Contos sobre Tragic Love e Romances com Mistress e Face Slapping

When Peter, my father-in-law, suffered a heart attack and needed an urgent transplant, the hospital miraculously had a compatible heart. Helen, my mother-in-law and I were overjoyed. We thought it was a blessing from above. However, just as we were getting ready for surgery, Nate, my husband, disappeared with the compatible heart. When we finally reached him by phone, it was Camile, his first love. “Nate is busy prepping for my dad’s heart surgery. Stop distracting him!” Helen was trembling with fury. On her way to confront Nate, she got into a car accident and ended up in a critical condition. I begged Nate to come back and operate on her, but he walked into another operating room. In the end, my in-laws died. Their bodies were donated for organ transplant. It was not until later that I found out that their organs had been donated to Camile’s family.

On Christmas, I prepare a feast and wait for my wife to introduce me to her family after nine years of being married in secret. Just as I wait with anticipation, my wife walks through the door, holding her first love's hand. Their fingers are interlocked, and their eyes are brimming with affection. "Mom. Dad. This is Henry Cooper, my husband. We've been secretly married for the past ten years." "What a handsome young man. You two look perfect together!" My mother-in-law is grinning from ear to ear. They stand there chatting, looking like a happy family. Then my wife turns to me, her gaze icy. "This is my live-in housekeeper. Come try the food and see if you like it." My wife invites her family to take their seats, but Henry Cooper looks at me with a hint of disdain. "The host hasn't even sat down yet. How can the housekeeper sit first? Where are your manners?"

Throughout our seven-year marriage, my CEO wife, Ruby Irving, goes on yet another business trip on Memorial Day once again, so she can't travel back to my hometown with me. But soon, I saw the photos uploaded by her assistant, Wilbur Stork, on his social media feed that featured her sweeping the grave in his hometown instead. The caption writes, "Mom and Dad must be very satisfied with their daughter-in-law because the gloomy weather has cleared up in an instant." I chortle in amusement for a brief moment before liking the post calmly. Then, I comment, "I respect your relationship and wish you nothing but happiness." But my colleagues all go nuts over the latest bombshell. They are quick to form their chat groups and speculate as to how I'm going to cause my next ruckus in the company this time. Ruby soon calls me while sounding very stern. "I know Wilbur does things very brashly due to his young age, but you shouldn't have caused him trouble in the comment section! What will everyone else in the company think of him? How is Wilbur supposed to continue working in this company? "Moreover, Wilbur doesn't have anyone left in his family. What's wrong with me keeping him company just this once? People with happy families like you don't have empathy for others at all! "I want you to delete your comment and remove your like right now. Once the holidays are over, I'll free up some time in my schedule to go back to your hometown with you." As I listen to Ruby making yet another empty promise to me in such a casual way, I let out a soft chuckle. "It's fine." Once the holidays are over, we'll be able to obtain our divorce certificates.

When my boyfriend, Caleb Steele, loses his family and everything he has, I walk away. After he makes a comeback, I come to see him every year. The first year, I hold my daughter, Claire Sutton, in my arms. Caleb throws fifty thousand dollars at me and tells me to stay away. The second year, I bring my late-stage cancer diagnosis, and he doesn't even look at it. Instead, he gives me a hundred thousand dollars and tells me to disappear for good. In the third and fourth years, I vanish just as he wants. Then, in the fifth year, he gets a call from Claire. "Mommy, when are you bringing me dinner? I'm hungry."

The night before the Fourth of July holiday, my husband gathered the entire company for what I thought would finally be our long-awaited public announcement. Instead, his clueless assistant burst into the room wearing a wedding dress. "Cameron, I'm here to marry you." He didn't turn her down. If anything, his eyes softened with unmistakable affection as he promoted her to vice president on the spot. The entire company erupted in cheers for their love story. When my coworkers noticed me standing frozen off to the side, one of them couldn't resist reminding me. "Stephanie, you've been with Mr. Cox for nine years. You can't let a moment this special pass without saying something!" I smiled, walked onto the stage, slipped off my wedding ring, and tossed it to Poppy Campbell. "What kind of wedding doesn't come with a ring? Here, take it."

