Cerita Pendek & Novel Mistress Cheating

When I discover that Shawn Felton has kept a mistress for the past three years and even intends to throw her a wedding, I decide to leave him. I'm going home to marry the man my family has picked for me. On the first day, I give the ring Shawn got me to his mistress. On the second day, I throw away everything and anything that has to do with me. On the third day, I put on a wedding dress and marry Shawn's nemesis. From now on, Shawn and I will have nothing to do with each other. Shawn is unfazed originally. He thinks I'm just throwing a tantrum. He only panics when he sees the news of me marrying someone else.

I come across an announcement while scrolling through my social media feed. The suspense thriller that my boyfriend, Thomas Sheridan, and I didn't get to watch in the movie theaters is now available for streaming. Remembering that Thomas has a subscription to the streaming service, I ask him for his login details. However, Thomas rejects my request. "I don't like sharing my streaming history. Besides, you're always watching those brainless romance flicks. I don't want the app to recommend those movies to me." My heart twists painfully upon hearing his words. I silently fork out 100 dollars to pay for my own annual subscription. When the afternoon rolls around, I stop by my best friend, Lydia Wakeford's place to grab some things. She's curled up on the couch, watching a show on her tablet when I arrive. A notification suddenly pops up on the screen. "Your progress is being synced with the main account, 'Tom.'" I'm briefly stunned before I ask, "Are you using Thomas' account?" "That's right. He gave me his login details when I asked. He must have agreed to my request because of you. I'm so lucky." Their lists of recommendations and streaming histories are neatly displayed on the tablet. Thomas isn't willing to share his personal sanctuary with me, but he has already welcomed another into it with open arms. During dinner, I'm just about to tell Thomas and Lydia how I want to spend my birthday tomorrow when I hear them talking about movies. "The movie that we watched a few days ago is still playing in the movie theaters, Tom," Lydia says. "Why don't the three of us watch it together? What do you think?" Thomas places his fork down and nods. "Sure. But Riley's scared of horror movies. It'll be better if it's just the two of us." "Alright then," Lydia says, sounding a little regretful. "I'll watch a romance movie with you next time, Riley." I nod silently. Thomas and Lydia continue to discuss movies as they sit at the dining table. Neither of them remembers that it's my birthday tomorrow. I suddenly feel like I'm the onlooker who's watching their romance unfold.

I was eight months pregnant when our armored car was ambushed outside the family’s docks. The blast tore open the door. Shrapnel ripped through my calf, and blood poured down my leg. My husband, Luca, was the Don of the Moretti crime family. He carried me into the family’s private hospital like a man possessed, demanding specialists and emergency surgery. Miraculously, our baby survived. But when I woke, both Luca and the baby were gone. I dragged myself out of bed and limped down the hall to find them. Outside the basement morgue, I heard Luca speaking to a doctor. “Don, that baby could still have been saved. Why did you stop treatment? He was your own son!” “Bianca gave me a son yesterday. I promised her our child would be the Moretti family’s only heir.” A pause. “As for Evelyn, I can give her anything she wants. Except a child.” I braced myself against the wall, my injured leg throbbing. The husband I thought loved me. The happy family I thought we had. None of it had ever been real. Then there was nothing left to stay for.

To keep anyone from getting suspicious, I can only use disposable things whenever I go to my boyfriend Seth Larson's house. I wear disposable slippers and eat with disposable cutlery. Even when I stay the night, he gives me a one-time-use bedsheet. "If someone happens to see your things, I won't be able to explain it." He always reassures me, saying, "Once we make our relationship public, I'll get you some proper things." For three years, I wait. Yet every time I go to his house, I'm treated like a guest. Then, one day, he throws a birthday party at home for his assistant, Regina Skinner. The moment the door opens, Regina casually pulls a matching pair of designer slippers from the shoe cabinet and slips them on. Seth's friends follow right behind her, each taking a pair and using up all the remaining disposable slippers. That leaves me standing alone at the door. "Just come in barefoot. It's not cold in the summer," Seth says. He doesn't even look up, as if he's inviting a stranger inside. From across the room, I see a full set of dishes already laid out on the dining table, all printed with Regina's favorite cartoon characters. Suddenly, I realize something. Since everything is disposable, now that I've given this love that can never see the light of day a chance, it's time for me to throw it away.

