Mistress Marriage Short Stories & Novels

On their seventh wedding anniversary, Kimberly Williams discovered a divorce agreement in Richard Munoz's nightstand drawer. It was covered in scribbles and cross-outs, as if he'd agonized over the decision time and again. [If I fall in love with someone else during the marriage, I voluntarily give up all my assets and leave with nothing. Here's the list of properties.] He'd originally vowed to walk away penniless for her sake, but in the asset section, he'd crossed things out one by one. First, he struck through the house he planned to give her, then changed the $50 million to $500,000. Finally, in a ruthless scrawl, he added: [Better if Kimberly leaves with nothing. Can't help it. Lotta is pregnant.]

News of a wedding in Nordica's top power family lit up the world. But at the rehearsal, I caught my fiancée, Ivette Bianchi, making out with her childhood sweetheart, Jerick Weiner. "Babe, we've been in love forever. Let me use your first-time blood as pigment for my art?" Ivette blushed, hesitated— Jerick didn't wait. He pinned her to the wall and kissed her. "My best piece needs that color," he whispered. "I want this painting to end our youth." I watched them twisted together, ice-cold. Dropped the ring. It clattered across the floor. "Go through with the ceremony," I said. "Or your family goes broke." She stiffened, shoved Jerick off, and spat, "Fine." Then she turned right back, grabbed his hand, and dragged him inside. "It's just a bachelorette party. I won't miss the rehearsal." The door slammed. I didn't react. I was done. I made the call. "Change the bride. And yeah—the Bianchis crossed the line first. I want them erased."

Victoria Blackwood was a completely different person after being reborn. She no longer woke up before sunrise to make breakfast for Sebastian Blackwood and deliver it to his military unit so he could enjoy a home-cooked meal. She no longer picked up their son from daycare every evening, holding his little hand as he excitedly told her about the new songs he had learned that day. Even after their son, Ethan Blackwood, was injured in a car accident and rushed to the hospital, Victoria ignored Sebastian's repeated calls. It wasn't until his 38th call that she finally answered, taking her time as if nothing were wrong. Sebastian's voice was filled with worry, but he was clearly holding back his anger. "Do you even know Ethan was in a car accident?" Victoria held the phone to her ear while looking over the documents in front of her. She replied calmly, "I know. Haven't you already called me dozens of times?"

In the third year of Alex Shaw and Eva Laurent's marriage, her sister-in-law dies in an accident. After her younger brother, Hugh Laurent, returns to the country with his son, Eva decides to name the child her heir. Alex assumes Eva did it out of concern for Hugh, so he goes to her office to discuss the arrangements. Unexpectedly, he overhears her arguing with her best friend, Celia Inman. Celia says, "Eva, you're already married! It's one thing to bring Hugh and his son home without considering Alex's feelings, but now you want to make that child your heir? Have you ever thought about Alex at all? "Hugh is an adopted son of the Laurent family. He's not even your biological younger brother. You really don't have to go this far for him." Eva glances at the little boy sleeping peacefully in her arms. In a gentle voice, she says, "This is Hugh's only son. I have to give him the best so Hugh can feel at ease. Besides, this is my son, too." Hearing those words, Alex freezes in the doorway. It feels as though someone has struck him hard over the head, leaving him with an excruciating headache. The boy everyone thinks is Eva's nephew is actually her son!

