Mistress After Death Short Stories & Novels

The night Justin Lane proposed to his first love, I stood on the terrace of the thirty-third floor, holding a report that diagnosed me with late-stage stomach cancer. Through the windows, I watched him kneel and slide the pink diamond ring that had once belonged to me onto another woman's finger. I endured the excruciating pain and stayed out on the terrace beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows so I wouldn't disturb their beautiful moment. Then Justin saw me. There was no panic or guilt in his eyes. There was only disgust. From the other side of the glass, he sneered and pointed toward the edge of the terrace. Then, he mouthed the words to me. "If you want to jump, then jump. Enough with the disgusting act already. "If you really have the nerve to die, I'll believe that you weren't lying." At that moment, the last spark of my will to live was finally extinguished. I looked at him, at the man I had loved for a decade… And I finally smiled. It was the smile of someone who had finally found peace. I turned around and climbed onto the railing. You're free, my dear Justin. Get ready to accept this last gift of mine.

The day Mom's 17th love letter is listed on eBay, Dad, who is usually calm and easygoing, completely loses his temper. He calls Mom three times in a row. "I just gave you ten thousand dollars for the last love letter. How have you already spent it all? "How many times do I have to repeat myself? Wendy just came back from ten years in the future. She's emotionally unstable. If something happens to her because of all this nonsense, I'm going to hold you accountable!" As Dad rages over the phone, I hold up my fingers and do the math. What is he talking about? The love letters are only 200 dollars each. Mom takes me out for hamburgers every time she gets the money. But this time, she's sleeping too soundly. No matter how hard I try, I just can't wake her up. "I'm hungry, Dad. Can you take me out for some hamburgers?" "Did your mom put you up to this?" Dad asks, sounding slightly exasperated. "She's doing everything she can to get my attention." A moment later, his voice softens. "Stella, can you show me your mother's love letters? If you do, I'll take you out for hamburgers."

After I refused to donate my kidney to Queenie Dunn's first love, Zayn Chance, she used my parents as leverage over me and forced me to sign the kidney donation agreement. "You can still survive without a kidney, but Zayn's case is different. He will die without your kidney." After the kidney transplant surgery was carried out successfully, Queenie purposefully brought Zayn on a trip around the globe in order to punish me for being selfish. On the fifth year after I died from kidney failure, Queenie finally had her fun. She decides to focus on her family again. But no matter how much she tries, she can never find me. Furious, Queenie calls my parents. "Tell Steven to get his ass home right now, or else I'll divorce him right away!" But the one answering the call is my son, Sean Sutton, who has just returned from his kindergarten. He sounds very meek and scared over the phone. In fact, he sounds like he was about to cry. "My dad has already passed away a long time ago, miss…"

I was an ordinary mortal girl who lived at the foot of Mount Olympus. Caelum, King of the Gods, descended from the heavens for me once, transforming himself into a shower of gold. He took me to the peak of Olympus over every other god’s objection. He built a shrine on the mountain that belonged to me alone, every god on Olympus knew the same truth: I was the only mortal love of Caelum’s endless life. Then I gave birth to our daughter, Nia. The Fates declared her a cursed child whose existence would bring disaster to the gods, and Nia and I were sent back down to the small cottage at the foot of the mountain. Seraphina, Goddess of Flame, said she could help cleanse Nia of the curse, and with Caelum’s quiet consent she came every month and burned my daughter with divine fire. Nia screamed under that fire, sobbing for me . I ran into the temple to beg Caelum to stop it, and I found him in bed with Seraphina. The pure, holy Goddess of Flame was moaning beneath him. They threw me into the depths of Tartarus, where Seraphina handed me over to the Erinyes to be torn apart day after day. When Nia turned five, they finally let me out, but by then my Nia had been burned to ash. The day I was gathering her ashes, the message stone in my room suddenly lit up, and a projection flickered out of it: Caelum, as he had been five years ago. His eyes were full of joy and anticipation, and his voice was so gentle it almost made me believe time had folded back on itself. “Sweetheart, is it a boy or a girl? Did our child inherit my power?” In the projection his expression shifted, and the smile froze on his face. That was when the door of my room was pushed open, and the present-day Caelum, five years older than the man in the stone, strode inside. I turned the message stone around so the Caelum from five years ago could see Nia’s urn with his own eyes. “It’s a girl,” I said. “But she didn’t live long enough to inherit your power. She was burned to ash.”

