Mistress Romance Short Stories & Novels

Four years after my death, the true heiress won the Best Actress award, but her sex tape was once again spread like wildfire. My Best Actor boyfriend, Nicholas Jennings, kicked open the rented house where I used to live, hoping to make me clarify once again that it was me in the video, but all he saw was a complete mess. The landlord happened to pass by and, upon his inquiry, scolded him, "You’re talking about Astrid Rhode? She died four years ago! A man saw the sex tape posted online and came here to have some fun with her, but she would rather die than comply. In a fit of rage, he killed her." Nicholas did not believe it at all. He kicked our couple's mugs. "Astrid made you say that, didn't she? She stole Maddie's life just because she looked like her. Did she think that helping Maddie once would atone for her sins? Tell her that none of the children in her orphanage will live if I don't see her clarification video in two days!" He strode away, and I shook my head with a wry smile. The orphanage had long since been reduced to ashes in the fire, and the children had already passed on to their next lives. I had made a deal with Death, wanting to come back and see him one last time. However, now, it seemed that the deal was better left undone.

My girlfriend, Elsa Smith, always avoided meeting my parents. Yet, she had no trouble turning around and playing the role of her ex-boyfriend Leo Quinn’s fiancée, happily meeting his relatives instead. And the meeting took place in the apartment I had prepared for us to live in after the wedding. What she did not realize was that I happened to be Leo’s distant cousin. She pretended not to know me and clung sweetly to Leo, saying, "This apartment was bought by my hubby, fully paid for." All the relatives were praising them as a loving couple. To keep me from exposing her, Elsa came over to warn me, "I’m just helping a friend deal with marriage pressure. If you mess this up, we’re done." So, I sincerely offered my congratulations. "Since Leo and I seem to have the same taste in houses and women, I’ve got some wedding supplies that I’m sure he’ll like. I’ll gift them to you both." That was when Elsa finally started to panic.

When did you finally decide to give up on someone you loved? For me, it was the moment my study-abroad application was finally approved, and I instinctively wanted to text my boyfriend to celebrate. I opened WhatsApp, only to realize I had to scroll all the way down just to find his chat. Our last conversation had been a month ago, when we had a huge fight over something. His last message was a voice note; his tone filled with helplessness. "Clara, Hilary didn't do it on purpose. Don't be so petty. I'm going to help her print her lab data first. I'll bring you some cake when I get back." After that, he stayed busy helping his junior, Hilary Taylor, with competitions and lab work. I was busy earning credits, working on my professor's projects, and studying for the language test. I forgot to reply to him. I even forgot what we had been fighting about in the first place. But when I looked at our chat again a month later, I suddenly realized that sometimes, you really don't need to say goodbye when you leave someone behind.

I've been in a relationship with my brother's best friend, Emilio Slater, for three years, but he's never been willing to make our relationship public. Still, I never doubt his love for me. After all, he's been with 99 women before, yet he stops looking at anyone else because of me. Even if I have a slight cold, he drops billion-dollar projects and rushes home to take care of me. But on my birthday, when I'm excitedly preparing to share the news of my pregnancy with Emilio, he forgets my birthday for the first time and vanishes without a trace. The housekeeper tells me he's gone to pick up someone important from the airport. I rush there and see him holding flowers, his face full of nervous anticipation, waiting for a woman—one who looks strikingly like me. Later, my brother tells me she's Emilio's first love, the one he can never forget. Emilio defied his parents for her, and he fell apart after she dumped him. He sought out 99 women who resembled her to fill the void. My brother speaks with admiration for Emilio's deep devotion, unaware that I'm one of those stand-ins. I watch Emilio and his first love for a long, long time. Then, I return to the hospital without hesitation. "Doctor, I don't want this child anymore."

I'd been engaged to Ivan since we were kids. When he went off to the military, I stayed behind—ten years of caring for his paralyzed mom, putting my whole life on pause. By the time he came back, I was at the age where most women were settling down. And he showed up with someone else. Ivan laid it out, stone cold: "Nadia's my comrade's widow. If you want to marry me, you'll have to accept her too. Most of my pay goes to her. I promised I'd take care of her. She gets first pick of everything in the house. Don't like it? Then forget about getting married." I looked past him. Nadia stood there, tears dripping down her cheeks, playing the poor little victim. Right then, I ended it. No drama. No regrets. Signed up for the Rural Teaching Support Program the same day. Left love behind. Threw everything I had into teaching.

