Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Bias Cheating Novels

On Valentine’s Day, my fiancé, Declan Whitmore, was rushed to the ER in the middle of the night with severe food poisoning after eating undercooked wild mushrooms. In his delirious haze, he blurted out, “Brielle, I’m so sorry... If I hadn’t been dead broke back then, I never would’ve ended up with Vivian.” I was Vivian Thornfield. And Brielle Ashcombe was the girl he had loved and lost—his unforgettable ex. He seemed to have forgotten that after the Whitmore family went bankrupt, Brielle abandoned him without a second thought and fled abroad. Over the past eight years, I was the one who paid off every cent of his debts and stayed loyally by his side. I calmly called off our engagement and tossed the ring straight into the trash. He sneered, “Can’t you be a little more open-minded? Brielle would never throw a petty tantrum like you.” I smiled faintly. “Fine. You’re trash anyway—you can go right back to her.”

My wife, Jenna Cruise, is allergic to men's bodily fluids. Even the slightest skin contact makes her break out in red, swollen patches immediately. We have been married for three years, but we've never been intimate. We even use IVF to have a baby. While I'm with Jenna at her prenatal appointment, a violent patient starts a fight at the hospital, and I get stabbed multiple times just to protect her. I almost lose my life, but the thought of her and our unborn baby is what keeps me going. On the day I'm discharged from the hospital, I receive a video. It shows Jenna making love to another man, doing all sorts of things in bed. Her skin looks flawless. Aside from the love bite the man leaves on her chest, there isn't a single red welt on her body. I look up and see Jenna peeling an apple for me. She's wearing a mask, and her dress is buttoned all the way to the top. She's wearing gloves too, completely covering herself up. The timestamp shows that the video was taken just yesterday. I reach for the buttons on her dress, my hands trembling, but she immediately shoves my hand away. "Don't touch me! Stay away from me!" The look in her eyes makes me feel like I'm something disgusting. I also finally realize that she's not allergic to men's bodily fluids. She's just allergic to me. As Jenna heads to the bathroom to change, I call the number I've had blocked for the past five years. The person on the other end answers almost immediately. "Give me your location. I'll be right there," I say.

The day before we were supposed to get married, I found out my fiancé, Bradley Bigham, was cheating on me with my best friend, Carla Fralin. So I shoved him into a tub of disinfectant and scrubbed him down three times. Then I posted Carla's intimate photos online, and they spread like wildfire. What I never expected was that my mother, Roxie Boyce, would get so worked up that she ended up completely paralyzed, pushing our already struggling family to the brink of financial ruin. Just as I was ready to drag them all down with me, Bradley's archrival, Connor Magder, saved me. "You're going to ruin your own life over a scumbag and a tramp? Don't be afraid. I'll be by your side from now on." I thought I'd finally been saved. In our third year of marriage, I was holding a pregnancy test, ready to surprise him. That was when I happened to see him on a video call with my ex-fiancé. Connor's eyes were full of complicated emotions. "I'll definitely be at your wedding. As long as Carla is happy with you, these years I've spent with Ariana will have been worth it." I froze where I stood, the blood in my veins running cold. When Connor looked up and saw me, his eyes filled with wariness. He assumed I'd raise hell like I had three years ago, until things spiraled completely out of control. Instead, I stepped in front of the computer's camera and said calmly, "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I wish you a lifetime of happiness together."

The day Henry decided to marry my best friend, I turned into a joke in everyone’s eyes. He lifted my chin and stared into my eyes bewitchingly. “If you admit your fault, I can overlook your mistakes and start over again with you.” I obeyed and uttered the words, “I was wrong.” And yet, with mocking eyes, he sneered, “I can’t believe you’re this cheap, Julia.”

Jay Cooper, Giselle White's assistant-slash-sugar baby, accuses me of stealing his mother's personal effects from him. That night, my mom, who's severely ill, gets dangled from a helicopter. Impatience is written all over Giselle's eyes. "If you refuse to return the cross pendant to Jay, your mom will pay for your willful act!" I do my best to suppress the throbbing pain coming from my heart as I beg hoarsely to Giselle to let my mom go. But my seven-year-old daughter, Valerie Walker, jabs a button on the remote control with an icy expression. "This is what you get for going against Mr. Cooper time and again!" I can only watch as Mom falls from a high altitude, soon smashing into the ground heavily. Sorrow fills my heart as I plead in a humble tone, "Please, I'm begging you… Please take my mom to the hospital…" "That's enough, Dylan Walker! The one dangling from the helicopter is a dummy, not your actual mom! Why are you still putting on an act?"

