Mistress Romance Short Stories & Cheating Novels

On the seventh year of our anniversary, the anniversary gift my husband, Anthony Walker, has given me is a divorce agreement that is valid for seven days. He has planned all this just because he has his eye on a female intern in his company, who is seven years younger than him. So, he wants to be in a legitimate relationship with her that only lasts for seven days. On the first day, they reserve an entire cinema for themselves. After that, they make love to each other from the doorway to the seats. On the second day, they set off fireworks at the beach. The fireworks are so bright that half of the city is illuminated by them. On the fifth day, the intern, Tanya Lindt, barges into my art exhibition. With tears running down her face, she accuses me of being the side chick in her relationship in front of the mass media. That night, news of a rising female painter becoming a homewrecker for the sake of love goes viral. More than 100 thousand malicious comments directed at me are posted in the comment section. On the sixth day, Anthony apologizes to me on Tanya's behalf. Apparently, the punishment he has set for her is that she's not allowed to go shopping for three days. On the seventh day, Anthony finally realizes that something is wrong. He calls me 99 times just to remind me that we'll get remarried the next day. "Okay," I say to him. Then, I inform my assistant to check in my baggage. What Anthony doesn't know is that I already came up with a plan to further my studies overseas seven days ago. This time, I'm not going to waste my time on him anymore.

The day my mother brought her childhood sweetheart back to the villa, my father—who had already quit smoking—stood on the balcony and smoked through the entire night. Back then, his colleagues at the research institute all envied him for having a wife who was a CEO. They said he should have stayed home and enjoyed life—why work so hard outside when all he needed to do was keep a firm grip on the household finances? But my father never agreed. "Those things are all external," he would say. "As long as the feelings are still there, we'll be fine whether we're rich or poor. And if one day she no longer loves me, I'll leave with nothing and walk away alone." He never expected his words to become prophecy. My mother truly did stop loving him. Later, when she appeared before the media, arm in arm with that man, my father didn't look back. He boarded a flight overseas and disappeared from our lives. And as I stared at the photo in my social feed—my fiancée's hand entwined with someone else's—I knew it was time for me to leave too, just like my father had.

Today is my birthday. But my wife, Talia Ford, tells me that she can't spend time with me today. She needs to accompany her uncle, Adam Ford, to his physical checkup. I'm about to convince Talia to stay with me when a row of comments suddenly pops up in front of my eyes. "Stop wasting your breath. Just let her go. "In your previous life, Talia insisted on keeping her uncle company, so you could only return to your research lab to work. But you predicted that the dead volcano located next to Bareyard Village would erupt tonight. So, you forcibly stopped Talia and made her go back to the village to save her grandpa. "But when her uncle went for the physical checkup on his own, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Engulfed by despair, he took his own life by jumping off the hospital. "After he died, Talia pinned the blame on you. She bought some potent rat poison and poisoned your food, thus killing you."

The day I learned the truth about my husband, Duke Alistair, and his adopted sister, Liana, I left. I abandoned my title, my home, and returned to my father's palace. A year passed. Then came news of chaos in the duchy. The servant Alistair sent spoke with desperation, “Your Highness, the Duke and your son are lost to reason. If you don’t return, I fear they will burn everything to the ground.” I looked at the blood I'd coughed onto my handkerchief. I nodded. "Fine. I'll go back." The doctor had already given me my diagnosis. Consumption. I had only a month left to live. So I went back. And I played the part of the perfect duchess. I no longer demanded Alistair's loyalty. I even found him three new mistresses who looked just like Liana and sent them to his bed after he had sent her away for me. I no longer made Damian study the arts of statecraft and not forced him to master his courtly duties. Instead, I supported his ridiculous dream of joining the Expeditionary Force. I took the pain they gave me. I wrapped it in the "understanding" they always craved. And I served it back to them cold. But it drove Alistair mad. He threw out the mistresses. He crushed me in his arms. His kiss was a punishment. He bit my lip, drawing blood. "I sent Liana away! What more do you want from me? How can I earn your forgiveness?" Damian cried and clung to my arm. "I'll never call Aunt Liana 'gentle' or 'beautiful' again! Mother, please. Just stop." They didn't understand. I wasn't making a scene. I just wanted to live out my last month in peace. And then, I wanted to die.

