Historias cortas de Plot Twists Romance y novelas con Bias ambientadas en Cheating

At the space agency's awards ceremony, my husband gave the honor that should have been mine to his first love, who had just returned from overseas. He accused me of plagiarism and rescinded my promotion in front of everyone. Everyone thought I would argue and make a scene, but I simply smiled and personally placed my work badge around his first love's neck. "A new position calls for a celebration, doesn't it? Why not make it a wedding? I'd be happy to officiate." They didn't know that I was the only one capable of drawing the rocket's design blueprints. Even the resources keeping the project alive had been secured because of my reputation and connections. This time, I wanted to see whether she really was the brilliant overseas-trained expert they claimed she was—or merely a pretty face with nothing to back it up.

At a major press conference, my husband, Julian Winslow, is about to publicly introduce me as the love of his life when his young assistant suddenly walks onto the stage carrying a girl. "Go on, sweetheart. Daddy's calling for you." The room erupts. Reporters start firing questions about Julian's relationship with his assistant, but instead of correcting them, Julian simply takes the little girl into his arms and fastens the company's multimillion-dollar new necklace around her neck. "Yes," he says. "We have a daughter." As I stand silently in the crowd, the reporters turn their attention to me. "Ms. Aldridge, you've been with Mr. Winslow and the company for years. Surely you have something to say on such a special occasion?" I smile. Then I take the designs I spent an entire year perfecting and toss them straight into the assistant's hands. "You can have the designs too. Consider them my gift to your happy little family."

At the auction, my fiancé's secretary raised the bidding paddle twice on his behalf. The first time, she outbid Lady Margaret Vesta by a single silver coin, snatching away the emerald brooch meant as a coming-of-age gift for her daughter. She brandished the house seal of my fiancé, Cassian Severus, with a brazen grin. "Her husband can afford to keep a woman on the side, but he won't pay what he owes Cassian. I'm just collecting a little interest for him. What's the problem?" Cassian thought I was still at sea. He just smiled and told her not to be so blunt in front of a crowd next time. The second time, she set the seal into the gold tray, activating an irrevocable, open-ended bid. This time, she was after my mother's heirloom: a silver dolphin necklace. She sat in the seat that should have been mine, wearing the custom crimson gown I had paid for, and looked across half the hall at me. "It belonged to a dead woman. Anyone can wear it. Lady Helena has plenty of jewelry already. Why not let me have it?" Cassian still had his back to me. He didn't know I was already back.

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.

Three days before my wedding with Adam Wayman, his childhood friend, Diana Smith, came up to us. She ignored me and said to Adam as if it were only natural, “Adam, I know you’re about to get married, but I need you to spend five days with me.” Adam took me by the hand and led me away, just like he always had. Right when I thought our wedding would proceed as scheduled, he sent me a message. [Grace, I’m sorry, but let’s postpone our wedding for five days.] Later, he placed his suitcase by the door and pulled me into his arms. “Grace, I’m sorry. I’m the only one who can handle this project. Wait for me to get back, and I’ll make it up to you properly.” I held him tightly and said, “It’s okay. When are you coming back? Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?” Adam gently kissed my forehead and said, “Don’t worry about it. Just get some rest and enjoy being a bride-to-be.” Not long after he left, I saw a notification pop up on his spare phone. He had left it on the couch. The notification was about flight tickets to Marisol Bay. On the tickets, I saw Adam and Diana’s names. That was when I knew it was not a business trip at all. He was going on a vacation with her. I recalled how thrilled he had looked when I said “yes” to his proposal. Oh, well. Rotten fruit got tossed, and so did rotten people. I took out my phone and sent a message to the wedding planner, Felicity Feathers. [Cancel my wedding.]

The day my boyfriend, Ashton Grant, ends up in the hospital, I find his will. Or rather, 214 of them. They're written on different dates, but every single one names the same beneficiary. And it isn't me. It's his first love. My hands go cold. I can't even confront him because Ashton is lying unconscious in a hospital bed. "Mr. Grant is addicted to extreme sports. The more dangerous, the better," his assistant explains. "He writes a new will before every trip. But only the most recent one was ever made official through his lawyer." I already know the answer before I ask. "And I'm still not in it, am I?" The assistant falls silent. After six years together, Ashton still disappears for weeks at a time, leaving me terrified that he won't come home one day. And all this time, whenever he risks his life, he's making sure that another woman is taken care of if he dies. His first love. If she's the one he thinks about when he might not make it home, then why should I be the one waiting and worrying when he leaves?

