Cerita Pendek Plot Twists & Novel Mistress Marriage

Everyone knew that the crown prince, Mathias Cavendish, was a handsome man with a calm and composed demeanor. He was a dream suitor for every woman of marriageable age in the city. However, no one knew how wild he was with Seraphina Montclair when his body pressed against hers every night and he thrust hard into her in all sorts of positions in bed. On the 1,001st night he met her through the secret passage, Seraphina lay weakly in the messy sheets, feeling sore all over. Mathias looked down at her after being fully satisfied, and she finally worked up the courage to say, "Your Highness will be marrying my older sister at the end of the month…" Her fingers clenched the corner of the covers as she said almost inaudibly, "Would you be willing to give me a place by your side on the same day?" Mathias was wearing his clothes when he suddenly paused. "No." He turned to look at her, his cold yet handsome face lit up under the flickering candlelight. "I promised Cordelia that she would be the only woman by my side. Your presence shall never be known to her." Seraphina turned pale instantly. "What would that make me?"

I won eight million overnight. The first thing I did was rush to the hospital to pay for my son's surgery and treatment. That was when my phone rang. Ian, a coworker from the company, called, "Something urgent came up! You need to get back here right this instant!" My wife, Mara, took the bank card from my hand, and said with an gentle and understanding voice, "You can give me the PIN. I'll take care of our son's hospital bills. Go. Work is important. Don't worry about us." In my previous life, I didn't hesitate one bit. I trusted her completely and hurried back to the office. My son never made it into surgery. Instead, the police came for me. It turned out that Mara and Ian had conspired together to frame me, pinning the crime of embezzling company funds on me. The very money Ian had stolen. With no money for treatment, my son died in the hospital. My parents, shattered by grief, suffered fatal heart attacks one after the other. And I, rotting in prison, ended my life in despair. After my death, my soul drifted to the holiday villas of Moldeves, where Mara was on vacation. I heard her laughing as she spoke to Ian, "That idiot won a fortune and wasted it on that useless sick kid. He dragged me into a miserable life." Laughing even harder, she added, "Now, their whole family is dead, and we get to enjoy wealth for the rest of our lives. Consider it compensation from that idiot! Haha!" Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the hospital corridor, at the exact moment my wife reached out and took the bank card from me. This time, I still told her the PIN.

The first time Silvia Robinson undergoes ECT, she is all alone. Even Gregory Fisher, her fiance who loves her so much, is nowhere to be seen. After the doctor gives her a muscle relaxant, she starts to get drowsy. She is in a daze when she recalls what happened that evening. She has waited three hours in line for a special cake, which she is planning to surprise Gregory with. However, she comes home to see Gregory kissing her younger sister, Ella Robinson. The two are deep in a kiss as they hold each other tightly in an inseparable embrace. The cake in Silvia's hands drops to the floor, smashed beyond recognition as Silvia delivers a slap across Gregory's face. Then, she finds herself being pushed down the stairs by Ella. As she rolls down the stairs, Silvia feels like she has already seen this coming. Anyone close to her will eventually be taken away by her sister.

In the fifth year of my marriage to Raymond Lowe, Lilian Smith, the woman he had never been able to forget, returned. From that moment on, cracks began to form in our marriage. Raymond started breaking his promises. The first time was the day I won a major design award. He had promised to take me out and celebrate. Instead, a single phone call from Lilian was enough to make him leave. The second time was on my birthday. The candles had been lit, and I had not even made a wish yet when Lilian called. Once again, he walked out without hesitation. The third time was Valentine's Day. I sat alone in the private dining room I had reserved, waiting for Raymond for four hours. He never showed up. Later that night, I saw Lilian's post on social media. Raymond was with her, standing on a bridge beneath the stars. The fourth time was our wedding anniversary. That was the night I became the laughingstock of Liberty City. The humiliation was so public that there was not a single person in the city who did not know about it. I sat alone in a nursing home that evening when a message from Lilian appeared on my phone. After reading it, I walked into the operating room without looking back and terminated the pregnancy. In that moment, I also took back the love I had once given Raymond. Raymond, it was only because I loved you that you were able to hurt me again and again. However, the moment I stopped loving you, you became nothing to me.