The day my wife gave birth to my foster brother's child, my entire family waited tensely outside the delivery room. They were not concerned about whether Sheila Rogers would make it through labor safely. They were worried I might turn up and make a scene. My mother kept glancing at the elevator. "He won't try to come up the stairs, will he?" My father was on the phone with hospital security again and again. "Yes, about six foot three. Have you seen him?" My brother stayed coiled and ready, fists clenched. "If my brother causes trouble, I'll lay down my life to protect Sheila and my son." However, from the start of labor to the moment Sheila delivered safely and both mother and child were declared healthy, I never showed up. Reclining on the hospital bed, Sheila took out her phone and asked my mother to call me. "Tell Hank not to cause any trouble," she said calmly. "If he's willing to be the child's godfather, we can still live our lives together." She felt absolutely no guilt toward me. From her perspective, she had merely granted my parents their long-standing wish for a grandchild. What fault could there possibly be in that? What no one knew was that I had never planned to go to the hospital. At that very moment, I was training beneath the scorching sun. All for a single reason: in one month, I would deploy with my unit to Safrana on a peacekeeping mission. Once I left, there would be little chance of ever coming back.

On my fifth year anniversary, the first two things I receive are two bills for water and electricity. My wife, Whitney Chapman, comes home at a late hour. She's carrying a food container that's filled with food that has gone cold. "Sorry, I was dealing with an extremely difficult client. I can only make it up to you with supper." She puts down the container before walking into the bathroom. While she doesn't reek of alcohol, there's dust coating the hem of her windbreaker. I call Whitney's secretary, only to find out that she has not been to the company today. A second before I end the call, the secretary adds, "By the way, Mr. Spencer, the new warehouse manager, Maxwell Clarke, was also absent from work today." Maxwell Clarke? The illegitimate child who brings nothing but shame to the Spencer family? What a big coincidence… or was it? I quickly contact the property manager of the villa based on the bills I've received. "A father-and-son duo have just moved into the villa last month." The manager then sends the list of inhabitants to me. The name listed is also Maxwell Clarke. This villa happens to be a property my father left for me back when Whitney and I first got married. Since it's too far from the city, I've left it vacant all this time because I wanted to reserve it as a villa meant for vacation purposes. Now, the people I hate are the ones living in that villa.

It's my daughter, Noelle Peace's first day at the kindergarten. But the teacher kicks us out instantly. "Mr. Peace's son has been studying here for a year. Since when does he have another daughter?" This leaves me feeling confused. Noelle has only reached the minimum age to start her education. How is it possible for that child to study here for a year? After investigating the truth, I find out that the new assistant, Myra Larson, had enrolled her own child into the same kindergarten as Mrs. Pearce a year ago. I seek her out, only for her to flash her marriage certificate with my husband, George Pearce. "I know you. You've been pestering my husband all these years, haven't you?" The official stamp of the courthouse is shown on the marriage certificate, clear as day. The date is five years ago. But the thing is, George and I have been married for three years.

Eleanor Sutton was in love with Harrison Luther since she was 20 years old. She married him when she turned 22. Five years into their marriage, they had yet to have a child together. Harrison kept protecting Eleanor from his family while enduring the pressure they kept inflicting on him. At that time, everyone claimed that Eleanor was Harrison's weak spot. But everything changed once news of Harrison having an illegitimate child was leaked. He kneeled in the downpour for the whole day afterward as a form of punishment. Then, he explained to Eleanor that it was just an accident, and that he vowed to love her and her only. So, Eleanor accepted the outcome of the illegitimate child being kept in the family, while the mistress was exiled far, far away. But despite Harrison's promise, his mistress, Winona Birch, still ended up moving into Eleanor's home, where she'd be cared for during her pregnancy. Harrison began skipping meetings for her sake, and he'd also ditch Eleanor just so he could go on strolls with Winona. In fact, he'd even abandon Eleanor halfway during their dates in order to be with Winona. The first time Eleanor brought up divorce, Harrison slit his wrists in the bathroom. He left a suicide note, claiming that he'd rather die than not being able to grow old with Eleanor. When divorce was brought up the second time, Harrison hurriedly pleaded to Eleanor to not leave him. But after multiple conflicts, his attitude toward her became wishy-washy. After their 100th argument, Eleanor ran away from their home. Harrison no longer went after her, thinking that she'd eventually return to his side. But she died in that rainy night. When Eleanor opens her eyes again, she finds out that she has returned to the day Harrison's illegitimate child is exposed. This time, she dials a number. "I shall accept the offer of becoming a war correspondent." Her editor reminds her that she won't be able to get in touch with the outside world once she embarks on this journey, and that she needs Harrison's permission in order to accept the offer. Eleanor merely replies, "I'll divorce Harrison soon. I'll depart on time in a week." She wants to make sure that Harrison will never be able to find her anymore.

I booked a consultation with a renowned traditional medicine practitioner six months in advance to treat my surgeon wife's arousal disorder over the holidays. However, on the appointment date, Wendy did not show up. Just as I was about to call to question her, I noticed a photo her male friend had posted on social media. In the photo, my usually aloof wife was hugging the guy with a radiant smile. The caption read: [Only I can cure your problem.] But what caught my attention was my wife's flushed face in the photo, clearly displaying signs of arousal. With a cold smirk, I immediately liked and commented: [You must have magic fingers that work wonders!] The comment section exploded, with everyone speculating whether I would tear my wife's lover apart. What awaited my wife was our official divorce after the cooling-off period ended.

