Melodramatic Short Stories & Mistress Family Emotions Novels

After his twin brother dies, my husband, Cassian Howell, starts supporting two households, splitting our family's money equally between them. Half goes to our daughter and me, and the other half goes to his late brother's widow, Esther Heaton, and her son, Noah Howell. He says he can't let his nephew grow up without a father figure. When our daughter, Anne Howell, graduates from elementary school, her teacher asks each student to contribute 50 dollars toward graduation photos. Cassian refuses at once, calling it an unnecessary expense. It's the same excuse he used the week before when I asked him for new undergarments. I call him. "I'll go without if I have to, but everyone in her class is getting graduation photos. Anne is the only one who hasn't paid." He sounds annoyed. "Faye, you know I have two households to support. We have to cut costs wherever we can." Before I can answer, he hangs up on me. Moments later, Esther posts a photo in our family group chat: a limited-edition children's camera and a brand-new designer bag. Her caption reads, "Thank you for the gifts, Cassian! I'm so grateful Noah has a father figure in his life, all thanks to you." I stare at the words "father figure" for a long moment before I finally understand. In Cassian's heart, Esther and her son are his real family. Anne and I are just outsiders he can afford to neglect.

A blizzard had buried the mountain, turning every road into a death trap. Locals called it Deadman's Pass—seventy-two icy switchbacks with zero room for error. As the only person who had ever made it through without a scratch, I'd just gotten a million-dollar rescue call from beyond the final curve. Ten years ago, I went there once. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was skydiving with her classmates when a violent air current forced an emergency landing. The rescue came too late. She died there. Later, I learned my husband, Jayden Boone, had ignored Maya's safety. He poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into the rescue effort and redirected every team to save his ex's daughter instead. The girl had only sprained her ankle on a hiking trip. The day Maya died, I walked away from my career as a professor and stayed here, living as a broke driver. I risked my life running Deadman's Pass again and again until I knew every turn by heart. In the ten years since, no one else had died on that road. Today, a friend shoved a million-dollar rescue job in front of me and told me to leave right away. I looked at the face in the photo—the one I could never forget. Then I smiled and tossed my keys onto the table. "I can't take this job."

I fell in love with a man I should never have touched—my brother-in-law, Lucas Zahn. The first time he came to our home with my sister, Quincy, they looked like the perfect couple. He smiled at me, held out a peace talisman bracelet, and said it would keep me safe. I wore it like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the old injury in my ankle flared up, he would scoop me into his arms and rush me to the hospital without a second thought. When thugs tried to harass me, he made them scatter with a single look, then spoke to me in a voice so gentle it made my heart tremble. I told myself I understood—that everything he did was only because I was Quincy’s younger sister. Even so, I clung to those rare moments when I could be near him. Until the night Lucas was drugged by an enemy, his life teetering on the edge. If no one acted, he would die. So, I acted. On that reckless, desperate night, my sister walked in. The sight struck her like a lightning bolt, and she collapsed, her weak heart seizing on the spot. What came next was madness. In a frenzy of rage and panic, Lucas tied me to an operating table. His hands—those hands I once longed to hold—cut open my chest and tore my heart out for her. “When the avalanche hit, Quincy nearly died saving me. I swore I’d treat her well for the rest of my life. That means loving her family, too. I never thought you’d be so shameless. “This is what you owe her!” He never knew that I was the one who saved him in that avalanche. So, I died in agony, my love carved out of me—literally. When my eyes opened again, I found myself back on the night he was drunk.

I was a real estate agent. My mother, Jenna Bennett, approached me privately and asked me to sell her property. "Your dad is having a hard time with his business. I want to help him out." The property had been left to Mom by my grandmother, Renna Patterson, so she'd always have a small refuge of her own, a place where she could feel safe and secure. Now, for my father's sake, Mom was selling that refuge at a bargain price. It didn't take long for a buyer to contact me. The woman asked, "Hi, could you hold the property for me until next week? I'd like my partner to give it to me for my birthday." I caught sight of a photo of her and her "partner" on her phone screen, and froze. It was Dad. I smiled and nodded at the woman. "Of course. I look forward to seeing your partner next week."

On our wedding anniversary, my husband left me standing in the pouring rain so he could drive his secretary home. That was the last straw for me, and I asked for a divorce. I gave up custody of our son, but Charlie simply gave me a cold look. "What, are you trying to use our child as an excuse to keep clinging to me?" I smiled and said nothing. I would not. Because I had heard the son I had nearly died giving birth to mutter in his sleep, "I want Megan to be my mom. Dad and I will protect her."

