Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Romance & Novel Mistress Cheating

On my wedding night, I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance after a tampered condom left me in excruciating pain. The surgery took over twenty-four hours, and the story spread like wildfire. My husband, Alexander, let it be known that anyone who managed to photograph me in my post-surgery state would be rewarded with ten million dollars. Overnight, I went from being a billionaire's new wife to the laughingstock of every elite circle in New York. The next day, Alexander's childhood sweetheart Dahlia showed up at my door. That was when I learned the truth: she'd coated the condom with industrial-strength adhesive as part of what she called a "social experiment." She didn't show a shred of remorse. Her tone was flippant and cruel: "It was just an experiment. I mean, how was I supposed to know you'd react like that? Besides, we both know you were never good enough for Alexander. So drop the act." Alexander stood beside her, his gaze cold and dismissive: "If it weren't for the marriage contract, no one would've touched you. You know that, right?" What he didn't know was that the woman he was calling a slut had saved his life more times than he could count.

There's an unspoken rule in the high-end society—married couples who are bound by marriage alliances are allowed to branch out romantically. But if they ever buy anything for their side piece, they must buy the same gift for their legal spouse. Raymond Johnson is a very particular person. That's why he continues sticking to the rule and gives Melanie Strickland the respect she deserves by showering her with gifts that are 100 times more than his mistress', even after the Stricklands have gone into bankruptcy. If his mistress gets 100 thousand dollars' worth of allowances every month, Melanie's bank account must receive ten million dollars in return. When Raymond gifts his mistress jewelry that's worth a million dollars, he'll go for the main highlight of the auction. After that, Melanie will receive an antique emerald ring worth 100 million dollars. The rich wives, who are too used to seeing wealthy men immersing themselves in booze and beautiful women, can only sigh wistfully whenever they witness Raymond and Melanie's lovey-dovey relationship. But at the same time, they can't resist dropping Melanie words of advice—mainly to tell her to appreciate what she has now. Appreciate, huh? Of course Melanie appreciates everything she has right now. That's why on the day Raymond gives a house of very little value that's located in the suburbs to his mistress, Melanie decides to ask him a question while receiving the land deed of Villa No. 1 that's located in Northshore. "I've grown tired of this marriage. Can we get a divorce?"

While we're playing King's Game, Olivia Bennett's male best friend, Damien Hayes, has drawn the punishment lot that requires him to spill one of Olivia's secrets. He turns to look at me, a mysterious smile curling on his lips. "Olivia needs to get my permission whenever she wishes to sleep with Ethan." The atmosphere goes quiet immediately. As Damien licks his lips, he adds, "C'mon, there's no such thing as taboo when it comes to Olivia's birthday party! Why are you guys so quiet? I thought y'all are the type who's capable of taking jokes of any kind!"

My name is Briella Goodwin. For three years after losing my memory, my mortal enemy, Ronan Cooper, and I have fought relentlessly. He snatches my project in the eastern suburbs, so I destroy his in the west. He runs me over and hospitalizes me, so I shoot him in the leg. Everyone in Velport knows we are both maniacs. That is until my men make a mistake, letting him find an opening to kidnap my father, Adam Goodwin. When I rush to the scene, his grip on Dad's hand suddenly loosens. "It all ends here!" he says. The madness that has lurked in his eyes for three years vanishes in an instant. I freeze, as if he has suddenly become a total stranger. He looks at me with a bitter smile. "I lied to you. We were never enemies... We were lovers!" My mind goes completely blank. "Back then, your father tricked mine into buying a worthless piece of land, causing him to die of a heart attack. I hated your father. I hated him even more than I loved you. "You'd just lost your memory then, so… So, I lied and said we were enemies. Only then could I vent my hatred on you with a clear conscience." My throat tightens, and my voice turns hoarse. "Wh-Why are you telling me this now?" I ask him. A soft light shimmers in his eyes. "I don't want Sera to worry about me anymore. So, I don't want revenge anymore," he says. Sera Pierson is his mistress. The blood in my veins runs cold. He gives up on me for the sake of revenge. Now, he's giving up on revenge for another woman. I laugh. Then, I pull out my gun and aim it straight at his heart.