After coming home from buying fresh produce at the farmer's market, I began prepping the ingredients and making lunch. As soon as I was done with my tasks, my husband, Jeremy Tate, came home. "A pipe in Chloe's home has burst. Hurry up and help her out. It's difficult enough for a single mother like her to handle such problems." I took off my apron and went to Chloe's place to unclog her pipes. Then, I mopped up the stagnant water before proceeding to comfort her frightened child. Once I finally dragged my exhausted body home, I saw Jeremy handing over my daughter's sweater to Chloe. "Don't stress yourself out, Chloe. It's not like Eliza can still wear this anyway. This sweater is perfect for Lily." As I stared at the sweater, I suddenly spoke up. "Let's get a divorce, Jeremy." He looked at me in disbelief. "You want a divorce over an old sweater?" "Yeah. Precisely."

On the eve of our engagement ceremony, I noticed that Angelina Manning, my rich girlfriend, wasn't paying attention at all when we were shopping together. I bought a hotdog from a nearby food truck and passed it to Angelina's lips. To my surprise, she tossed it to the ground furiously. "Devon Fuller, my family wants a son-in-law who can carry himself with confidence and poise! Stop buying these cheap things! You'll just end up embarrassing me even more! How can my parents ever accept you if you keep doing things like this?" Feeling rather awkward, I picked up the hotdog and threw it into a nearby trash can. Then, I nodded in response so that I could maintain our four-year relationship. "Okay." I thought that was the end of the outburst, but Angelina decided to get engaged to Jeffrey Terell the next day. "Devon, Jeffrey committed suicide and got admitted into the hospital just so he could be with me. Once he's back to normal, I'll definitely return to you." I still nodded and broke up with Angelina. "Okay." After that, I left. Four years later, Angelina shows up at my residence with the diamond ring she had used to propose to me back then. "Devon, Jeffrey has agreed to file for a divorce from me. We can finally be together again! I told you before that I can return to your side as soon as Jeffrey lets go of his obsession over me and stops hurting himself." I frown at Angelina, who looks all loving and affectionate. At the same time, I mentally curse myself for picking this particular time to come home. After all, I've decided to come back to my cottage just to grab something on a whim, only to bump into my delusional ex-girlfriend. I just push her toward the door. "Excuse me. I don't want to be late picking up my kid from school."

Five years ago, Cyrus Parker cried as he begged me to let his childhood sweetheart, Paige Gallagher, give birth to his child. I agreed, but soon I named my conditions. Paige and her child were to be sent abroad, never to return to this country. At the same time, Cyrus needed to compensate me with half of the Parker family's assets. Everyone called me a materialistic wrench who had her eye on the Parkers' wealth this whole time. As for Cyrus, he'd rather make an enemy out of the entire Parker family just so he could protect that child. Five years later, when I go to a neighboring city on a business trip, I stumble upon a lost boy. So, I take him to the police station and have him contact his family there. The police officer dials the phone number that the boy is able to recite for him. Soon, I hear a familiar voice coming from the phone. "Don't be scared now. I'll come over and pick you up right away." In less than half an hour, Cyrus, who's supposed to be in a business meeting that's taking place thousands of miles away, rushes into the police station. I meet his gaze from my seat on the bench, leaving him stunned. A smile appears on my face as I get up from the bench. "I didn't even know you'd sired another son with another woman behind my back, Cyrus. It seems that you won't be able to keep the other half of your wealth now."

My neighbor abandoned her cat, so I took it in. It never warmed up to me, but never stopped meowing at my husband. I grew suspicious. One night, my husband claimed to be working late. I knocked on the neighbor’s door. She stroked her slightly rounded belly. “Ms. Hill, what brings you here so late?” Her eyes gleamed with defiance and smugness. Something clicked. I understood everything. When my husband crept home at dawn, he found both sets of parents waiting. A divorce agreement lay on the coffee table.

I followed an account of a couple that was not very popular but was very sweet. The account recorded every detail of the account owner and her boyfriend. They would argue over a plate of pasta and then look at each other and smile, playfully calling the other person a child at heart. They would hug tightly under the starry sky on a mountain top and say that they wished time could stop at this moment. Although the account owner never showed her face, I was still touched by her captions. The account was updated again the day before I was getting married. [Ten years of love ends here. From now on, he's just her husband, and I'm just her best friend. This account will no longer be updated. I wish my best friend and her beloved man a happy ever after.] The photo showed my fiancé, Josh Clark, and me, taken from behind.