To keep my "spending urges" in check, Andrew Cathcart changed the PINs on every bank card in our household. "If you need money, just submit a request to me. "For anything under 1,000 dollars, send me a text. For anything over 1,000 dollars, write up a proper report. Once it's approved, I'll transfer the money to you. "That's what's best for our family's future." I went along with it. For three years, I never touched a single bank card. Then came the third year. At a luxury boutique, I spotted Sasha Reyes, the new assistant Andrew had just hired. "Mr. Cathcart, you've given me way too many cards. I keep mixing up the PINs. Next time, can you just change them all to my birthday?" She cooed into the phone while punching in one string of numbers after another, quick and practiced. With just two cards, 150,000 dollars was spent. At that exact moment, my phone lit up with a new message about the request I'd filed for my mother, Wendell Banks. [Request denied.] [Reason: A sedated endoscopy costs twice as much as a standard one. This counts as excessive spending.] [Your mom can handle it. The 300-dollar one is good enough.] I didn't make a scene, and I didn't demand answers. I just went home and calmly counted the cash in the safe. Thank goodness. This money didn't need a PIN, and it was enough for a divorce. Enough for Mom and me to move abroad, too.

I had been in a relationship with Celine Jodie for seven years, but she married her first love, Dylan Graham, a month before our wedding. One afternoon, I was checking the guest list when a screenshot popped up in the wedding planning group. The screenshot was of another group chat called 'Our Promise at 18'. There was a photo of Celine and Dylan standing at the entrance of the local county clerk's office, holding their marriage certificate, and below were people who responded with texts. Her brother, Jordan Jodie, said: [Did you manage to keep it a secret from Gabriel? Don't let him delay the wedding over this matter.] My best friend, Isaac Tatum, replied: [Don't worry, he's still waiting for Celine to come back to try on her wedding dress.] Celine's best friend, Hailey Krate, wrote: [They just want to give their youth a proper ending. It's only a temporary marriage certificate. It's not like we're actually changing the groom.] Celine said: [Let's keep this from Gabriel for now. I'll explain to him after the wedding.] I held my phone, my fingertips cold. Two seconds later, the screenshot was unsent. The wedding planning group was silent for a moment. Then, Jordan casually asked how many boxes of candy I wanted to order, and Isaac urged me to try on my suit tomorrow. I stared at the screen and answered: [No need to order candy for doorgifts anymore. The groom won't be attending.]

After Calvin’s older brother passed away, he devoted himself to taking care of his brother’s wife and daughter. He justified it by saying that ‘family should look out for each other.’ To others, the three of them looked just like a close, happy family. When my mother was on her deathbed, he was busy comforting his sister-in-law, who had been brought to tears by her own son. I knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, “My mom is dying. Please, just visit her one last time, I am begging you!” However, Calvin’s voice was ice-cold as he snapped back, “Tell your mom to die later! I am busy!” I waited for two whole hours, and in the end, my mother never got to see her son-in-law one last time. Broken and exhausted, I finally asked for a divorce. “Why don’t the three of you just stay together and enjoy your happy little family.”

My husband was like a broken record. His answer was always the same. "I can't leave." On our wedding anniversary, he said he couldn't leave because he had to take Natalie Rivers out and cheer her up. When I miscarried, he couldn't leave because he had to take Natalie to therapy. Even when my mother died, he still gave me the same answer. "I really can't leave. Natalie's depression has come back, and she can't be alone." Still weak after my miscarriage, I kept vigil alone for three days. That was when I finally understood. To him, neither our baby's life nor my mother's life mattered. My relatives were shocked to see me handling everything alone. "Josh really isn't coming?" After saying my final goodbye to my mother, I stood up and answered calmly. "No. He doesn't have that obligation anymore."

In my seventh year of dating Elliot Sheppard, he pulls every string to save the exiled daughter of his imprisoned mentor—Margot Fairgrave—and gives her a wedding that makes headlines. "Professor Fairgrave was my guiding light and a man of integrity, who'd never yield to corruption. I owe it to him to protect his daughter," he declares. The Sheppard family, with their billion-dollar empire and strict family rules, will never accept a daughter-in-law like Margot. So, to secure her place, he demands that our son call her "Mom" and tells the world that I am just the nanny. He promises. "Just wait. Once I collect enough evidence to prove that Professor Fairgrave was framed, I'll return everything to the way it was." For three years, I waited and watched their picture-perfect family of three. My son no longer knows me as his mother, yet I remain their lowly nanny. Since I can't possibly wait forever, I've decided to stop waiting.