In our most loving year, Hugh Thorne and I make a pact that neither of us will ever ask for a divorce—because whoever does will end his or her own life. I immediately grab a pair of scissors and stab him in the neck when he first tells me that he wants to give Beatrice Lane, my heartbroken best friend, a home. He repeatedly brings up divorce over the next two years, while I repeatedly refuse to let him go. Then, after his 99th attempt to get a divorce fails, Hugh jumps into the river. Everyone claims I am a madwoman and a jinx who killed her husband. Mom and Dad cut ties with me and take in Beatrice as their goddaughter. I am completely on my own after that. I work three jobs a day to make ends meet and raise Nicholas White, the child Hugh and I share. It is the third year after Hugh's death, and I receive a call from a former classmate of mine. "Are you coming to the class reunion this weekend, Mia? Hugh will be there too." In that instant, my mind goes completely blank. I can barely hold the phone because my hand is shaking so hard. It turns out that Hugh is still alive! My former classmate excitedly explains over the phone, "We're doing something different this time! Everyone has to bring something that will surprise the others, and whoever loses has to pay for the meal!" I have to bring something that will surprise everyone, huh? I hang up the phone and instantly arrange for someone to draft a divorce agreement for me.

I came across a trending post asking people to share the person they had failed. One of the comments caught my attention. 'It has to be my best friend. In my defense, her husband is exactly my type. From head to toe, he suits my taste perfectly. I fell for him at first sight when she introduced us. 'During the graduation party, I got them drunk and slept with him. Damn, she's a lucky b*tch to have him. Later, I told her I went abroad, but actually, I was preparing to give birth to my baby in another city. 'He always comes to visit us. We are a happy family of three. Technically, I'm not a homewrecker. We already have a real marriage certificate. All we're missing is the wedding. 'I think fighting for true love is something to be admired. A word of encouragement: don't let the spouse of the person you love be the reason you give up.' Attached below the comment was a photo of a man's and woman's fingers intertwined. I recognized the man immediately. It was my husband, Luke Minton. I knew from the small scar on his wrist.

On the very day I sold my company shares to raise money for my wife’s medical treatment, my phone flashed with a notification about a trending post. "My husband or my lover, which should I choose?" An anonymous reply shot to the top of the comments. "Why choose? I want both." What followed was a casual, shameless confession. A staged car accident right after the wedding, a fake overseas treatment plan, parents who helped maintain the lie, and millions siphoned off under the excuse of life-saving medical fees. The money was never for treatment. It funded luxury vacations, hotel suites, and a long-term affair. Someone asked if she was afraid her husband would find out. Her answer was chilling. "Why would I be afraid? He thinks he took my first time and swore to take responsibility for me forever. He doesn’t know it was just a repair surgery I did for his sake." The post ended with a vacation photo. A woman in a bikini, smiling under the sun. And on her waist, a tattoo with the letters 'NG.' The same tattoo worn by my wife.

Among the world's female models, Julian Vance once again ranked first as the photographer they most wanted to spend a night with. And yet he had never taken a single photograph of me. When reporters asked about it, he could never hide the fondness in his eyes. "My wife is for my eyes only. No one else gets that privilege." On my birthday, I happily changed into a lace nightdress and, for the first time, asked him to record me with his camera. Several minutes passed. The shutter never sounded. Behind the camera, Julian's expression had gone stiff. "Forget it," he said. My joy collapsed into confusion. "What's wrong?" "It's just..." He laughed dryly. "Photography is work. I don't want to mix you up with work." Then he put the camera back, turned around, and went into the bathroom. The door to the darkroom where he developed his photos was half open, red light spilling through the crack. I walked inside and saw an album on the worktable titled Vivian Blair's Private Diary. I opened it. Inside were photos in every degree of intimacy and every kind of pose.

Early in the morning, I'm doubled over with unbearable stomach pain, so I ask my wife, Mandy Sanchez, to drive me to the hospital. Downstairs, just as I reach for the passenger door, she presses her hand against it, stopping me before I can pull it open. "The passenger seat is Sam's. No one else sits there," she declares. I just stare at her, wondering if I heard her right. I paid 300,000 dollars for this car. And now she's telling me I can't ride shotgun because that seat is reserved for another man? Mandy pulls open the back door and shoves me inside. "What difference does it make where you sit? Your stomach hurts, right? Let me just get you to the hospital." Somehow, the cramping in my gut doesn't feel as sharp anymore. No amount of physical pain can match the ache in my heart. The moment we pull up to the hospital, Mandy gets a call from her childhood best friend, Samuel Carter. She walks away, leaving me behind without a single backward glance. As I watch her go, I suddenly come to my senses.

