Mistress Cheating Short Stories & Novels

When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage. My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute." Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring. But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot. When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?" Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding. I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base. "Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

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?"

At the supermarket, a child slams into my pregnant belly. The pain is so intense that I collapse to the floor and cannot get back up. I groan, "My phone... Call my husband..." Only after giving the child a slap does the woman pick up my phone. Apologizing repeatedly, she searches my contacts for "Husband". She calls several times, but no one answers. "Don't panic. I'll have my husband come handle this," she says, taking out her own phone and calling her husband. He answers after the very first ring. "Honey, our son got into trouble again! Adjourn your meeting and get over here. He knocked into a pregnant woman!" Ten minutes later, Shawn Leake, who is supposed to be working in another city, arrives at the scene. The first thing he notices is the child's swollen cheek. A look of concern crosses his face as he frowns and searches the area. He grumbles, "Was it really necessary to hit him? Who exactly did he run into—" The moment our eyes meet, his voice cuts off abruptly.

When my boyfriend hit the elevator button for my best friend's floor by mistake for the ninety-ninth time, he shot me an accusing look. "Why didn't you remind me? Forget it. Since we're already here, I might as well replace Gem's light bulb." I froze, then forced a thin smile. It was that line again. "Since we're already here." Ever since Gem Shaw moved into the apartment upstairs a year ago, my boyfriend Simon Lawson, had pressed the wrong floor every single time. When we were supposed to watch a movie together, he carried the milkshake to Gem's door and knocked. When my fever wouldn't break and I asked him to bring me medicine, he brought it to Gem's place instead because she had cramps. Our date for two became a movie for three, and my fever medicine became painkillers. Even on my birthday, he carried the cake to Gem's place. "Since we're already here, might as well celebrate your ten years of friendship." "Since we're already here, I might as well fix Gem's clogged drain for her." As I watched him walk into Gem's apartment without looking back, I silently pressed the close-door button. He had already forgotten that today was the day my lease ended, and it was also the day I was moving out. Since he was already here, he didn't need to come back to me.

After Nathaniel Cross promises to break things off and refocus on our marriage after having an affair, I give him three chances to meet with the young lady to end things between them completely. He uses every possible moment to spend time with her. They have dinner and do crafts. He even stays by her side through the night. When he comes back, he throws away everything that has to do with her and takes my hand again. "Trust me. I'll never betray you again," Nathaniel promises. One day, I collide with a young woman on the road. She makes a phone call to ask for help. The voice that answers belongs to one of my husband's friends. "Nathaniel, I don't think you should go. You've already used up all three chances. If Caroline finds out about this, she'll definitely ask for a divorce." Then, I hear Nathaniel's confident reply. "Caroline is an orphan. No one has ever loved or cared about her. She's more afraid of divorce than I am. Just keep quiet about this. I know what I'm doing. This is the last time." I feel my entire body turn cold. Only then do I realize that the sobbing woman in front of me is the mistress he has been so devoted to protecting. 20 minutes later, the man who has just sworn to return wholeheartedly to his family with me rushes frantically to the hospital.

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?

Seavora, Carmoria After seven years of a long-distance marriage, I was finally transferred to Leah Lambert's city. On Valentine's Day, I crossed Carmoria with my transfer papers, a big bouquet of roses, and a new diamond ring hidden in the bouquet. I waited outside her office, ready to surprise her. "Babe, where are you?" The second she walked out, I video-called her. I'd been counting down to this moment for years. Her voice was as gentle as ever. "Just got off work. What's up?" "Nothing. Just miss you. Do you miss me?" "Of course I do." A smile tugged at my lips. Thinking about her reaction when she saw me, I stepped toward her. "Really? Then turn around and—" My voice cut out. I froze. Her arm was wrapped around a man in a suit. Then she lifted her head and kissed the man. "If it's not urgent, I'll call you when I'm free. I have something important to do right now." She hung up. I stood in the cold and heard the man tease, "Babe, what's so important?" The woman I'd loved through college and seven years of marriage didn't hesitate. "Being with you." Tears hit the roses. I stared at the diamond ring nestled in the bouquet and let out a bitter laugh. So that's all I am to you? Someone who only matters when it's convenient.

