Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Mistress Regret Novels

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.

On my wedding day, my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart arrived, wearing the exact same custom wedding dress as me. They stood together, greeting guests, while I smiled and praised them as a match made in heaven. Humiliated, she left the venue in tears. In her defense, my fiancé publicly accused me of being petty and unreasonable. After the wedding reception, he left with her for the honeymoon we had planned together. I didn’t cry. Instead, I called my lawyer immediately.

After the video exposing my sister Issa Acosta’s plot against me was revealed, my parents and my fiancé, Henry Nolan, stood firmly by my side, making me feel loved and safe. I confidently handed over all the evidence to them, trusting them to handle it. However, they told me that after Issa was kicked out of the house, she died in a sudden car accident, and I believed them. That was until five years into my marriage, when I accidentally saw Issa—the woman who was supposed to be dead. She was holding a little boy, clinging tightly to Henry’s hand. "Henry, if it weren’t for you and my parents, I’m afraid Zoe would’ve thrown me in prison. Thankfully, my parents destroyed the evidence and even opened a jewelry design studio for me. To avoid suspicion, you even sacrificed your own marriage. Thank you for everything in the past five years.” "Think of it as me atoning to Zoe on your behalf. As long as you and Bear are happy, that’s enough for me." So, what I thought was a happy family was nothing more than a giant lie—a scheme concocted by my parents and Henry. My parents, my husband, and Issa were the real family, and I? I was just the fool who had been deceived for five long years. Whether it was family or love, none of it was real, and I don’t want any of it anymore.

Connor Lockwood abandons me at the hospital's entrance even though I'm bleeding in the middle of my pregnancy. He insists on sending his client, a divorcée, home. The blood flows down my legs, but he hurries off without another look back. He should've been at the hospital and by my side, but instead, I see him in his client's social media update. It's captioned, "Thank goodness for my wonderful lawyer. Do you know who gets to have hangover soup when they're drunk? Me!" I spend the rest of the night wide awake. The following morning, I calmly dial a number. "Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll return home in three days to take over the company."

Sam and I have been married for ten years. He always said he would give me the wedding of my dreams. However, three days before the ceremony, my eyes, which had been blind for the past six months after saving Sam’s life, miraculously regained vision. The first thing I saw when I opened them was Sam tangled in bed with his pretty secretary, Alisa. The bed was still shaking while Alisa typed on her phone. She showed it to him, smirking. [Sam, we're out of condoms. Why not ask your blind wife to grab one for us?] Sam’s veins bulged at his temple. His eyes darted toward me in panic. Alisa, however, scoffed and typed again. [What are you so scared of? Your wife’s blind. What’s she gonna see?] Sam sighed in resignation. “Hazel, can you pass me the box of cigarettes from the nightstand?” That cigarette box he mentioned was clearly labeled: Durex Ultra-Thin—Bare Feel. My heart shattered, and I booked a flight to Rockbridge before the wedding. When Sam came running after me, hysterical, I said coldly to him, “Sam. I can see.”

Everyone knew Peter was crazy about me. But five years into our marriage, he knocked up his mentor's daughter. Crying, Cindy grabbed his hand. "I won't let Yuna know." Peter just stared her down. "You'd better not. I'm only helping you because I owe your dad. Don't get any bright ideas." She had the baby on my birthday. Peter looked at the kid like he was already in love. Then Cindy, all smug, texted me: [Ms. Zander, don't you think my baby deserves a dad with a real title?] I signed the divorce papers and caught a flight to Hampsburg.

I'm due for a promotion when I stumble upon my husband entangled with his childhood sweetheart. After that, I'm secretly admitted to a psychiatric facility. I repeatedly tell the doctors that I'm fine, but all I get is worse abuse and humiliation. When Howard Armstrong visits me every month, I beg him to get me out. Each time, he says, "This is a proper establishment, so you have to follow the doctor's instructions. Don't be unreasonable!" On the day I'm discharged, he speaks to me tenderly and calls me his honey. Later, when I place a divorce agreement before him, he breaks down in tears.

My estranged husband suddenly barges into my parents' home, demanding to know where I am. He forces my mother to her knees and pushes my paralyzed father to the floor before beating him up. He even renders our four-year-old son half-dead. Why? Because his true love is disfigured and needs a skin graft to restore her looks. "Where is Victoria? She should be honored that she can do this for Amelia! Hand her over, or I'll kill all of you!" It's too bad I've been dead for a year.

