Contos de Romance com Homewrecker e Romances com Regret

On the third day after my death, Eliza Sutton received the call to claim my body. She was resting in another man's arms. She said nonchalantly, "He's dead, huh? Just cremate it and call me afterward." My body was fed to the flames and reduced to ashes. When the staff were done, they contacted Eliza again. Irritation flashed in her eyes as she snapped, "I heard you. I'm on my way."

My sister, Vivian Richmond, is celebrating her birthday with the rest of the family while I lie trapped in an abandoned factory, bleeding heavily. She's hired four thugs to torture me, and they've left me fighting for my life. I crawl toward my phone with what little strength I have left. When I finally reach it, I call my husband, Ethan Monroe. "Ethan, I'm seriously injured. Come save me now… I'm at the factory nearby. It won't take much of your time…" He scoffs at my weak, desperate voice. "Sienna, whining won't get you anywhere. Are you playing the victim now?" he says. "You'll stop at nothing to ruin Vivian's birthday party, huh? Hurry back with a gift and apologize to her, or I won't go easy on you this time." Before I can speak, I hear Vivian calling his name over the line. Ethan has no idea that the moment the call ends, I no longer need his forgiveness. He doesn't know that the foul, rotting corpse that makes even an experienced forensic pathologist like him recoil in disgust belongs to the wife he's hated for years.

When Samuel Larson came to pick me up from work at the county clerk's office, he suddenly slid a marriage license through the service window. "Actually, this one was fake the whole time. Getting back together with you was just a joke." Before I could process what he'd said, he waved a brand-new marriage license in front of me and grinned. "Yesterday, Jessie sat on my lap and kissed me. It felt so good I couldn't help myself. So I went and got a real marriage license with her." The second betrayal hit me as a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. I stared at him in disbelief. "Why?" I asked in a trembling voice. "Because you're gullible." He narrowed his eyes and savored the sight of me tearing up. He then smiled and handed me a tissue. "Back then, it took you three years to figure out Jessie and I were secretly seeing each other. "So we made a bet. We wanted to see how long it would take you this time." His gaze shifted to the fading hickey on my neck. He paused briefly before shrugging. "She bet it'd take you a year at most. That's why I've been leaving obvious clues all year. "But I got tired of acting, and you still didn't catch on. "Today's the last day of the bet. I wanted her to win and be happy. "I had no choice but to just tell you myself."

After Katherine Winston delays our wedding for the tenth time, I decide to set her free. At the celebratory party thrown by my friend for his second newborn, I arrive at the venue to congratulate him in advance. When my best friend invites me to a camping trip, I walk away as soon as Katherine shows up. When my company decides to dispatch me to Katherine's company to follow up with the project we're working on, I tender my resignation without hesitation. Even when Katherine's parents visit me in hopes of convincing me to forgive Katherine. But I refuse to leave my residence at all. I take the liberty to delete all the photos with Katherine in them. Then, I block her number and on all social media platforms. Finally, I delete the social media account that has been recording our daily lives as a couple. Just like that, I cut myself off everything related to Katherine. We've known each other for 25 years, and we've been in a relationship for 5 of them. I've always thought that we're each other's only love in life. That is, until the wedding I've prepared for gets delayed for the tenth time. It's then realization finally dawns on me. I should love myself first before loving someone else.

At the bachelorette's party before the wedding, Juliet Stone's best friend speaks with her in their hometown's dialect. "The video that's posted in our group chat was taken in your and Hugo's new home, right? Doesn't that mean you've been cheating on him blatantly this whole time? You go, girl!" Juliet shoots her a mysterious smile. "Yeah. You know that I've always had a bad heart, so I couldn't carry out strenuous exercises. After undergoing the heart transplant surgery, I think that if I only get to sleep with one man for the rest of my life, it'll be dull and boring." A pause later, she adds, "I plan on unlocking 100 locations with my lover before the wedding starts. But once I've gone through the wedding, I won't sleep around anymore and choose to stay devoted to Hugo instead." I can only clutch my chest tightly, where an artificial heart beats silently. Juliet has no idea that I've specifically learned her dialect in order to bond with her family even better. Of course, I've already discovered the fact that she has been cheating on me with our wedding planner for a very long time. That's why I decide to hide something from her as well. I've already booked the euthanizing service that's provided overseas. On the wedding day that Juliet has been greatly anticipating, I'll have disappeared beyond the ocean. Later on, even if Juliet does track me down using all of her resources, all she can find is nothing but my ashes.