On the day of our engagement, as we were driving to the banquet hall, a man holding a few-month-old baby stepped in front of our car. My first thought was that it was some kind of scam. I was about to get out and deal with him when I saw the panic on his face. "Cassidy," he said desperately, "our baby won't stop crying. Do you think something's wrong?" The moment she heard that, my fiancée shoved me out of the car. She took off with them without a single glance back. I just stood there in shock. So this was the truth. She'd been hiding a child with her ex all along. Alone, I went to the banquet hall to handle what remained of our celebration. Later, she called. "I feel terrible about this," she said. "I thought if I gave him the baby and gave you the marriage, it would balance things out. But when Stanley showed up today, I realized—he's the only one I want." I was done with her games. If that's how she felt, I'd walk away. So I made a simple phone call. "Grandma, I'm coming home. I'm ready to run the family business now."

On the day I was supposed to register the marriage with my girlfriend, the CEO of Whitmore Group, her scheming male assistant stepped in first and handed over his ID. Just like that, the marriage certificate that should have belonged to me and my girlfriend became his and hers instead. All I did was ask a couple of questions. The assistant dropped to his knees in front of me, looking as if his world had ended. “Nathan, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t needed to get my child registered for school, I never would have resorted to something like this and entered a fake marriage with Claire.” Then he started sobbing and tried to slam his head into the wall as if he had to die to make up for it. Claire Whitmore had always been sharp and levelheaded, but this time, instead of saying a word for me, she slapped me across the face in front of everyone. “Ryan is a single father. Everything he did was for his child. Do you really have to be this petty? “It’s just a certificate. Once Ryan’s child is enrolled, I’ll divorce him. What difference does it make if you get yours a little later? Did you really have to push him to the edge? “Get on your knees and apologize to Ryan. Then give him half your salary as compensation. If you behave, I might let you borrow our certificate, take a picture of it, and show it off in your family group chat. Otherwise, don’t even think about getting one with me.” I gave a cold laugh. “Then forget it.” And I did not mean only the certificate. I was done with her, too.

During the summer break, I took my daughter, Stella Quinton, to a private beach that I own for some fun and some scuba diving. That's when Felicity Portman, a famous actress, barges into the beach with a group flocking behind her. "This is a private beach that Micah has given me permission to entertain VIP clients at! Hurry up and get lost, you filthy commoners!" The arrogant Felicity has the gall to bring up my husband, Micah Morrison, just to threaten me. When she finds out about my identity, she even makes fun of me for being a useless woman who relies on him for survival. I'm furious, to say the least. As the heiress to the richest family in Seacrest City, how am I a useless woman who relies on men for survival? Also, I'm the one who gave Micah his movie company and all of his resources! But when Micah reaches the beach, he works with Felicity to coerce my darling Stella into putting on a diving performance for a lecherous investor. With a sneer on my face, I summon the Seashark Special Forces, who only take orders from the most elite members of Seacrest City. "Seashark Special Forces, come to Moonrise Bay right now and clear out the area!"

The day my son is born, my husband holds him tightly, looking overjoyed. However, while I'm asleep, he secretly swaps my son with the child next door—his first love's baby. I act like I know nothing and arrange for someone to switch the babies back. My husband wants me to raise someone else's child as my own but has no idea he's not even the father of my son. Ten years later, I transfer all my assets to my son's name as a birthday gift. That's when my husband's first love, Amanda Larkin, crashes the birthday party. She looks at me smugly and says, "The son you've treasured for the past decade is actually mine!"

Liam Jordan and I had spent six months planning our wedding. Then, on the day of my bridal fitting, no one even bothered to tell me they were going without me. When I called, Sophie Lawson answered with a laugh. "Hey, Yara! I tried on your wedding dresses for you! This bridal boutique downtown is amazing. Every single dress looks incredible in photos." Liam's voice came from beside her, casual as ever. "They look good on your sister, so they'll probably look good on you too. No point making a separate trip." I was about to say something when my mother, Diane Lawson's voice, cut in. "Honey, what about this rhinestone one for your bridesmaid dress? You'll be the center of attention." Sophie happily agreed. Everyone on the other end sounded like they were having a wonderful time. Meanwhile, I was the bride, yet somehow I felt more like an outsider to my own wedding than anyone else. Then Sophie spoke again. "Liam, this one's a little tight around the waist. Come help me loosen it." He didn't refuse. He even laughed and teased her for being hopeless. Something inside me simply gave out. After I hung up, I went straight to the hotel and canceled the reception, asking for my deposit back. The woman at the front desk couldn't help asking, "Ma'am, you waited more than six months to get this venue. How can you just give it up now?" I quietly slipped the engagement ring off my finger. "Let someone else have the wedding," I said calmly. "They might need it more than I do."

