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

At a private spa retreat, my husband’s assistant brought me a glass of iced coffee. I was parched and about to drain it when a stream of comments appeared before my eyes. [Drink it, you wicked villainess! The coffee is laced with enough sleeping pills to knock you out. Don’t ruin the leads’ big moment!] [I’m dying. The male lead is sleeping with his sister-in-law right under the villainess’ nose.] [The leads are all over each other in the sauna! This is getting spicy!] Suspicious, I lowered the glass, and the comment stream erupted. [Why isn’t the villainess drinking it?!] Were they calling me the villainess? I glanced toward the sauna, then walked straight over to it. I pulled a floor cushion over, sat down outside the steaming wooden door, and called to a staff member, “Excuse me, could you turn up the heat? I want to sit here and sweat it out.” [What?! No! Our precious leads are going to be cooked alive!]

In the middle of an aphrodisiac-induced haze, Harry Anderson is helped into our bedroom by my partner, Cecilia Stone. Halfway through, she comes back out and flicks a few bills into my face. "Go get me another box of condoms. Three isn't nearly enough." When she sees my indifferent expression, her best friend immediately jumps in with a playful grin, trying to smooth things over. "Chase is still mad. I'll go instead." Cecilia is just about to mock me, but I quietly bend down and pick up the money. Instantly, the living room erupts with girlish laughter. "Alright, pay up! What did I tell you? I knew he'd pick up the money from the floor!" As grating as their laughter is, I remain unfazed. They all think I'm hopelessly in love with Cecilia, but what they don't know is that I've only stayed by her side for the money. Now that every debt hanging over my family has been repaid, I can finally regain my freedom.

I am the most famous weather presenter in the city, yet somehow, I have never gotten a single forecast right. Over time, everyone catches on. In Haddon, the weather depends entirely on the mood of Shelly Fuller's lover. One moment, I'm on air forecasting moderate to heavy snowfall, and the next, the clouds clear and the sky turns sunny. My boss openly mocks me in front of everyone. "You used to be the station's number one presenter. Looks like you're not so useful anymore. Your wife is spending money to manipulate the weather, so what's the point of you even doing the forecast?" A colleague beside him adds, "I heard your wife's new lover hates the cold. Looks like Haddon won't be seeing snow for the next six months. At this rate, you'll be drowned in disciplinary notices." I clutch more than a dozen disciplinary notices without saying anything. Back home, I toss them at Shelly expressionlessly. "Clean up your own mess. Choose someone else to be the man of the Fuller family."

I have to go on a business trip for a week, so I get a cat-sitter to come over and feed my cat Muffin while I'm away. But on the second day, when I check the live footage from the living room surveillance camera, I see my fiancee, Kate Swanson's childhood friend Samuel Lambert enter the password for the front door and walk into the house. Then, he throws a grape into Muffin's bowl. Samuel Lambert raises an eyebrow in the direction of the surveillance camera. "Hey, Jonathan. Muffin is a smart one, isn't it? It's not touching the grape at all." Then, as I watch in horror, he unplugs the surveillance camera. I feel my heart sink, and I immediately ask the cat-sitter to head back over and check in on Muffin. Then, I call Kate and question her. "You gave Samuel the password to our house again, didn't you? Did you know he tried feeding Muffin a grape, and he even unplugged the surveillance camera in the living room?" Kate answers with thinning patience, "But Muffin is fine, isn't he? Samuel was just messing around. He doesn't mean it. Also, he has already apologized to me. He said what happened with the surveillance camera was just an accident. "Come on, you're a grown man, so stop making such a huge fuss over nothing. Samuel and I have known each other since we were in diapers. Am I not allowed to talk to him anymore after we get married? Well, I guess Samuel was right. You really are somewhat of a control freak." That's the 38th time. I've changed the password 38 times, which is also the number of times Kate has leaked the new password to Samuel. For some reason, I don't think I'll change it a 39th time.