After a wild month of partying across half the world, I unexpectedly found out that I was pregnant. I flew home overnight to surprise my husband, only to find a new nanny had moved into our house. Before I could say a word, she slapped me across the face. "What's a vixen like you doing here?" she snapped, fierce and full of herself. "Get out! This is my daughter's house! Out, out, out!" My hand froze halfway to dialing 911. I shot back instead, "Who's your daughter?" She settled onto the leather sofa I'd bought, crossed her legs smugly, and said, "My daughter is Paige Griffin, and her husband is Bradley Ford, Morlene City's hottest new rising star. Did you hear that clearly, or are your ears just for show?" My head started buzzing. I looked down at the wall-sized print of my wedding photo with Bradley and let out a bitter laugh. If her daughter was Bradley's wife, then who did that make me? Me, the proud daughter of Morlene City's richest man, had been reduced to being someone's mistress?

After a difficult labor took the life of my first son, I spent another three years undergoing IVF before finally giving my husband, Caspian Wyndham, a daughter. Unable to resist, I sent Caspian a photo of our daughter while he was still on his way back to us. But I had barely put down my phone when a livestream notification popped up. "Teaching My Fellow Girls How to Become Mothers Pain-Free, Live!" The blogger never showed her face, but her voice was unnaturally gleeful. "Six years ago, I personally created a new identity for my boyfriend and sent him off to save a depressed heiress. "Once they got fake-married and had a son, we planned to stage complications during labor, then have him hand the baby over to me to raise. "My boyfriend pulled it off, and he even married me afterward. The only mistake he made was being too softhearted. Before he walked away, he insisted on leaving the heiress something to remember him by. "That woman is such an idiot. She had no idea that my husband's name and identity were completely fabricated, and she even went through IVF just to have his child." I subconsciously gripped my phone tighter. Viewers who had gone through similar heartbreak flooded the livestream with furious comments, but the blogger only grew more brazen. "Her two biological brothers were involved in this too. Even if I were a fake heiress, they'd still take my side. "Luckily, the true heiress gave birth today, and my husband has decided to fake his death and come back to our family." Still giggling, she held up another phone and displayed a photograph. "Look at this baby. She's barely been born, and she's already lost her father. Poor thing!" My breath hitched. It was the exact photograph I had sent Caspian moments earlier. Just then, my phone rang. I answered with trembling fingers, and my eldest brother's detached voice came from the other end. "Caspian was on his way back to see you when he got into a car accident. The car exploded, and there's nothing left of him."

When a wave of labor pain brought me to my knees in the hospital hallway, Orson Caldwell, a brilliant doctor, was just about to wheel me into the delivery room. Just then, his phone rang. When he answered the call, his expression fell. "Seraphina, Cressie's teddy is having trouble giving birth. It's in critical condition, but the vet clinic in her town is closed. I have to perform a C-section on it." I clutched my stomach as blood slowly began to seep between my legs. "I'm fully dilated. If you leave now, what am I supposed to do?" Orson looked annoyed. "We'll get another doctor to do it. You're only giving birth, but Cressie's dog could die. I'll make it up to you and our child someday." With that, he rushed into the elevator without even taking off his white coat. I laughed through my tears, pulled out my phone, and called my father. "Dad, I'll agree to the arranged marriage."