My boyfriend, Wendell Lowe, has been complaining about my best friend, Carissa Chapman, for three years. He hates the fact that she's loud, uploads too many selfies on her social media feed, and doesn't bother looking at the price whenever she's ordering food at a restaurant. Every time a gathering is over, Wendell feels the need to talk smack about Carissa. "Don't invite her to the next gathering in the future. She's so annoying." I keep thinking that Wendell really dislikes Carissa. So when Carissa gets a new boyfriend, I quickly tell him the good news. "Carissa has a boyfriend now. She won't be bothering us anymore." But Wendell gets mad instead. "Who's the guy? Is it the IT guy from her social circle? Isn't he the one who pulls OT every day? Can he even spend time with her?" One week later, Carissa brings her new boyfriend, Gavin Ferguson, over to our gathering. Gavin keeps putting food on Carissa's plate, pouring her water, and dabbing the corner of her mouth for her. Wendell, on the other hand, looks extremely stormy the whole time. After the gathering is over, I comment, "Gavin is pretty decent. He's pretty caring toward Carissa." Suddenly, Wendell stops in his tracks. "He's just putting on an act. Carissa is the type who gets touched far too easily. She shouldn't be with a guy like him. "If anything, she needs to find someone who really understands her. Someone who knows that she's terrified of the dark, doesn't eat cilantro, and often smiles and says that she's fine whenever she's sad." The more Wendell speaks, the softer and shakier his voice becomes. Under the streetlight, I notice how damp his lashes are. A tear soon slides down his nose bridge. For the past three years, Wendell has been admonishing Carissa relentlessly. It turns out it isn't because he hates her. I turn on my heel and walk in the other direction. "You should seek her out. Don't take the detour this time."

The day my wife slept with her terminally ill “male best friend” to take his virginity, I left a divorce agreement behind and walked out. Before I left, I commented under their hand-holding photo on Instagram. [Let's get divorced. I wish you and Theo a long and happy life together.] One minute later, she called me. "Logan, how did I end up marrying someone as selfish as you? Can you really let him die without someone to carry on his line?" I sneered and replied that she wasn't my wife anymore, so that wasn't really my problem. She panicked.

When Solomon Geyser brings his 100th mistress home, I lock the door of my room and swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills. As I stare at the wedding portrait on the wall, I feel as though I can hear Solomon's wedding vows echoing in my ear again. "I swear that I will always love Ivana Wesley, and I will never betray her in this lifetime! If I ever go back on my word, I shall die the most horrible death in this world!" I let out a bitter chuckle before smashing the portrait and hurling it to the floor. Then, I pick up my phone and send Solomon a text. "I hate you, Solomon Geyser." But the next thing I know, I receive a text. "Please don't commit suicide, Ivy! I'm Solomon from ten years later!"

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."

When I reach the underground parking lot, I find out that my husband, Victor Blake, has parked his car in a slanted manner. Great, his car has taken over my parking slot again. I call him and tell him to get his ass downstairs so that he can move the car out of my parking slot. While waiting for him, I come across a post on the Internet. "I'm screwing the brains out of my mistress right now. What should I do to avoid getting discovered by my wife, who might be home anytime soon?" The comment section goes nuts. Apparently, the original poster has left a like on one of the comments. "Park your car in a way that it eats into your wife's parking slot. That way, she'll have to call you every time she gets home. Not only do you have time to clean up the scene and protect your mistress, but you also get to tell your wife in a righteous manner that you're reserving a parking slot for her." I frown immediately. As soon as I tap on the WhatsApp chat, I hear someone knocking on my window. Victor can be seen jiggling his car keys outside the car. "What's with the rush? I did this just so I can reserve a parking slot for you, you know."

I married Kael Throne—the infamous king of New York’s mafia—not for his power, not for his fortune, but because I loved him. He was unlike any man I’d ever known. A man who could have a thousand women at his feet, yet dismissed them all with a single glance. I believed his faithful love until the day I learned the existence of a college girl. He’d “respected” me enough to keep her hidden… until I forced the truth into the light. Kael didn’t rage. He didn’t deny it. He only looked at me with that calm, dangerous gaze and said, “Then we divorce.” I refused. He offered me his money, his casino, his everything. Still I said no. Because I loved him. That’s when his love turned black. He had me kidnapped. My mother, too. All to force my signature on those papers. “You found out,” he said, almost bored. “And there’s no more fun in hiding. Leave now, Vivienne. Give me—and Nyssa—our happy ending.” I watched as the man he’d sent slit my mother’s throat. My answer came too late. Kael Throne was a monster. I collapsed, my head cracking against the floor. And when I opened my eyes… I was back on the day I first learned Nyssa existed. This time, I didn’t confront him. I played the perfect wife, smiling sweetly while I waited for the perfect moment to vanish from his life forever. I just never imagined that when I finally disappeared… Kael would lose his mind.

