Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Freak Marriage Novels

My wife and I had kept our marriage secret for three years. Then she became a fraud-busting influencer with ten million followers, and I was the first person she exposed. On her livestream, she sobbed that I was a freeloader who beat her, bled her dry, and even forced her to entertain men over drinks for money. The internet buried me in abuse. Delivery orders I never placed and funeral wreaths piled up outside my door. Her top donor announced he was going to break my legs to get justice for her. On camera, my wife was a fragile victim. Off camera, she was texting me threats. If I did not sign the thirty-million-dollar penthouse downtown over to her, she would burn my name to the ground. She thought that owning public opinion meant owning me. What she did not know was that her top donor, the man showering her with gifts every night, was one of my security guards. And when she brought New York's richest man onto her stream, intending to expose my supposed crimes, something else happened. The richest man in New York turned toward where I was standing and called me boss.

Damien and his ex-wife got divorced five years ago, and then he married me. When I married him, he had a 13-year-old adopted daughter named Lily. After our marriage, Damien treated me exceptionally well and I always treated Lily like my own daughter, even when she occasionally showed hostility towards me, I didn't mind. That's normal for a teenage girl. Until my father was accidentally hit by a car and left in a vegetative state, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Damien and his assistant. "Boss, I don't get it. Why block the craniotomy?" the assistant asked, sounding confused. "The doctors say there’s a high chance he could recover. Why are you insisting on conservative treatment?" "He can't wake up," Damien’s voice was suppressed with pain. "He saw Lily's face." I clamped my hand over my mouth, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. Lily is the adopted daughter of Damien and his late ex-wife, Sarah. Sarah died saving Damien, so he has always treated Lily with a mix of guilt and utter indulgence. Damien continued, his tone incredibly conflicted. " But Lily didn't do it on purpose! She is only thirteen... If she gets a criminal record, her life is over. Sarah’s only dying wish was for me to take care of Lily and see her grow up safe and sound. I can't give up on her." The assistant fell silent for a few seconds. "And what about your wife?" "I’ll make it up to her," Damien’s voice softened. "I’ll provide her with the most prosperous life, and secure the largest private ward along with the best caregivers for her father who’s suffered from the car accident. I don’t care how much it costs." My heart sank completely. Just because you feel guilty towards Sarah and Lily, you're going to sacrifice my father? With trembling hands, I saved the recording and had my lawyer prepare the divorce papers. But when I completely disappeared, the once powerful CEO went mad.

On my wedding day, the video montage I'd spent seven years putting together - a record of our entire relationship - was replaced with photos of me looking cozy with an older man. My fiancé's assistant, Chloe Reed, stepped onto the stage and declared self-righteously, "Mr. Carter may not be able to tell a decent woman from a slut, but as his assistant, it's my job to protect him. "So I made a voting app just for this. "Let's all decide whether Cecilia Bennett deserves to be Mrs. Carter. "Press 1 for yes and 0 for no. Voting starts now." I instinctively opened my mouth to explain. The "older man" in those photos was my father, Richard Bennett, head of Bennett Industries, the company that was Carter Group's largest investor. But before I could get a word out, my fiancé, Frank Carter, pressed 0. "Chloe's just kidding around. Think of it as a way to liven things up. "Besides, if you've got nothing to hide, why are you so worried about everyone voting no?" I stared at the giant screen, filled with nothing but 0s. Then I caught the knowing look Frank and Chloe exchanged. Suddenly, I remembered the last time Frank had gone along with one of Chloe's so-called jokes. He'd made me stand on the street in nothing but lingerie to drum up business. And just last month, the two of them had spread cooking oil across the floor of the restaurant where Frank and I had gone for a date, making me slip and fall. All because they wanted to see how ridiculous a pregnant woman would look after taking a fall. Whether I wanted to believe it or not, I finally had to face the truth. The wedding I'd dreamed about for seven years was nothing more than another cruel joke at my expense, all to entertain another woman. I slipped off my engagement ring and placed it in his palm. "No need to vote. "You want to be my husband, Frank? You're the one who isn't good enough."