My boyfriend of six years, Liam Sherman, proposes to his long-time crush, Vivi Johansen, on my birthday. With that, the passionate love between us is a thing of the past. I come to my senses and distance myself from him, choosing to put our relationship behind us. As such, I decided to go along with the arranged marriage my family has planned.

The day we go to pick out our wedding rings, I show up half an hour late trying to save five dollars on the cab fare. By the time I arrive, my boyfriend Travis White and best friend Evelyn Moon have already picked out two rings. They're too busy talking and don't even notice me standing behind them. "This 20 thousand dollar ring is your birthday present. And this 800-dollar one is for Sadie." Evelyn playfully punches Travis's arm. "Stop it! You've already been pretending to be broke to test Sadie for three years. Isn't that enough? "If you dare treat my best friend badly after getting married, you'll have to answer to me!" Travis sighs. "I checked her bank balance last night. She's only got two thousand dollars. She spends too much and doesn't know how to save." I freeze. So, the luxury purchases and property acquisitions I've seen on his phone aren't sent to the wrong person after all. "Whatever. As long as she doesn't get greedy when she chooses the ring, I'll tell her the truth at the wedding," Travis adds. But I think it's time to put an end to his little test.

Three years into our marriage, my wife brought home a ten-year-old boy. She said he was the orphaned son of her late best friend. I believed her. I treated him like my own child. Until I found official records listing that so-called orphan as my son. When I confronted my wife, I saw a pinned message on her phone. “Thanks for working so hard, babe. Once Noah is old enough, I’ll make sure Lucas leaves with nothing.” My world collapsed. They thought I was just another fool they could play. They forgot one thing. My last name is Barner. And my father serves as the deputy commander of the Southern Command.

My boyfriend, Marcus Reid, had hearing loss, so he often couldn’t make out what I said. I asked him to buy a skincare set, but he came home with two. "I must have heard you wrong again. I'll just give the extra one to Lauren." I asked him to buy a chocolate cake, but he came home with vanilla. "I heard you wrong. Lauren likes this flavor, l'll just give it to her." Later, I carefully designed our future home and asked him to buy a house for us in Southville. But on the day we were supposed to inspect the house, he drove us all the way to Northville instead. When he noticed that I hadn't said a word the entire time, he apologized, "I'm really sorry. I didn't hear you clearly. I thought you liked the view here in Northville, so I bought the house without thinking twice." But I knew his childhood sweetheart, Lauren Hale, worked at a company nearby. He didn't fail to hear me. He simply never wanted to listen. At that moment, I suddenly felt completely disappointed. So I calmly said, "Marcus, we're breaking up."

At the celebration dinner, my wife lifted her glass and drank on behalf of her male assistant. I overturned the table without hesitation, then walked out and called my lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. By that night, she had already received notice. She would be leaving with nothing. She called right away, fury in her voice. "Are you serious? You're divorcing me over a single drink?" "Yes," I said. "Over that one drink." I would not tolerate betrayal. Not even a hint of it.

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.

On the day I receive my Distinguished Service Medal, I also receive word that my grandma has passed away. My superior grants me special leave to return to my hometown to mourn her death, so I rush to my ancestral home at once. But when I reach the ancestral graveyard behind the hill, I witness something that makes my blood boil. The graves of my deceased family members have been razed to the ground. Even my parents' graves have been brutally dug up. Their urns are now placed under flower pots filled with blooming red roses. Grandma's coffin has been pried open as well.Her body now lies strewn on the ground and has started to rot. I also see Lucy Stewart, my autistic younger sister. Melissa Abbott, my wife's assistant, orders Lucy around like a maid, forcing her to move heavy construction materials around. Enraged, I grab Melissa by the throat and throw her to the ground. "How dare you destroy my family's ancestral cemetery and make my sister do hard labor! Do you want to end up buried here too?" Melissa coughs up blood before crawling back onto her feet, her expression vicious and scornful. "I'm simply carrying out Ms. Fuller's instructions. She says that your ancestral cemetery is located in a good spot. It's also the perfect size to be turned into a private horse ranch and a garden for her future husband. "Ms. Fuller calls the shots here in Joverton City. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" Resisting the urge to put an end to her life, I call up Eva Fuller, my wife. "I heard you call the shots here in Joverton City. Well, I shall put that to the test today!"