It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral. Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress." Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip. In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport. My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?" The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old. "I love Julian. I love everything about him." That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room. "I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this." I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent. Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

On the first day I take my daughter, Layla Gibson, to an elite kindergarten, I'm told that Layla hasn't been admitted to the kindergarten at all. I call my husband, Maverick Gibson, on the spot. After all, he's the one in charge of enrolling Layla in the kindergarten. How is it possible for her to not fit the criteria to be accepted into the kindergarten? In an upset tone, Maverick tells me that the kindergarten has gotten it wrong. "I'm sorry, darling. Our company's assets have yet to reach the minimum requirement that's needed for the kindergarten to accept Layla as a student. "I was worried that you'd be saddened when you found out about this, so I didn't say anything about this. This is my fault for not working hard enough. Because of me, Layla lost to her peers in terms of education." After ending the call, I call my dad, who's actually a board member of the kindergarten. At the same time, I have my lawyer draft a divorce agreement. I'm interested to see which bastard child has taken Layla's spot, which has already been reserved by my dad a long time ago.

Since my bone cancer is already terminal, my doctor asks me if I wish to receive an amputation. My breath is lodged in my throat. After hesitating for a few moments, I end up texting my husband, Jordan Parker. "If I undergo the amputation surgery, I'll get to live for another year. Do you want me to take up the surgery?" One minute before I'm scheduled to undergo the surgery, my phone finally buzzes. "Best wishes." It's the same response as the one I've been receiving for every message I've sent him over the past three years. Of course, Jordan has responded by transferring me money and a note that says "best wishes". I put down my phone quietly. Ever since I've borrowed 500 thousand dollars from him on our wedding night, Jordan has already determined that I'm a gold digger, just like what his friends have been saying about me. That's why Jordan transfers me money when I go through a miscarriage. When I beg him to attend my dad's funeral, he gives me money as well. Half a year ago, I'm diagnosed with bone cancer. The thought about having to live my life with tubes inserted into various parts of my body while lying on my sick bed and waiting for Death to grace me with its presence in the near future triggers a mental breakdown immediately. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I send 97 long audio messages to Jordan. In return, I've received 97 money transfers. Now, I'm about to get amputated just so I can extend my life span, and here Jordan is, fusing beads with his childhood sweetheart, Camille Laurent. As I stare at Camille's romantic social media post and the barrage of comments that wish her and Jordan well, I pluck out the needle with a bitter smile on my face. There is once when Jordan has told me in a tone filled with hatred and resentment that his biggest regret is his decision to call off his engagement with Camille over a gold digger like me. Well, I hope that this time, he won't have any regrets anymore.

When Jonathan Shaw brings his seventh pregnant mistress to me for the delivery, his friends start taking bets on how long it'll take before I break down. But even after the baby's cries echo through the delivery room, they never hear me lose control. "Come on, this is the seventh one. Are you sure she isn't done with you this time?" Jonathan shrugs. "She can't have children, and I've got a family legacy to carry on. I'll end up having kids with other women so they can inherit the family business either way. I might as well have a few now and let her get used to it." As soon as he finishes speaking, I walk out carrying the newborn. Following standard procedure, I announce, "Congratulations. He weighs seven pounds, six ounces. Both the mother and the baby are doing well." Jonathan smiles as he takes the baby from my arms. Then, he hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it," he orders. "It's just an act to humor her. She refuses to have our second child unless I divorce you first. Once the second baby's born, we'll have eight kids." I've gone along with his little charade seven times already. This time, I sign my name without hesitation. Jonathan seems to have forgotten one thing. It's not that I can't have children. We're just genetically incompatible. If I want a child, I just have to find a different man. Why would I spend the rest of my life raising someone else's children just to stay married to him?

When I was eight months pregnant, my Beta mate Derek's mistress offended the Alpha and was sentenced to three months in silver prison. Derek wanted me to serve her time. I stared at him in disbelief. "I'm carrying our child. How can I go to prison? What if something happens to the baby—" He roughly cut me off. "It's just three months, isn't it? Your wolf is so strong, but Sophia is just an Omega. Could you really bear to watch her die?" He forcibly threw me into prison to take punishment for his precious Sophia, where I was whipped with silver chains. Through this ordeal, my wolf nearly died. That day, I had a lot of bleeding during childbirth and almost went into shock. Meanwhile, the photos of him in bed with his mistress spread all over the pack. When Derek’s brother Ethan, who had a crush on me for many years, rushed to the hospital, my voice was eerily calm. "You are right. Derek is not worthy of being my mate. You promised me that once I gave birth to the child, you would help me leave. I want to break my mate bond with Derek."