During the groom's challenges at my house on my wedding day, my best friend, Lexie Powell, suddenly pulls out a coin. "Heads or tails? Guess wrong, and the wedding is off." Ignoring my attempts to stop him, my fiance, Elliot Stewart, responds with absolute confidence, "Heads." Lexie bursts into laughter and opens her hand to show the tails side of the coin. "Looks like today isn't the day after all. Party's over, everyone." The room freezes, and the air turns dead silent. Elliot fondly ruffles her hair. "A deal's a deal. No worries. We can always reschedule." Ignoring my pleading look, he scoops Lexie into his arms and walks toward the door. "I told you not to wear high heels. What if you fall?" Lexie playfully punches his chest, blushing. "Are you stupid? You pick heads every single time, and you lose every single time." This isn't his first time guessing wrong. He guessed wrong on Valentine's Day, giving our reserved candlelight dinner to Lexie and leaving me to walk home alone. He guessed wrong when meeting my parents, leaving them waiting all night while he took Lexie to a private cinema. He guessed wrong for our trip, rescheduling the flights last minute to take Lexie on a romantic getaway to an island instead. Even at our wedding, they have to play their coin-tossing game without a care for anyone else. The coin rolls over to my feet. Only then do I finally see that both sides are tails. I clench my fists. I'm done with a relationship that's rigged for me to lose.

When the rebellious and flamboyant Sylvia Carter returned to her home country, she discovered that her family had already married her off to someone. Her husband was Jason Porter, the head of his family, who was eight years older than her. Naturally, Sylvia was reluctant to accept it. During their first meeting, having heard that Jason was disciplined, reserved, and a clean freak, she deliberately showed up in a black, form-fitting halter dress. She even hired eight male escorts to fuss over her with refreshments. Her parents were embarrassed. Just as they were about to apologize, Jason calmly leaned forward. He held them steady with his strong hands and spoke in a deep, clear voice. "This arranged marriage has put Ms. Carter in an uncomfortable position. I should be the one apologizing to her." Sylvia froze. She slowly raised her head and met Jason's intense gaze. He had such alluring amber irises.

It's been five years since I fell ill with depression, and I'm finally myself again. I can talk, laugh freely, and I actually have an appetite. The icing on the cake is that my husband, Ian Beaumont, and I are expecting our second child. At our New Year's Eve family gathering, Ian's godsister, Gemma Waverly, gets tipsy and starts making a scene. "I think it was about five years ago. I was dumped, and I took the car out for a little joyride while the surveillance cameras were under maintenance. "Guess what? The moment I stepped on the gas, a cat abruptly flew out of nowhere and slammed right into my hood. It yowled and bolted off." A faint, disdainful smile plays on her lips. "That damn creature not only scared the hell out of me, but it also ruined my car's wrap. "You'd better be careful in the future. Don't end up like me, accidentally bringing all that bad luck down on yourself. The thought alone makes me sick!" Gemma's tone's lighthearted, as if she's recounting a trivial, unlucky memory. Everyone chuckles and chimes in, telling her she should go to a church and pray so she doesn't end up being haunted by lingering spirits. I, on the other hand, stand amid the rowdy crowd, looking at Gemma's contemptuous face, my mother-in-law, Margaret Holloway's, indulgent gaze, and Ian's resigned, helpless smile. In a heartbeat, all the color drains from my face. It's almost as if the lot of them have forgotten that my daughter, Soleil Beaumont, died in a car accident five years ago.

When I found Silas Pembroke, he was carefully untangling a strand of another woman’s hair from his tie clip. The two of them were wrapped around each other, far too close to pretend otherwise. He let out a mocking laugh. “Jenna, what exactly are you going to accuse Sienna and me of this time?” Sienna Vale smiled sweetly. “Mrs. Pembroke, you stayed away longer than usual this time.” I steadied myself and said, “I’m not Jenna. I’m her twin sister, Summer Sinclair.” Silas burst out laughing. “What is this, your latest stunt?” Then his expression hardened. “Keep pushing me, and I can’t promise you’ll stay Mrs. Pembroke forever.” I only looked at him and said quietly, “Silas, my sister left three keepsakes behind for you.”

