Melodramatic Romance Short Stories & Homewrecker Novels

While waiting for my sons, Mason and Cayden Cox, to get out of school, I come across a post online. The poster asks, "What's the proudest thing you've ever done?" Some people in the comments talk about their happy families, while others mention achieving financial freedom. However, the top comment stands out for all the wrong reasons. "My proudest achievement? My childhood friend's wife had twins, and one of them is mine! That poor idiot has been raising my son for me all these years." Everyone's confused. "How could twins possibly have different fathers?" He responds, "Let's just say the timing lined up perfectly… You can figure out the rest. Now that the boy looks more like me every day, I couldn't be happier!" My breath hitches in my throat.

After my son was abducted, my husband took me to an adoption center to bring home a baby boy born the same year as the child we'd lost. I poured every ounce of love I had into raising him. He had a sensitive stomach, so I pushed through my chronic back pain to cook him special meals every single day. When he spiked a fever in the middle of the night, I carried him twenty miles through the rain to the nearest hospital. When he couldn't focus in school, I was constantly at his classroom door, flattering his teachers and bringing them gifts, just to get them to pay a little extra attention to him. Fifteen years of grinding sacrifice, and it all came down to one moment at his college acceptance party. "I couldn't have gotten into Harvard without my mother's love and hard work," he said into the microphone. He raised his glass, eyes drifting toward where I was sitting. The cameras flashed as I started to rise from my seat, matching his silent lip movements. And then I heard a name I didn't expect. "She is Rachel Lynch." I froze. That was my best friend's name.

I was a princess ennobled by my father, the late king. Marrying the general of the northern frontier, Griffin Quenell was already a great show of royal favor. On my wedding day, just as my royal carriage arrived at the Quenell family’s courtyard, a woman dressed in grey wool knelt before the castle gate. She held a swaddled infant in her arms. Griffin, as the groom of the day, dressed in his wedding tunic, blocked my path with a troubled expression. “Your Grace, Joan is someone I met in the borderlands. She bore me a son and now has no place to go. Please let her move in with me on this special occasion. You’ll be my first wife, and she’ll be my second wife. It’s all for the sake of the Quenell bloodline.” The guests at the gate erupted into commotion. His grandmother, Wilma Quenell, spoke firmly. “Your Grace, you were born into royalty. You certainly do not lack a title. However, Griffin is the only son the Quenell family has had in three generations. This child bears the Quenell name. We surely can’t make him an illegitimate child.” The border soldiers knelt and said in unison, “Your Grace, have mercy!” I looked down at the child in the swaddle, then at Griffin’s pleading gaze. I smiled, removed my coronet from my head, and placed it on the wedding table. Then, I turned and boarded my carriage. “General Quenell, I will not stop you from wanting an heir, but my late father’s decree said I am to be married, not given away as a gift. If your family cannot abide by his words, then I shall take the decree back with me.”

My husband, Caleb Price, and I, Sienna Hart, have been married for many years. Our relationship is going strong, and our son, Tobey, is thoughtful and kind. I've always believed we would spend our whole lives together. What I don't expect is that Caleb would hurt me and Tobey three times because of the same woman. The first time, we agree to celebrate Tobey's birthday, but Caleb forgets his promise because he has to pick up his first love, Lila Monroe, from the airport. When I return home from a business trip, all I find is my heartbroken son. The second time, Caleb secretly takes our son and Lila to the amusement park. He doesn't know that Tobey is allergic to peanuts, and he ends up in the hospital. The third time, Caleb repeatedly promises to pick Tobey up from school alone, but when Caleb hears that Lila is ill, he tells Tobey to go home by himself. On the way home, Tobey is kidnapped. After he's rescued, he spends three days in the hospital in critical condition before pulling through. Each time, Caleb apologizes with utmost sincerity and swears that there won't be a next time. Maybe he's forgotten, but I once told him that I'd only forgive him three times. So, when he finishes apologizing and thinks life will return to the happy days it was before… It doesn't. Yes, I forgive him, but I'm also taking Tobey and leaving him—forever.