In the eighth year of our marriage, I was on my way to drop my daughter off at school when I got a call from a hotel. "Is this Ms. Ariel Winters? Your husband, Vince Weaver, left his watch here." My blood went cold. Ariel Winters was my wife. Vince Weaver was my sworn brother. I rushed to my sister, desperate for her to deny it. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she gave me a calm, steady lecture. "Edwin, they already have a child together. Just pretend you don't know. Ariel didn't want you to get hurt. That's the only reason we agreed to keep it from you." Before I could speak, my brother-in-law cut in. "Yeah, Edwin, don't blame Vince for this. You're both fathers. Try to see it from his side." My brother-in-law was another member of our so-called sworn brotherhood. And now, he wanted me to forgive the man who had wrecked my family — and his secret child. Turns out I was the extra piece in every relationship I had: family, friendship, and love.

In Kieran Chase's eyes, I was not his wife. I was a non-performing asset waiting to be liquidated. When I got sick and asked for help, he became impatient. He said, "This is a minor problem. You can handle it on your own. No need to tell anyone." When I broke down in tears, he reprimanded me. "Losing emotional control shows weakness. It exposes the fragility of our alliance. I'll have the PR team teach you emotional management." Even when I called for help after a car accident, he hung up. "Nothing about you is important enough to interrupt a transaction worth hundreds of millions." I spent seven days in the ICU fighting for my life. On my first day home, I found Kieran leaning over another woman, his voice suddenly soft and coaxing as he convinced her to take her medicine. He opened his mouth to explain. I smiled bitterly and handed him the papers I'd prepared long ago. My tone mirrored his perfectly. "Mr. Chase, regarding our marriage project, the return on investment is unacceptably low after comprehensive evaluation. I'm formally proposing we terminate our cooperation. "Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it."

The day I get my acceptance letter to Kellerton University, I scroll through the class group chat and find a photo of my younger brother, Corey Hollis, kissing my girlfriend, Piper Ashton. Piper brushes it off like it's nothing. "It was a graduation party. We were playing spin the bottle, and I lost, so... we kissed." This isn't the first time. A year earlier, I caught my first girlfriend, Naomi Drake, making out with Corey. I couldn't stop picturing their mouths all over each other, so I bombed the exam. Back then, Piper didn't hesitate. She ripped up her own acceptance letter to a top-tier school and told me, "Logan, I've liked you since we were kids. Don't worry. I'll retake the year with you." She stayed with me through the darkest summer of my life. I genuinely believed she was different from Naomi, so I never imagined she'd betray me for the same person. I stare at her lips. My stomach turns, and the ache behind it hits so hard I can barely breathe. Then, she twists the knife deeper. "Oh right, Logan, I forgot to tell you. I can't go to Kellerton with you anymore. My parents say the job market out there isn't great, so I switched my application at the last minute. "I'm going to Branton University instead." Corey already has his acceptance to Branton Arts Academy too. My head buzzes. She's the one who wants to go to Kellerton. That's why I gave up my spot in a top-two school to follow her. Then, she just changes her mind and only bothers telling me now. I clench my teeth and force the word out. "Why?" She looks irritated. "Didn't I just say? The job market near Kellerton isn't great." I laugh bitterly. What I really want to ask is why does everyone always choose Corey over me?

My husband had a heart attack on his way to work and died. All I could see was his body when I rushed to the hospital. I was heartbroken and bedridden. When I was about to die, I saw on the news that he won a lottery ticket worth 300 million dollars. My bestie cashed the prize money with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my husband faked his death. But I wanted to make his death real this time! “Are you from the funeral home? My husband is dead. We need to plan a cremation for him right away!”

The day we announced our marriage, Anastasia Hawthorne's vlog, which recorded her romantic relationship, played on a loop on the screen. It captured moments such as her and her beloved travelling around the world to chase the aurora and kissing under the starry sky. But somehow, through every scene, the shifting light and shadows perfectly blurred the man's face. The twenty-minute video concluded with her making a heartfelt proposal to the camera. The audience's envious cheers echoed throughout the room. A friend threw his arm around my shoulder and teased me, "You two are so sweet it's giving me a toothache. I came here to congratulate you on your marriage, man. I didn't expect to sit through all your lovey-dovey moments too." My gaze stayed fixed on the screen, and I did not say a word. The lights and shadows danced across my face. Finally, I looked away and dropped the truth with a calm expression. "That isn't me in the video."