To fund my daughter's medical treatment, I consider reconnecting with my estranged family until an expected phone call changes everything. "Sir, your diamond necklace has arrived. You may come tomorrow to pick it up." After confirming the order is placed using my and my wife's contract information, my hope sparks. Perhaps the medical bills will finally be covered. When I arrive at the luxury boutique to claim the necklace, the sales clerk frowns, eyeing me from head to toe. "You're saying… you bought this necklace?" I nod, irritated by the condescension. "What happened to the service? Did all the luxury jewelers forget how to treat customers while I was away?" I said inwardly. The clerk flashes me a polite smile and turns to "retrieve" the item, but in reality, he radios the security. "Security, we have a suspected thief here."

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

At the company dinner, my coworkers started a game: everyone texted their lover saying they’d fallen ill. Whoever’s man replied first won. No surprise, I came in dead last again. Both my calls and my texts went completely unanswered. “Claire, don’t feel bad. Mr. Blackwood is so busy, it’s completely normal he hasn’t seen your message.” A coworker smiled and tried to comfort me, but the truth was, I’d gotten used to it long ago. Forget a cold or a fever. Even the day I was diagnosed with cancer, I called him nineteen times, and he didn’t pick up once. When I stayed quiet, everyone turned to look at Vivian in the corner, and one coworker teased her with a grin. “Vivian, didn’t you say your boyfriend was super clingy? How come he still hasn’t replied?” Vivian clutched her phone, her face full of unease. “I’ll pass. What if he’s in a meeting? I don’t want to bother him.” The mood had gone stiff, and looking at her pale fingertips, I suddenly smiled. “It’s fine. It’s just a game.” Before she could refuse again, I leaned over and hit the speaker-dial for her. The call I’d expected no one to answer was picked up in an instant. The huge private room fell dead silent. Because the voice coming through the phone belonged to Adrian Blackwood, my forever-busy boyfriend of seven years. “Babe, don’t forget our date tonight.” “Seven o’clock. I’ll see you at The Laurent.”

After my dad's first love moved into our house and became my tutor, my mom never raised her voice at her again. She just coughed worse and worse, until one day I found the lab report she'd thrown out. Stage IV lung cancer. That afternoon, Dad came home with his arm around her, and walked right into Mom sitting on the couch. There was a flicker of guilt on his face. "Helena, if you've got something to say, just say it. Don't make a scene in front of the kid." Mom was eerily calm. She pointed at the woman and said, "She gets on her knees and apologizes to me three times. And you sign over half the company. Then we're done." Dad thought she'd lost it. But in the end he signed the share transfer. After that, Mom's pills kept multiplying and her appetite kept shrinking. But she hired the best lawyer in town, and over and over she taught me how to manage those shares once I was old enough. Dad never figured out the one thing that mattered. Mom was already on her way out.

When a car struck me and sent me flying, blood sprayed everywhere. It resulted in ruptured organs, so I begged my wife, Lucy Hathaway, to take me to the hospital. But she told me to endure it because her younger uncle, Alan Cooper, had surgery that day. To stop me from applying to a foreign institution, Lucy went so far as to lock me in a cold storage room kept at negative twenty degrees Celsius. “The chance to travel abroad has to go to Alan. He has nothing, while you already have all of my love. You should give him your future! “The chill in the storage room will help with your wounds. After Alan finishes his surgery and submits his application, you can go to the hospital.” The pain from my wounds drove me to the brink of death. I even gave up my dignity and begged Lucy to take me to the hospital. Instead, she kicked me to the ground. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull. Aren’t you pretending to be seriously injured so that you can go to the hospital and stop Alan’s surgery? That way, he’ll lose his eligibility to apply for the institution. “How could you be so despicable?! You’re willing to hurt yourself just to put on an act and compete with Alan. You made your bed, so lie in it!” I tried to explain to her weakly, “I’m not pretending. The car accident came out of nowhere. I never wanted to go abroad in the first place. I just want to live a good life with you. I swear. Please save me.” Lucy pulled her pant leg out of my desperate grip and snorted. “You’re so full of schemes. Who knows if you’re trying to manipulate me again? I’ll come back for you after Alan finishes his surgery and submits his application.” After Lucy had had enough of staring into and admiring Alan’s eyes as he regained his sight, she accompanied him to submit his application. She finally remembered me again after all that and ordered her secretary to take me to the hospital. However, her secretary said through gritted teeth, “Mr. Fisherman has passed away from the car accident…”

