Plot Twists Short Stories & Middle-Aged Cheating Novels

On my daughter’s birthday, I showed up at her after-school program unannounced to surprise her. When I mentioned to the instructor that I was Maddie’s parent, she furrowed her brows. “Are you saying that you’re Maddie’s mother?” I nodded, feeling a little displeased. Though her father, Matthew Rowe handled the drop-offs and pick-ups, the instructor had no business giving me an attitude. Nevertheless, the instructor promised to bring Maddie out right away with a huge grin. As she turned away, I decided not to make a big fuss out of the matter. The next minute, the instructor emerged with two burly men. “That’s her! She’s here to abduct one of the kids!”

I finally get a ticket to return home a few days before New Year's. But when the door opens, an unfamiliar man appears in front of me and asks, "Who are you?" I frown. "This is my house. I'm back for the holidays." His expression is cold. "You're in the wrong house. This is my place." I look at the apartment number. It is Building 3, Unit 901. I'm in the right place. I want to head inside, but he blocks my way. "Hey, don't go crazy right now." I notice the cardboard box by the door and point at it. "You're the crazy one. That's the gift I sent." The man grabs me and makes me look closer. "Take a good look!" The tracking number matches the one on my phone, but the sender's name says Steven Lowe, not mine. "Steven, who's at the door?" My mom, Dahlia Jones, steps out of the kitchen. I call out to her excitedly. "Mom, I'm home!" But the next moment, what she says made my blood run cold. "Who are you? Don't call me that. I'm not your mom."

My mate, Kael, got killed by rogues while trying to save me. He left behind a debt of ten million and a child, not yet a year old. Out of guilt and longing for Kael, I refused the advances of many excellent werewolves and never accepted a second chance, mate. I worked endlessly to raise my child and pay off the debt. But during a business meeting at a hotel, I saw my mate—who was supposed to be dead—lying in bed with my stepsister, Lila.

I finally managed to score a dream tutoring gig that paid an incredible $500 an hour. Nevertheless, looking at the family portrait sitting in my employer’s house, I saw my own supposedly honest, simple mother. In the photograph, she was leaning affectionately against a wealthy, tailor-suited sugar daddy, who was holding a 5 or 6-year-old boy in his arms. Her smile was even warmer and more tender than the day she sent me off to college. My mind went entirely blank. I whipped out my phone, ready to start a video call with my dad to catch her in the act. Suddenly, a rough hand firmly clamped down on mine. It was my mom. She dragged me into a blind spot out of sight, lowering her voice to a desperate plea. "Sweetheart, please don't tell your dad! His dialysis treatments can't be interrupted! This man is loaded, and he's more than willing to give me cash. I'm just bleeding him dry to pay for your tuition and keep your dad alive!" The corner of my mouth twitched into a bitter smirk as I set the family portrait right back where it belonged. "Mom, do you actually believe your own lies?" Her face turned deathly pale in an instant. I didn't press her any further, though. Instead, I reached out and thoughtfully wiped a speck of dust off the glass frame. "Fine. Make sure you do a good job then."