When Bradley Jaeger heard that his mother had suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and slipped into a coma, his mind went completely blank. Without a second thought, he rushed out of his office. However, Sierra Perkins stopped him with a cool, flat voice. "It's still working hours. Where do you think you're going?" Bradley's eyes reddened as he faced the woman he was about to marry. "My mom is in the hospital, fighting for her life." "Going there won't change anything. You're going to be my husband; you should be setting an example, not ditching work." Sierra remained unmoved, and her delicate features were beautiful but coldly distant. Bradley froze for a moment. "But this is an emergency. I'm only asking to leave ten minutes early..." Sierra's tone grew firmer, and her voice was as cold as frost. "Bradley, go back to your desk. It's rush hour, so you won't be able to get a cab. Just wait for ten minutes, and you can ride over with me." It was indeed rush hour, and rides were hard to come by. Besides, all he had to do was wait ten minutes. In a daze, Bradley turned around and sat back down at his desk. Over and over, he tried to convince himself that Sierra had a point. Yet for some reason, his eyes burned and ached unbearably.

It's in our third year of marriage that I first discover Tabitha Palmer is cheating on me. That night, she kneels outside my door in the pouring rain, crying and begging for my forgiveness. Holding my one-month-old daughter, Arlene Wilder, in their arms, my parents also plead Tabitha's case. "Why don't you give Tabitha one more chance? Arlene still needs her." The sight of Arlene, still in her swaddling clothes, makes my heart soften. Over the next five years, Tabitha treats me with the utmost tenderness, as though the betrayal never happens at all. One day, we go home for Thanksgiving. I see my younger brother, Glen Wilder, who has been living abroad for many years, and beside him is a little boy. I freeze for a moment, then turn to ask my mother, Agnes Osborne, "Glen's married? Why didn't I know about it? And he's got a kid that big already?" No sooner have the words left my mouth than the little boy hurls himself into Tabitha's arms. "Mommy, I miss you so much!" A shock runs through me, and I whip my head toward Tabitha. My parents exchange a glance, then break it to me gingerly. "The truth is, Tabitha had been pregnant once before. In fact, it was even earlier than when she had Arlene." With a serene expression and practiced motion, Tabitha picks up the little boy. "Mom and Dad are telling the truth. Glen and I have a son, Clarence Wilder. He's seven years old this year."

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!"

The trip for my wedding photoshoot had been planned for weeks, but I came down with acute gastroenteritis out of nowhere. My fiancée, April Neville, looked at me with nothing but concern. "Then none of us will go. What's the point of a trip without the leading man?" My best friend, her sister, and her closest girlfriend all agreed without hesitation. I thought I had found a once-in-a-lifetime love and friendships to match. Some time later, I picked up my fiancée's tablet to stream a show and accidentally tapped into a shared cloud album. In the latest live photo, my fiancée and her ex-boyfriend were kissing beneath the bell tower in Miravel. The friends who had sworn the trip would mean nothing without me were clapping and cheering in the background. "April and Sebastian finally got their happy ending. You have to admit, it's pretty romantic." "Without Oliver stirring things up, Sebastian's so much happier." "He probably still has no idea they never even bought him a ticket. The only one they booked was for Sebastian." "And his stomach bug? April left him that glass of juice on purpose. It had been sitting out for two days." Listening to those familiar voices, a chill settled over me. If the leading man in April's heart was never me, then it was time I went and found the leading lady meant for me.

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry. Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car. I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.] The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his. "Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me." I stroked my son's pale, bluish face. "Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."

On my birthday, my girlfriend of ten years, Bella Dixon, tells me she wants to propose. I arrived at the spot, overjoyed, only to see smoke everywhere as my mom, Hannah Moore, screams from inside the house. Trauma from the fire three years ago overwhelms me again, leaving me breathless. To save Mom, I claw my hands raw over the short distance of 16 feet, leaving a trail of blood behind me. When I throw open the door, trembling, I see Mom laughing heartily with her godson, Jasper Wilder. Disgust fills her eyes when she sees how pale I am. "Thanks to Jasper's exposure therapy, you're finally desensitized. Hurry up and thank him." Jasper turns off the sound effects on his phone and leans against Bella's shoulder, laughing and giving me a playful wink. "Jason was such a good sport. Though all that blood, ash and bodily waste was pretty disgusting. Hannah, thanks for your support. I finally have enough material for my PTSD treatment case study." Bella steadies Jasper, then meets my disbelieving gaze. She says casually, "Jasper is only trying to help you. Instead of avoiding it, facing a real-life situation like this is much more effective." The sight before me makes my breath hitch, and I can't even form a complete sentence. "Alright, go clean yourself up. Hannah and I are taking Jasper out to celebrate first." As I watch the three of them leave, my legs finally give out, and I slump to the floor. I have PTSD from that fire years ago, when I tried to save her. Yet she shows me no sympathy and thinks of me as a burden. Even Mom is willing to put on an act with an outsider and use my traumatic experience as research material. In that case, I may as well leave your world for good.