Five years after our divorce, I saw my ex-husband, Noah Whitmore, beneath a magnolia tree. He had grown much thinner, but clothes looked more than twice as expensive as they used to be. "It's been a long time. How have you been?" [I've been fine, just a little bored. What about you?] "My company went public. Things have gone fairly smoothly, though I've been a little busy." [Oh, that's good.] After a long silence, he let out a sigh. "Belle, the magnolias in our hometown have bloomed again. Where did you go?" I looked down at my transparent body and answered his words once more. [I'm right here.] Unfortunately, he could no longer hear me.

It was our seventh year of marriage when my husband, Joseph Lowe, brought my best friend, Teresa Shaw, to my ward. And they were the picture of a perfect couple. I gave them my most genuine blessing. "You two make the perfect match." Joseph tossed an agreement in my face. An asset transfer. He demanded that I give Teresa everything I had. I took the papers and signed my name without wasting a moment to think. Teresa laughed happily, pleased with my obedience. She then hugged Joseph and said, "Thanks for taking care of Joseph for me, Selina. Oh, there's the divorce papers, too. How about…" I noticed the look of impatience in Joseph's eyes, so I snatched the papers from Teresa's hand. "Yeah, I'll sign them all."

All it takes is one offhand remark from Tanya Smith's childhood sweetheart, Harry Lieberman, calling our daughter, Melanie Curry, and me fat and ugly to wound her pride and send us both to a weight-loss training camp. For an entire year, I barely get enough to eat. I starve until I develop heart disease and endure one torment after another. Melanie has it worse. The grueling workouts and constant hunger push her body to its breaking point, leaving her barely alive. Desperate, I call Tanya for help, but she sounds heartbreakingly contemptuous. "It's just a weight-loss camp. So what if you skip a few meals? Think of it as detoxing. Don't make such a big deal out of it. And don't call me again until Melanie reaches her target weight!" With that, she hangs up. Later, Melanie passes away from organ failure due to malnutrition and overtraining. Tanya comes to take me out of the camp. Her tone is as critical and condescending as ever. "Has she finally lost weight? Or is she planning to stay in there until she dies from being so fat?" My eyes are empty, my gaze hollow. Tanya has no idea that our daughter is dead.

I spend three years in prison taking the fall for Dwight Reed, the precious assistant of my hospital director wife, Gretchen Payne. On the day I am released, the first thing I see is yet another Medical Malpractice Liability Acknowledgment. "Sign it, Dustin. I want you to take the blame for this incident, too. Dwi has a bright future ahead of him. He can't have a stain on his record." Gretchen shoves a pen into my hand. "You've already served time. So, one more charge isn't going to make a difference." When I don't budge, she clicks her tongue impatiently. "Dustin, you're a convicted felon. You should be grateful for the chance to take the fall for Dwi! It's only five years! "Don't push your luck. Or is this about money? In that case, name your price!" I look at Dwight, who's sitting in the car with his arm around her waist, and let out a silent, bitter chuckle. My hand tightens around the late-stage leukemia diagnosis in my pocket. Gretchen, how am I supposed to serve five years when I only have seven days left to live?

In my third year as a blind massage therapist, Henry Young took his employees on a company retreat. By sheer coincidence, he ended up booking me. When he saw me, he remained perfectly composed, so much so that even his breathing did not falter. I served him the same way I treated every other client. Then his phone rang. My hands paused for a moment as my own voice, young and girlish, came through his phone speaker. His employees immediately started teasing him. Henry simply explained in a gentle voice, “My wife recorded that when she was young and didn’t know any better.” Just as he was leaving, Henry suddenly turned around. “Anya Walt, I’ve never forgotten you. “Are you really going to keep living this hard life, with my child by your side?” I rubbed my fingertips again and again, but said nothing. It seemed he still had no idea. Back then, I kept our child and delivered the baby. But the baby was stillborn.