In Kieran Chase's eyes, I was not his wife. I was a non-performing asset waiting to be liquidated. When I got sick and asked for help, he became impatient. He said, "This is a minor problem. You can handle it on your own. No need to tell anyone." When I broke down in tears, he reprimanded me. "Losing emotional control shows weakness. It exposes the fragility of our alliance. I'll have the PR team teach you emotional management." Even when I called for help after a car accident, he hung up. "Nothing about you is important enough to interrupt a transaction worth hundreds of millions." I spent seven days in the ICU fighting for my life. On my first day home, I found Kieran leaning over another woman, his voice suddenly soft and coaxing as he convinced her to take her medicine. He opened his mouth to explain. I smiled bitterly and handed him the papers I'd prepared long ago. My tone mirrored his perfectly. "Mr. Chase, regarding our marriage project, the return on investment is unacceptably low after comprehensive evaluation. I'm formally proposing we terminate our cooperation. "Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it."

One day, my partner, Natalie Moore, cried and begged me to let her have the baby she had conceived with her childhood sweetheart, Yarden Holt. I agreed, but only on two conditions. Firstly, Yarden had to take the child abroad and never come back. Secondly, if Natalie ever broke the first condition and allowed them to come back, half of the Moore family’s estate had to be transferred to me. Everyone called me a gold-digging opportunist. They accused me of using a woman to climb the social ladder and coveting the Moore family fortune. Nevertheless, Natalie was willing to go against the entire Moore Corp board just to keep that child. Five years after that, I went to a neighboring city for a project and found a little boy. I took him to the police station so they could contact his family. The officer dialed the number the boy gave, and the voice that came through was one I knew all too well. “Baby, don’t worry. I’m coming to get you right now.” Less than half an hour later, Natalie, who was supposed to be hundreds of miles away at a meeting, stormed into the police station. I sat on a bench and watched her indifferently. She froze, and her face turned pale. I smiled and stood up to greet her. “Natalie, I had no idea that you had secretly brought this little boy back. Did you stop caring about your inheritance?”

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.

After my father died, the illegitimate daughter he had been raising abroad immediately returned to the country to fight me for the estate. Her name was Alma. I was his only legitimate child, and I even had a will on my side. However, I still failed to keep my rightful inheritance. My fiancé Wayne, who could command the entirety of North City with a flick of his wrist, insisted on helping Alma. He stood protectively in front of Alma’s wheelchair and asked me impatiently, “With the money I gave you, you could buy plenty of houses like that. Are you really so heartless? Why would you fight a disabled person over it?” I confronted him, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Fighting? That house is the only thing my mother left me.” In the end, Wayne helped Alma win the lawsuit. He looked at my red, swollen eyes with a trace of guilt and said, “Jocelyn, I’ll make it up to you in the future.” However, I knew then that there was no more future between us.

During Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law hinted for the umpteenth time that she wanted a grandchild. However, my husband, Zachary Cole, who had insisted on staying child-free in the past decade, only smiled and filled her plate. After dinner, he slipped onto the balcony. "There, there. Daddy will come see you on New Year's Day," he whispered. I stood in the corner of the living room with a glass of water in my hand, feeling cold as the words sank in. I stepped forward and forced a playful tone. "I just heard you say 'Daddy.' Got a secret kid stashed somewhere?" He rubbed his nose, his voice stiff. "You must've misheard. That's… just a friend's kid." My heart sank. I'd been married to him for a decade, so I knew exactly what he looked like when he was lying.

After I've completed 98 tasks for my fiancee, Cheryl Landeau, she finally agrees to marry me once I've completed the 99th task for her. For that task, I'm required to pick her up outside her company. On the day I stand outside Cheryl's company with a huge flower bouquet in my arms, I don't see her at all despite having waited till late night. Soon after, I get hospitalized due to a high fever. When I tap on my phone, the first thing I see is a photo of the marriage certificate belonging to Cheryl and her assistant, Jason York. Jason even includes a caption with the photo. "My mom is very satisfied with her daughter-in-law. Please take good care of me from now on, my dear wife." The next day, I hang a banner outside the company. "May Ms. Landeau and Mr. York grow old in harmony and be blessed with children." All of my colleagues are stunned, to say the least. At that moment, Cheryl quickly pulls me into her office. She then explains, "Jason's mom is severely ill. Her death wish is watch him get married. What's wrong with me fulfilling her wish? Can't you show more kindness toward Jason? "Now, stop throwing that tantrum of yours and get rid of the banner. Once Jason's mom passes away, I'll file for a divorce from him." I just smile as I set off more fireworks at the doorway. "Oh, you don't have to bother with a divorce. I'm worried that his mom might come back to life soon. Let's just end things here."