Cerita Pendek & Novel Mistress

My husband, Beck Callahan, has manic disorder. Every time we get into an argument, he coldly drives me to a hotel. "My condition's unstable, and I might hurt you. I'm changing the locks at home, but I'll give you the new keys once I calm down." I've always thought that I'm lucky that he's willing to restrain his temper for my sake. Hence, as soon as I receive the new key, I hurry back home. That's what I believe until I run into Beck's therapist, Dr. Smith, after my gynecology appointment and learn that he hasn't had an episode in five years. For reasons I can't explain, I pull up the surveillance footage outside our front door. Then, I see my best friend, Iria Sinclair, pull out a key and gently turn it in the lock. The door swings open, and Beck emerges, pulling her into his arms. "Remember to keep the new key somewhere safe." Iria giggles and playfully smacks him before the two of them walk inside together. The sun has set by the time I return to the hotel. The receptionist calls out to me, "Mr. Callahan dropped off a key for you, Ms. West." I fall silent for a couple of seconds before responding, "Throw it away."

Three years after my death, Samuel Terrason came to visit my grave. When he saw the lilies blooming around it, his expression darkened. "What is this?" "If the stories are true, then these lilies mean she has found her partner in the afterlife." "Pull them out," Samuel said coldly. "Pull what out, sir?" "The lilies! All of them!" Then, Samuel bought the entire graveyard and ordered that every male be relocated. Yes, males. Even the dogs. "You're not seeing anyone else, even in death, Rachel!" he swore. "And if you try, I'll come find you when I'm dead, too! Not even death can separate us. Just wait for me!"

Every time my foster sister, Lindsay Hartley, and I disagreed, Carl Curran and my brother Mark Hartley would settle it with a vote. When Carl and I were choosing our future home, I wanted somewhere in the southern district, close to our parents. Lindsay wanted the busier northern district instead. Neither of us would budge, so we put it to a vote. Carl was the first to raise his hand. "You're being so narrow-minded. You don't understand anything about actually living your life. Go with Lindsay's pick." Mark patted my head. "Don't be so selfish. The north side is close to Lindsay's office, so she can come stay with us whenever she wants." Three to one. I was forced to give in again. Then came the renovations. I wanted the big south-facing room as the master bedroom, but Lindsay wanted to turn it into a walk-in closet instead. Carl stepped in. "Let's just vote on it, so you can't say we're playing favorites again." No surprise: Lindsay won again, unanimously. And the room left for me, the actual bride, was smaller than half the size of that closet. Looking back over the hundred-some votes we'd had. Carl had sided with me: zero times. Mark had sided with me: zero times. Watching the three of them huddled together, deep in discussion over how to decorate the closet, it suddenly hit me. The so-called votes were never anything but a convenient excuse for them to openly favor Lindsay. If that was the case, then I was done playing a game on a scale that would never tip in my favor.

On the day my wife, Adele Bellamy, rang the opening bell on Merrow Street to take her company public, my daughter and I sat in the audience. When my daughter was invited onstage to speak, she took the microphone and asked me in her small, childish voice, "Daddy, did you really get Mommy by being a homewrecker?" The hushed hall erupted as if a boulder had crashed into still water, and countless camera flashes swung toward my pale face. "Mr. Linwood, is what your daughter said true?" "If his own daughter said it, it has to be true! That's a juicy high-society secret. Bet he never expected his own kid to be the one to spill it." "Haven't you heard? Ms. Bellamy used to have a childhood sweetheart, and then they split up out of nowhere. Maybe he broke them up so that he could take that guy's place!" Amid the uproar, I rushed onto the stage in a panic to explain myself, but the moment I opened my mouth, Adele pressed her hand down on the back of mine. "Yes. He was the homewrecker."

Just after I finish a meeting, the parents' group chat for my daughter's kindergarten suddenly buzzes with activity. Someone shares a viral post. The poster writes, "A daughter is always her daddy's sweetheart. She's already using her allowance to buy her dad a birthday present! I wonder who my gentle, wealthy little princess will marry someday." The one who shares the post adds excitedly in the comments, "She's the one and only successor to the Webb family in Jemton! She's a true heiress!" The parents in the group chat eagerly offer their sycophantic compliments. They can hardly wait to offer their own sons as potential suitors for the little girl. But I'm puzzled. Other than my wife, Lucy Webb, I don't think there is any other family with the surname Webb in Jemton. Then, I open the photo attached to the post and instantly freeze. The sweet little girl smiling as she holds the gift is unmistakably my daughter, Emilia Webb, whom I personally drive to and from kindergarten every single day.