Ten years after someone supposedly pushed her down a flight of stairs and left her in a vegetative state, Margaret Whitmore, mother of Mason Whitmore, the golden boy of the capital's elite, finally woke up. Practically everyone who mattered in the capital came to visit, each eager to praise Mason for his devotion to his mother. For ten years, he had made the person responsible for Margaret's condition pay for what she'd done. Even though the culprit was his high school girlfriend, he'd shown her no mercy. Margaret listened in silence for a long time. When everyone had finished speaking, she looked around in confusion. "What culprit? Nobody pushed me. I fell down the stairs myself." The paring knife slipped from Mason's hand and clattered to the floor. He stared at Margaret in disbelief. "Mom, what did you just say?" Lily Yates hadn't been responsible for his mother's condition? Panic swept through him. He'd spent every one of those ten years taking revenge on Lily, believing she was the reason his mother lay unconscious. Now he was being told she'd been innocent all along? "Speaking of which, where's Lily?" Margaret asked anxiously. "I didn't want you dating her back then because she came from a single-parent family. I never imagined she'd risk her own life to save me when I fell down. Are you two still together? Have you gotten married? Do you have children?" Each question struck Mason like a sledgehammer. His mouth went dry, and for a long time, he couldn't bring himself to speak. How could he tell his mother that after Lily got out of prison, he'd forced her to be with a blind beggar, and she'd been living that way for the past three years?

After my sister-in-law Lydia had my brother Caleb's kidney removed and spent three years draining his blood, he escaped back to our hometown barely alive. He lay on a bed at the clinic, holding my hand tight as he said, "Noah, don't go after them. You can't afford to cross Lydia's family." Three days later, he died in my arms. I buried him on the hillside behind the town, under the old oak tree he had loved to climb as a child. On the seventh day after I buried him, a black Maybach stopped at the edge of town. Lydia got out with a frail man who looked like he could fall over at any time. She stood outside my house's door and looked at me. "Noah, where's your brother? Tell him to come out. Evan needs bone marrow this time." I wiped the dirt from my hands and raised my head as I smiled. "You want to find Caleb, right? Then start digging."

On the 30th day my wife, Sonia Child, gave me the cold shoulder; she suddenly suggested that we go on a trip to reconcile our relationship. However, the moment we landed, she cut up my identification document and smashed my phone, leaving me to fend for myself on a remote island. Someone asked if she had gone too far, but Sonia caressed her belly and said with disdain, "It's his fault for being so petty. All I wanted to do was give Eddie a test-tube baby, yet he started making a fuss about getting a divorce. "The baby will be born in eight months. Henry won't go hungry on the island when water and food have been provided. He'll just suffer a little." Eight months later, my happy wife held her son in her arms while asking her assistant, Robert Larkin, "It's been so long. Why hasn't he made a fuss about coming home?" Sonia had no idea that I had died on the island on the very first day I was there.

My fated mate left the pack, heartbroken, after I rejected him. Seven years later, he returned with his new mate-to-be. By then, the pack doctor had given me my final diagnosis. "Extreme wolf spirit decay." It was irreversible. My wolf would be gone within months. My life was at its end. My fated mate, Alpha Roric, now the most powerful Alpha in North America, smirked when he saw me. I was pale and thin, leaning on my sister for support. "Ayla. Seven years, and you're too weak to even stand straight? When you rejected me, didn't you say that beta was a better match? Where is he now?" His voice dripped with hate. I just tugged on the sleeves of my coat, hiding the way my fingers trembled. A tell-tale sign of my power slipping away. "It's just a cold." Roric's gaze swept over me like ice. "In that case, you should come to my Mating Ceremony with Cressida. I'll save you the best seat." I just smiled. "I can't. I'll be going somewhere far away soon. I'm sorry." Then, pulling my sister with me, I turned and melted into the shadows.

On the day I was released from the psychiatric hospital, my husband, Steve Machleit, spoke up out of nowhere, "The day Jess hit and killed your mother, I was the one who hired a lawyer to defend her." My father, David Plaxton, the most elite doctor in Melhorn City, kept his hands on the wheel and said breezily, "I forged your psychiatric records myself." For three years, I was tormented in that psychiatric hospital, and not a moment went by that I didn't relive the horror of my half-sister, Jess Plaxton, running down my mother, Catherine Eaton. Yet, my husband had chosen to defend her, and my father had locked me away in a psychiatric hospital. I forced myself to stay upright, my voice trembling. "Why?" My father looked away. It was Steve who answered, as if it were nothing, "It's simple. You already have everything, but Jess has had to carry the stigma of being an illegitimate child. She's suffered enough. "Now you have two choices. Either make peace with Jess, or spend the rest of your life in the psychiatric hospital."