Everyone thinks I've lost my mind when I marry Bryan Sable. That's because I'm the daughter of the richest family in town, while he's just the owner of a small company. Everyone says he's only marrying me for my money. They don't know that he's willing to risk his life just to be with me. He also spent years pursuing me. On the day of the wedding, apart from the wedding ring, I also give him 99 free passes, saying, "If you ever upset me, you can use one of the free passes to cancel it out. But once you've used up all 99 of them, this marriage ends." Bryan swears he will never even use a single one of the free passes. But not long after we get married, he gets involved with his secretary, Roxy Upton. From that moment onward, the free passes get used up in rapid succession. He uses one when he misses my birthday party because of her. He uses another when I find a hickey left on his neck by someone other than me. It gets to a point where even our butler can't help but remind Bryan, "Mr. Sable, I think Mrs. Sable is upset right now. Are you sure you want to leave now to go to Ms. Upton?" But Bryan doesn't think much of it. "If she's upset, let her be upset. What's the worst that can happen? I'll just use one of the free passes. I've only used about 50 of them. I've got plenty of chances left." He has no clue that he only has three free passes left. And by now, I no longer kick up a fuss. I'm simply waiting for the day he uses up the final chance. I'm going to watch him dig his own grave, losing me as well as everything I've given him.

Seven years of marriage. Seven years of building a quiet, loving life with my husband, Harry, centered around our sweet son, Leo. But our fragile world shattered the moment her shadow fell across our doorstep—Harry's captivating first love, Claire, and her son, Jake. She and her son forced Leo to eat an entire sugary cake on his birthday, causing his blood sugar to rise dangerously. I tried to stop them, but the real betrayal came from my husband, who emotionally tortured our son into eating the last sugary bomb, leading him to death. I hadn't recovered from the trauma of watching my son die before my eyes when my husband blew away Leo's ashes before my eyes, the only remains of my son. That was when I decided, not only to divorce him, but to make him pay for his each and every sin.

Three years into our long-distance relationship, my daily conversations with Evan Crawford turned into a three-person group chat. He said the company was busy preparing for its IPO and that he didn't have time to check his phone. If I needed anything, I should tell his "buddy," Nicole Pearce, and she'd pass it along. From then on, everything came through Nicole: what time he left the office, when he traveled for work, what he took for his stomach pain. She knew every moment of his day. Every message I sent him just sat there on "unread." On my birthday, I asked in the group chat if he could spare ten minutes for a video call. Nicole replied, "The launch event is right around the corner. Don't distract him." And yet somehow he had time to like her latest Instagram post. The night the company went public, I took an overnight bus to the celebration dinner and arrived in time to hear him raise a toast. "I owe these past six months to Nicole. She took care of all the little things for me." When he spotted me, he frowned. "Why didn't you check in through the group chat first?" Nicole took the gift from my hands. "He's exhausted. Whatever you need to say, I'll pass it along." A wave of helplessness hit me. I pulled my hand back and left the group chat. If even missing him had to go through her, I had no reason to report my life to him anymore.

I waited ten years to get married to Emily Stanton. We had applied for a marriage license seven times, and seven times it had been called off. In our circle, we were the golden couple. She had sold her own blood to help cover my hospital bills, and I had stood by her side as she built the Stanton family empire from nothing. On our tenth anniversary, I brought up the idea of finally having a wedding ceremony and making things official again. She just rubbed her temples and tossed her blazer aside. "We'll talk about it later. We've been together this long—why are you still hung up on something like this?" The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. Does every great love eventually fade into something ordinary? The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Then her phone buzzed with a notification. Against my better judgment, I picked it up. The contact name on the screen was impossible to miss: Honey. [Baby, when are you coming home? Jamie says she misses Mommy.] A storm of emotions crashed over me. That's when I discovered Emily Stanton had another WhatsApp account. The woman in those posts was nothing like the one I knew. At the top was a wedding photo—the two of them beaming, radiant. Tucked among the roses she'd received yesterday was a brand-new diamond ring, hidden between the petals. The water in the bathroom stopped. I clenched my fists. Then I forwarded the guy's WhatsApp info to my assistant. [Look into him.]

A typhoon warning had been issued. I drove out to pick up my mother, who lived by the coast. My car broke down halfway there. I called my boyfriend fifty-eight times, and every single one was declined. The rain kept getting heavier. No rescue services were available, and the water was rising. My hands were shaking so badly that all I could do was get Mom to a nearby bus shelter. That was when I scrolled past a Facebook post from my boyfriend's assistant, Megan. "Derek is such a sweetheart. Spent two hours searching, and the little stray finally has a home." In the photo, Derek was at Megan's place, giving a stray cat a bath. I looked at my mother, soaked to the bone, and a wave of hurt washed over me. By the time evening fell, my boyfriend finally called back, but the wind was so strong that the signal kept cutting in and out. I was about to ask him to come get us when his voice crackled through the receiver, broken up by static. "Don't let your mom... the seafood... mess up the car." Before I could say a word, he hung up. The rescue team arrived. As we climbed in, Mom was still shivering, fretting over the seafood that had spoiled during the delay. I picked up the bag and tossed it into the trash. If it's spoiled, there's no point keeping it. Same goes for people.

