Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Plot Twists at mga Nobela ng Mistress na may Family Emotions

My dormmate has dropped out of college to get married. Before that, she shares a livestream link on the college forum. She claims her husband has cheated on her, and she wants to stream how she punishes the homewrecker. She asks everyone to share the link and hype the situation up. I don't take her words to heart. To my surprise, she barges into my house with a group of people that afternoon. She trashes the place and screams bloody murder at me. It seems she thinks I'm the homewrecker. It's only from her words that I understand her rich and handsome husband is my father. Well, since she's caused such a scene, it looks like her darling is going to lose his job and leave this family without a penny to his name.

When my mother asked me who I wanted to marry, this time, I chose none of them. Instead, I decided to go to the Northwest and serve my country. In my previous life, both my childhood friend, once a captain, and my educated fiancé courted me. I had feelings for both. But while I was still struggling to decide who I wanted as my husband, both accidentally ingested something. In a dazed state, I spent a chaotic night. After that, my parents asked one of the men to marry me. On the wedding day, the first love in both their hearts, the woman they had always truly loved, found out the truth. Out of spite, she accepted a local thug’s proposal. After marrying him, she was forced to give birth to ten children, one after another, until she died tragically. After her death, both men grabbed me by the throat and asked, “Why did she have to die such a miserable death, while you’re still alive and well?” They strangled me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my childhood friend and my fiancé had been drugged.

To repay my parents for raising me for 20 years, I donate one of my kidneys to Samuel Caldwell, their biological son, curing him of his uremia. After Samuel recovers, he returns to the stage, dazzling audiences with his piano performances. Meanwhile, I survive on hormone treatments. My body is swollen beyond recognition, and I look utterly disgusting. I lock myself up in the house, staring blankly out the window day after day. Through it all, my fiancee, Shelby Holloway, never leaves my side. She comes up with new low-calorie meals every day and patiently helps me rebuild my strength. "Nick, make sure you get plenty of rest and don't overexert yourself, okay? I have a meeting to attend, so wait for me at home." Before she leaves, she gently straightens my collar. I truly believe life is slowly getting better. Then, in the backstage area of a theater, I catch Samuel holding Shelby tightly in his arms. "Shelby, Nick's in such poor health. I shouldn't be taking you away from him." Shelby buries herself against his chest, her voice full of pain. "What are you talking about? If it weren't for saving you, I never would have married that impostor. Every time I look at him, I feel sick. He looks like a pig! He'd have done everyone a great favor if he'd died on the operating table that day!" Shelby casts aside the bond we've shared since childhood and even wishes for my death, all for Samuel's sake. Just as well, I have no desire to continue living anymore either.

Just before the new school term started, my daughter's parent group chat, which had been quiet for ages, suddenly announced that the first parent-teacher meeting of the semester would be held that night. The rule was: both parents had to attend. A long string of "Got it" followed. I was about to reply when I noticed someone had beaten me to it. A guy with a family photo as his profile picture sent a voice message. "I'm Emma Sullivan's dad. We'll be there!" I froze. I clicked into the member list and checked repeatedly. My daughter's name was Emma Sullivan. He said he was Emma's dad. Then who the hell was I? I immediately called my wife. Before I could say a word, I heard her cheerful voice. "Honey, my best friend just asked me to dinner tonight. I'm bringing our daughter. Just make something at home yourself, and get some sleep early." My heart skipped a beat. Her best friend's husband was my good friend. He had just posted a family vacation photo from the Maldives on his social media. There was no way she was meeting her for dinner that night. I paused for a second, then smiled and said, "Sounds good." I hung up, called a car, and headed straight to my daughter's school. Let's find out exactly who my daughter's other father was.

After getting remarried, I started renting out my husband. Whenever his “one true love” called, he’d leave my side without hesitation. I stopped begging, stopped crying, and started charging by the hour instead. Daytime rates: $15,000 an hour. Evenings: $30,000 an hour. Holidays: triple rate. Three months later, my account had grown by nearly $3 million. He promised to help me pick out a gown for a formal dinner, but then she called in tears because she’d nicked her hand while cooking. I didn’t argue. I just held out my payment QR code. One night, I spiked a high fever. On the way to the hospital, she called again, saying the thunder was too loud and she was scared to sleep alone. I quietly took out an umbrella and told my husband to drop me off at the next corner. When he looked at me like he wanted to say something, I only smiled. “Don’t forget to send the money.” Then came the day our daughter was due for a follow-up appointment at the hospital. She called again. “Hugo wants to go to the amusement park. Those big rides really need a man around...” After hanging up, he turned toward our daughter, about to crouch down and explain. But before he could speak, our daughter copied me and held out her hand. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just send the money. Today’s a holiday, so that’s triple.”