Yvonne Sharp, my fiancee, and I are at the city hall, intending to get our marriage certificates for the 27th time. The staff member has just called our number when Aaron Sutton, Yvonne's stepbrother, suddenly bends over and grabs his stomach. "My stomach is killing me, Yvonne…" Yvonne immediately supports him, saying, "I'll take you to the hospital right now." Aaron quickly shakes his head. "You don't have to do that. It's a very important day for you and Charlie, so I'll just tough it out, Yvonne." He keeps a tight grip on Yvonne's sleeve despite saying so. Yvonne furrows her brow and says, "You don't have to tough it out. I'll take you to the hospital this instant, Aaron." She hands me the queue ticket after saying that. I look at her and say, "It'll only take ten minutes to register our marriage. Is that too much to ask for?" Yvonne doesn't even spare me a glance. "You've already waited for this moment 26 times. What difference will one more make?" I let out a sudden chuckle after hearing how casual she sounds about it. It turns out that she has always known all along—she has just never taken my waiting seriously. "If we don't register our marriage today, there won't be a 28th time, Yvonne." Yvonne helps Aaron along. She doesn't even bother to look at me as she says, "That's enough, Charlie. I'll go take care of Aaron first." I look down at my phone and pull up the contact information of someone I haven't reached out to in a long time. "Grab your personal documents and get to the city hall within ten minutes."

My billionaire husband suffered from chronic insomnia for years. Only the sleep balm I made could help him sleep. On the night of our seventh wedding anniversary, his childhood sweetheart poured a basin of scalding water over the old camphor tree in our garden. I wept and tried to save the tree as she apologized, “I didn’t know you used its leaves to make the sleep balm.” My husband gently comforted her and ordered his men to tie me to the tree trunk instead. “What a precious tree. You’ll spend the rest of your days with it!” With my wrist fractured as a result, I filed for divorce immediately. A month later, my husband was unable to sleep late one night. He stood in the garden and stared at the withered camphor tree.

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

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."

After discovering that Sienna Lyon had cheated on me, I gave her three chances. The first time, I pulled out the love letter that a shy 18-year-old Sienna had handed to me with trembling hands. When Sienna took the letter, her face was filled with remorse. Then, she deleted Matt Sauter’s contact from her WhatsApp right in front of me. The second time, I pulled up a video of Sienna and me exchanging our wedding vows from my phone’s gallery. Sienna watched in silence for a long time. Then, she ordered the security guard to turn away Matt, who had come to borrow money. She, who had never touched a drop of alcohol, got completely drunk that night. The third time was outside Matt’s hospital room, when I handed Sienna the stomach cancer report. Sienna lit a cigarette. The smoke made me cough uncontrollably. Yet her gaze never left Matt, who was in the room. The answer was already obvious. At that moment, I knew there would be no future for her and me.

I was pregnant and due any day. Austin Revelstone, my husband, had a sugar baby named Tawny Sully. Each time they renewed their arrangement, money came into my mother’s special care account. One day, he stayed a little longer to talk to me. Because of it, he was one minute late for his date with Tawny. Tawny was upset. She threw a tantrum and threatened to terminate their agreement. She would only stay if I aborted my baby. So, Austin slid the abortion form and a check for three million dollars across the table to me. “Please, just sign it. We can always have another kid. If Tawny cries anymore, she’ll get wrinkles.” He looked calm and unbothered. It was as if he were just talking about the weather. I raised my head and looked at him in disbelief. I trembled for a long time. Then, I finally signed my name on the abortion form. I wiped my tears and gave the check back to him. I made one additional request. “Let’s make that fake divorce certificate real this time.” I no longer needed his financial support for my mother’s surgery.

My legs buckled when I was told that they'd fished the body of Christopher Quinton from the sea. My knees smashed into the gravel beneath my feet because I knew he'd have survived if he hadn't tried to save me. Three days later, I dealt with all the enemies and became the demoness of Porton's elite circle. Five years later, the pier business expanded considerably. However, I kept the scar on my arm as a memento to remind me of him. It had been five years since he died, exactly five years. I bought a bottle of herbicide in an attempt to take my own life. Then, I saw the supposedly dead Christopher proposing to my best friend, Zoe Shaw. I saw all my underlings congratulate them. I froze for a moment before charging ahead, demanding an explanation. Gus, the guy who'd worked for me for 12 years, stopped me. "Everyone knows, boss. Zoe's pregnant! Calm down!" Henry, the butler my father had left me, stopped me. "My lady, it's been a thorny path for Mr. Quinton and Zoe, and now they're getting married. You're already the head of the pier. Give them your blessing. Everyone knows how possessive you are. "They had to fake their death to keep away from you. It hasn't been easy for them either." I stared at the men who stopped me, my nails digging into my palm. It was then that I realized that my life was an utter joke. I flushed the herbicide down the toilet and sneered at Gus and Henry. "Then, you'll be holding their funerals."