Before my best friend Scott Hawkins died of cancer, his greatest concern was the online girlfriend he had never met in person. He clutched my hand, tears streaming down his face. "Ian, her depression is severe. I'm afraid losing me might push her over the edge. Can you keep using my account for a while, gradually distance yourself, and end things once she's had time to adjust?" With tears in my eyes, I promised him I would. For the next three years, I pretended to be Scott. I helped her through another depressive episode, supported her as she got her career back on track, and then gradually began distancing myself. Today, I finally decided three years was long enough. She'd had enough time to accept that the relationship was over and move on. So I typed, [We shouldn't talk anymore. It's over,] and hit send. At that exact moment, my fiancée's phone lit up on the coffee table. The breakup message I had just sent appeared on her screen.

After her boyfriend bailed on their wedding, my best friend broke down crying and begged my fiance to step in and save the day. Blake Keller comforted me gently. "Dawn, Noelle and I grew up together. We've been close for years—closer than family, honestly. Today is just for show. Besides, our wedding's next week anyway, so think of it as a rehearsal in advance." I felt terrible for my best friend. After struggling with myself for a long time, I finally gritted my teeth and nodded. Just like that, I watched with my own eyes as my boyfriend, who was supposed to be the best man, became my best friend's "groom." At the wedding, Blake held Noelle's hand, his eyes filled with affection. When the officiant asked whether he was willing, he answered even more firmly than he had when he proposed to me. I kept telling myself not to take it seriously, that it was just an act and I should not overthink it. That was what I believed—until after they exchanged rings. The officiant smiled and said, "You may now kiss the bride." The crowd instantly started cheering, urging them to kiss. Blushing, Noelle hurriedly reassured me. "Dawn, don't worry. We'll fake it with the camera angle." I believed her. But in the very next second, Blake lifted her chin and deeply kissed her for real in front of everyone.

My wife, Claire Mercer, ran the hospital, and she still handed my mother's surgery to a junior physician. Only because he was the one child her late mentor had left behind. "Noah needs this chance to prove himself. Let him take your mother's surgery." I refused, and Claire decided I was doing it to spite her. "My mentor asked me before he died to look after Noah. Can't you try to understand me, just once?" Every urgent word of it was in Noah's defense. I looked at her and was suddenly very tired. Anything to do with Noah, and I was the one who gave way. A car crash put me in the hospital and the doctors issued three critical-condition notices; she was at Noah's birthday party. My mother's health collapsed; she took Noah traveling to cheer him up. Even in the house she and I were married in, there was always a bedroom kept empty for him. For ten full years, Noah had been wedged between us. I raised my eyes, my voice dry. "This time you're still choosing him, aren't you?"

On our wedding day, my fiancée humiliated me in front of everyone. She postponed the ceremony, not for an emergency, but to throw a lavish wedding for her childhood friend's pet hamster. Dressed in my tailored suit, I got shoved off the stage and was laughed at by everyone. My mom couldn't take the humiliation. Her heart gave out, and no ambulance could save her. Days after we buried her, my fiancée reappeared, demanding that I donate a kidney to that friend. The surgery nearly killed me, leaving me broken and betrayed. It prompted me to end things with her. She spiraled into regret, tormenting herself to win me back.

On my second day of employment at the city hall, I took over my colleague’s tasks. A young man came requesting for a new copy of his marriage certificate. It was far from his first visit. My colleague, Bernard Anderson, laughed. “This is the 99th time he’s here to get a copy of his marriage certificate again! We have all of his information ready, so the process wouldn’t take long.” I was stunned. “99th time?” Bernard laughed. “That’s right. He married a rich older woman. They always fought, and they would tear up their marriage certificate whenever they fought. “He’s so immature. Only an older lady would be able to tolerate him. I heard his wife is from the wealthiest family of our city, the Jameson family.” Immediately, I frowned. “The Jameson family has always kept a very low profile. Is his wife a fraud?” Bernard immediately stopped me from talking. “Don’t say that, she’s the rightful successor of the Jameson family, Mae Jameson.” I was stunned. My phone slipped from my hand and fell onto the desk. It was a photo of Mae and I on my lockscreen. Before me, the young man’s face fell. He snatched my phone. “Who are you? Why do you have a photo with my wife?”