Unable to take it anymore, I upload a photo of my husband, Johann Garner, holding hands with his secretary, Eva Ford, to the company's group chat. A long while later, Johann finally replies, "It's just something we do when we're working together. Those who are vile in nature will always view things differently from others." Messages from his colleagues begin flooding the group chat immediately. They all discuss whether or not I'm delusional. But I'm the only one who knows just how skilled Johann is at manipulating others as an expert manipulator. After muting the group chat, I look down at the ring Johann has slipped onto my finger when he first proposed to me. When exactly can I escape from the prison he has built around me?

The day my doctor told me I was dying because I couldn't afford to keep getting treatment, James Zane finally came home with his fiancée. He'd made a name for himself by then, and he was bringing her back to meet his family. When he saw me at the hospital, hobbling along on crutches and gasping for breath every few steps, he asked, "When you left me for $100,000 back then, did you ever think karma would catch up with you?" I looked at the mocking curl of his lips and gave a quiet laugh. "If I apologize and tell you how sorry I am, will you give me another five hundred thousand?" His expression changed instantly. The look in his eyes became impossible to read. Before he left, he said, "I'm getting married next month." I nodded. "Congratulations. But I won't be there." After all, I probably wouldn't live to see next month.

After my miscarriage left me depressed, I stood on the rooftop the day I discovered my cheating husband was having an affair with my best friend. My best friend, Natalie Smith, regretted it so much that she slashed her own face with a knife before leaving the country. To make me feel safe, my husband, Steven Palmer, had a tracking device installed on himself. Every time he came home, he would hand me his phone. Even if he was only leaving for five minutes, he would always video-call me and tell me where he was. But when I became pregnant again and went to the hospital to start my prenatal records, I suddenly received a video call from myself ten years in the future. I stared at the woman on the screen. She looked painfully thin. Terrified, I asked, "Did I lose this baby too?" Her eyes instantly turned red. Then she suddenly flipped the camera around. Steven stood behind Natalie on the screen; his eyes filled with a love he could barely hide. "You forced me to become a good husband, and I did. But she will never be able to have children again. This is the punishment she deserves for what she did to you." "Steven, no!" Natalie slapped him across the face, but she couldn't stop crying. I sat there with a pale face as the woman on the screen laughed like she had lost her mind. "Go ask the nurse. Find out just how stupid you really are." As soon as she finished speaking, I heard the nurse say in confusion, "Ms. Schneider, our system says you're unmarried. You said the father of your baby is Steven Palmer, but he registered here last year. His spouse is listed as Natalie Smith."

The day I caught my husband, McCoy, cheating, my postpartum depression took a turn for the worse. It was the 99th time I’d tried to swallow a bottle of pills. Our baby wailed hysterically in his stroller. My best friend, Raleigh, grabbed and desperately forced the pills out of my mouth. McCoy scooped me into his arms and rushed me to the ER, guilt written all over his face when he said, “Just make it through one more day, Moira. For each day you survive, write down one wish. “When you get better, I’ll make every one of them come true.” By the time I’d reached 1,000 wishes, the doctors were pleased enough with my progress to discharge me. Overjoyed, I went ahead home to surprise my family, only to find the wall where our wedding portrait had been hung replaced with photographs I’d never seen before. Raleigh posed with McCoy and our child in the photos. Some of the photographs were taken during a vacation. At the bottom was one last empty frame with a location printed: Disneyland. I opened TikTok from my alt account and searched for Raleigh’s handle. Her latest video was from Disneyland. “One last trip with my favorite people. Maybe in our next life, the three of us can finally be a family.” The comments were overflowing with sympathy from mutual friends and my coworkers. McCoy’s comment at the bottom stood out. “Thank you, Raleigh. You gave me somewhere to breathe during these past three years. “If there’s another life, I hope you’ll be my wife.” With trembling fingers, I tapped on her profile and found over 1,000 videos just like it. For three years—more than 1,000 days—she had not been absent from their lives. I quietly pulled out the wish list and crossed out my last wish to be with McCoy forever, replacing another. “I hope you get everything you wished for.” There was no need for another life. Raleigh could just take my place and be a more fitting wife and mother. This time, I would be the one to leave.