On my second day after transferring to City Hall, I took over one of my coworker's cases. A young woman had come in for a certified copy of her marriage certificate. My coworker chuckled. "This is her ninety-ninth time requesting it. We already have all her paperwork on file, so it'll only take a minute." I blinked. "Ninety-nine times?" She laughed. "Yep. She married a wealthy older man, and every time they get into a fight, they tear up their marriage certificate. That's how they vent. "Only an older husband would tolerate that kind of childish behavior. I heard her husband is from the Hayes family, the wealthiest family in Havenbrook." I frowned at once. "Anyone from the Hayes family should know better than to behave like that. Are you sure her husband isn't an impostor?" My coworker immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, looking horrified. "For heaven's sake, keep your voice down. He's the real deal. Hunter Hayes, the head of the Hayes family." I froze. My phone slipped from my hand and landed on the desk. The screen lit up with a photo of me leaning against Hunter. The young woman in front of me suddenly went pale. She snatched my phone off the desk. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Why do you have a picture with my husband?"

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.

Belle York, my wife, was pregnant, but on our way back from getting the diagnosis, she said, “I have something to tell you. The baby is Harry’s. I also got a notice saying that my health won’t let me have another baby after this one.” When she saw my smile freeze, she took out a paternity test. Harry Grant, my brother-in-law, was indeed listed as the father. Her voice was eerily calm. “On the day you fell asleep at the back of the jeep with fever, we did it in the passenger seat, right where I’m sitting.” In an instant, I felt like I had fallen into the abyss. I opened my mouth, but it was like something was blocking my throat. As she spoke, Belle cast her eyes on her swollen belly, and every word she spoke next was like needles stabbing into my heart. “If you can’t accept the baby, I’ll abort it, but my uterus will still be badly damaged, and I won’t get pregnant again. I’ve told you the truth now. You decide on whether I get to give birth or not.”

Someone texted me halfway through the wedding. The message read, "I had sex with your husband. Doesn't matter if you don't believe it." The message hit me like a hammer, and I stood petrified. Then, the texter sent another message, "Second pocket on the inside of his coat. There's a used condom there from last night. Strawberry. We were setting up the room, and one thing led to another. "We did it everywhere. Balcony, kitchen, and even in your car. He's not allergic to women. He'd gladly sleep with someone before marriage. He lied to you." Everything began to spin. I walked ahead, but my movements felt stiff. I felt as if someone was yanking me forward. I approached the aloof, abstinent man I called my husband. The same man who had to think twice before holding my hand. Sure enough, I found a pink condom in his pocket. Gasps and shouts rippled across the hall, while flashes of camera blazed and blinded the scene. I spun on my heel. That was when I saw my best friend Zoe holding up her phone beneath the stage, a gentle smile hanging on her lips. Something bitter and sad filled my heart. It took me standing here, utterly humiliated, to realize that the very thing I spent my whole life fighting for was nothing but a joke.

I'm on a vacation during the holidays. When I'm scheduling to buy a ticket home, I accidentally oversleep. Still, I manage to secure a train ticket home. Due to the uncomfortable ride, I reach home looking very haggard and wretched. As soon as I step through the front door, I see someone stuffing a bunch of cleaning appliances into my arms. A woman can be seen gazing at me haughtily. Then, she starts ordering me around. "Hurry up! You must clean up this house by 6:00 pm tonight!" I notice that she's wearing my mom's pajamas. Then, I retreat to the doorway just so I can study the double-storied mansion again. This is my home! But who the hell is that woman? Also, who does she expect to clean up this place? Me? As in the only daughter of the wealthiest man in the city? I tap on my family's group chat and tag my dad. "@Dad: Hey, why did your new flame order me to clean the house?"

Brad Harrington's executive assistant was having another depressive episode. He pulled out the divorce papers. "It's just paperwork," he said. "Once she's stable, we'll remarry immediately." I picked up the documents, skimmed a few pages, then looked up at him. "I'm walking away with nothing?" His face twisted with impatience. "It's a fake divorce. Are you really going to nickel-and-dime this?" I just smiled and said nothing. Quietly, I signed my name. What he didn't know — I had been waiting for this day for a very long time.