I turn down a dream research program at Hefford University just so I can stay and help my debt-ridden boyfriend run a burger stand. This time, he says he's serious. I give him all the money I've saved up over the years, hoping we can build a better future together. A few hours later, I discover he's forgotten two hundred dollars in the drawer. I grab the money and run out, hoping to catch him. What I catch is a scene straight out of a corny movie. The loan sharks who used to beat and threaten him are now bowing and nodding deferentially. "Sir, I guess we don't need to show up at your house anymore, right?" Kurt Saunders rubs his temples and replies, "Yup. Anna gave up her entire future for me. She even turned down an opportunity to study at Hefford just to help me pay off my debts." Before he even finishes, his childhood friend lets out a giggle. "Kurt, that's still not enough. You'll only know if she really doesn't mind being poor if she sticks around through a year of flipping burgers without any complaints." Kurt looks at her sly expression and lets out a helpless laugh. "Alright, we'll do it your way. One more year of pretending. Anna would never leave me anyway." I stand there, listening to the sound of my own heart shatter. Kurt, you think I'm giving up my future for you, but it's still mine, and I can take it back.

I have an ability in which I can see the countdown to someone's emotional departure. The day Dad's countdown hits zero, he leaves behind divorce papers and abandons Mom and me. The day my best friend's countdown hits zero, she finally dumps her jerk of a boyfriend. I'm always terrified of seeing a countdown appear above Levi Hammond's head. But thankfully, seven years into our marriage, his head is still clear. I am thankful every day that I married a good man. However, when he picks me up from work last month, I look up and see bright red text burning into my vision. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] That's less than two years from now. My heart clenches, and I frantically search for answers in my head. Have I done something wrong? Has he changed his mind? Things don't fall into place until our anniversary, when we run into his intern, Belinda Manning, outside his office building during a torrential downpour. She's soaked to the skin, but she still has a bright smile on her face. Levi hands her a pack of tissues to dry off, his face unreadable. However, in that instant, the countdown suddenly jumps. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] The number of days has dropped by more than 300. The sound of rain is deafening in my ears. But I know now that I have found the reason for it.

The day I have only 220 dollars left in my savings, I buy a 200-dollar ticket to a piano recital. When my friend finds out, she asks if I have gone crazy. I reply without a hint of emotion, "I just want to see what kind of woman is worth taking all our savings and spending it on a concert grand piano for. "That money was supposed to save our daughter. Summer was counting on it for her surgery." The recital lasts two full hours, and everyone praises the beautiful music. But all I can think about is the woman onstage and my husband, Zander Stafford, sitting right in front of her. He's dressed in a sharp suit and looks so refined that I barely recognize him. At the end of every song, Zander is always the first to applaud. There is a fervor in his eyes I have never seen before. It isn't until the recital ends that I finally receive a message from him after two months of silence, along with a bank transfer. "I'm sorry, Sabina. Things are tight at the construction site right now, so I'm using some of the money from that account," he writes. "My boss says he'll pay me back as soon as the money comes in. "Didn't you say Summer is sick and in the hospital? Take these 5,000 dollars for now." I look up at the two people embracing in the center of the stage. I return the money and reply, "It's not necessary." I no longer need it. I will never need his money again. Summer is already dead, and nothing matters anymore.

While strolling around the mall, I bend down to tie my shoelaces. When I lift my head again, my boyfriend, Lucas Carter, and my best friend, Kimberly Wendell, are already over 30 feet away. Just as I am about to catch up with them, I notice that the spot that should've been mine is slowly vanishing as the two walk closer and closer. Eventually, they are shoulder to shoulder as they talk about topics that I can't join in on. It's as though a third person was never there. During our university years, Lucas and Kimberly were known as the the school’s most promising “twin stars”. This continued even after we graduated, with them becoming the youngest chief physicians at the hospital. Meanwhile, no matter how hard I work, I can only trail behind them as an ordinary nurse. Lucas is always patting my head, saying, "You're cute, even when you're a little slow sometimes." Then he turns around and works seamlessly with Kimberly to perform one complex surgery after another. As I stare at their backs, I suddenly feel utterly exhausted. I no longer want to continue down this road, forever chasing after Lucas.