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

I spend an entire year preparing to get my daughter, Quincy Lindell, into a top international school. By the time the application review date rolls around, I have all the documents ready. I just need my wife's and my original marriage certificate to seal the deal. However, when I reach the admissions office, my wife, Wendy, blames me for taking matters into my own hands. I am about to explode when the school staff member says with a strange expression, "Mr. Howards, our system shows that you are not Ms. Lindell's spouse." My blood turns to ice. Before I can react, Zachary Shea, who has been quietly standing behind Wendy, passes his wedding certificate to the person in charge. The school staff member nods after checking her computer. "Ms. Lindell, Mr. Shea, your certificate was validated seven and a half years ago. You can now register your child for this school." Seven and a half years ago… That was the date of Wendy's and my engagement party. She held my hand in front of a room full of guests and said that I would be the only man she ever loved. That one sentence was enough to fool me for seven years.

I was in San Aria Bay with my mom, enjoying a quiet, sunlit getaway, when my phone suddenly lit up with a string of messages from my husband's ever-arrogant secretary. She sent a photo. The woman in it had been stripped naked, her body covered in blood, the sight almost unbearable. A voice message followed, her tone dripping with disdain. "Jeannie, do people like you always take advantage of others like this? "Mr. Smith just bought this house, and you already had your mother move in for free? As his chief secretary, it's my responsibility to remove anyone living off him."

While I was completely in the dark, my husband secretly donated his sperm. Before long, the two women who had received it showed up at my doorstep. Both were heavily pregnant. And both moved into my house as if they owned the place. It was over a hundred degrees outside, yet they still had the nerve to order me to go out and buy them drinks. I told them to get out. Instead, they pointed their fingers in my face and cursed at me. "Bitch! From now on, we're Ryan's first and second wives. How dare you act so high and mighty?" "Our sons are going to inherit Ryan's business empire. You'd better take good care of us. If you behave, we might even let you stay on as the help." Furious, I called my husband home and demanded an explanation. But instead of standing by me, he took their side. "Victoria, they're just two poor women from the countryside. Cut them some slack and forgive them." I laughed right in his face. He had thrown away a wealthy, accomplished wife for two shameless strangers. "Don't forget who's really in charge of this family. Since you're so worried about them, you can get out with them."

Kyson Hale, the regimental commander, finally agrees to let me live with him on the military base. But in return, our son isn't allowed to address him as "dad". Kyson and I have been secretly married for eight years. I've taken care of his parents in the countryside for that long as well. After the death of his parents, my son, Darryl Hale, and I request Kyson to let us live with him on the military base. He agrees to our requests, but he has a condition of his own. "Once you've reached the military base, you shall declare to everyone else that you're just my relatives from the countryside." Only then do I realize that Kyson has another family of his own in the military. Some time later, I leave the army with Darryl without looking back. But Kyson, who's always been cold and distant, is alarmed by our disappearance.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

After we got married, my husband, Mason Callahan, handed over his debit card and told me to treat myself, no limits. Then his mom ended up in the hospital. The second he asked me to transfer the money for her treatment, I told him that there was none left. He flew into a rage. "I give you ten grand a month! How the hell can you have zero dollars left? "I said you could treat yourself, but you actually blew through every cent? You didn't save a dime? God, how did I end up marrying such a wasteful woman?" I didn't bother arguing. I simply asked for a divorce.

My blood-bonded vampire mate left me while I was pregnant to be with his "first love" in the human world. When danger struck, he abandoned our son to protect her human child, who was not in any danger. While our son was struggling with lethal UV burns and calling for his father through a high fever, he was celebrating under citywide fireworks with that human boy, who only had a common cold. He even took the life-saving serum I had prepared for our son, just to use it for the boy’s "pre-transformation conditioning." He coldly stated, "Vampires are resilient; he’ll endure it. Human children are too fragile." After four years of raising our son alone, I finally decided to leave. I officially cut our blood ties and moved away with our son. Only then did he find out that his "first love" had been lying to him all along. After learning the truth, the arrogant vampire prince wept and begged for us to come back.

On my wedding day, the groom, Robert Jensen, is nowhere to be seen. All that's left of him is a letter and a baby who's born with a heart disease. "I love you, Winona, but I've also fallen in love with Claire. Since I can't give her a proper title at all, I decided to go on a world trip with her in order to make it up to her. "I'll also give you a chance to raise my and Claire's baby. While we're enjoying our trip, you can spend some quality time with our baby." The thing is, I don't have any blood relations with this baby. Why the hell should I raise Robert and Claire's baby, to begin with? Six years later, I take my son, Anson Jensen, to the airport so that we can see my husband, Joshua Jensen, off to his business trip. When I turn around, I spot Robert, who's pushing his suitcase toward me. As he stares at Anson in my arms, he exclaims in surprise, "Winona, is this my and Claire's child? You raised him well! "Unfortunately, we're already married overseas, so I can no longer marry you. But don't worry, Winona. To me, you're already my wife." As I look at Robert's face, which is rather similar to Anson's features, I let out a soft chuckle. "Don't go around mistaking other people's children for your own, Robert. Anyway, this is your younger cousin."

When my daughter, Ruth Jensen, says for the tenth time that she wants a different mother, I don't get angry. I just calmly ask her who she wants instead. She blurts, "Vivian." She means Vivian Green, her tutor… and also the woman my husband has never been able to forget. At Ruth's birthday party that day, she even openly thanks Vivian, saying Vivian takes care of her like a mother. Looking at Ruth's young, innocent face, I finally understand that she doesn't like me. So, I stop caring for her and my husband the way I used to. Instead, I turn around and join a classified national project. Rather than wasting time on people who aren't worth it, I'd be better off serving my country!