The morning after their night together, Harper Sullivan froze with a sudden, sickening realization—Ryan Delgado hadn't used protection. Fear coiled tight in her chest, sharp and suffocating. But Ryan just smirked, his voice smooth, teasing, as if this were some kind of game. "Our families are enemies. A baby changes that. Your father would have to accept me. Then I could marry you—properly." Heat rushed to her cheeks. She should have pushed him away, should have demanded answers—but his touch still burned through her resistance, and she gave in to him. Then, like a knife to the ribs, she heard his friend's voice from the next room, laced with cruel amusement. "Ryan, that's genius. Get her pregnant, then dump her. Harper would never recover from the scandal. And her family? Total disgrace." Ryan let out a cold, satisfied laugh. "Serves her right. She stole Olivia's spot as valedictorian, broke her heart, drove her overseas. I'll make sure she pays—this is for Olivia." Harper's body went rigid. Three years. Three years of stolen moments, swallowed secrets, letting him touch her in the dark while her family believed her loyal. And it had all been a lie. Rage and humiliation crashed over her, so violent she nearly choked on it. Her phone buzzed in her trembling hand. Fighting back tears, she answered. "Dad… I'll take the engagement."

My husband was sterile. Necrospermia, they said. His brother was in a coma and had no partner. Their mother wanted me to sleep with both of them and get knocked up with the family's heir. I refused and applied for a divorce. Ninety-nine times. Ninety-nine failures. Then, I put in the hundredth application. When that failed, I agreed to my mother-in-law's request, holding a pregnancy test result. My husband disagreed. That night, he stopped me before I could sleep with his brother. Harshly, he said, "My mother was just testing you. I can't believe you'd get pregnant with the illegitimate child." I was amused and annoyed. "You're the one who said yes, as long as I could get pregnant with your family's heir."

The girl my family sponsored was a manipulative opportunist. She had my childhood friends wrapped around her finger. I helped her out of pity for her poor background, but she climbed her way up, slowly taking my place. She faked innocence in front of the brothers while sabotaging me behind my back. When they found out, they called me petty rather than blame her. I got fed up, married my college crush, and moved on. But they flew in overnight, begging for forgiveness.

When I hear my boyfriend, Terence Bowen, is trapped in a house fire, I immediately rush back to save him. However, after dragging him out with all my strength, I realize it's just a dummy. Laughter erupts from the house next door. "Ariana Brock is such a fool! She fell for it again!" Through a half-open window, I spot Terence lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. He looks completely fine. "That's the 47th prank we've pulled on her. Three more to go and we're done." "Serves her right. She shouldn't have stolen Bethany Howard's scholarship. Bethany is the one Terence actually cares about. That's why he decided to fake a relationship with Ariana to get revenge 50 times over. Too bad the game will end soon." I bend over, gasping for air. All this time, the relationship I've worked so hard to protect is nothing but a game to them.

Edward and I held our engagement party in Las Vegas. Everything seemed perfect—until someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. One of Edward's female coworkers looked me straight in the eye. "I am pregnant. It is your fiancé's baby." Laughter burst out around us. Everyone thought it was a joke—except Edward. After the trip, we returned home. He looked uneasy. "I'm the father of Juliet's baby," he admitted. "Don't overthink it. We were on a business trip and got too drunk with a client. We accidentally spent the night together. "She is from a British aristocratic family. Reputation matters a lot to her. She will never marry me. She only wants to have the baby and raise it alone." "So what are you saying?" I asked. "I am the father. I have to take responsibility. I will stay in the apartment I rented for her and take care of her pregnancy on weekdays, and come home on weekends. "Our wedding will be delayed. We will get married after the baby is borned." I gave a small smile. So he had it all planned out. He was just here to inform me. He let out a sigh of relief, picked up his Rimowa suitcase, and walked out without looking back. I wiped the tears off my face and began packing away all the memories of our relationship. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. The voice on the other end sounded messy and emotional. "Margot, I freaking love you. Don't marry him. Marry me instead." I froze for a second, then replied, "Okay."