When my wife's lover changed the locks on our house for the ninth time and locked us out again, there was finally a hint of irritation on her face. I, on the other hand, calmly reassured her. "He's young. He doesn't know any better. Don't get worked up over it." Yvonne Fisher, who was about to break the lock open, froze mid-swing and turned to stare at me. "Aren't you angry?" I was at a loss for words. Throughout our five years of marriage, things like this had happened so often that if I'd kept getting angry, I would've died from it by now. Besides, my own lover was just as much of a handful. All I felt for Yvonne was sympathy.

My sister, Lily, was torn to pieces by Rogues. I sobbed, begging my Fated Mate, Alpha Ethan, to find her killers. He never did. A year later, on the anniversary of her death. I went to find Ethan, ready to tell him I was pregnant. Instead, I found him holding another omega, Bella, in his arms. “Don’t worry,” he soothed her. “No one will find out you dropped the pack's mental shield and got Lily killed. Once Harper gives up her title as Luna at the ceremony, you will be my one and only.” My heart shattered. So that was it. He never marked me, never rejected me… he wanted me to step down on my own. He was protecting my sister’s murderer. He wanted to make her Luna. I stormed in, screaming, but Bella suddenly coughed up blood and collapsed. Wolfsbane poisoning, she claimed. "She was poisoned saving me! Give me your heart's blood! It's the only thing that can save her!" Ethan looked at me with more disgust than if I were trash. “I’m pregnant! It’ll kill the baby!” I pleaded. But his Alpha Command crashed down. My body was no longer my own. I could only watch as the thick needle pierced my chest, right over my heart. Golden blood flowed out. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my stomach… He had killed my baby. My wolf shattered inside me. I closed my eyes, reaching for a forbidden connection in the werewolf world. "Lycan King Rogan. Tomorrow, I need you to help me destroy everything in the Blackwood Pack. Including Alpha Ethan."

Tatum picked out our family car, saying that it would be a beautiful way to start our life together. After we got married, though, I had to push the passenger seat all the way forward. The rear-view mirror never caught my entire face. The seat belt pressed painfully against my collarbone. The headrest hit the back of my head at the worst angle possible. I once asked if the seat could be set to my preferred position. He shut me down, claiming the passenger settings were saved, so it was best not to meddle and overwrite the car's memory profile. I never brought the subject up again. One time, my flight landed at eleven at night on my return from a business trip. I called him thrice. Tatum didn't pick up the first time and rejected my call on the next. He texted me then. "Take an Uber home. I'm in a meeting." Outside the airport, rain came down in sheets. I stood in the taxi line for forty minutes, hauling my suitcases behind me. When my ride passed his office, I spotted his car parked by the curb, and someone sat in the front with him. It was Hazel, his longtime executive assistant. Standing at 5'7", she wore her hair down to her waist. The passenger seat was pulled back just enough for her; the headrest rested perfectly behind her head, and the seat belt crossed her chest at exactly the right angle. Everything was to her measurements, all right. So when Tatum chose the car, the woman he had pictured sitting next to him had never been me.

Brandon Hayes had too many enemies, so he asked Hannah Foster to be his public girlfriend until every last one of them was dealt with. "Eleanor, I know this isn't fair to you. I promise we'll get married after I've taken care of all my enemies." I looked at Hannah with concern. "But won't this put her in danger?" Brandon's expression darkened. "I saved her life. She owes me this." The day Brandon proposed to me, I was just about to slip the ring onto my finger when a bullet came flying toward me. Hannah threw herself in front of me. The bullet tore into her abdomen, and blood immediately poured from the wound. The man who had been looking at me with such tenderness shoved me aside without a second glance. He scooped Hannah into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. I looked down at the blood running between my legs. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain as I hailed a cab. "Take me to the hospital."

On the day of our family trip, I woke up early, only to be shocked to find the house completely empty. While I was still wondering what was going on, a message from my younger sister, Cynthia, popped up in the family group chat. "Oh no, I forgot to tell everyone in this group that the departure time had been moved up!" The next second, the message was recalled. As I stared blankly at the now-empty chat, I felt my eyes sting. At that moment, I realized they had another family group chat—one that did not include me. While I was still in a daze, Mom called. "I'm sorry, Yesenia. We moved the departure time up by an hour and forgot to tell you. Hurry and get a cab over here. Maybe you can still make—" Just as she was speaking, my older brother, Gordon, interrupted her from the side. "Since she didn't come, just forget it. Hasn't Cynthia always wanted to enjoy having the whole family dote on her for once? We can treat this as fulfilling her wish." His voice was low, but I heard every word. I sniffled and forced down the sadness rising in my chest. "I think I'll just skip it. You guys have a good time." After hanging up the call, I changed my train ticket from Hoschland to Liboston without hesitation. My childhood friend, Zavier, and I had long ago promised to go see the vast grasslands together. Now was the perfect chance to finally make good on that promise. For the past eighteen years, my family had always favored Cynthia, who was smarter and prettier than me. It was Zavier who never looked down on me for being ordinary and had always stayed by my side. Delighted, I was just about to tell him the good news when I saw his latest social media post first. "Off to chase the waves with my princess!" Then, there was an attachment of an intimate photo of him and Cynthia together on the high-speed train to Hoschland. In that split second, the last shred of hope in my heart snapped completely. I opened my computer and changed my university application. I gave up the local university Zavier and I had promised to attend together and chose one in the south instead. A thousand kilometres away. Then, clutching my changed train ticket, I took a cab to the high-speed railway station alone. Since no one cared about me, I would go out on my own and seek the light that belonged to me.