When a car struck me and sent me flying, blood sprayed everywhere. It resulted in ruptured organs, so I begged my wife, Lucy Hathaway, to take me to the hospital. But she told me to endure it because her younger uncle, Alan Cooper, had surgery that day. To stop me from applying to a foreign institution, Lucy went so far as to lock me in a cold storage room kept at negative twenty degrees Celsius. “The chance to travel abroad has to go to Alan. He has nothing, while you already have all of my love. You should give him your future! “The chill in the storage room will help with your wounds. After Alan finishes his surgery and submits his application, you can go to the hospital.” The pain from my wounds drove me to the brink of death. I even gave up my dignity and begged Lucy to take me to the hospital. Instead, she kicked me to the ground. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull. Aren’t you pretending to be seriously injured so that you can go to the hospital and stop Alan’s surgery? That way, he’ll lose his eligibility to apply for the institution. “How could you be so despicable?! You’re willing to hurt yourself just to put on an act and compete with Alan. You made your bed, so lie in it!” I tried to explain to her weakly, “I’m not pretending. The car accident came out of nowhere. I never wanted to go abroad in the first place. I just want to live a good life with you. I swear. Please save me.” Lucy pulled her pant leg out of my desperate grip and snorted. “You’re so full of schemes. Who knows if you’re trying to manipulate me again? I’ll come back for you after Alan finishes his surgery and submits his application.” After Lucy had had enough of staring into and admiring Alan’s eyes as he regained his sight, she accompanied him to submit his application. She finally remembered me again after all that and ordered her secretary to take me to the hospital. However, her secretary said through gritted teeth, “Mr. Fisherman has passed away from the car accident…”

The night before the wedding, the groomsmen and bridesmaids were too excited to sleep, so someone suggested writing down what they wanted to say to me on a slip of paper anonymously. I closed my eyes in anticipation, thinking I would receive all kinds of blessings. But when I opened the first note, I froze. [You witch. If you hadn't forced my brother, Nora would be my sister-in-law by now!] Nora Harris… She was my best friend. She had called me three hours earlier with red eyes, apologizing, saying that she had to go on a business trip all of a sudden and could not attend my wedding. With trembling hands, I kept reading… [The wedding ring he bought you was the one Nora rejected. She said it was too cheap, so he gave it to you.] [You didn't know, did you? On the day your mother died, he was holding Nora in his arms and slept with her in your marital home.] [The reason Nora isn't coming to your wedding is that she gave birth to Shane's child and is still recovering.] When my eyes landed on the last note, I recognized the handwriting at once…

My twin sister, Vivian Hall and I were inseparable. Then she died. Three months later, I married her husband, Lawrence Peterson. For five years, he only touched me once a year, on our birthday. He made me wear her silk nightgowns. He made me put on her signature red lipstick. He forced me to mimic every detail, from the exact way she brushed back her hair to the soft sound of her voice in the dark. "Lift the corners of your lips," he whispered against my skin, his breath burning hot, his words ice cold. "Vivian never smiled so cheaply." He pulled me closer, burying his face in my neck. "Do you know why I only touch you tonight?" he breathed. "Because tonight is the only night I can pretend you are her." In the heat of the moment, his mouth pressed hard against mine. His eyes were wide and dark, overflowing with a tenderness that seemed drowning. For one fleeting second, I let myself believe he was kissing me. That he loved me. Then he whispered her name. Five years of playing a ghost is enough. This pathetic excuse for a marriage ends now. I picked up my phone and typed a message to an unknown number. [I accept your bet.]

It was the eighth year of my marriage. As I was driving my daughter to school, I took a call on speaker. "Is this Mr. Andrew Benedict? Your wife, Ms. Clara Miller, left her diamond ring in our executive suite." My hands froze on the wheel. Andrew was my husband. Clara was my best friend. I rushed to my brother's office, desperate to prove it was a mistake. He didn't even look up from his desk. He wasn't surprised at all. "Summer, drop it," my brother, Aaron Walter, said calmly. "They have a child together now. Just pretend you don't know. "He lied to you to spare your feelings," he added. "We all kept quiet for your own good." I felt my blood cold as it ran through my veins. "He's right, Summer," a soft voice chimed in from the couch. "Don't blame Clara. You're both mothers. You need to understand her side." It was Olivia Walter, my sister-in-law. The three of us used to call ourselves inseparable. Now she was asking me to pity the mistress and the bastard. In family, friendship, and love, I was the only outsider.