The day I reunited with Vincent Felker, I had just finished a dive to harvest seafood. Vincent stood calmly aboard a cruise ship. Meanwhile, I lay sprawled across a battered fishing boat that reeked of fish and seawater. I was too exhausted to move a finger. Yet, he still instinctively pulled my former best friend, Hannah Shreve, into his arms. It took him a long moment to realize that ten years had passed since he received that prophetic phone call. Hannah would not be brutalized to death by people I hired, and neither would I pick up a knife in an attempt to take him down with me. After a brief pause, he finally spoke. "Lena, none of the things mentioned in that phone call are going to happen anymore. I'm here to take you home." I did not answer and merely forced a faint smile on my lips. Reaching for my oars, I prepared to leave. Hannah called after me with teary eyes. "Lena, I know you're still mad at me, but even if you don't care about yourself, you must think about your child. You became a commercial diver to stay alive because you were waiting for Vincent to come and get you, didn't you?" I did not explain myself or look back. With my life nearing its end, I had neither the strength nor the time to get entangled with them anymore. All I wanted was to save enough money to reach that remote island. Then, I could rest forever beside the child who had been waiting for me for years.

During a thunderstorm on the border, my fiancee, Eleanor Ashby, covers my retreat and falls down a cliff. The search and rescue team spends three months searching through flash floods without finding a trace of her. Everyone concludes she's dead. I refuse to give up and spend another two years looking for her. Eventually, I find her at a small clinic in a remote mountain village. But she's become the wife of the clinic's caregiver, Dylan Foster. That's when I learn she's lost her memory and fallen in love with someone else. In my previous life, I ignore her wishes and force a renowned neurosurgeon to use a high-risk treatment to restore her memories. The day her memories return, the man who has cared for and protected her for the past two years throws himself into the river in despair. Later, during an earthquake rescue mission, Eleanor and I are trapped beneath a collapsed mountainside. There's only one narrow escape route wide enough for one person. She forcibly pushes me out. Moments later, a second collapse buries her beneath a massive boulder. With her dying breath, she reaches through a crack in the rocks and grips my hand. She says in a hoarse voice, "Callum Pierce, these ten years we've spent together is repayment for the debt I owed you from the ten years before. We're even now. Neither of us owes the other anything anymore. "If there's a next life, don't let me remember the past. Please... let me be with him." Tears blur my vision. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day I find Eleanor. This time, I choose to respect her decision and let go of the life she's forgotten.

We're at a department dinner when Logan Gilroy tags me in the work group chat. We've been secretly dating for five years. "Everyone else already paid their share without me having to ask. Do I really have to chase you down for yours?" My best friend, Grace Hopkins, immediately posts a screenshot showing she's already paid. "Ashley, are you having money trouble or something? If you really can't afford your share, I can cover it for you." Within seconds, my coworkers start piling on. "I've never seen anyone so shameless. Mr. Gilroy actually had to call you out in the group chat just to get you to pay your share!" "If you can't afford to eat out, then don't come. She probably only showed up because she wanted an excuse to get close to Mr. Gilroy." "At least Grace knows what's appropriate. No wonder Mr. Gilroy always looks out for her." The boyfriend I've kept secret for five years is humiliating me in front of the entire department, and my best friend is right there backing him up. A new post pops up on my feed. Grace has posted a screenshot showing that Logan returned her payment. Her caption reads, "Dinner with him means I never have to split the bill." Logan likes the post almost immediately and comments, "You showed up, so there's no way I'm letting you pay." I swallow hard, my finger hovering over the screen for a long moment. Then Logan tags me in the work group chat again. "We're not close enough for me to be treating you to dinner, are we, Ms. Leith?" After a long moment, I open the shopping app and cancel the anniversary gift I ordered for him. Then I transfer him my share and post a screenshot in the group chat. Apparently, we're not that close after all. Our fifth anniversary hardly seems worth celebrating now.

The stray cat I adopted had recently started looking at my boyfriend, Logan Bennett, and his female best friend, Chloe Dawson, like they were complete idiots. Then one day, Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of Logan’s car again and shot me a provocative smile. A fierce little voice suddenly rang out in my head: “Human, that woman is calling you an idiot in her head! She’s also planning to get your man drunk tonight! Hurry up and slap her! If you do, I’ll make sure you find money on the street when you leave!” I froze and stared down at Mochi in my arms. So my cat could not only talk, but also read minds and predict the future? Fine. From today on, Mochi and I would make these two shameless cheaters pay—and make sure everyone knew exactly who they were!