trouble, our marriage might actually last. I was wrong. At our ninth anniversary party, Vincenzo walked into the ballroom hand in hand with his secretary, Chiara Moretti. Chiara was all smiles, one hand resting on her belly. She announced that she was pregnant with Vincenzo's child. With Rivoli's most powerful families watching, Vincenzo turned to the housekeeper. "Move Donna's things out of the primary bedroom. My firstborn deserves the best of everything." I slipped off the family ring I had worn for nine years and walked out. Some laughed at me. Some pitied me. Others started taking bets on how long I'd last. Vincenzo laughed and put thirty million dollars on the table. His bet? I'd come crawling back to him within three days. Until that night, I hadn't decided whether to give his rival the secret files detailing the Casanova shipping routes. That settled it. He thought I'd spent nine years learning to be the perfect Donna. He had no idea I'd spent those same nine years learning how to bring a don to his knees. That night, our nine-year marriage contract expired. And I finally came to collect everything the Casanovas owed me.

On the day my parents file for bankruptcy, my adopted brother and fake heir, Oliver Bilson, is also diagnosed with leukemia. To earn enough money to pay his medical bills, I brave the snow and winds and continue working even on New Year's Eve. When I hand over the food delivery to the scion, Charlie Jetton, he suddenly knocks the cake over. "Why weren't you more careful when making the delivery?" he demands. "Don't you know that Mr. Bilson spent a million dollars to specifically order this cake for Olly?" I'm about to make a retort when I hear three voices that I'm intimately familiar with coming from within the warm villa. "It's okay. It's the thought that counts, Mom and Dad." The voice belongs to none other than Oliver! Dad, who claims that our family has gone bankrupt and is saddled with a mountain of debt, proudly says, "You're so mature, Olly. I'm going to give you an island to reward you!" Mom, who has always been frugal, gently adds, "My one and only, precious son is so understanding. I'll give you my golf club in Masonila, so don't be angry, alright?" My phone chimes just as the cake lands next to my feet, informing me that I have received a bad review. Later, I cut ties with them and leave with my advisor, Richard Dyer. However, when Mom and Dad find out that I'm leaving, they fall to their knees and frantically beg me to stay as if they have completely lost their minds.

On Christmas, the company handed out bonus envelopes, and I drew a 24-hour overtime voucher. Meanwhile, the boss took the female workers and my wife to a yacht party to celebrate. So, I calmly lit the Christmas tree and burned the company down. In my previous life, I worked overtime until I was completely exhausted. With a sharp pain in my chest, I called the boss to ask for leave. His tone was cold. “Everyone accepted their Christmas gift. Only you didn’t. “Get lost, then. You’re fired. Just a nobody at the bottom of society, anyway!” Through the phone, I heard my wife’s heavy breathing, one wave after another. “Thomas, ever since I got married, I’ve never had a good life. Today is truly amazing!” “Hahaha, Samantha, you’re really pitiful, married to such a poor loser.” Mocking laughter filled my ears. Rage consumed me, and I died at my desk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Christmas Day.

After I buy a house with my dad's inheritance, my girlfriend, Claire Dickson—who's also an interior designer—handles the renovation. Upon moving in, I realize she gives her three childhood friends, Terry Boyle, Mark Sullivan, and Wayne Tucker, permanent fingerprint access. Meanwhile, I, the actual owner, am given only a temporary passcode. "We grew up together," she says. "They're practically family." Later, my study becomes Terry's livestreaming room, the patio fills with things they like, and the entryway has only four pairs of matching slippers. On my birthday, I work late into the night, only to find that my temporary passcode has expired. Through the window, I watch them celebrating Terry's birthday in my home. Claire refuses to let me in. "Everyone's having a good time. Just stay at a hotel tonight. Don't ruin the mood." I walk away without knocking again. The next day, I put the house on the market. They forget one thing—having permanent access doesn't mean it's their home.