Robert Blackwell promised to marry me, then postponed it thirty-eight times. The fifth time, a car crash broke eight of his ribs, and I signed seven critical-condition notices. The tenth time, on the way to get our marriage license, he and the car were thrown into the sea, and his suit was torn apart by sharks. By the thirty-eighth time, his heart disease had worsened and his life was hanging by a thread. Eight months pregnant, I changed flights three times and flew twenty-three hours across half the world to find him. When the door opened, a little boy who looked exactly like him lifted his face and said, "I thought Mom was back." Robert rushed out barefoot, panic written all over his face. I turned around and saw my best friend of twelve years standing behind me with a key in her hand. The little boy ran to her and threw himself into her arms, calling her Mom. So the fiance I had waited seven years for was my best friend's secret husband all along. "I will not wait through these thirty-eight near-death weddings anymore." "Robert, I do not want you either."

When my husband’s family was caught in a massive pileup on the highway, he was at the beach with his first love. I didn’t call and demand that he come back. I simply dialed 911. Because in my previous life, I’d stopped him from going to the beach with her. Instead, he came with me to rush his family to the hospital. While he was gone, his first love was swept out to sea and drowned. When I found out, I was overwhelmed with guilt. But my husband told me it wasn’t my fault. I thought he’d forgiven me. Then, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the beach. Right in front of me, he killed our daughter and threw her into the ocean for the sharks to devour. Then he held me underwater and waited for them to tear me apart. “This is all your fault! She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you! “You can die with her!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.

The night before our wedding, my fiancee, Winona Yale, sleeps with her first love. He tells her he has cancer and wants to lose his virginity before he dies, and she agrees to fulfill his dying wish. Later that night, I, Liam Parker, receive photos of them together in bed. I laugh coldly and text back, "If she's that much of a saint, she's all yours." The next morning, I cancel the wedding and announce a party to celebrate staying single. Winona panics, showing up in her white dress with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice shakes as she sobs. "You don't want to marry me anymore?"

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.

Josie Collins and I were supposed to get married during the upcoming long holidays, but she suddenly wanted to postpone our wedding for another month, and she asked that I wait a little longer. As I had nothing else to do during the holidays, I took up a job as a wedding driver. What I did not expect was that the bride I was picking up was Josie. She wore the wedding dress my mother made for her as her ex-boyfriend, William Locke, carried her in his arms. Everyone started yelling, "Kiss her!" Josie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. When she saw me sitting in the car, she panicked. "What are you doing here?" However, she frowned almost immediately and started blaming me. "William's grandmother is suffering from dementia and thinks that we're still together. She has always wanted us to get married, so I'm helping her to make her wish come true. "Why would you come after us all this way? Can you stop being such a schemer and wipe those dirty thoughts from your mind?!" William helped her lift the heavy skirt. "Don't be mad, Sam. I'm just the groom for one day. Josie will still be yours in the end." I stared at her wedding dress. Every thread on it was sewn by my mother before she died, and she had always wanted to see Josie put it on to marry me. However, Josie made me wait, and I did. I waited until my mother breathed her last, and still, she did not witness my wedding. Now, Josie was using the wedding dress my mother made to fulfil someone else's wish. This time, I no longer wanted to wait for her.

After graduation, I post something online without really thinking about it. "Does not relying on you anymore count as growing up?" My childhood friend's comment pops up almost instantly. "That's cause for celebration." I don't understand, so I send him a question mark. After a while, his reply comes through. "Mara, do you know everyone says you're like a leech I can't shake off? "School's over. You don't need to be stuck to me every day. "Learn to stand on your own. No one in college is going to put up with a big baby." Then, without missing a beat, he sends me a download link. "Got a question? Ask AI. It's more useful than relying on me." Just like that, the boy who has looked after me for 12 years hands me off to an AI app. I sit there stunned for a long time, then quietly download it.