On the day my family went bankrupt, my older sister fled the country overnight to escape her wedding. When I returned home after selling off every luxury item I owned, my alcoholic father drugged me and sent me to the bed of Tristan Chevalier, a man with intermittent explosive disorder. Once the effects of the drug wore off, he realized something was wrong. His eyes bloodshot with rage, he wrecked Chevalier Manor. He was even willing to sever ties with his family just to go abroad and explain everything to my sister. In the end, however, Tristan's grandmother, Donna, threatened to take her own life, forcing him to marry me and register our marriage. Whenever Donna pressured him to have a child with me, he would deliberately wait until his intermittent explosive disorder was acting up before taking me with brutal force. Afterward, even when I lay on the bed covered in blood, he would not spare me a second glance. "Sylvia Jefferson, consider this my reward to you this time. If you can't get pregnant, you'd better be prepared to spend the rest of your life as a widow!" After that, I tried everything I could think of to seduce him, but he refused to touch me, not even with a finger. Instead, he tormented me even more cruelly. In public, I was the once-down-and-out heiress who had married into a wealthy family, living the life of a pampered society wife. Behind closed doors, however, he gave me only twenty dollars a day to keep myself fed. Then, one night, I took advantage of his drunken state and climbed into his bed, hoping to sleep with him. But he called the police on me and accused me of sexual coercion, turning me into the laughingstock of our entire social circle. Eventually, I stopped longing for a child. I even personally brought my sister back to him and handed him the divorce papers. Yet this time, Tristan refused to let me go.

After we got married, my husband, Mason Callahan, handed over his debit card and told me to treat myself, no limits. Then his mom ended up in the hospital. The second he asked me to transfer the money for her treatment, I told him that there was none left. He flew into a rage. "I give you ten grand a month! How the hell can you have zero dollars left? "I said you could treat yourself, but you actually blew through every cent? You didn't save a dime? God, how did I end up marrying such a wasteful woman?" I didn't bother arguing. I simply asked for a divorce.

The sixth time photos of him cheating surfaced, Leander Prescott snatched the knife from my hand and brought it down hard. Stroke by stroke, he carved the name "Seraphina Vale" into his thigh. "Happy now? Can you leave Celeste alone?" I stood frozen, staring at him as if I suddenly didn't recognize the man in front of me. For ten years, we had tortured each other over Leander's infidelity. Every time he crossed the line, I carved my name into his flesh. Wrist-cutting, kidnapping, even hanging Celeste Waverly from a helicopter to threaten her—every scar on his body had a bloody story behind it. He had never been this calm. … Seeing the confusion in my eyes, a flicker of tenderness passed through his hate-filled gaze. "Celeste is pregnant. As long as you promise you won't confront her again, you can carve as many marks into me as you want. "This is the ninety-ninth mark. Ninety-nine is a good number. Let's make things work between us from now on." My throat suddenly felt dry. "Make things work? Do you really mean that?" He looked at me with a mixture of pain and mockery. "Sincere?" "My body already belongs to you. Stop coveting what belongs to Celeste." Watching him close his eyes in numb resignation, I suddenly understood. Ninety-nine wasn't his way of saying he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. It meant he had finally resigned himself to his fate. He was willing to sacrifice his entire life so that another woman and her bastard could live out the rest of theirs in peace. A bone-deep sorrow flooded my heart, chilling me to the core. A lifetime was too long. And suddenly, I no longer wanted to sacrifice mine for him.

It was the seventh year we spent living separately after the marriage. I came to see Blake Shaw, and once again, my key broke and was stuck in the keyhole. I quickly called Blake. He said, "You probably got the wrong key again. Stay in a hotel. I'll come back and open the door." I looked at the sticker on the key and froze. The key was right. He changed the locks. Before I could think further, my father called, and he laughed heartily. "Of course he's out! He came over first thing in the morning, and he brought gifts! Then, my best friend's call came in. She was drunk from the sounds of it. "He's drinking with Zack. Your man's growing to be a good drinker." Then, my brother's call came. "He's a busy guy. Finally found the spare time to help me out with my investments." My mind was reeling. They had no idea I just asked the guard if this house's owner was home, and they said he was. I stopped asking questions. Instead, I called a locksmith. A strange curiosity took hold of me. I wanted to find out what secret my friends and family were keeping from me.