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 hall where we held my daughter's wake, I reached for my phone to call my parents. That was when I saw it. My stepsister had posted a video of herself giving birth on social media. In the video, a man cradled the newborn in his arms and wept over her. It was my husband, the man who had supposedly died in a car accident five years ago. The comments below overflowed with likes and congratulations from our relatives. My mother had left three comments of her own: [You worked so hard, my precious girl. Your family of three is finally together again.] My entire body went cold. I called her and demanded an explanation. She dodged every question before finally saying with a resigned sigh, "We helped him fake his death in that car accident years ago. He and Rachel had already been together for a long time. "We only lied to you because we didn't want you to suffer. Your sister just gave birth. It's time you let this go. Don't ruin their happiness." I hung up. Still dressed in mourning black, with the cold seeping into my bones, I called my closest friend, Angeline Brook, a lawyer I had known for ten years. Through my tears, I begged her to help me sue my husband for marriage fraud. Angeline sighed, almost as if she were relieved. "So you finally know. The truth is, I forged your marriage papers all those years ago. You were never legally married. Just consider it a good deed and let them have this." The phone slipped from my hand and shattered against the floor. Everyone had known. They had all kept the truth from me and watched me suffer. At my lowest point, I had nearly died. Still, not one of them had told me the truth. I reached out and touched my daughter's memorial photo. The glass felt cold beneath my fingertips. A violent cough seized me, and blood-flecked foam rose in my throat. I forced it back down and let out a bitter laugh. "Fine. I won't intrude." My bone cancer had already spread throughout my body anyway. I had only days left to live.

On my thirty-eighth birthday, my husband, Hugh Shaw, nearly forty, found the love of his life. He asked me for a divorce. "Mina’s only twenty. She’s sweet and kind, while you’re old and boring." I nodded at my own reflection, looking worn and lifeless. That explained Hugh’s strange behavior lately. He’d started caring about his appearance. He never left the house without putting on cologne, and he bought a bouquet of flowers every day. No matter how busy he was, the first thing he did when he got home was work out at the gym. Before the divorce, Hugh asked me, "Maya, you’ve been a housewife for seven years. Can you really bring yourself to divorce me? Don’t come crying to me later!" I smiled. "I won’t." Because that girl he fell in love with was me at twenty.

My husband was working over the holidays, again. He’d been sent out of town to oversee one of the Family’s dock operations and a string of gambling houses.. I decided to buy a ticket and surprise him. Only business class was left. Staring at the five-figure price, I gritted my teeth and spent a year’s worth of savings. Then I couldn’t even figure out how to pull down the damn tray table. The socialite seated next to me let out a cold laugh. “Never flown business class before?” I forced an awkward smile. “My apologies. You must be… important. You have that aura.” “Oh, me? No. The man who keeps me is important. He’d charter a private jet if I asked. Business class is practically slumming it.” I blinked. “A… keeper? That’s rare.” “Not really. I’m his secretary. I mess up a lot. Cost him a fortune. He yells at me until I cry. And then, well… crying leads to other things.” She winked. “You know how it is.” “Funny,” I said, my voice tight. “My husband has an assistant who helps him manage accounts for the docks. She’s always messing things up too.” “You’re married?” She looked me over, head to toe. “My man has a wife about your age. Says he’s sick of her. That touching her is boring. Says I’m more exciting just brushing my hair out of my face.” She leaned closer. “I told him I wanted to see him for New Year’s. So he told the wife he had to work.” The diamond on her finger caught the light. It was identical to the wedding band I’d lost. My body went cold. No. Matteo was just a low-level enforcer. A foot soldier the Family occasionally trusted with small operations—dock shipments, backroom gambling, nothing more. When did he become a Don?