Three years of marriage, and I'd become known in our social circle as the ultimate doormat. My husband staying out all night, his silent treatment, bringing his first love home to flaunt in my face—through it all, I'd smile and make him hangover soup, keeping the house spotless. Everyone thought I loved him to the point of madness. Even he believed it. Until the day of the divorce, when he begged me with tears in his eyes not to leave—and then watched "me" collapse rigid to the floor after a power outage, revealing a charging port on the back of my neck. He lost his mind. Meanwhile, the real me was lying on a beach in the Maldives, running my fingers through the hair of a gorgeous twenty-something with a six-pack, cheerfully pressing the "factory reset" button.

It was the summer holidays. I was going to Shinborder to see my wife, then comments started popping right in front of me. "Five minutes later, your wife's going to tell you to not give up your seat for anyone." "A pregnant woman's going to ask for your seat. You refuse, as per your wife's request. That pregnant woman ends up dying a sudden death from standing too long. Her baby dies too." "Your wife's male bestie is this cabin's attendant. He'll testify that you caused the woman's death by refusing to give up your seat." "The Internet will hunt you down. Your wife will stand against you. In the end, the pregnant woman's mother will stab you eighteen times, and you die." I was stunned. Maybe this was a hallucination from teaching the SAT students for too long. Then, the moment I sat down, I got a text from my wife. "It's hard to get tickets this time of the year, Michael. It took me forever to get a first-class seat. Enjoy it. Don't give it to anyone." My hand shook. I was reminded of the last line of the comment. "Your wife and male bestie set this up. They bought out the pregnant woman so you'll be killed, all so they can get your mountain of inheritance and insurance payout." I looked at the nearby pregnant woman and went to the second-class cabin right away.

My husband is the director of a private hospital. During the three years of work, he would always find his "female best friend" with all kinds of excuses. The first time he went, he bought me a new purse I had been longing for. The second time he went, he credited one thousand dollars to the beauty salon I frequented. Only after he gave his family member's spot for the hospital's retreat did I finally ask for my one-hundredth request. He simply signed the form, thinking that it was some kind of order for a luxurious item. "I've neglected you lately. Shall I take you to see the aurora after I come back this time?" When he gracefully gave me that promise, I calmly smiled. That was because he didn't know the last thing I asked him to sign was divorce papers.

After giving me the cold shoulder for a month, Jules Anderson voluntarily handed me two VIP wristbands for Coachella and invited me to attend it on our wedding anniversary. I was dressed to the nines that day, but he never appeared, even after admissions started. Then, once I was about to enter, I realized that the wristbands in my bag were gone. At that moment, Jules' childhood sweetheart, Maddie Washington, updated her social media. In the photo, Jules was solemnly holding a pink cotton candy, completely different from his usual cold and aloof demeanor. The caption read: [Finally seeing Domi Dora. Thank you to the person who always responds to my every request.] Looking at the empty compartment in my bag, I suddenly understood everything. In the past, I would have had a big argument with Jules and forced him to give me an explanation. Now, I just felt relieved. It had been five years. I accumulated so many disappointments that I was drained.

My fiancee, Bianca Milas, had a peculiar quirk. She never answered my phone calls after 9 p.m.. Even during our honeymoon phase, she would hang up on me without hesitation as soon as it was 9 p.m.. Once, I came home late and realized that one of my enemies had sent killers after me. In a panic, I had called her. When she finally answered, she simply said impatiently, “Grow up. Ever heard of respecting someone’s routine?” That night, I was slashed three times and nearly lost my life. One day, while using her computer, I accidentally saw a call log synced to her phone showing a call from 9 p.m. to 9 a.m.. Every single night, for five years, she had been engaged in twelve-hour calls. I recognized the number. It belonged to her mother’s student, Derek Steadman. Derek worked as her teaching assistant. My whole body sagged, and fatigue washed over me. I sat there motionless for a long while, then called off our marriage license appointment. She never answered my calls, so I did not see the point in answering hers any longer.

The night before the Fourth of July holiday, my husband gathered the entire company for what I thought would finally be our long-awaited public announcement. Instead, his clueless assistant burst into the room wearing a wedding dress. "Cameron, I'm here to marry you." He didn't turn her down. If anything, his eyes softened with unmistakable affection as he promoted her to vice president on the spot. The entire company erupted in cheers for their love story. When my coworkers noticed me standing frozen off to the side, one of them couldn't resist reminding me. "Stephanie, you've been with Mr. Cox for nine years. You can't let a moment this special pass without saying something!" I smiled, walked onto the stage, slipped off my wedding ring, and tossed it to Poppy Campbell. "What kind of wedding doesn't come with a ring? Here, take it."