When I find out my husband is cheating on me, I don't cry. My pride won't let me waste a single tear on a man who isn't worth it. Instead, I crash a stranger's funeral so I can cry my eyes out over someone else's memorial photo. I'm sobbing so hard I'm shaking when the widow suddenly shoves a million-dollar check into my hand. "Take the money and get lost. Don't think you can worm your way into my family just because he's dead." I stare down at the check. Suddenly, being the other woman doesn't seem so bad. At least she gets paid. Meanwhile, I'm the wife who gets cheated on and humiliated, and somehow I'm still the one expected to step aside for the other woman. I'm about to leave when an arm suddenly blocks my way. The dead man's son is a tall, handsome college student. He leans down, looks me straight in the eye, and sneers, "You fraud. You're crying your eyes out over my dad, but you can't even get his name right." Caught, I take a step back. He plucks the check from my hand and leans close to my ear. "You want the million dollars? Fine. Then play along with me and help me piss off my mom. She's the one who actually cheated on my dad."

The day I find out I'm pregnant, I also discover my husband is cheating on me. To think that Brock Emerson, a celebrated OB-GYN, is sleeping with his own protegee, Wendy Blair! I strip Wendy's clothes off in front of the entire hospital, humiliating her for everyone to see. After that, the staff group chat turns into a daily betting pool on whether I'll show up to cause another scene. When Brock pulls me off the balcony railing yet again, he drops to his knees. "I've already had Wendy transferred. What happened that day was just an accident. You're all I care about." I give Brock two choices—either he sends Wendy to prison, or he signs the divorce papers. He personally submits evidence of Wendy's medical malpractice and chooses to stay. From then on, every year on the anniversary, I visit Wendy in prison to ease my grief over losing my child. On one of those visits, as I sign the log on my way out, I overhear two janitors talking. "That poor woman still hasn't figured out it's not really Wendy in there. It's just some actress they hired as a look-alike." "Dr. Emerson was scared she'd lose it again and hurt Dr. Blair, so he paid to build a whole fake prison wing just to keep her fooled. He and Dr. Blair are the real thing." "I heard their baby turned one today, and the whole family's celebrating together. They couldn't be happier." My blood runs cold. I can't believe what I'm hearing. The whole time I think we're starting fresh, Brock already has another family.

"I want a divorce! My husband doesn't love me anymore!" I step into the county clerk's office holding my water-damaged marriage certificate just in time to hear a young woman at the next window filing for divorce. She's sobbing uncontrollably, insisting that she and her husband have fallen out of love. By a strange stroke of luck, her husband shares the exact same name as mine—Louie Russell. The only difference is that her husband is the wealthiest man in Jalenne, while mine is just an ordinary guy. Smiling at the coincidence, I hand my marriage certificate over to the clerk. "Could you please issue me a replacement?" But the next second, the clerk gives me a strange look. "Ma'am, your records show you're single. As for this gentleman, he's already married. And this certificate is a fake." I freeze, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. My head snaps toward the next window. The woman's phone wallpaper is a wedding photo. The man in the tuxedo standing right beside her is the same man I've been married to for the last three years.

On my wife Christine Stott's birthday, I held a property certificate, hoping to surprise her. I waited until midnight, but she never showed up. Instead, I got a confession. Christine: [I'm pregnant, but the baby isn't yours. I'm sorry...] I stared at those words, reading them over and over. I worked hard for three years to buy this property. I worked overtime until I was vomiting blood, I drank myself into the hospital at business dinners, and I came home every night so exhausted that I would collapse straight into bed. And her? She wiped away all my efforts just by saying the baby was not mine. I called her. She answered quickly. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll give you whatever you want." I took a deep breath and asked, "Anything I want?" "Yes." "Then let's get a divorce. You leave with nothing."