Three years as his fiancée, reduced to nothing more than a soulless trinket. No going out. No friends. No opinions. Every breath I took was measured against Leo's mood. For three years I obeyed him unconditionally, trying to warm the heart of this mafia tyrant. Then today, in the fitting room at the atelier, his adoptive sister Alice snatched my couture wedding gown right off the rack. She didn't even have the decency to do it behind my back; she walked straight into Leo's arms while I stood there watching. Leo barely glanced at me. Just patted her head and said, “It's just a dress. Let her have it.” Three years of patience, and that's what it came to. A joke. I looked at the two of them, that smug, triumphant, and I thought: Marciano, did you really think I wouldn't fight back?

Five years ago, my then girlfriend betrayed me for Ethan Reid. Together, they staged a car accident that killed both my parents. Then they hired someone to assault and murder my younger sister, who wasn't even sixteen, and framed me for it. I was thrown in prison where I suffered every day. It was Serena Cole who risked everything to become my defense attorney. She cleared my name and courted me with everything she had. She told me I was all she could see, that I was her whole world. When I finally gave her my whole heart, I looked down from upstairs and saw her kissing Ethan like she couldn't get enough of him, days before our wedding. Right there in our wedding car, they crossed every line. "Bold move, bride. Not worried the groom might see?" Ethan whispered. "His legs are crippled because of you. You know better than anyone whether he can even make it downstairs," Serena replied. "What's this, feeling guilty now? Every dirty thing I ever did to him, you were the one who planned it. You want me to tell him that?" "If you say a word, I swear I'll take you down with me," came her ragged response. Ethan bit her ear roughly, driving her over the edge. "Sure, sure. I know you love him so much. So doesn't this make it even more exciting? Say it. Who's your daddy?" She broke apart beneath him, saying his name over and over, breathless and undone. The tears hit me before I could stop them. She had known. All along, she had known everything that happened to me. And not only that, she had helped plan it.

A new app has recently gone viral online, called "Talk to Your Future Self". Minutes before my SAT, I decide to give it a try—mostly because everyone else is doing it. I type, "Dear Future Me, did I end up marrying Winona Lane?" The screen flickers, and a second later, a text from an unknown number appears. "Yes. You did. The wedding is spectacular." My heart pounds. I tighten my grip on my phone and immediately type another question. "Was Benjamin Scott my best man? He's my best friend!" The reply comes almost instantly. "Yes. But he isn't just your best man. He's also the man who spends your wedding night with your wife." The smile vanishes from my face. Another message appears. "You never have to deliberately lower your grades or sacrifice your future just to stay with her. She intentionally fails her exam so she can apply to the same college as Benjamin—the guy who is always at the bottom of the class." My fingers tighten around the phone. "She asks you to give up your dream school for her. Not because she can't bear to be apart from you, but because she doesn't want Benjamin to feel inferior to you just because you do better than he does." Just then, the warning bell rings, signaling that it's time to enter the exam room. But my entire body has gone cold, and I can't move. Then another message appears. It's the final one, also the one that shatters everything I think I know. "If you don't believe me, go to the motel behind the school after the exam. You'll see the truth for yourself."

To save my mother who's been bitten by a zombie, I exchange my own kidney for the only vial of serum that's available. I'm not given any anesthetic during the surgery. I bite down on a wooden rod until it snaps, but I still don't make a single sound. But when I rush back to the shelter to look for Mom, I catch her talking to someone on the phone. "You should drop the act soon, Mrs. Sawyer. Mr. Sawyer is going to collapse if this continues!" I recognize the voice. It belongs to Mom's assistant, Richard Peterson. "What's the rush?" Mom replies flippantly. "Although Terence is my son, he's never faced any hardship since he was a child. He doesn't know how hard it is to earn money. "I had to overcome many challenges before I became the richest person in the city. What if Terence is only treating me well for my money? He must pass this test to prove that his love for me is genuine." I clench my fists. The life-saving serum drops to the floor. It turns out that the apocalypse and the man-eating zombies aren't real. I have carried Mom on my back while darting through ruins for the last month. I eat rotten meat and even sacrifice my kidney without any hesitation for her, but everything is just part of a test that she designed. I look down at the bloody hole that wasn't stitched up properly on the side of my waist. Mom thinks that everything is just part of an act, but she has no idea that the doctor who wandered onto the set and performed the surgery on me is real.