I was dying soon. However, both of my childhood friends, who swore to protect me forever, did not realize that. It was because they were busy throwing a celebration party for their junior from the research lab. I went through hardships and got infected by this incurable virus to retrieve this special seaweed from the deep sea. However, that junior claimed that she was the one who got the seaweed! My childhood friends, whom I had known for decades, believed her. Due to their accusations, I became the evil senior who was taking credit for a junior’s work. I wanted to explain, but they said, “Mandy Smith is a good kid. Why would she lie?” “You’re busy playing tricks and acting like a pick-me girl instead of focusing on your research. Trust me, I’m going to get you removed by our supervisor.” After I was discharged from the hospital, I left the research lab and disappeared just like they wanted. However, they started to desperately look for me.

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.

When I became pregnant, my gravely ill mother mentioned that her final wish was to witness my wedding. My boyfriend, William Jones, finally agrees to marry me after I have been asking for 99 days. Yet, on the wedding day, he never shows up, even though I was waiting in my gown at the hotel the whole day. The truth only emerges when someone found his marriage certificate that he had posted a month earlier on social media. He married his childhood sweetheart, Caroline Ashton, during that time. When my mother learns this, the shock triggers a fatal attack. She passes away despite the doctors' efforts. William sends me a message. "I'm sorry, honey. Caroline twisted her ankle, so I had to take care of her. We'll have our wedding next month, okay? I promise I'll make it up to you this time." … A month later, William prepares a lavish, grand wedding just for me. Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, he waits at the hotel. Yet, all he receives is the report from my abortion procedure. There is only one sentence on the back—"William, this is goodbye forever."

The 99th time Owen Anderson slides a ring onto my finger, his adopted sister, Monica Morgan, calls again. And just like that, for the 99th time, he ditches me at the altar to be with her, who's having another depressive episode. I'm fed up. I yell after him as he walks away, "Go ahead! Walk out on me, and I swear I'll marry someone else!" He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he snaps, "Can you stop being so unreasonable? We can get married anytime, but Monica's the only sister I've got." Then, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there like a complete fool. What he doesn't realize is that this time, I mean it. Later, when he gets down on one knee for the 100th time, his older brother, Chris, slips an arm around my waist and says, "Sorry, Owen. She's your sister-in-law now."

My fiance, Alexander Elrod, the most outstanding fashion designer of the 21st century, had finally agreed to marry me. He promised to propose once he won the Paris Fashion Award. When the day arrived, I braved a typhoon to attend his celebration banquet. There, I watched as Alexander and his assistant, Stella Monroe, kissed shamelessly in front of the cameras. Then, they proudly displayed their wedding rings. Alexander picked up the microphone. “Stella dear, thank you for your hard work during this time. In the future, I’ll continue leading the fashion world with you, one trend after another!” My colleagues all turned to look at me and expected me to cause a scene. I smiled, and I was the first to applaud them. “How wonderful! Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness.” The room erupted in shocked murmurs. After the event, Alexander immediately dragged me aside to explain, “Stella stayed up with me for nearly half a year for the Paris Fashion Award. Her mother’s terminally ill, and her last wish was to see Stella get married. Must you take it so seriously? “Once work is over, I’ll divorce her and throw you the grandest wedding, okay?” I walked away without answering him. Then, I gave my father a call. “Dad, the ten-year bet is over. I’ve lost. I’ll come home and take over the family business.”

As the only daughter of a casino magnate, I have grown up surrounded by danger and betrayal. To keep me safe, my father has raised nine bodyguards from a young age. After I come of age, he asks me to choose one of them as my fiance. Everyone expects me to pick Harry Hunt, the man I have secretly loved for years. But I do not—not after what happened in my previous life. On the day of our engagement, I was kidnapped, and my hands were pierced with poison-tipped spikes. Tortured and desperate, I called Harry for help. His response still haunts me today. "Victoria, stop with these games. Your location shows you're still in the hotel suite. Trying to pull these pity stunts just to keep me to yourself? Pathetic." With another woman laughing in the background, I closed my eyes and gave up. As the iron cage sank beneath the waves and the sea filled my lungs, my life ended. Then, I open my eyes and find myself back on the day my father asked me to make a choice. This time, Harry's name is the first I cross off the list. But why is he crying and begging me to marry him at my engagement banquet with Jeffrey Reed?

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood sweetheart called, claiming a burst pipe at her home. Without a second thought, he ditched our celebration to play handyman. Moments later, Vivian Duffy's social media lit up with a smug post. [No matter when or where, my Superman arrives at one call. How should I reward him?] Accompanying the post was a photo of scattered condoms and torn clothing on the floor. I forced a smile, picked up my phone, and dialed a number. "My pipe is broken. Care to fix it?"