On the day of my pre-wedding photoshoot, the photographer compliments me, saying I look just like my sister, Jenna Shaw, when I smile. My fiance, Clifton Cooper, immediately asks Jenna to change into a white wedding dress as well, saying she might as well take a few photos for keepsakes. When selecting the photos, the whole family gathers around Jenna's set of pictures and praises them. My mother, Victoria Winn, says Jenna is naturally suited to wearing a wedding dress. My father, Reginald Shaw, says she looks more radiant and poised than me, the bride-to-be. Clifton stares at the screen for a long time, then points to the one where Jenna glances back over her shoulder. "Jenna looks great in this one. Let's put this one at the wedding welcome area." Only when I ask him where my photos will go does he finally seem to remember my existence. "Since you and Jenna look so much alike, the guests won't be able to tell the difference. Besides, Jenna isn't getting married, so it isn't easy for her to get a chance to wear a wedding dress." A laugh suddenly escapes me. Ever since we were little, it's never been easy for Jenna, so I'm supposed to give in to her. Not only do I have to give her whatever she wants, but I'm not allowed to have anything she doesn't have either. Even my wedding has to be about making her dream come true. I pull the only photo of Clifton and me together from the album. In the photo, I stand beside Clifton, smiling with all my might. But looking at it now, all I feel is that I'm looking at a stranger. It turns out spring is never late. It's just that I've been standing in someone else's shadow, waiting for it. Well, this time, I don't want to wait anymore.

On my wedding day, 12 confetti cannons go off as the bridal car pulls up to the venue. My fiancee, Giselle Warren, accepts the cash gift Dad offers her—but she refuses to step out of the car. Assuming the amount isn't enough, Dad quickly reaches into his suit jacket for another envelope, but Giselle shakes her head. "That won't be necessary." Then, with every guest watching in stunned silence, she pulls out a bag filled with electronic tracking monitors. They're numbered 1 through 63, each tag labeled with the name of a relative on my family's guest list. "Tell your family to put these on right now," she says coldly. "Otherwise, I'm not getting out of this car." Dad forces a nervous, accommodating smile. He doesn't know what the devices are—he just knows this is the most important day of my life. He reaches out to take the bag. My fists clench, and I step in front of him, blocking his hand. Giselle's face hardens. "Last month, when Shawn invited your family over for dinner, an expensive watch and 20,000 dollars in cash went missing from his room! "This is the most important day of my life. If your redneck relatives start swiping bottles of wine, hoarding party favors, and stealing from my guests today, I won't survive the embarrassment!" Shawn Warren is her foster brother. They aren't related by blood, but she defends him like family. Dad's face flushes a deep, painful red, but he still places a trembling hand on my shoulder. "Just let them wear them. Don't upset your bride on your wedding day. Your mom and I will explain it to the relatives. Don't let this delay the ceremony. "If they haven't done anything wrong, wearing them won't hurt." I watch Dad's shoulders slump in humiliation as he turns away. Without hesitation, I pull out my phone and dial the venue manager. "Cancel the reception. The wedding is off."

I am the eldest son of the prestigious Swain family in the capital. To test Snow Wardle's sincerity, I hid my identity and started from the bottom alongside her. Five years later, upon my return to the country, I was confronted by her lover, Chad Foreman, at a mall called "JesseSnow" which was named after me. Chad forced me to kneel and lick his boots and even asked his lackeys to beat me and my nanny, May. When Snow showed up, not only did she refuse to apologize, she defended Chad. She even cut off my finances and had her lawyer file a lawsuit against me for damages. I could not hold back any longer and called in the power of the Swain family. When the truth was revealed, Snow grovelled for mercy, but she could not mask her greedy nature. In the end, I reclaimed everything and made the traitors pay the price. I finally realized that this misplaced love needed to end, once and for all.

