Plot Twists の短編小説 & Mistress Cheating 小説

My cheating husband, Steve Manson, gets hit by a car and suffers brain damage. After the accident, he can only say two words—"Yes" and "No". He can't say anything else. And somehow, every answer he gives has to be the truth. For once, it feels like heaven is finally on my side. I ask, "Is the woman you're having an affair with my best friend?" His face turns pale, but his mouth moves against his will. "Yes." "Did you transfer assets behind my back?" "Yes." "Is your bank account password your first love's birthday?" "Yes." Thanks to this bizarre ability of his, I successfully send the mistress to prison and walk away with all of his assets. Yet, he can't even curse me out no matter how much he wants it. Then one day, a handsome food delivery guy flirts with me. I turn to look at Steve, who stands there with the same dull expression as always. "Are you really my husband? Why aren't you even jealous?" Without hesitation, he blurts out, "No." I freeze instantly and stare into his eyes. After a long silence, I finally ask, "Then is my husband... dead?" He answers, "Yes and no."

Jay Cooper, Giselle White's assistant-slash-sugar baby, accuses me of stealing his mother's personal effects from him. That night, my mom, who's severely ill, gets dangled from a helicopter. Impatience is written all over Giselle's eyes. "If you refuse to return the cross pendant to Jay, your mom will pay for your willful act!" I do my best to suppress the throbbing pain coming from my heart as I beg hoarsely to Giselle to let my mom go. But my seven-year-old daughter, Valerie Walker, jabs a button on the remote control with an icy expression. "This is what you get for going against Mr. Cooper time and again!" I can only watch as Mom falls from a high altitude, soon smashing into the ground heavily. Sorrow fills my heart as I plead in a humble tone, "Please, I'm begging you… Please take my mom to the hospital…" "That's enough, Dylan Walker! The one dangling from the helicopter is a dummy, not your actual mom! Why are you still putting on an act?"

My husband, Michael Grant's mistress, Lucy Lovelace, is demanding a break-up with him once again. Heartbroken, he drowns his sorrows with alcohol to the point that he has to get hospitalized due to stomach bleeding. Still, Michael keeps mumbling, "She's the only one who has the guts to treat me like this." Then, he grabs my hand and says, "Darling, you're a woman too. Tell me, how should I appease Lucy this time?" Well, Michael has cheated on me so many times. Lucy is the only one he's ever fallen for so far. My phone buzzes at that moment. It's a text from Lucy. "Mrs. Grant, please keep your husband in check! Don't you have any pride as a woman? Tell him to stop bothering me already!" I just smile mockingly. As always, I don't bother responding to Lucy. On the fifth day of Michael's hospitalization, he spams my phone with countless calls. When the latest call goes through, he questions me emotionally, "I'm hospitalized, you know! Why haven't you shown up at all? Do you even care about me as your husband?" I reply calmly, "I'm worried that if I do show up, you'll fall in love with me again."

The next time I saw Chase Reed, it was at a little guesthouse in the Rockies. I'd just finished feeding my son breakfast and was wiping his mouth when Chase came out from the kitchen carrying a tray. Our eyes met. I saw his pupils dilate in shock. Three years had passed. His skin was weathered and reddened from the sun, his face covered in stubble, with new lines etched around his eyes from the harsh elements. Then his gaze landed on my son. He froze mid-step, his eyes going wide with disbelief before flooding with joy. He hurried over, his eyes locked on my little boy. "Sweetheart... can you say 'Daddy'?" I lowered my head, turned sideways, and pulled my son protectively into my arms. Three years ago, when I was five months pregnant, Chase had felt trapped. He decided to hit the road with his buddy — a female friend — and bike across the Rockies. He told me to cut off all contact and give him three years of freedom. From that day on, I cut everything about him out of my life. Including our child.

In my last life, while my father lay on his deathbed, he asked me to choose—inherit his title and become the Don of Vale, or marry my boyfriend, Julian Moreau, and walk away from the family business for good. Becoming the Don meant a lifetime of danger, and likely a political marriage without love. Marrying Julian promised peace. I hesitated. Next morning after the party, I woke up in bed with Julian on my left and my best friend, Sebastian, on my right. I soon found out I was pregnant. With that, I thought the better choice would be marry either Julian or Sebastian—and to give up my right to inherit, handing it to my stepsister. After my father’s funeral, Julian, Vivienne, and Sebastian locked me away and tortured me for days—until my baby and I finally met a tragic end. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day my father asked that question. This time, I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll break up with Julian and become the Don of Vale—on my own.”