A few weeks before the wedding, my brother Adam, my childhood friend Liam Foster, and my best friend Celia Brooks moved into the house I shared with my fiancé, Julian Reed. From that day on, the smart lock seemed to forget who I was. The lock wouldn't recognize my fingerprint, and my code never worked. I kept getting locked out. Every time, Julian said, "There's nothing wrong with the lock. You're doing it wrong." My brother thought I was making a fuss over nothing. "Stop blaming everything on the lock. Everyone else can get in. Why can't you?" Liam tried to calm me down too. "Don't ruin everyone's mood over a stupid lock." Yesterday, I stood doubled over with stomach pain, trying the lock over and over. My fingers were stiff from the cold, and I still couldn't get into my own home. Just then, the others came home. Celia pressed her finger to the scanner, and the lock clicked open. I stood frozen outside the door. Julian shook his head. "We're getting married soon, and you still can't figure out how to unlock a door?" The next day, I had a repairman look at the lock. After checking it, he told me, "Nothing's wrong with the lock. Only four fingerprints are registered, and the code was recently changed." So the lock that was supposed to let me into my own home had been keeping me out all along. I checked the lock's access log, then texted the wedding planner, "The wedding is off."

When they strapped me to the operating table, I heard my wife comforting Leo Ferdinand outside the door. “Leo, don’t worry. In a little while, I’ll perform the surgery and swap your face with Carter’s. Once we hand him over to the police, you won’t have to worry about the hit-and-run case anymore.” A smile immediately spread across Leo’s face. “Riley, you’re the only one who’s ever been good to me, but... won’t Carter be angry? After all…” Riley let out a soft sigh. “Carter loves me so much, and your sister once saved my life. The least he can do is help you. I’ll make it up to him in the future.” Before I could even process what I had heard, the anesthesia took effect, and everything went black. When I woke up, my face was already wrapped in thick layers of bandages. To stop me from damaging this new face, Riley brought up our son. “Carter, please try to understand. If not for me, do it for our son.” In the end, I stopped resisting. With her own hands, she sent me to prison, and five years later, I was finally released.

At the height of her ballet career, Sienna’s life was brutally shattered when her ex-boyfriend maliciously broke her legs. She fell into despair, and when she climbed to the rooftop to end it all, I was the one who saved her. I gave up a million-dollar salary for her sake. I spent ten years as her golden agent watching her starting from a background actor and becoming a superstar. When she reached the pinnacle of fame, she publicly declared her love for me. Our love story was hailed as the last fairy tale of the entertainment industry. I stood by her through her lows, and she held my hand through the glory. However, on the day I proposed… Her ex-boyfriend stormed in and publicly claimed that Sienna was carrying his child. His face was full of arrogance, and his eyes brimmed with provocation. “Every night, she throws herself at me like an animal. “You think she loves you? Her heart, her mind, it’s all mine.” I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. My mind went blank. I turned to Sienna. She pressed her lips together, remained silent and offered no explanation. At that moment, my heart shattered into pieces.

My husband, Michael Collins, has offered to buy his childhood sweetheart, Natalie Sweeney's virginity for ten million dollars so that she can afford to treat her cancer. I'm about to stop him from doing so when he begins berating me instead. "Natalie has always been prideful since young. If I were to give her money outright, she'd think that I was giving it to her out of pity. It'll bruise her ego instead. "Can you please be more sympathetic toward her? Must you feel jealous over such a small thing?" Instead of replying to Michael, I just smile and nod in agreement. What Michael doesn't know is that I, an infectious disease specialist, have already picked up on Natalie's weird symptoms. She doesn't have cancer at all—she actually has late-stage AIDS infection.

During the family gathering, my fiance's mom takes out their heirloom brooch, intending to give it to the next lady of the Sullivan household. The guests all clap and offer their blessings. "Karli, you've been dating Douglas for six years. Now, you guys are finally going to settle down for real." But there isn't even a trace of a smile on Douglas Sullivan's face. He takes away the brooch calmly and pins it on his adopted sister, Isabelle Sullivan. After that, he pinches my face and says, "Belle likes it. Let her have it." When he sees the thick disappointment in my eyes, he explains in a gentle voice, "In the future, Belle will marry someone else. Everything that belongs to the Sullivan family will then become yours. It's just a brooch. There's no need to be so hung up on it." Surprised, Isabelle clutches the brooch on her chest fondly. Then, she gives Douglas a light peck on the cheek. She says, "Thank you, Dougie. You're the best to me!" A bitter smile plays on my lips as I look at the two of them behaving intimately right in front of me. It's been six years, and Douglas still hasn't made good on his promise to marry me. I've told my parents that I agree to go through with the arranged marriage and will return in three days to honor it.