I knelt outside Hooper Manor for three days straight before my ex-boyfriend Axel Hooper finally agreed to take me back. Now we're right back to holding hands, kissing, and telling each other how much we love each other. It's as if our breakup never happened. That all changes when Hooper Manor catches fire in the middle of the night. Terrified, I speed all the way back. By the time I get there, flames are lighting up the night sky. Axel comes rushing out in a bathrobe, shielding Rosalie Quade, the fake heiress, as he gets her to safety. Our eyes meet, and without thinking, I raise a hand. I just want to ask if the burn on his shoulder hurts, but he thinks I'm about to go after Rosalie. He shoves me to the ground and yells, "Don't touch Rosie! Fine, I cheated on you again. If you can't stand it, then break up with me again!" I hit the ground hard, sharp gravel cutting into my palms. And just like that, Axel stops looking handsome to me. "Fine. We're done."

On Valentine's Day, by the time I hurry into the seafood restaurant, my boyfriend, Cody Sharp, and my best friend, Irene Thorne, are already halfway through their meal. I reach for a chair, only to realize there isn't an extra one. Cody glances up at me and says flatly, "Staff said they only have tables for two left. A table for three means a four-hour wait. Just find a table for one. It's all the same." Irene offers an apologetic look. "Besides, Serena, aren't you allergic to seafood? Maybe grab a bite somewhere else?" I freeze. We have eaten at this exact spot 30 times. I am allergic to seafood, but since they love it, this is always the place. Just to keep them company, I take allergy medication before every single visit. So they knew all along. They just didn't care. At the table, they laugh as they plan to come back a few more times before heading overseas next month. Thanks to their top grades, both earned fully funded spots in the study abroad program. My grades are average, but because I wanted to stay with them, I was ready to pay tens of thousands of dollars out of pocket to go along. Now, the heavy seafood stench in the room suddenly turns sickeningly sharp. I turn around, walk out, and step into the barbecue joint next door. Pulling out my phone, I cancel my self-funded study abroad application. That feels good. From now on, I get to eat whatever I actually want.

I've planned seven wedding ceremonies in total, and not once has my fiance, Zachary Gardner, ever shown up for it. The first time, his adopted younger sister, Louise Foster, bursts into tears because she lost her passport at the airport. It was the dead of winter, but he dumped me by the side of the road and left me. The second time, Louise's dog sprained its ankle. Zachary stuffed the ring back into its box and rushed to the animal hospital to accompany her. Every time I argue with him about it, he declares nonchalantly, "We can get married anytime, but I can't let Louise be upset." Everyone around us agrees with him, saying that we're all family anyway, so I shouldn't be so petty. None of them has seen Zachary and Louise kissing fiercely on the dance floor. Today is the seventh wedding ceremony. Once again, he turns to leave after getting a call. I grab the corner of his shirt and say in a choked voice, "If you leave this time, Zachary, I won't marry you anymore." He stops in his tracks and peels off my fingers. "Wait for me," he says before rushing off. What he doesn't know is that this time, I won't be waiting for him any longer.

Late at night on a business trip, my phone chimes with an alert from our family health app. "New weight logged: 176.8 pounds." I stare at the digits, oblivious to the hot ash falling onto the back of my hand. My wife, Jayda Cohen, is notoriously strict with herself. Her weight is locked at a steady 132 pounds. None of her friends push past 150 pounds, either. So who on earth is standing on that scale right now?

My boyfriend and I had been together for eight years. We were already discussing marriage when Robbie suddenly asked me to wait a little longer. He said he needed to hold a grand wedding with his first love before he could marry me. Because, as he explained, for his first love—who struggled with anxiety—marriage was her greatest wish in life. He couldn't bear to see her spiral into self-harm under the weight of her illness, so with tears in his eyes, he promised to give her a home. Stunned, I asked what would happen to me. Instead of answering, he snapped impatiently, "Can't you show some empathy? It's just a year or two more. Are you really that desperate to get married? "And another thing… lend me your ring. Let Lucy wear it for now. You won't be needing it anytime soon." I stared at the man before me, someone both familiar and suddenly a stranger, and felt only a cold, hollow ache in my chest. But at last, I saw his true face behind the mask. Later, I chose to attend their wedding. I brought with me a very special blessing.

Ten minutes before the ceremony, my phone lit up with a photograph that made my stomach turn. A woman with sunken eyes, thin down to the bone, crawling across a floor on her hands and knees like a dog. My fiance, Harrison Blake, stood over her, looking down at her with disgust. I was about to block the number and write it off as a prank when two more messages came through. "Run. Right now. Whatever you do, don't marry Harrison Blake." "That woman on the floor is you, ten years from now."