When my wife's lover changed the locks on our house for the ninth time and locked us out again, there was finally a hint of irritation on her face. I, on the other hand, calmly reassured her. "He's young. He doesn't know any better. Don't get worked up over it." Yvonne Fisher, who was about to break the lock open, froze mid-swing and turned to stare at me. "Aren't you angry?" I was at a loss for words. Throughout our five years of marriage, things like this had happened so often that if I'd kept getting angry, I would've died from it by now. Besides, my own lover was just as much of a handful. All I felt for Yvonne was sympathy.

At my mom's funeral, my lecturer wife, Vivian Carter, decides to have a rendezvous with her student, Noah Myers, with ten packs of condoms in her bag. Once they are done with their passionate lovemaking, Noah uploads a photo to his social media feed. It features a red-faced Vivian lying on his bed. Meanwhile, the clothes of mourning that she's worn to the funeral are strewn all over the floor. The caption reads, "The only who's not loved is the actual homewrecker here. My relationship has finally borne fruit!" His feed goes wild with comments. Everyone mocks me for being a shameless simp for Vivian, and that I've been ruining Noah's relationship with her this whole time. My mentor, Avery Sanders, is sick with worry. But I, on the other hand, merely brew myself a cup of coffee. Then, I say lightly, "Since he likes uploading his intimate photos that much, I might as well upload photos of his and Vivian's bastard child as well as their paternity tests. Here's the caption—I, the legal husband, am now defending my pride as a married man. "Now, I'd like to see if Noah and Vivian are capable of bearing the consequences of pissing off my prestigious and wealthy family!"

I was born a half-blood vampire, the daughter of a vampire father and a human mother. I inherited a vampire's power, yet I could walk in sunlight without harm. On the day it happened, my beloved fiancé Adrian had been gravely wounded by hunters and lay collapsed in the burning light. I was the one who ran to him, and I was the one who took the bullet. But when he came to, he was certain the person who'd saved him was my stepsister, Sophia — because her arm bore the mark of a sunlight burn. I tried to explain. I wept and begged him to believe me. Adrian only looked at me with cold, distant eyes. "Elena, stop trying to steal Sophia's credit." Sophia was cherished in his hands, while I was trampled repeatedly. Adrian sealed my bloodline power, stripping me from half-blood to nothing. Our engagement was annulled, and he watched, cold and unmoved, as I was sent in Sophia's place to marry the noble vampire everyone whispered about: that ancient, monstrous lord. Then came the day of his and Sophia's betrothal ceremony. The vampire hunters struck again. Stripped of my power, I threw myself in front of a young girl to shield her. Sophia, meanwhile, abandoned Adrian's side and fled behind the elders. Only then did Adrian understand: the one who had saved him in the sunlight had always been me. He went mad with it. He blocked my carriage, desperate to stop me from leaving, from marrying another man. But I reached out and took another man's hand. "Adrian," I said. "I don't love you anymore."

After I discovered Chelsea Stone’s infidelity, I ended the relationship without giving her a chance. I packed my luggage bit by bit. She watched me, then suddenly said, “Jensen Scott, do you know what was the most boring thing about you?” I paused and turned around. She blew out a puff of smoke and smiled in a flirtatious way. “You were so boring. You did not even know how to sweet‑talk in bed. It was so uninteresting.” I walked away with my things, and I held back my tears. Three years later, I ran into her in the hospital corridor. She wore a white coat, and the medical record book in her hand almost slipped when I bumped into her. Our eyes met. She looked me over, and her tone turned playful. “Oh, is this not my blockhead ex‑boyfriend?” I smiled and did not reply. As I left the hospital, she stepped in front of me and lowered her voice. “Three years have passed. Have you learned how to sweet‑talk in bed?” I raised my hand and showed her my wife’s ultrasound report. “I have, but not to you.”

I had a massive fight with my husband, Gary Mitchell, while I was six months pregnant. He kicked me out of the house. With nowhere to go and no money, I ducked into a convenience store just to get some warmth. I was staring at the steam rising from the hot food display when the cashier walked over. "Excuse me, Miss. We have one last bottle of amnesia water left. Would you be interested in it?" I froze, then let out a bitter laugh. "I don't have any money." She said, "You don't need to use money. You can exchange it for something from your body." Instinctively, I raised my hand and touched my swollen belly. "How about this?"