I, Darcy Cowell, have been secretly married to my husband, Frank Winston, for seven years. He is the president of a company and has just hired a new assistant. The new assistant, Johanna Scott, is well-behaved and has a voluptuous figure. Scandalous rumors about her and Frank quickly spread throughout the company. Feeling uneasy, I seek Frank out for answers, only to overhear him telling his good friend over the phone. "I'm not interested in her. My wife, Darcy, will always be my only love." I am filled with warmth and relief at those words. A fire suddenly breaks out at the company banquet, and I get crushed under a falling cabinet. Yet, as my life hangs in the balance, Frank turns to run toward Johanna. When I next regain consciousness, I find that I have survived but lost my unborn child forever. This time, I truly lose all faith in Frank. Our child is gone, and I want him gone from my life as well.

As soon as Danielle Bradford has recovered from her postpartum period, she brings her baby to the county clerk's office to register for the baby's birth certificate. "My baby's full name is Taylor Gardner. Her father is Matthew Gardner." The employee types on the keyboard, but his brows draw tighter afterward. "The system has flagged another child with the same name under the same father." His words leave Danielle momentarily stunned. Thinking that her ears have deceived her, she blurts out, "That's impossible! Our baby has just turned one month old!" But Danielle feels her phone buzzing in her pocket before she can finish speaking. She taps on the screen, only to see a photo sent by Matthew's assistant, Meghan Landry. In the photo, Matthew has his left arm wrapped around Meghan's waist while carrying a five-year-old boy with his right arm. The three of them stand in front of a kindergarten's entrance with smiles so bright that they practically sting Danielle's eyes. On the boy's chest is a nametag that clearly says "Taylor Gardner".

They said I had a gift—I could see doom before it struck. But nothing prepared me for the devastating prophecy of my own heart: I would fall foolishly in love with Kade, the Alpha of the mighty Frostfang Pack. I gave everything to Kade, who saved me, who owned my soul, who made me believe I was home. But he never saw me as anything more than a distraction. I thought the animalistic hunger in his eyes, the nights we spent tangled in sheets and sweat, meant something. I thought I was his. I was wrong. While I dreamed of being his Luna, he was building a shrine to another woman. He left my love in ruins. So when a mysterious offer came from the South—a chance to save a dying Alpha and become a true Luna—I took it. I ran from the only home I thought I had. But Kade wasn't a man who let his possessions go easily. Especially not the one he never admitted he loved. Now he was at my door, in the heart of enemy territory. He thought he could drag me back. But the Omega he knew was gone. And the choice was no longer his to make.

By the time Ethan Tanner returned from Harbor City, my father had already been dead for two days. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. His black shirt was badly wrinkled, and his eyes were bloodshot. The moment he saw me, he stopped short and reached out to pull me into his arms. I instinctively stepped away. His hand froze in midair. "Why didn't you tell me you were in a car accident?" I lowered my head and continued sorting through Dad's belongings. "My phone was smashed in the crash. And after I woke up, I didn't think there was any reason to tell you." He went still. That night had been his college sweetheart Chloe Lawson's first official performance as the lead in Harbor City. Someone had posted a photo on social media. Ethan was sitting on the backstage stairs of the theater. Chloe had his jacket draped over her shoulders, her head bowed as she cried. The caption read: 'Thank God that when things were at their worst, someone from the past was still there.' By the time that photo was posted, I had just woken up in the ER. My right hand had needed twelve stitches, and blood was still seeping through the gauze. The doctor asked if there was any other family member they could call. I was silent for a long time. Then I shook my head. Ethan's expression changed instantly. "Chloe had an accident before her performance that night. She completely broke down, so I stayed with her at the hospital the whole time—" I didn't look up. I simply pushed the papers on the coffee table toward him. "It's over now. The funeral arrangements are already being handled, and my injuries have been treated." I paused. "Since you're back, there's one more thing we can take care of." He looked down. Three words were printed across the front page. 'Divorce Settlement Agreement.' I gave him a small smile. "Sign it."

