Historias cortas de Feel-Good Story Imagination y novelas con Scumbag ambientadas en Marriage

Out of nowhere, I heard the slap of bodies coming from the bathroom, along with a woman's breathy moans and my husband's low groans. But my husband, Robert Hayes, was the only person in there! Frowning, I pushed the bathroom door open. Robert's hands were frozen in midair, clenched into fists, and every muscle in his body was tense. He swallowed hard. I was about to go in when lines of text suddenly started scrolling across my vision like comments on a livestream. [He's doing it with Emma Bennett's best friend, Selena Reed, right under Emma's nose. He's wild!] [No wonder Robert was willing to drop over a million dollars on an invisibility potion.] [Doing it with Emma watching must be even hotter! Today's just a test run. Tomorrow's pool party is Robert's real show.] [Just thinking about it is a thrill!] A sudden sound came from the bathroom, and two wet footprints appeared on a dry patch of the floor. Robert turned toward the sound. His deep-blue eyes narrowed, and his voice sharpened. "Get out!" I backed out. I was so furious that I immediately went online and ordered a whole box of bear traps.

My fiancé, Owen Lockhart, came from old money. He kept a canary in a gilded cage, spoiling her rotten. Just as I was about to break off the engagement with him, a barrage of comments suddenly popped up in my mind. [What did Owen do wrong? He just wanted to get your attention.] [Don't break up with him. All you need to do is shed a few tears, and he'll give you everything.] I turned my head, and through the window, I saw the canary in her high-end jewelry, smiling brightly as she hooked her arm around Owen's. He lazily lowered his eyes, yet his expression held a hint of indifference mixed with a subtle affection. I smiled bitterly, replying to the lawyer's message: [Go on with drafting the engagement annulment agreement.]

At a private spa retreat, my husband’s assistant brought me a glass of iced coffee. I was parched and about to drain it when a stream of comments appeared before my eyes. [Drink it, you wicked villainess! The coffee is laced with enough sleeping pills to knock you out. Don’t ruin the leads’ big moment!] [I’m dying. The male lead is sleeping with his sister-in-law right under the villainess’ nose.] [The leads are all over each other in the sauna! This is getting spicy!] Suspicious, I lowered the glass, and the comment stream erupted. [Why isn’t the villainess drinking it?!] Were they calling me the villainess? I glanced toward the sauna, then walked straight over to it. I pulled a floor cushion over, sat down outside the steaming wooden door, and called to a staff member, “Excuse me, could you turn up the heat? I want to sit here and sweat it out.” [What?! No! Our precious leads are going to be cooked alive!]