Mistress Time Travel Short Stories & Novels

By the seventh year of her marriage to Lythas Valeraine, Giselle Rushton had become the most virtuous and sensible lady of the house in all of Valadoria, the capital. She no longer wished for a husband who would devote his life to her alone. Instead, she took it upon herself to find him a mistress. She no longer insisted on controlling the household. Instead, she entrusted most of its affairs to his mistress. Nor did she continue to revolve her life around him. Instead, she found one excuse after another to send him to his mistress's courtyard. Even when their son, Leoric Valeraine, burned with fever and cried out for her in his delirium throughout the night, she remained in her room and calmly leafed through a storybook without so much as raising her eyes. Finally, Lythas could contain himself no longer. He shoved open her door and demanded, "Giselle, how much longer do you intend to keep this up?" Giselle slowly raised her head, her expression devoid of emotion. "Keep what up? Whatever do you mean, my lord? I haven't done anything."

The day I was supposed to win the biggest award of my career, I walked in on my boyfriend, Ethan, in bed with another woman. He sneered, calling me a face-blind, scent-deaf bore in bed. I planned to expose his ass at the award ceremony. Instead, he and his lover mowed me down with their car. Next thing I knew, I woke up with them in an S-class horror survival game. Mortality rate: over 95%. We had to survive ten days in a haunted manor to be revived. Hit 100 on your Anxiety Level, and your soul is obliterated. Chloe, Ethan's lover, sneered. "Sensory defects? You can't recognize ghosts or smell danger. In a horror game, that’s a death sentence. You might as well just die." The others heard her and scrambled to team up. Me? I walked straight into the lair of the manor's final boss. The most powerful demon in the game wanted to devour my soul. I couldn't really see him. I just thought he was a cosplayer. I lunged forward, poked his abs, and pointed at the glowing crack in his chest. "Wow, you're really committed to the role. This getup must've cost a fortune."

After five years in a world ruled by werewolves, I still haven't found a way back to the human world. So I did the only thing I could. I married my fated mate, Ryan Darcy, a devastatingly handsome Lycan Prince with a towering frame. The night we sealed our mate bond, we traded secrets. Leaning close, I whispered in his ear, "The truth is, I'm not from this world. Treat me wrong, and I'll disappear back to where I came from. You'll never find me again." Ryan immediately swears he'll love me more than life itself. He pulls me close, holding me so tight it's like he's afraid I'll disappear any second. But then Eleanor Darcy—his stepsister, sent away for a political marriage in another pack—returns. Bit by bit, I watch as Ryan's attention shifts to her. Devastated, I start looking for a way back to the human world. I throw myself at walls, try to hang myself, even jump into the lake, but nothing works. Ryan grows more distant with each passing day. "Susan, I expected better from you. Since when have you stooped to cheap attention-seeking stunts? 'Crossed over from another world?' You can't honestly expect me to buy that nonsense." That's when I realized he hadn't believed a single word I'd said.

On the last day before my study-abroad application closed, I was about to give up my full scholarship offer. Then, out of nowhere, I got a call from my future self. "Don't give it up. Click confirm enrollment. Right now." "Harley locked in his own graduate placement three months ago. The only reason he wants you to stay is that Katy needs you to finish her senior thesis for her, and he needs your money every month to live on. "Two weeks after you turn down that offer, the two of them go public with their relationship. "That so-called best friend of yours, Katy? She already betrayed you. She's been sleeping with him." I froze, my finger hovering over the mouse. The voice kept going, speaking faster and faster. "Listen carefully. Once you confirm the offer, take the twenty thousand dollars left in your account and put every cent into the Eklund Growth Fund. It goes public next March. It'll grow eightfold within the year. "Once you're abroad, apply to your advisor's AI lab before your first semester ends. That project gets acquired by Coogle two years from now, and as a core team member, you'll get a share of the payout. "Twenty-two-year-old me, I'm begging you. Stop wasting yourself on people who don't deserve it." The voice cut off. I took a deep breath and moved the cursor to "Confirm Enrollment." The instant I clicked, my mind was made up. I wasn't going to bury my own future for anyone who wasn't worth it.

The night my boyfriend confessed his feelings for me, he cried so hard he could barely speak. He said he'd somehow seen the future and wanted me to make him a promise. I asked him why. He only said, “I don't remember. I just remember that the future me regretted everything. More than anything. “Yvette, no matter what happens in the future, promise you'll give me three chances, okay?” I was deeply in love with him then, so of course I agreed without hesitation. But later, he seemed to forget all about that promise. Especially when he became inseparable from his female assistant. It wasn't until I signed my name on the divorce papers that I finally understood why he'd asked me for those three chances. Because just as I signed my name, a voice suddenly sounded beside my ear. It was Luke. Luke Miller at nineteen. He was crying. “Yvette, you promised me, remember? “You said you'd give me three chances.”

On the night of the Imperial Winter Festival, the fake princess personally lit the Grand Lantern. But as the lantern lit up, an image appeared on its shade, revealing a horrifying scene of me, the real princess, being thrown into a beggar's den and violated by one man after another. The noblewomen blushed with embarrassment and called me depraved by nature. They said anyone who had suffered such a fate should have taken her own life long ago, yet I'd shamelessly continued to live. Some even claimed I was worse than a prostitute behind closed doors, saying countless men had used and ruined me. My brother, the king, kept his eyes fixed on me and ordered his secret guards to watch me in case I tried to hurt Francesca. But the arrogant, spoiled princess I once was had long since disappeared. Faced with their humiliation, I smiled at the noblewomen attending the banquet. "You're right. Someone like me deserves to die." When she realized I wouldn't take the bait, Francesca deliberately dropped and shattered a treasured keepsake left behind by our late mother, then pretended to accidentally step on my dress and tear it. Even with everyone staring at me, I remained as numb and submissive as ever. My brother thought Francesca had gone a little too far. Nevertheless, he gave me an approving look. "Leah, after five years of studying at the Abbey of St. Faith, you've finally learned to be gracious and tolerant of others." His words struck me as laughable. What grace? I'd simply given up on the brother who had humiliated me time and time again.