Today is Morgan Franklin's 30th birthday. It also marks the day he brings up divorce in front of me for the 99th time. He doesn't sound guilty and tentative anymore, unlike his demeanor when he mentioned divorce for the first time. Instead, he has a cigarette dangling between his lips while looking at me mockingly. "I've already called the ambulance for you, Milana. Have you thought about how you're going to commit suicide this time? Are you slitting your wrist or overdosing on pills?" Everyone in the private room bursts out laughing. "I bet she's going down the sleeping pill route! She did that the last time, and she had to get her stomach pumped for three hours!" "Hell no! She's definitely jumping off a building this time! But she'll just wait for the firemen to lay out the safety mat before pretending to jump! She's not going to die at all!" "Nah… Ms. Brook is very creative when it comes to suicide. Every time she commits suicide, she always uses a different method!" Everyone is curious as to which suicide method I will use in order to get Morgan to stay this time. But when I notice the smiles on everyone's faces, I suddenly feel exhaustion weighing down on my soul. The anger that has been sustaining me for so long finally dissipates. I lower my gaze before stating calmly, "I'm not doing any of that. This time, I shall grant you your freedom."

My husband, Shawn Payne, goes bankrupt overnight. That very night, he ships me and our son, Tommy Payne, off to a deserted island, claiming it's the only way to keep us safe from his creditors. Worried sick about leaving him to face the danger alone, I sneak back home halfway there, only to find him throwing a wild party, his arms wrapped tightly around a beautiful woman. His best friend, Ryan Foster, needles him. "You dumped your wife and son in the middle of nowhere. How are they going to survive out there?" Shawn shrugs like it's no big deal. "Yvonne's closing down her dog food factory anyway. I had all the surplus kibble repackaged and shipped to the island. It's more than enough to keep them fed for a few years." The woman, Yvonne Sullivan, purrs and snuggles deeper into his chest. "Oh, babe, you're so good to me and the baby," she coos, gently stroking her belly, which isn't even showing yet. He taps the tip of her nose affectionately. "You're so innocent and soft-hearted. If I don't look out for you, who will?" He pulls Yvonne closer and continues, "For your sake, I had to ship that shrew off to some godforsaken island. If she ever found out you were pregnant, she'd tear you apart. Once you have the baby and she turns two, I'll bring them back. By then, it'll be a done deal. There's nothing she can do about it." His words hit me like a ton of bricks. A cold sweat soaks me to the skin. Three years later, right on schedule, he calls. "Hey honey, how are you and Tommy doing? I'm ready to come pick you guys up." I glance at the man beside me, and a rush of satisfaction washes over me. "We're doing great," I reply. "My new husband treats both me and your son incredibly well."

My fiancée, Summer Walker, and I were supposed to spend our honeymoon on a tropical island. Instead, she brought my two best friends along. I didn't think much of it, so I joined them for a game of Truth or Dare. After several rounds and several drinks, I was starting to feel tipsy. Adam Lewis and Joseph Thompson laughed and teased me for being such a lightweight. Then the bottle landed on my fiancée. Summer chose Truth. One of my friends asked, "What's your biggest secret?" She lowered her head, a blush slowly spreading across her face as her hand instinctively moved to cover her belly. I was about to smooth things over when both men rushed to offer to drink for her. Neither was willing to back down. Finally, Summer spoke. "I'm pregnant." Excitement surged through me, and I leaned in to kiss her. Then I noticed something was wrong. One man had clenched his knee so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The other's fingers were trembling. They spoke at the exact same time. "Whose is it?" I froze. Summer lifted her head, her gaze darting between them. "I don't know." One of them ordered the driver to pull over. The moment the motorhome stopped, both men spilled outside and started fighting beside the guardrail along the coastal highway. Summer curled up in her seat and clung to my hand, crying as she apologized over and over. I pulled my hand free and stepped outside. The sea wind struck my face, stinging my eyes. In the distance, the two men were still wrestling with each other. We hadn't even reached the island yet, but as far as I was concerned, this trip was already over.