I didn't come from money, so everyone around my rich girlfriend decided I had to be a gold digger. Nobody more than Tristan Reed, her male best friend. He told them he'd been kept by rich women himself, so he understood men like me better than anyone. To prove I wasn't that kind of man, I never accepted a single expensive gift from Vivian Ford during the three years I spent with her. Tristan had an explanation for that too. "He says no out loud, but he's waiting for her to offer something better on her own. It's called playing hard-to-get." Then came Vivian's birthday. I'd saved six months of my salary and bought her a necklace. I was almost at the door of the private room when I heard Tristan laughing. "See? I told you he'd buy something expensive. "That's the oldest trick a gold digger has. Pretend you're not after the money, then trade a little of it for a lot." Vivian sat beside him filing her nails. She didn't contradict him. Someone egged him on. "Vivian, your boyfriend's not just a gold digger, he's a professional." Then somebody spotted me and made a hushing gesture. "Quiet, he's here." Tristan just scoffed. "Some men ought to be honest like me. That's what rich women actually want. Am I wrong?" Vivian was quiet for a long moment. Then she looked up at me. "After all this time pretending in front of me, were you really just waiting for one big payout?" I stood in the doorway, and the necklace in my hand suddenly felt too heavy to hold. I didn't answer. I just turned around and left. A heart that's doubted every single time is one I'm taking back for good.

The day Caleb brought the pup he had with a hidden Omega in the pack and gave it to me as a “birthday gift”—that was the day everything ended between us. He stood before the entire pack, holding the newborn in his arms, voice cold and cutting. “Is this pup enough to make you give up on me?” Right then, I finally understood. There would never be a real Mate Bond between us. I had followed him with my heart for seven years. And for the first time—I let go. I looked down at the pup in my arms. He didn’t spare it a glance. Instead, he reached out, brushed my hair with that same unbearable gentleness. “Quinn, whoever you want to bond with next, whatever Alpha you choose—I’ll help you win him.” Later, I was marked and bred by another Alpha—Ethan. Stronger. Steadier. He claimed me under the full moon, and together we completed our Fated Mate Bond. The pack gathered for our Mate Bond Ceremony. The moon hung high. The bond was sealed. Everything was as the Moon Goddess had destined. Until Caleb crashed through the ceremonial boundary, his eyes burning red, his wolf barely restrained. “You’re mine, Quinn! I don’t care if all the packs accept you and Ethan— I won’t let another Alpha have what belongs to me.”

The 99th time Owen Anderson slides a ring onto my finger, his adopted sister, Monica Morgan, calls again. And just like that, for the 99th time, he ditches me at the altar to be with her, who's having another depressive episode. I'm fed up. I yell after him as he walks away, "Go ahead! Walk out on me, and I swear I'll marry someone else!" He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he snaps, "Can you stop being so unreasonable? We can get married anytime, but Monica's the only sister I've got." Then, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there like a complete fool. What he doesn't realize is that this time, I mean it. Later, when he gets down on one knee for the 100th time, his older brother, Chris, slips an arm around my waist and says, "Sorry, Owen. She's your sister-in-law now."

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

After my wife gave birth, I cradled our baby in my arms, playfully cooing at him. “Be a good boy, sweetheart. Daddy’s right here.” I pointed at my best friend, Nathan Gray, who was busying himself with something nearby. “And that’s your godfather.” From the bed, Agnes Trelawny suddenly chimed in, “You’ve got it wrong.” I thought I misheard her. However, she curled her lips into a lazy smirk and elaborated, “The baby’s Nathan’s. The night your father died, Nathan and I fucked all night long. We went through an entire box of condoms.” I froze for a moment. My throat felt as though it had been stuffed with lead, and I could not force a single word out. It took me a long time to finally choke out the words, “But we only got our marriage certificate a little while ago.” Agnes smiled and took my hand. “Relax. Nathan and I were nothing more than fuck buddies. If we’d wanted to get married, we would’ve done it years ago.” She paused for a moment, then added with a wicked grin, clearly relishing every second of my reaction, “Nathan never told you? We used to date. Your precious best friend was the first man I ever slept with.”