My childhood friend, Sawyer Dwyer, had just confessed his feelings to me when his ex, Lina Keenan, got into a car accident. In the hospital hallway, his voice was steady. "She can't handle any emotional shock right now. Just give it some time. Don't tell her about us." I met his gaze and nodded. I never thought "some time" would turn into three whole years. He made her soup, helped with her rehab, and gave her all his attention. But whenever I showed the slightest frustration, he got annoyed. "Joelle, don't overthink it. She just depends on me right now. Once she's better, everything will be fine. "I'm just being there for her as a friend. "Stop making this into something it's not..." ... Over and over, he made the same promises with complete confidence. Then one day, I brought a hot meal to Lina's place and pushed open the door. They were kissing. I stood there, frozen. When Lina noticed me, she smiled. "Joelle, I have good news. We're back together. When are you going to get a boyfriend? I want to see you happy too." I looked at their hands locked together, my eyes burning. "I did have a boyfriend. But just now... we broke up."

My wife, Izzy Sockman, had been out entertaining clients with her childhood friend and best friend, who were both men. At two in the morning, she called me and asked me to pick her up because she claimed she had sharp pains in her stomach. The call made me anxious, and I rushed over with warm soup. When I arrived, I saw her lying in her best friend’s arms while he fed her wine from his mouth. Her childhood friend, Carter Enders, held her by the waist and looked at me with a taunting expression. “You came right away after taking the call. How obedient. You are right on time because Izzy is not done with her dare. Get over here and kneel while you pour us wine, and we will consider it a win for Izzy.” I thought Izzy would object, yet she only clung to Carter and pointed at the wine glass on the table. She ordered me around like a dog. “Didn’t you hear what he said? Hurry up and pour us a drink. Carter and Eugene are my kings today, and I have to do whatever they want. You are not allowed to leave until you pour us that drink.” Izzy had enjoyed her life as Capital City’s top CEO because I had invested billions into her company. She never cared about that. She only cared about acting like a lapdog for other men. Since she enjoyed degrading herself that way, I should take away her position as CEO.

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."

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!"

My boyfriend of nine years suddenly changed his WhatsApp name to "Peanut Love." When I asked why, he wouldn't say. Then his secretary, going by the name "Peanut," sent me their intimate photos. I understood everything. I calmly saved the photos and opened my mom's chat. I sent a single message: [Mom, I've decided to come home for the arranged marriage.] Mom immediately video-called me. "Sweetheart, we'll set the wedding for the end of this month." Fifteen days. That's all that's left between Jason and me.

Before heading off to war, Sebastian Crawford made a solemn blood vow on his honor—just to keep me from worrying while he was gone. He promised to come back and marry me with a grand ceremony, the whole nine yards. Eight years later, Sebastian returned as a general, draped in glory. But by his side was a woman—dressed like a man, her very pregnant belly sticking out like a sore thumb. I took a deep breath, calmly slipped off my engagement ring, and called the whole thing off. Sebastian scowled, clearly annoyed. "Lena bled with me on the battlefield. I've always seen her as a brother in arms. She's pregnant because she helped me take care of a physical need. It was simple and practical. No strings attached." I let out a bitter laugh. Then I sent a messenger pigeon. "Fine. Then I'll find someone to help me out too."

My husband, Aston Powell, is late to show up at the sixth birthday celebration of our daughter, Hailey Powell. When he arrives, he clasps a necklace with a red emerald pendant hanging from it around her neck. "Wow, Aston! Isn't that from the pair of red emerald pendants you bought at City Auction today? They're worth seven figures, aren't they?" Aston's friends all laugh and tease him. Hailey holds up the pendant with a bright smile on her face. "Thanks, Daddy!" "Where's the other one? Are you planning to give it to Belinda?" his friend asks teasingly. As the others start cheering him on, he takes out a diamond necklace instead. Aston says, "Dear, I've got to be fair. Tamara is pregnant with my child. I promised I'd give the child she's carrying in her belly the other pendant." Tamara Davies is his widowed sister-in-law. My whole body jolts involuntarily, and I subconsciously grip that necklace tightly. "Honey, please don't joke about this." Aston smiles and speaks in an unexpectedly calm voice. "Don't worry, Belinda. My heart belongs to you and only you. You have to be sensible. My brother passed away so young. Tamara begged me to give her a child with our surname. I couldn't reject her." He puts the necklace around my neck and lightly clasps it, placing a soft kiss on my neck while he is at it. "Be good, okay? That was just an accident. Once the child is born, we'll have her sent back to Powell Manor," Aston says.