My wife, Giselle Stone, has severe face blindness. She can't remember anyone's looks, including mine. It's already a norm for her to chat with me animatedly one moment, then her illness kicks in, resulting in her mistaking me as a stranger the next. Giselle screams at the top of her lungs as she fights with me over the steering wheel, causing me to crash the car at the side of the road. As I lie in my puddle of blood, I beg her in a quivering tone to call 911. But Giselle steps over my blood as she bolts over to the police. "Officer, this man is a human trafficker! I don't know him! Please arrest him!" Thank goodness I've already developed the habit of bringing my marriage license and Giselle's medical records with me all the time over the years. After clearing the misunderstanding with the police, I deal with the damages and get my injuries treated before going home. That's when Giselle blocks me at the front door while glaring at me vigilantly. "Why are you here again? I don't know you! Please leave right now!" When I'm about to explain, Giselle's childhood friend, Jasper Langley, steps out and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "He's your husband, Giselle. Calm down now." As I watch the pair hugging each other, I suddenly let out a soft chuckle. We've been married for three years, and yet this is the 677th time Giselle doesn't recognize me. The thing is, she can recognize Jasper every time and always listens to him. In that case, I might as well let Jasper take care of her from now on.

While greeting guests on Christmas evening, I realize that my wife, Carol Wilson, is nowhere to be found. Just as I'm about to look for her, a barrage of comments flashes before my eyes. [They're getting it on in the balcony! Oh my god, things are really heating up between the male and female leads, even in this freezing weather! This is so exciting!] [It's all the villainous male side character's fault for being clueless and interfering in their relationship! If not, the female lead would have slept with her brother-in-law ages ago! ] I slowly head toward the balcony, but my parents-in-law, Harry Wilson and Rita Malone, immediately stop me. "Hey Alec, I already asked Carol to go and check on our reservations at the restaurant. It's almost time anyway. We should head out." [That was close! Good thing the female lead's parents were smart enough.] [Aww, the moment the female lead heard it was almost time to go, she fell right back into her brother-in-law's arms and got kissed so hard it left her breathless.] So, Harry and Rita are in on it, and they are lying to me to cover for Carol. I decide to do the exact opposite of what they want. I look at the balcony again—where the temperature is well below freezing—then turn to address the rest of the guests and relatives in the apartment. "It's freezing out there, so maybe we shouldn't put ourselves through such misery. I'll call the restaurant and change our reservation to a delivery instead. Let's all stay in and have fun all night long!" The comments, along with Harry and Rita, are all stupefied by my decision. [What? All night long? At this rate, the two leads are going to freeze into ice sculptures outside!]

On my fifth year anniversary, my wife, Rachel Sutton, announces her pregnancy on her social media feed. "After going through artificial insemination for the 39th time, I finally got pregnant with your child as I wished." The accompanying photo features Rachel lacing fingers tightly with her first love, Damon Calloway. I leave a like on the photo calmly. Then, I give them my blessings. The next thing I know, Rachel calls me on the phone. She roars at me furiously, "Damon is diagnosed with cancer! What's wrong with me bearing a child for him? Garrett Whitaker, you're being too much right now!" I reply coolly, "Then come back and file for a divorce. Once the divorce is through, you can go ahead and find yourself a husband who won't 'become too much.'"

The battery in my artificial heart is about to run out, yet no matter where I look, I can't find the spare battery. When I turn around, I realize that my wife, Tracy Maddox, has installed it in a streaming camera. She is using it to livestream a fundraiser for her sick first love, Gavin Spade, who has a cold. "Come on, everyone. Send more gifts! Gavin feels terrible because of his cold. Once we raise enough money, I'll take him to get the most expensive imported cold injection available!" I am so enraged that my vision darkens for a moment, like I'm about to pass out. I shout, "Tracy, you know exactly what happens if my heart loses power. Are you going to just watch as I die?" Covering the microphone, Tracy turns to me and shouts back, "Gavin has a fever of 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit! Your heart is just out of power. Can't you just wait a little while? Once the livestream is over and we've raised enough money for his injection, I'll give the battery back to you!" Using the last of my strength, I activate the emergency communication system inside my artificial heart and contact the R&D center. "The artificial heart is about to stop permanently. Activating the black box... Uploading evidence of murder in real time..."