I was raised in another country since I was a kid. Mom is worried that I might find her a wife who's of foreign descent, so she quickly finds me a beautiful and talented fiancee based in Bellevue and tells me to return to the country just to proceed with the engagement. So, I head over to a fancy boutique to pick out my suit for the engagement banquet. That's when I notice a black suit with dark patterns woven into the material, which I quite like. But when I'm about to try on that suit, the man next to me glances at it before telling the sales assistant, "This suit is pretty stylish. I'd like to try it on." The sales assistant rips the suit from my hands immediately. I retort angrily, "Hey! Ever heard of 'first come, first served'? I have my eyes on this suit first! You're being unreasonable right now!" But the man just looks at me in disdain. "This suit is worth 188 thousand dollars! You really think a broke guy like you can afford this? "I'll have you know that I'm very close to Yvonne Gardner, the CEO of Gardner Group. She dotes on me as if I were her brother. The Gardners are the ones ruling over Bellevue, you know!" What a coincidence! Isn't this Yvonne woman my fiancee? I call her on the spot. "Hey, your so-called brother has stolen the suit I plan on wearing to our engagement banquet. How do you think we should resolve this situation, hmm?"

As the end of the year approached, I begged my father, the king, for three days and three nights before he finally agreed to let me travel to the frontier and reunite with my husband. But the moment I approached the military camp, the guards stopped me. When they found out I'd come to see Liam Foster, they burst out laughing. "Another girl who came all this way because she's got a crush on General Foster! You'd better turn back. General Foster is famously devoted to his wife. Aside from her, he wouldn't give any other woman a second look." I smiled faintly and was about to pull out my royal pendant to prove that I was the very "Mrs. Foster" they were talking about, when one of the guards pointed toward a woman not far away. "See her over there? That's our general's wife. Their love story has already spread all across the camp." I froze. By the time I came back to my senses, the woman had already walked over. She was wearing bright, elegant clothes—completely out of place in a military camp. With a gentle smile, she asked, "Miss, what business do you have with my husband? He had urgent matters to attend to and left earlier. It may be a while before he returns."

On my way home from work, I realized a man I didn't know was following me. I called my husband, Cassian Bellamy, for help, hoping he could come pick me up. Instead, he sent me a few cold voice messages. "Can you stop acting like you're being followed all the time? We live in a society governed by laws. Where's this creep you're talking about?" "Also, if someone really is following you, what do you think he's going to do? You're a married woman. I'm busy right now, so take a cab home yourself." I hid in the corner of a 24-hour convenience store, trembling from head to toe. It wasn't until a torrential downpour began that the creepy figure finally left. I ran home in the dark, soaked to the skin and covered in mud. The moment I got home, a post from Cassian's childhood friend, Celine Marlowe, popped up on my phone. "This is why having a childhood friend matters. I couldn't get a ride home in the rain, so he drove across half the city just to pick me up from work." The photo showed Cassian's familiar Land Rover, with a warm cup of coffee in the passenger seat. Celine's pinned location was a full 18 miles from our home. And Cassian's car would have passed right by the street where I'd called him for help. In that moment, all the strength seemed to leave my body. Maybe I didn't need this miserable marriage after all.

After my parents got divorced, my mom settled in Teania for good. Every year, I would receive a [Happy Birthday] text message from overseas. However, she never replied to the messages I sent her. I had always wanted to ask my mom in person if she actually cared about me. So, before my SATs, I worked like crazy to save money. I was even afraid I would not be able to resist spending it, so I gave the money to my boyfriend and asked him to keep it for me. However, just as I was about to buy my plane ticket, my boyfriend sent me a screenshot showing that my balance was zero. He brushed it off casually. “Last time we played Truth or Dare, I lost a wish ticket to your best friend. “She said she wanted to go see the Auroras, and there was a ‘buy two, get one free’ deal on mystery flight tickets. So, I bought two tickets. We’ll just have to visit Teania another time.” I struggled to keep my voice from trembling. “Lennon York, if you go see the auroras, we’re breaking up.” His expression did not change. He just reached up and ruffled my hair. “Don’t be silly. Once I’m in college, I’ll get a part-time job. Then, I’ll definitely take you there during semester break, okay?” I looked downwards and smiled. I messaged my childhood friend, whom I had not spoken to in a year, and typed. [Is that wish slip you promised me still valid?]

When my husband, Hugo Clarkson, is rubbing lotion onto my belly, I come across a post online. "My wife's in the late stages of pregnancy and needs me around constantly, but my girlfriend's getting increasingly demanding. What should I do?" The comments are flooded with people tearing the original poster apart. A few, however, offer some rather helpful advice. "Just tell your wife you're going to work out." "Go see your mistress at eight, then come home at ten and carry on playing the perfect husband." "Women become dumb as rocks when they're pregnant. She'll never figure it out." I can't help feeling sorry for the man's wife. Pregnancy already leaves women physically and emotionally vulnerable enough. To be betrayed by their husbands on top of everything else is just cruel. I'm about to complain to Hugo about the post when he suddenly appears in a change of workout clothes. "Honey, I'm going to start going for a run every evening from now on."