My half-brother, Jim Sullivan, pushed me down a snowy mountain, leaving me with a fractured spine. My mom, Doris Moore, and my wife, Julia Stone, rushed me to the hospital in a panic. Later, they learned that I might be permanently paralyzed. To put my mind at ease, Julia held up a ring and swore that she would take care of me for the rest of my life. Mom also cut ties with Jim, saying she would make him pay for what he had done. They told me Jim fell off a cliff while trying to escape, and they never found his body. I believed them. That was until three years into my marriage, a friend sent me a video. In the footage, Jim, who was supposed to be dead, was holding a child in his left arm and had his right arm around Julia. "Julia, thank goodness you helped me fake my death. Otherwise, I'd be in prison right now!" Jim said. "Has Mom said when we can get the inheritance Joshua's dad left him? "I really can't stand living in hiding like this anymore!" "Jim, I know these past few years haven't been easy for you," Julia said. "If it weren't for that inheritance, I wouldn't have married that cripple. "As soon as we get that money, the three of us can be together again!" It turned out that what I thought was my salvation was just another terrible betrayal. The two women who mattered most to me had never truly cared about me. If that was the case, I wouldn't show them any mercy.

After three years in a long-distance relationship, I went straight to the courthouse as soon as my flight landed, ready to marry Willow Payne. Instead, she showed up holding a newborn baby. Without a trace of guilt, she placed the baby in my arms. "This is Rachel, my daughter with Preston. You can raise her from now on." My mind went blank. Standing beside her, my childhood friend, Preston Webb, burst out laughing. "Willow and I got drunk one night, and one thing led to another. We ended up sleeping together. Your time working out of town is finally over, and now you get to come home and be a dad. Hell of a surprise, right?" I stared at them. "Do you seriously think this is funny?" Preston only grinned wider. "Willow and I made a bet about whether you'd cry when you found out she had my baby. I said you wouldn't. So I won. Willow promised to travel the world with me until I get bored and feel like coming back." Willow gave him an amused look, then turned to me like she was doing me a favor. "My daughter is your daughter, too. Take good care of her. When I get back, I'll marry you." She took Preston's hand and walked away with him. I looked down at the baby in my arms. Her skin and the whites of her eyes were so yellow that even I knew something was wrong. I called after them, but neither one looked back. Three years later, Willow showed up at my workplace. "Michael, I'm here to keep my promise. Let's get married. "But Preston and I have a daughter together. We thought it would be better for her if her parents were legally married, so Preston and I got married. "I can't legally marry you anymore, but I can still give you the wedding." She pulled out a wedding band and reached for my hand, trying to slip it onto my finger. I knocked her hand away and stepped back. "I already have a wedding ring. My wife gave it to me."

In our third year of marriage, my wife's kept boy toy decided he wanted to break up with her. He left her nothing but a long, dramatic message and blocked her on every platform before she could respond. [You can't give me what I actually want. I don't want to keep dragging this out with you.] I watched my wife's romantic drama play out with a cold, distant expression. After three years of them breaking up and getting back together more times than I could count, I figured this was nothing new. I expected Elena Sheridan to rush straight to coax him back like always. But this time, she was ice cold about it. "He was just a plaything I kept around for amusement. Now he thinks he can threaten me with a breakup? I’ve clearly indulged him too much." But a month later, the news broke online. He'd jumped from a building. The woman who had always been cold and unfeeling completely fell apart.

After losing his entire retirement savings to a scam, my father-in-law, Kyle Knight, tried to kill himself by overdosing on pills. I frantically called my husband, Joshua Knight, a psychology expert, hoping he could talk his father out of it. "Dad lost his entire retirement fund to a scam. He left a suicide note, and he's trying to kill himself. Come home!" Instead, Joshua snapped at me for making such a big deal out of it. "Your dad's made plenty of bad decisions before. Maybe this'll finally teach him a lesson. Don't bother me with stupid stuff like this again. I'm trying to watch a movie with Vanessa." For a second, I thought he hadn't heard me clearly. I was about to tell him that the man dying was his own father. Then Vanessa Morgan's voice came through the phone. The horror movie scared her. Joshua immediately turned to comfort her. Later, he casually told me to put together a PowerPoint on how my dad got scammed so he could use the case in one of his anti-scam livestreams. I swallowed everything I was about to say and obediently said, "Okay." After all, the person who scammed Kyle out of his retirement savings and drove him to suicide was Vanessa's mother.