On their 30th wedding anniversary, my parents decided to revisit the place where they'd first met to celebrate their love. But an accident took their lives in Everpeak, the very place where their love story had begun. Charlie Fenton promised to go with me to settle their affairs. But along the way, he cruelly abandoned me for another girl. I clung to him, tears streaming down, and begged him not to leave me. But he ignored my pleas and walked away without looking back. Just when I'd fallen into complete despair, a man wearing a highland robe rode toward me through the night. He saved my life and made me give up on Charlie for good. Later, word had it that even after using every bit of the Fenton family's power and influence, their golden boy still couldn't win back the little princess he'd lost to that mysterious, powerful man.

The night Helen Kerr's first love proposes, I stand on the 33rd-floor terrace, holding my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis. Through the glass, I watch the man drop to one knee. They exchange rings, and she slides the ring meant for me onto his finger. I stay hidden outside in the excruciating pain, refusing to ruin their moment. Then Helen spots me. There is no panic or guilt, just pure disgust in her eyes. She sneers, gestures toward the ledge, and mouths through the window, "Jump, if you're gonna jump. Stop acting just to ruin my night. If you actually die, maybe I'll believe you." Right then, the last flicker of life in me goes dark. I look at the woman I've loved for a decade and finally smile. That's a smile of pure relief. I turn and climb over the railing. "You're free now, Helen. Enjoy the final gift."

Wyatt Clark, my fiance; Wanda Stone, my adopted sister; and I get into a car crash on the way to register our marriage. Wanda and I are both taken to the hospital. Mom, a renowned surgeon, glances at my back, which is covered in blood, then urgently gathers the doctors and nurses to treat Wanda's two-inch cut. "Wanda's injury is in a visible spot. If we don't treat it immediately, it will leave a scar. "I'm your biological mother, after all. If I were to treat you first, people might accuse me of favoritism. I'll treat your injuries once I'm done with Wanda." I have no choice but to grab Wyatt, who has just changed into his white coat. "S-Save me—" Wyatt coldly pulls away from me before I can even finish speaking. "You were in the back seat—the safest spot. Wanda, on the other hand, was in the passenger seat. How could your injuries be worse than hers? Do you really have to compete with Wanda for attention every single time, Gloria?" He doesn't even look back at me before he rushes into the ER. He seems to have forgotten that when the accident happened, he swerved to protect Wanda in the passenger seat, leaving me in the back to take the full force of the impact. Mom seems to have forgotten the orange wristband on me, which indicates that I am in critical condition. I gradually start losing consciousness, knowing that the glass shard lodged inside me is about to take my life.

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

After seven years together, Ruby Longley ghosted me the day before we were supposed to get our marriage license. I freaked. While tearing through the city looking for her, I got into a nightmare crash. That night, she finally texted: [Steven cut his wrist. He's really fragile right now. He can't deal with any drama. He needs me at the hospital.] [Let's push the wedding back three years. Don't contact me until then. Let him heal.] [Handle our parents. And don't upset Steven. Just tell them you're the one who got cold feet.] The ER nurse's eyes were red as she pressed my bloody finger to my phone and typed back for me. [The PATIENT is in critical condition. Please come to the HOSPITAL immediately.] A second later, my phone lit up again. Steven Buffrey. Ruby's childhood friend. The social feed showed a photo of two hands locked together, fingers making a heart. In the middle sat a bandage over one tiny scratch. Caption: [She said my life matters more than anything. Bro, quit faking sick and sulking.] Ruby's friends smashed the like button. They called it true love. Not one person said my name. Like tomorrow's marriage license appointment had nothing to do with me. I laughed, bitter and weightless, floating above the ER as my heart monitor flatlined.

Savannah Cox was my husband's first love. When she got divorced, my husband, Alex Stewart, was the lawyer who handled her case. Then he moved her into our home after getting rid of Mochi, my cat, because she was allergic to cats. Because she lost a necklace, he forced a pregnant me to jump into an icy pool to retrieve it. By the time I lost our baby and ended up in the hospital, Alex was posting Savannah's prenatal checkup report—the first post he'd made all year. "The cherry blossoms are blooming at Cherrywood Park. She arrived with spring." I quietly liked the post, feeling unwell and numb with grief as I spent the day in silence. Alex only looked at me with disgust, a cruel sneer creeping onto his lips. "Autumn, people like you deserve to lose their children. If you love kids so much, why don't you go die with the baby?" What he didn't know was that I was already dying.