The ninth time I walked in on Andy Lowe in bed with another woman. I didn’t lose control, and I didn’t question him. I casually tossed a piece of clothing at the girl and said calmly, “Leave through the back garden door.” She froze for a moment, glanced at me nervously, then grabbed the clothes and fled. Andy leaned back against the headboard, looking relaxed, and slowly lit a cigarette. “It’s her first time here,” he said as if it were only natural. “Don’t scare her.” “She’s very innocent, unlike you. I don’t want her getting hurt.” He paused, then added, “It’s her birthday today. I won’t be coming back tonight.” I nodded and said nothing more. As I turned around, I smiled. He seemed not to know that the “innocent” girl had AIDS.

My husband had a bizarre obsession with role-playing. In every scenario he invented, I was always the devoted wife he eventually cast aside. One day, he became the ruthless CEO who fell for the nanny; the next, he turned into a respected professor who could not resist his students. Each time he handed me a divorce agreement, watched me sign it through tears, and then tore the papers to shreds the following morning with a satisfied grin. "It's just a game, babe." That changed when my mom was in a catastrophic car accident and needed 200,000 dollars for emergency surgery. Deep in character as a penniless failure, he said, "I'm flat broke. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money for your mom?" I watched my mother take her last breath because we couldn't pay the bill. On the day of her funeral, he arrived with a pretty college student on his arm. "I've fallen in love with one of my students. It's time we get divorced." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me the agreement. This time, I didn't wait for him to rip it up.

My wife, Noelle Ramsey, has gone mad. Every day, she scrutinizes the slightest of changes in my demeanor, looking for proof that I'm cheating on her. "You smell different today. I've watched enough dramas to know it means that you let another woman rub her scent all over you! You must fire every woman in your company tomorrow!" Initially, I think that it's because I'm not providing her with enough of a sense of security. However, firing all of the female staff at my company is just unrealistic. So, I have no choice but to bring her along with me to the office every day instead. On the first day, she demands to know why I let the female janitor into my office, insisting that it is a private space. On the second day, she slaps a highly paid female manager, claiming that her wearing a suit to work is a deliberate attempt to seduce me. No matter how I try to explain things to her, Noelle refuses to listen. She keeps repeating, "You're taking their side on purpose! You don't love me anymore now that you're rich!" I'm driven to the point of exhaustion and despair, and at one point, I actually begin considering restructuring the company. But at that moment, I receive three text messages on my phone. "Your wife is causing trouble on purpose. If you fire these highly paid talents you personally cultivated, her childhood friend, Howard Pearce, will poach them at once. "They'll feel indebted to him for the opportunity and hand over all your company's cutting-edge technology, and within two years, they'll completely ruin your business! "I am you ten years from the future, Derek Weaver. Please hold on to your company's talent. And when choosing between your marriage and your career, always choose the latter."

On the marking ceremony with my Alpha mate, Sebastian Cole, my world falls apart. A pack of Rogue werewolves kills my mother. The one responsible is Sebastian's stepsister, Cassandra Cole. The security footage captures everything. Cassandra runs out of the cemetery, with a group of Rogues hot on her heels. She bolts into my mother's house, desperate to hide. My mother steps in to protect her and fights back, but in the struggle, her silver rifle is knocked away and lands right at Cassandra's feet. Cassandra could pick it up and kill those Rogues, but she doesn't. She just stands there with a faint smile, watching as the Rogue leader drives his claws through my mother's heart. Later, Sebastian tries to justify her actions. "Vivian, Cassandra was wrong this time... I promise I'll punish her." But I know what I saw. I believe it was murder, and I am bringing charges against Cassandra at the Elder Council Court. However, Sebastian begs me to drop the case. "If Cassandra goes to prison, it'll destroy her! Vivian, don't do this." I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. I refuse him without hesitation. So, he makes another choice. The night before the hearing, he locks me in the basement, trying to stop me from testifying. That's when it finally hits me. No matter what happens, Cassandra will always matter more to Sebastian than I do.

Cole Hartness has abandoned me in the snow mountain for a week. By the time the search-and-rescue team finds me, I'm practically on my deathbed. Cole remains high and mighty even when surrounded by the others. "Rach is kind enough to forgive you even though you almost killed her in the snow mountain. If it wasn't for her pleading for your sake, you'd be staying here for another week. "Our engagement banquet shall be delayed. We'll only proceed with it once Rach makes a full recovery." Cole is already prepared for my impending tantrum. After all, he knows that I've been looking forward to the engagement banquet for a long time. But I reply obediently, "Okay." For a few moments, Cole finds himself stunned. "You owe Rach this much! Once she's done recovering, we'll get engaged! Stop being so unreasonable—" "Cole, I'd like to rest for a while," I cut him off before closing my eyes tiredly. What Cole doesn't know is that I've already decided to leave him the moment he makes the decision to ditch me in the mountain. That is, if I can survive the avalanche.