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood friend, Sophia York, is busy policing what I eat. "This one's too spicy. You can't have it." "This one won't do. It's far too greasy." "This one is deep-fried, too. You can't eat it." She smacks my fork away before taking my glass of orange juice away from me too. Once she's done, all that's left in front of me is a bowl of plain pasta. There are 12 dishes on the table, but plain pasta is the only thing I'm allowed to eat. Looking at me sympathetically, my husband, Ivan Jefferson, picks up a piece of beef that's been rinsed with water and places it on my plate. "Listen to Sophia, okay? She's a nutritionist. Once you recover from gastritis, you'll be able to eat whatever you want." I've been eating like this for three whole years, and my gastritis still hasn't gotten any better. Later, I become pregnant. As I struggle with morning sickness, I suddenly crave blueberries. Ivan rushes out to buy some, only to return with Sophia in tow. She slips into one of our indoor slippers as if she belongs here and immediately starts to clear out my refrigerator. "You've always had a sensitive stomach, Lily. Now that you're pregnant, it's even more important for you to watch what you eat," she says. "Let me take care of you for the next couple of months." Ivan feeds me a blueberry and gently coaxes, "I feel uneasy about leaving you home alone while you're pregnant, Lily. Sophia's a professional." Sophia pulls out her credentials and shows them to me. I stare at the name of the shady association and suddenly burst out laughing. Is this what he calls a professional? All that's left in my refrigerator are vegetables and some beef. As I stare at the nearly empty refrigerator, I suddenly feel tired of living this way. Once my morning sickness eases, I'll move somewhere else and start a new life.

Five years ago, my then girlfriend betrayed me for Ethan Reid. Together, they staged a car accident that killed both my parents. Then they hired someone to assault and murder my younger sister, who wasn't even sixteen, and framed me for it. I was thrown in prison where I suffered every day. It was Serena Cole who risked everything to become my defense attorney. She cleared my name and courted me with everything she had. She told me I was all she could see, that I was her whole world. When I finally gave her my whole heart, I looked down from upstairs and saw her kissing Ethan like she couldn't get enough of him, days before our wedding. Right there in our wedding car, they crossed every line. "Bold move, bride. Not worried the groom might see?" Ethan whispered. "His legs are crippled because of you. You know better than anyone whether he can even make it downstairs," Serena replied. "What's this, feeling guilty now? Every dirty thing I ever did to him, you were the one who planned it. You want me to tell him that?" "If you say a word, I swear I'll take you down with me," came her ragged response. Ethan bit her ear roughly, driving her over the edge. "Sure, sure. I know you love him so much. So doesn't this make it even more exciting? Say it. Who's your daddy?" She broke apart beneath him, saying his name over and over, breathless and undone. The tears hit me before I could stop them. She had known. All along, she had known everything that happened to me. And not only that, she had helped plan it.

The first time I have an affair, it's with my wife, Josephine Yates' best friend, Lydia Bennett. When Josephine catches us red-handed in bed, I'm in the middle of enjoying myself, my cheeks insanely flushed. Josephine gets into a huge fight with Lydia afterward. Then, she proceeds to drink her sorrows away that night before choosing to forgive me. After we've patched things up, we grow even more lovey-dovey than when we first got married. In fact, we're known as the golden couple who are envied by all. That is, when Josephine catches me cheating on her again on our tenth year anniversary. This time, I'm sleeping with Victoria Fairfax, the senior whom Josephine admires and respects the most. Josephine is so furious that she almost suffers from a seizure on the spot. Having gone batshit crazy, she decides to commit joint suicide with Victoria. I can only sigh before pulling her into my arms. "This is my last time doing this. I promise that you're the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life." Josephine is in so much pain and agony that she's on the brink of despair. Still, she believes my words and treats me even better now. She showers me with lavish gifts, be it luxury watches, unique custom-fitted apparel, or limited-edition racing cars. As long as she can afford it, she'll strive to give me the best. Some people call me a freeloading husband. That night, Josephine makes sure that those people have vanished off the face of the earth. When I tell Josephine that I don't want children, she gets her tubes tied immediately. Everyone praises Josephine for being devoted. They also claim that I've married the right woman. I just smile and nod. "I've used up all of my luck to meet Josephine in my life." But on Josephine's 34th birthday, she spies a paternity test report on my desk. That's when she suffers from a complete mental breakdown. The child is mine, and yet she's never given birth before.