For his preschool career assignment, my four-year-old son, Joey Parker, writes that he wants to be a homewrecker. When I stare at him in disbelief, he defends his choice with complete confidence. "Mommy's secretary, Mr. Sebastian Hayes, is a homewrecker, and he's living a pretty great life. "Mommy buys him fancy suits that you don't have, and she always drives him to and from work without fail." Joey tilts his head and looks at me curiously. "I hear the grown-ups calling him a homewrecker all the time. So why don't you become one, too? "Besides, they say male homewreckers are super rare. And you're so amazing, Daddy! I bet you'd be the best one ever!" My face drains of color. I stand frozen, unable to utter a single word. Years ago, one comment from my wife, Amelia Brooks, about needing someone to take care of the family for me was enough to make me quit my job and become a stay-at-home dad. For years, I've swallowed my hurt and endured one humiliation after another, all because I want our son to grow up in a complete family. I've never imagined that my patience would teach him to mistake being the other man for being loved. I'm about to respond when Joey interrupts me. "Daddy, I know you and Mommy fought today because she's going out to dinner with Mr. Hayes instead of celebrating your birthday with you. "I don't like it when you and Mommy fight. So when I grow up, I'll be a homewrecker, too. Then you won't have to fight anymore." It feels as though an invisible fist closes around my heart. Rage surges through me, making the veins in my forehead throb. But the moment I meet my son's innocent gaze, the question that has tormented me for years suddenly has an answer. "Joey, being a homewrecker is wrong. If you don't like living this way, then I'll take you somewhere new. We'll find a home of our own, one without your mommy."

While shopping at the supermarket, my daughter, Rebecca Westcott, stared longingly at the frozen fruit bars in the display case. I checked my bank balance, then reached for one. The steep price made me freeze. The sales clerk cheerfully explained, "You get what you pay for. This is the flavor kids love most." Seeing how awkward I was, Rebecca quickly spoke up. "Daddy, I don't want one. I was just looking. One of my classmates had one before. It wasn't anything special." My chest tightened with bitterness as I reluctantly started to put it back. Then a cool, unfamiliar voice spoke behind me. "It's the holidays. Let the kid have something that makes her happy." I turned in shock. A young man dressed head to toe in designer clothes dropped the frozen fruit bar into my cart. I immediately tried to refuse, but he ignored me and started filling my cart with all kinds of snacks. "You've got to be a little more generous as a dad. You can't be the kind of parent who ruins the fun. Relax, man. I've got it. I'll pay for everything." At the checkout, the man pulled out a black card and reassured me, "Don't feel pressured. It's a family card. This amount is nothing to my wife." I froze. A week earlier, I had seen an identical card in the pocket of my wife, Madeline Westcott.

Ever since I tied the knot with Connor Steele, he ditched his playboy ways and cut off all his side flings. Everyone thought I had him wrapped around my finger, with our perfect little family. But that all came crashing down on our ninth anniversary when I accidentally saw his group chat with his friends. [Connor, how was that Bentley ride with Ashley yesterday? Pretty wild, huh?] [We tried every spot imaginable. She's totally obsessed with me and can't get enough.] There was a steamy photo of them attached, and the group was blowing up with cheers and congrats, wishing them happiness ever after. I stared at the screen, feeling a sharp stab of pain hit me right in the chest. It turned out that all our happy moments were just a carefully staged performance. I sat there in a daze all night, waiting for him to get home. When he finally walked in with a cake, I let out a cold laugh. "I know everything now. Aren't you sick of faking it?"

I'm born different, with two hearts inside my body. This is the only thing about me that makes my parents happy, because my brother, Tristan Foster, has congenital heart disease. They bring me into this world only so he can keep living. Then I meet Cindy Green and marry her. She pulls me out of the desperate need to chase my family's love. I think she's going to be different from my parents. But when Tristan's condition flares up, she becomes obsessed with wanting me to donate one of my hearts to him. What she doesn't know is that I only have one heart left. The other one is already beating inside her.

After a wild month of partying across half the world, I unexpectedly found out that I was pregnant. I flew home overnight to surprise my husband, only to find a new nanny had moved into our house. Before I could say a word, she slapped me across the face. "What's a vixen like you doing here?" she snapped, fierce and full of herself. "Get out! This is my daughter's house! Out, out, out!" My hand froze halfway to dialing 911. I shot back instead, "Who's your daughter?" She settled onto the leather sofa I'd bought, crossed her legs smugly, and said, "My daughter is Paige Griffin, and her husband is Bradley Ford, Morlene City's hottest new rising star. Did you hear that clearly, or are your ears just for show?" My head started buzzing. I looked down at the wall-sized print of my wedding photo with Bradley and let out a bitter laugh. If her daughter was Bradley's wife, then who did that make me? Me, the proud daughter of Morlene City's richest man, had been reduced to being someone's mistress?