My younger brother, Jude Lockhart, is so obsessed with my girlfriend, Kendra Sable, that he's become mentally unstable. He threatens to kill himself every few days. Desperate to keep Jude from hurting himself, my parents and Kendra come up with a twisted little game. They put together a series of mystery boxes. Whoever draws the box marked "Skip" loses the date, while the other person gets to take Kendra out. I refuse to play along at first, but Kendra reassures me that it's only a way to keep Jude calm. She asks me to cooperate for the sake of keeping the family together. But I have terrible luck. That means Jude gets to go on the date with Kendra every time, and all I can do is watch as the two of them go out to dinner together and even take wedding photos. When it becomes clear that they're actually planning to get married, I finally have enough. I'm ready to confront Kendra and put an end to this ridiculous game. Instead, I catch her at a jewelry store with Jude, the two of them showing off their marriage certificate while they shop for wedding jewelry. Mom and Dad are practically giddy as they help the newlyweds pick out their jewelry. "This is wonderful! You two are finally married. A special day like this calls for a few more pieces of jewelry to celebrate!" "Mom, Dad, we couldn't have gotten together without your help," Jude says, holding Kendra's hand tightly as he turns toward them. "You rigged the mystery boxes so that every single one contained a little slip marked 'Skip'. "Since Owen always drew first, I was guaranteed the chance to go out with Kendra and eventually build a happy life with her. He never even knew." "Keep it down," Kendra says in a hushed voice, leaning against Jude's shoulder. "Don't let Owen find out, or he'll make another scene." My blood runs cold. So this is the truth. My entire family—and even my girlfriend—have been working together behind my back this whole time. I take out my phone and book a flight out of town. If there's no place for me in this family, I'll give them exactly what they want.

Four years after marrying Wesley Coleman, Emma Payne is expecting a baby. She shows up at the hospital with her forms to get registered, but when the nurse runs her info, she tells her that the marriage certificate isn't valid. Emma simply can't believe it. "No way. That can't be right." The nurse taps on the stamp. "Look at that. The seal is all crooked, and the code doesn't check out." Emma isn't convinced yet. She rushes to the courthouse, but they tell her the same thing. "Mr. Coleman is married, and his spouse's name is Sandra Payne." The news hits her like a ton of bricks. Her mind just goes blank. Sandra Payne is Emma's half-sister. Worst of all, she is also Wesley's first love. Years ago, she went abroad to chase her dreams. She never showed up to her own wedding and left Wesley heartbroken. And now, she is actually his legal wife.

At two in the morning, my sister, Paige Boyce, paid men to smash up my barbecue stand. I fought to make them stop, ignoring the embers that scorched blisters into my skin as they landed. It was the first time in my life I'd ever raised my voice at her. "After Mom and Dad died in that plane crash, this stand paid for four years of your college education and helped you become a flight attendant for Golden Crest Airlines," I said. "Are you really going to destroy the only thing keeping us alive?" Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of reluctance, but she steeled herself and scoffed. "I've told you a hundred times to get rid of this dump of a stand, and you never listen. Do you want my boyfriend's parents to see what an embarrassing family I have and decide I'm not good enough for their son?" I looked around at the wreckage. The vegetables and cuts of meat I'd hand-picked at the market that afternoon, spent hours threading onto skewers myself, were buried under ash and grime. My eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. I didn't have the heart to argue with her. Hands shaking, I started picking up whatever skewers were still salvageable, one by one. That was when a black card appeared in front of my face. "The day after tomorrow, I'm bringing Paige to meet my parents," the voice said. "This should be enough to buy yourself a real shop, so you don't embarrass her in front of everyone." I recognized that voice instantly and looked up slowly. The hand holding the black card belonged to Charlie Anton, the boyfriend I'd been secretly dating for five years.

My sister gets into an accident and needs an emergency blood transfusion when I'm six months pregnant. After a round of tests, my blood is the only suitable one. I'm exhausted and too skinny after being tormented by morning sickness. I have to say no. However, my family forces me to do it. I have no strength to resist; I can only beg my husband for help. To my devastation, he stands by and watches me coldly. "It's fine for you to donate some blood since you're so healthy. Queenie isn't the same as you—she has a bright future ahead, so we can't let anything affect that." I pass out after the blood donation. The first thing I do when I wake up is make an appointment for an abortion.

During a gathering with friends, my husband, Kevin Graham, was asked a question by his buddy in Froise. "What are you going to do with your lover, who's two months pregnant with your baby?" Kevin smiled while helping me cut up my steak, and he replied in Froise, "Evie doesn't like children. I'll get Kandi Chutnam to give birth to the baby and send them overseas after that. At least I'll have a child of my own." Tears streamed down my cheek as I ate my steak, and Kevin asked nervously, "What's wrong, Evie?" I wiped away my tears and replied with a smile, "I must've used too much hot sauce." However, there was no hot sauce on the table. I was crying because I understood Froise.