When Adrian Cozner went to a get-together with his fiancée and her friends, Lacey Mirren excused herself, saying she had something to take care of. Two hours passed. She still hadn't come back. Just as he was about to get up and look for her, he overheard her close friends mocking him in Portuguese. "This dumbass doesn't even know he's been cheated on." "Right about now, Lacey and Kevin are probably going at it." "Lacey said Adrian isn't as hung as Kevin. They've been childhood sweethearts. This poor idiot—ha, look at him, we're talking crap right in front of him, and he has no idea. So pathetic." Adrian had just started to stand up, but his body froze, his mind going blank. Right then, Lacey pushed through the door, face flushed, completely satisfied, sweat still glistening on her skin. "Haha, how was it? Isn't sneaking around a thrill? You're something else." "Absolutely. Couldn't get enough."

At a charity gala in Manhattan, a reporter asked the final question of the night. "Mr. Hayes, whose name will be on the $200 million trust you announced tonight?" The question had barely left her lips before knowing laughter rippled through the crowd. The answer was obvious. It could only be me —— his wife and the heiress to Lockwood Holdings, Chloe Lockwood. I was about to stand and share in his moment. But my husband, Eric Hayes, dropped a bombshell. "It will be named for the most important person in my life: the girl I once shared a bed with." "When I was broke and had nowhere to go, she gave me half her bed. We split the rent on a $350 attic room." "Her warmth was the only reason I could sleep at night." "Without her encouragement, I wouldn't be who I am today." The reporter scrambled to recover. "Mr. Hayes is clearly a man of deep loyalty. What a beautiful story you share with Ms. Lockwood!" "Not Chloe. Another woman." Eric corrected her without hesitation. Every pair of eyes in the room landed on me. Three seconds of silence passed. I leaned toward my assistant Vivian and gave her two quiet orders. "Find her." "Then... strip Eric of everything."

My wife, Wendy Sinclair, has a severe sleepwalking disorder. After she falls asleep, she always wanders out in a state of unconsciousness. The night before our wedding, she disappears without a word. I have no choice but to postpone our wedding. Only then does she walk out of her childhood friend's house next door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Afraid I might overthink, she cries and apologizes to me. "There's no cure for my condition. From now on, just tie me up when I sleep, okay?" I feel sorry for her, so I just change the door lock to make sure she cannot go out. But in the middle of the night, I wake up and see her standing on the edge of the balcony. She climbs in through the window and goes into her childhood friend's house again. Soon, suggestive and intimate sounds come from inside. My blood runs cold. Her sleepwalking isn't an illness at all—it is out of love.

Joanna Cross's fiance, who had supposedly died seven years ago, suddenly came back. When I went to find her, the two of them were discussing their wedding. Adrian Shaw pointed at me, standing at the very back of the crowd, and asked, "Jo, who is he?" Joanna answered without hesitation. "Our wedding officiant." I clutched my chest, faintly feeling my heart condition beginning to flare. Before I could question her, the bodyguards escorted me out of the living room. Inside, laughter filled the room. Outside, my hands and feet went cold, and the pain nearly tore me apart. Two hours later, Joanna came out with a smile still on her face. When she saw the state I was in, she panicked and immediately wrapped me tightly in her coat. But the words she spoke were colder than ice. "Adrian has forgotten everything except that I was his fiancee. "The doctors said any stimulation could make him try to kill himself. The wedding is fake. It is only to make him happy. The person I love has always been you." I could not hold on anymore and collapsed. Joanna hurriedly helped me into the car, her voice shaking. "Mason, don't be scared. The matching heart was prepared long ago. I won't let anything happen to you. "I will take you to the best hospital right now." But just as she helped me into the passenger seat, she ran into Adrian, whose eyes were full of tears. "Jo, are you abandoning me?" In a single second, Joanna made her choice. She peeled my fingers away from her one by one, then shut the car door. After that, Joanna never appeared again. Instead, she sent me a message. [Your surgery was successful. That's wonderful!] [Adrian cannot handle any stimulation. Can you disappear for three months? After that, we will spend the rest of our lives together.] Her promises were so vivid. But Joanna did not know the surgery had never succeeded. Three months was too long. I could not make it that far.