On our wedding day, I opened the bridal limousine with a smile and found a live hen inside instead of my bride. The surprise passed, and I was calm again. It had to be another stunt from Miles Carrington, my fiancee's possessive adopted brother. When I turned, there he was, hanging off Vanessa's arm exactly as expected. "Vanessa's marrying you, so I'm the one left all alone." I was about to lose my temper when Vanessa smiled at him indulgently and turned to the officiant. "The hen can stand in for me. The ceremony means the same thing either way." The officiant looked mortified. For the sake of the Rowe and Carrington name, I swallowed it. Again. Then came the send-off to the bridal suite. The guests were still cheering when I eased the door open. Miles had Vanessa pinned to the bed, thrashing around like a toddler mid-tantrum. "I'm not sleeping alone tonight. Vanessa has to stay with me." I'd hit my limit, but Vanessa cut me off before I could get a word out. "Then we'll move the wedding night to next month." The room went dead silent. She kept going as if nothing about this were strange. "Miles is traveling overseas with friends next month. We can have it then." She wore a faint smile, certain I'd still be the dignified, forgiving man she planned to marry. Instead, I took off my boutonniere. "Don't bother."

My mother is the Royal duchy and I am her sole heir. My mother was once deceived by my father, which nearly bankrupted our family. That bastard father of mine disappeared without a trace, taking the fortune he'd stolen from my mother and running off with his mistress. To prevent me from falling for the same kind of man in the future—to keep me from being fooled and robbed blind—my mother adopted two war orphans. She planned to raise them as potential husband candidates for me. But mother never knew the truth. These two men appeared respectful and obedient to her arrangements on the surface. But privately, they were both infatuated with my maid Josie. They constantly neglected me and made my life difficult, all to win her favor. My favorite, Marcus Reed, even gave up his own last name. He changed it to Josie's—Marcus Thompson. The betrayal cut deeper than I'd expected. Before mother died, she asked me the question I'd been dreading. "Which one do you want to choose as your husband?" But I had heard something interesting lately. There was a mafia heir—Vincent Rossi—who was notorious for his violence. He'd killed innocent people. Years of brutal fighting had left him severely injured. The doctors said he had less than six months to live. The mafia Rossi family wanted to marry him to a noblewoman before he died. I didn't hesitate to reach out to him. I offered an alliance through marriage. To my surprise, the Rossi family agreed. But on my wedding day, Marcus and the other candidate burst into the ceremony. They begged me to reconsider. "Please, don't do this!" Marcus shouted, his face desperate. "You can't marry him!" I stood there in my wedding dress, looking at the two men who had spent years ignoring me for my maid. Now they wanted me back? How interesting.

While cleaning the house, I noticed my box of new razor blades had been opened. Without hesitation, I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement and send it to my wife, Rachel Jackman. She called me right away. "Are you kicking up a fuss again? What is it this time?" I fought to keep my emotions under control and said, "One of the razor blades in the drawer is missing."

It's the summer of 1985. After the floodwaters recede, Phoebe Graham quietly holds a funeral for her daughter, Macey Lane, who has just turned one. From that day on, everyone in the police family compound notices the change in her. In the mornings, she no longer washes Reuben Lane's uniform and hangs it beneath the eaves. At noon, she stops spending two hours simmering rich broths to carry over to his office. At night, she no longer sits beneath the lamp, mending his clothes while anxiously watching the clock for his return. She stops yearning for a quick chat and stops sharing the little details of her day. Even after a car crash leaves her in the hospital needing surgery, she tells the doctor she has no family when they ask for an emergency contact. With blood-stained fingers, she signs her own consent form. She stays in that bed for a week without reaching out to Reuben. On the day she gets discharged, news finally reaches Reuben, and he rushes over to the hospital.

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.