The year Jonathan Nash becomes paralyzed in a car accident and falls from the top of the boxing world, I sell my family home and spend eight years working as a hotel housekeeper to scrape together the money for his surgery. I stay by his side until he fights his way back to the top and becomes world champion again. At the celebration party, he holds up his trophy and says through tears, "To the love of my life, who never left my side. May we spend the rest of our lives together." My eyes well up with tears. I think all those years of sacrifice are finally paying off. Unexpectedly, the spotlight sweeps past me as I stand up and instead lands on Amber Lloyd, the boxing team's doctor. I freeze in place, hearing nothing but the pounding of my heart. On the big screen, a slideshow titled "The World Champion's Recovery: A Wife's Journal" begins to play. Each slide is filled with my own records, including Jonathan's muscle response logs from all those nights I spent massaging his legs, gait training plans, and breakdowns of his boxing technique. What hurts even more is the final slide—his marriage certificate with Amber, dated five years ago. Jonathan grips my trembling shoulders, his expression a mix of desperation and warning. "Yvette, the public wants a respectable love story about a boxing champion's miraculous recovery. They don't need to know that the woman who helped me through it all was a housekeeper. "If you come forward now, no one will believe you. There's no point making a scene over this. I'll buy your family home back for you." I stare at the man standing in front of me in disbelief. Eight years of selfless devotion have become the very thing he uses against me. I walk out of the ballroom, my hands shaking as I pull up the overseas job offer on my phone. Without a second thought, I tap "Accept". "Ms. Sloan, your flight and visa will be ready in three days. Please stay in touch. We look forward to having you on board!"

It was Christmas Eve. I had flown home in a hurry, hoping to surprise my wife. But the moment I stepped inside, I heard Nancy Summerson say gently, "Dad, Mom, this is Ronald Riverton. We've been secretly married for years." She heard the door open and turned around. The second she saw me, she walked over and slapped me across the face. "You thieves are getting bolder by the day. Breaking and entering during Christmas Eve? Get out now!" I stared at her, my eyes red. I grabbed her hand tightly, hoping she would give me an explanation. She flung my hand away and took a phone out. "I've called the cops, and they'll be here very soon! They'll arrest you, thief!" Then Nancy turned back to her family and took Ronald's hand, intertwining their fingers as though I were nothing more than an unwanted stranger. "It's just a thief. The cops will handle him. Ignore him." I stood petrified. The four of them looked so happy together. As for me, all I felt was exhaustion. Without another word, I turned and left. Then I tossed the share transfer agreement I had brought for her into the bin.

When my husband, a college professor, suddenly asked to sleep in separate rooms, I knew he had developed feelings for one of his female students. Then that student hit our seven-year-old son with her car, leaving him paralyzed. I gave Cedric Langley two choices. Either send her to prison, or make sure she never graduated and force her to spend the rest of her life paying for what she'd done. But when Cedric came home, he dropped to his knees beside me, his eyes rimmed red. "She was so ashamed that she took her own life. I'll never betray you or our child again." He smashed the student's gravestone, burned everything connected to her, and became the devoted husband and father he had once been. Three years after our son was paralyzed, I happened to see a file open on Cedric's computer. "100 Reconciliation Coupons: Usage History." "Coupon No. 100: Forgive Elara for her unintended mistake and help her evade legal punishment." A loud buzz exploded inside my head. Elara Beaumont—the woman who should have been burning in hell for what she had done—was actually his teaching assistant, Evelyn Montrose, living under a new name. One reconciliation coupon was enough for him to completely forgive the woman who had left our son paralyzed. But there was something Cedric did not know. That very day, the last reconciliation coupon between us had just been used up.

My husband, Mason Crawford, is a renowned obstetrician-gynecologist with more thank-you greeting cards from patients than I can count. But when I start bleeding during my first trimester and rush to the hospital to see him, he kicks me out. "Family doesn't get special treatment. Hospital rules. You have to register and wait in line like everyone else." I take his words to heart. I never bother him, not once, for any of my prenatal checkups. That is, until his first love, Vivian Werner, who married and moved abroad, comes back pregnant. That's when everything changes. When Vivian comes in for her prenatal checkups, he personally pulls strings to arrange a VIP room for her. And the checklist of tests he draws up for her is even more detailed than the one he gave me. Vivian says she's scared something might happen to her baby, so he brings in the best medical team to watch over her 24/7. I find this unfair, so I complain to him about it a lot. But Mason simply wipes away my tears gently. "She's divorced and pregnant. She's already got it hard enough. Do you really have to be jealous over this, too?" Since I can't think of a comeback, I have no choice but to bite my tongue and bottle up my feelings. Then, on my way to get a fetal heart-rate monitoring test, I get into a car accident. I call him countless times, but he never comes to sign the consent forms. The surgery ends, and I hold our stillborn baby in my arms. I want him to come see our daughter one last time, but he still doesn't pick up. It isn't until the sun goes down that his buddy calls me with the "good news". "Leah, Vivian's given birth. It's a boy. I've never seen Mason's hands shake like that before. You should go get a gift and bring it here as soon as possible. Mason says he wants to become the baby's godfather." So this is why he hasn't picked up. He's busy delivering his ex-girlfriend's baby.