I discover that I'm a homewrecker after dating my boyfriend for a decade. We're looking at marital homes when his wife seeks me out. She beats me up in public and rips my hair out, yet all he does is hurry to her after I've pushed her to the floor. Why? Because she's pregnant. Later, he gets a divorce and begs me to marry him. "I'm begging you, Madison. Forgive me this once."

My fiancée, Summer Walker, and I were supposed to spend our honeymoon on a tropical island. Instead, she brought my two best friends along. I didn't think much of it, so I joined them for a game of Truth or Dare. After several rounds and several drinks, I was starting to feel tipsy. Adam Lewis and Joseph Thompson laughed and teased me for being such a lightweight. Then the bottle landed on my fiancée. Summer chose Truth. One of my friends asked, "What's your biggest secret?" She lowered her head, a blush slowly spreading across her face as her hand instinctively moved to cover her belly. I was about to smooth things over when both men rushed to offer to drink for her. Neither was willing to back down. Finally, Summer spoke. "I'm pregnant." Excitement surged through me, and I leaned in to kiss her. Then I noticed something was wrong. One man had clenched his knee so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The other's fingers were trembling. They spoke at the exact same time. "Whose is it?" I froze. Summer lifted her head, her gaze darting between them. "I don't know." One of them ordered the driver to pull over. The moment the motorhome stopped, both men spilled outside and started fighting beside the guardrail along the coastal highway. Summer curled up in her seat and clung to my hand, crying as she apologized over and over. I pulled my hand free and stepped outside. The sea wind struck my face, stinging my eyes. In the distance, the two men were still wrestling with each other. We hadn't even reached the island yet, but as far as I was concerned, this trip was already over.

One day, I stood in line outside the fondue place for six hours. My boyfriend, Daryl McCabe, called. "Brooke wants Cajun food. Come meet us." Brooke Jennings was my best friend, and Daryl's ex-girlfriend. This was the thirty-fifth time Daryl had blown up our plans for her. He'd been talking about this fondue place for a month, but we could never get in, there were always too many people waiting. So I'd taken the day off and stood in line for six hours just to get us a table. Every ten minutes, I'd texted Daryl an update on how close we were to being called. Five minutes ago, I'd sent him the last one. My number was 3601. They were already calling 3595. I gripped the ticket in my hand. "Daryl, I took the day off. I've been standing here six hours. We're only six people away..." "I know," he cut in, impatient, "but Brooke wants Cajun food. We can do fondue some other time." The line went quiet for two seconds. Then his voice again, pushing. "We're literally five or six doors down from where you're standing. Just come over." I'd given in thirty-four times before this. Suddenly, none of it felt worth it anymore. "No. I want fondue." I hung up and sent my boss a text. [Vincent, I accept the overseas assignment to Zwinterland.]

On the way to an art exhibition, I get into a devastating car accident. My face is covered in blood as my husband, Benedict Stiles, frantically tears through the wreckage. He pulls me free and rushes me into emergency surgery. As the anesthesia begins to take effect, I vaguely hear his voice. "Doctor, she's already unconscious and badly injured. Remove her corneas and transplant them into Melanie right now. Her world tour's kicking off next month. She can't afford to lose her sight!" "But your wife is an artist, too," the doctor says in a trembling voice. "If she goes blind, it'll destroy her!" Benedict's tone leaves no room for discussion. "Melanie took a knife for me years ago. I owe her my life, and I'm going to repay that debt. "Once my wife loses her sight, I'll transfer all the shares I own to her and make sure she's taken care of for the rest of her life. I'll be her eyes. But Melanie needs her sight back immediately." I tell myself that I must be dreaming. But when I wake up, my entire world is pitch-black. The sheer absurdity of what he's done overwhelms me, along with despair. So when Benedict books an entire private island and prepares to renew his vows to me beneath a sky filled with fireworks, I don't hesitate to set the whole island on fire.

After discovering that Sienna Lyon had cheated on me, I gave her three chances. The first time, I pulled out the love letter that a shy 18-year-old Sienna had handed to me with trembling hands. When Sienna took the letter, her face was filled with remorse. Then, she deleted Matt Sauter’s contact from her WhatsApp right in front of me. The second time, I pulled up a video of Sienna and me exchanging our wedding vows from my phone’s gallery. Sienna watched in silence for a long time. Then, she ordered the security guard to turn away Matt, who had come to borrow money. She, who had never touched a drop of alcohol, got completely drunk that night. The third time was outside Matt’s hospital room, when I handed Sienna the stomach cancer report. Sienna lit a cigarette. The smoke made me cough uncontrollably. Yet her gaze never left Matt, who was in the room. The answer was already obvious. At that moment, I knew there would be no future for her and me.