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

For eight years, Daniel Foster throws me a wedding every year, but never makes our marriage legal. He claims he's afraid of marriage, terrified that we'll end up like his parents. So instead of pressuring him, I give him eight whole years to work through his fears and prepare himself for the commitment. At our eighth wedding, I notice that Daniel is wearing the wrong suit. At first glance, it looks exactly like the suit we've chosen for the ceremony. The only difference is the name embroidered on the collar. It isn't mine. It belongs to my best friend, Avery Morgan. I'm about to confront Daniel and demand an explanation when my older sister, Vivian Cooper, grabs my arm and stops me. "Elle, it's been eight years. What good will confronting him do now? It's better to pretend you haven't noticed." I stare at her in disbelief. "Viv, are you saying you've known all along?" Vivian stiffens slightly before glancing at the family members and friends gathered around us. "It's not just me. Everyone knows." I stand frozen, unable to say a word. It takes me a long moment to find my voice again. "Then why? Why has Daniel kept holding wedding ceremonies with me for the past eight years?" Vivian's voice softens, and sympathy fills her eyes as she explains, "Having a wedding every year was Avery's idea. Apart from the wedding she and Daniel had when they legally married, every wedding they've had since has been matched by one for you." So the marriage I've spent eight years waiting for has already been given to someone else, and I'm the last person to find out.

Three months pregnant, Gwyneth Stone spotted a little boy's suit while browsing an upscale maternity and baby store. She rubbed her belly, her face glowing with happiness. "Excuse me, could you wrap this suit up for me?" Her husband, Preston Gallagher, hadn't had time to come with her, but he'd given her a black card and told her to buy whatever she wanted. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're closing early today. A VIP customer will be arriving shortly, and she's bought out everything in the store." Gwyneth froze, clutching the suit and reluctant to let it go. "Her husband personally bought out the entire store for her. I heard she just found out she's pregnant, and he's already spending this much on her. Who knows how much he'll spoil her from now on?" The clerk looked troubled. "So, about this suit—" Before she could finish, a familiar woman's voice came from behind Gwyneth. "Let her have it. My best friend is having a girl anyway, so she might as well take the boy's clothes." Gwyneth turned around, stunned to find her best friend, Rebecca Lynch, standing there. "Becca, what are you doing here?" she asked. Rebecca clearly hadn't expected to see her either. Her face instantly went pale. "What a coincidence, Gwen. I came... to buy something for your baby." "But I'm having a son." Rebecca had been right beside her at the prenatal checkup when the private doctor told Gwyneth she was having a boy. There was no way she could have forgotten. "I—" Before Rebecca could explain, another familiar voice echoed. "Honey, the baby's not even born yet, and you've already bought out the whole store for her?" It was their friend, Selene Somerset. And the man standing beside her was Gwyneth's husband.

The battery on my front door smart lock died, so I called a locksmith to come over. While he was working on the lock, he made small talk. "Dude, this lock comes with six spare keys. Did you lock all of them inside the apartment?" I froze. I've lived in this apartment for three years. My wife and I each have one spare key. The other three were always kept in the hallway drawer. That makes five total. So where's the sixth key?

Three years after my husband, George Martins, cheated and begged to come home, I cheated too. He rushed home to find me lying on our marital bed. My skin was covered in fresh love bite marks and dark bruises. "George, no wonder you cheated on me so many times. "I get it now. It feels amazing." George's eyes snapped wide. His gaze turned bloodshot. He grabbed my throat and slammed me into the mattress. "Clara, do you really hate me this much? "I came home! I became the perfect husband! What more do you want from me?" He wasn't lying. For three years, he did everything to make me feel safe. He handed over his phone every night. He video-called me every five minutes whenever he left the house. He knew his infidelity made my skin crawl. Every time he wanted intimacy, he scrubbed his body three times and disinfected himself five times. My fingertips trembled. I stared straight into his eyes. "Your body came back, but what about your mind? "Every time you get drunk, you scream Maya's name! Every dress you buy me is a white gown she would wear! “You bring home her favorite roses on our anniversary! Even the anniversary ring you bought me was fitted to her finger! "You cut physical ties with her, but you're forcing me to turn into her!" George's hand shook against my neck. He forced a twisted smirk. "Clara, you have no right to lecture me now. I cheated, sure. But are you any better?" "We’re both trash. We deserve each other." His shameless words turned my three years of silent agony into a complete joke. Exhaustion settled heavy in my chest. I didn't want this marriage anymore.