On the last trip before Zeke Malone and I were set to register our marriage, someone clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the bushes to assault me. Zeke and my sister, Crystal Bianco, arrived just in time to "save" me. That was when I heard Zeke switch to French and ask her, "Did you get enough footage just now?" "Yeah," Crystal answered back in French. "But isn't this unfair to Lizzie?" Zeke's voice turned grave. "The man was only acting. He never actually went through with it. We just needed the footage. As long as I don't hold it against her, that's all that matters. "Besides, you could win a Pulitzer for breaking this story. That's what actually matters here." I lay in his arms, a chill spreading through every inch of me. Certain I must have misheard, I couldn't help but ask, "What were you two just saying?" Zeke wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, his voice as gentle as ever. "We were talking about your case, about what happened to you. It might be best to let Crystal be the one to report it. That way, the man responsible will pay for what he did." He assumed I couldn't understand a word of it, so he went right on discussing with Crystal how to get the story more attention. What he didn't know was that I'd spent the past year secretly teaching myself French, just so I could belong in their world. I never imagined that the first time I finally understood them, it would be to discover that they had both betrayed me.

Dad's foreman is withholding his wages, leaving him no choice but to travel into the city to find a lawyer and file a lawsuit. Unfamiliar with how elevators work, he stubbornly climbs 20 flights of stairs before walking into the law firm, clutching a crumpled contract. "Clem, can you take a look at this? My boss owes us 120 grand. What should I do?" As the founder of Hawthorne Law Partners, Clement Hawthorne has fought cases for countless stray cats and dogs. Yet, right now, all he cares about is helping his law firm's newest intern, Reina Ellington, revise her graduation thesis. "120 grand isn't even enough to cover my retainer fee. I'm sorry, but I can't take this case." His cold, dismissive words cause Dad's back, which is already bent under the weight of steel and concrete, to slump even further. "I-In that case, I'll get out of your hair…" He slowly gathers his documents and stuffs them back into his canvas bag. When he turns to leave, even his footsteps carry a cautious, apologetic air. My nose stings, and tears well up in my eyes. I rise from my seat, ready to storm over and demand an explanation from Clement. However, Dad grasps my hand. "I'm fine, Cece. Clem has his principles. Don't hold it against him." The tears I've been keeping at bay finally spill over. I stand rooted to the spot, watching Dad's hunched figure shuffle toward the door, one agonizing step at a time. The moment the door closes behind him, I suddenly realize I no longer want to be part of Clement's family.

My boyfriend proposed to me when we graduated from high school, but I made a deal with him instead of giving him an immediate answer. "We'll get married when we've collected 500 train tickets." In the first year, Marcus could hardly wait to come see me every day. Before long, our collection had grown to 280 tickets. He even laughed and said that he'd be able to take me home as his wife before graduation at the rate he was going. In the second year, we met each other halfway. Soon, the number of tickets climbed to 400. But in our third year, Marcus told me that his advisor had taken on a new project and that a junior who had just joined the research team needed him to show her the ropes. He became swamped, so I ended up visiting him most of the time. Meanwhile, he only came to see me occasionally. By the end of the year, we had barely managed to collect 460 tickets. In our fourth year, he said he was too busy with internship interviews, leaving me no choice but to pull several all-nighters to finish my assignments so that I could spend a weekend going to see him. We finally collected 499 train tickets just before graduation. I secretly put on a white wedding dress, slipped on the ring he'd given me when he proposed, and boarded a train. I wanted to surprise Marcus. I wanted to tell him that we had finally reached 500 tickets. I wanted to tell him that I was ready to marry him. But when I arrived at the foot of his dormitory building, my heart full of anticipation… I saw Marcus holding another girl tightly, surrounded by a large heart of flickering candles. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips amid the cheers and teasing from the crowd.