I come across an announcement while scrolling through my social media feed. The suspense thriller that my boyfriend, Thomas Sheridan, and I didn't get to watch in the movie theaters is now available for streaming. Remembering that Thomas has a subscription to the streaming service, I ask him for his login details. However, Thomas rejects my request. "I don't like sharing my streaming history. Besides, you're always watching those brainless romance flicks. I don't want the app to recommend those movies to me." My heart twists painfully upon hearing his words. I silently fork out 100 dollars to pay for my own annual subscription. When the afternoon rolls around, I stop by my best friend, Lydia Wakeford's place to grab some things. She's curled up on the couch, watching a show on her tablet when I arrive. A notification suddenly pops up on the screen. "Your progress is being synced with the main account, 'Tom.'" I'm briefly stunned before I ask, "Are you using Thomas' account?" "That's right. He gave me his login details when I asked. He must have agreed to my request because of you. I'm so lucky." Their lists of recommendations and streaming histories are neatly displayed on the tablet. Thomas isn't willing to share his personal sanctuary with me, but he has already welcomed another into it with open arms. During dinner, I'm just about to tell Thomas and Lydia how I want to spend my birthday tomorrow when I hear them talking about movies. "The movie that we watched a few days ago is still playing in the movie theaters, Tom," Lydia says. "Why don't the three of us watch it together? What do you think?" Thomas places his fork down and nods. "Sure. But Riley's scared of horror movies. It'll be better if it's just the two of us." "Alright then," Lydia says, sounding a little regretful. "I'll watch a romance movie with you next time, Riley." I nod silently. Thomas and Lydia continue to discuss movies as they sit at the dining table. Neither of them remembers that it's my birthday tomorrow. I suddenly feel like I'm the onlooker who's watching their romance unfold.

At the concert, my husband James Felton and his assistant ended up on the kiss cam. They made for a beautiful couple, and the clip immediately went viral. In the video, I saw my son cheering in between them. The next thing I did was share the video on my Instagram feed with the caption, [How sweet.] James immediately gave me a video call, labeling me a jealous woman. “We were only acting to fool her ex! Stop making a fuss out of everything!” Our friends in the know were all laughing behind my back, placing bets on when I would apologize. This time, however, I was not going to play to their tune.

Five years ago, Suri ruptured her uterus pushing Bruce out of the path of a car. The injury left her unable to have kids. But Bruce didn't care—he still pushed for the wedding. After they got married, he poured nearly everything into her. Or so she thought. Then came the scandal. One of his business rivals leaked it, and just like that, the truth exploded online—Bruce had another woman. She was already over three months pregnant. That night, he dropped to his knees. "Suri, please. I'll fix it. I won't let her keep the baby..." And Suri? She forgave him. But on their fifth anniversary, she rushed to the hotel Bruce had reserved—only to find something else entirely. In the next room, Bruce sat beaming, surrounded by friends and family, celebrating that mistress's birthday. The smile on his face—pure joy. A smile she'd never once seen from him. That was the moment she knew. It was over. Time to go.

My best friend, Jolyn Jones, called me while I was at work. "Help! S-Someone's about to v-violate me! Petra, please help me!" Panic shot through me. I immediately dropped a crucial project and called the police. Then, with an officer close beside me, I raced to the address Jolyn had sent, nearly tripping over my own feet along the way. Suddenly, two loud pops erupted behind us, and confetti rained down. Jolyn jumped out from around the corner with my boyfriend, Will Curry. "Surprise! That's the hundredth time we've managed to prank you, P!" I stared at them in disbelief. "What the hell? You thought sexual violence was appropriate material for a prank?!" The officer looked equally furious. "How dare you waste police time with something like this? You can be charged for making a false report! You're both coming to the station!" A lot happened after that. By the time we were finally released from the station, dusk had already fallen. "You planned this, didn't you? You wanted Jolyn and me to have a criminal record!" Will thundered. "How could you? It was just a joke! You're such a prick!" Rage surged through me. "Excuse me for thinking my best friend was in serious danger and calling the police!" I shot back. "I had to cancel a meeting with a client I'd spent three months negotiating with. Now that contract is gone!" "Shouldn't you be happy it was all just a joke?!" Jolyn sobbed. "Or did you wish I'd actually been violated like you were?!" Whatever reply I might have made died in my throat. My limbs went numb. Will wrapped an arm around Jolyn's waist. "Petra's so damaged that she's started wishing the worst on everyone else! It's best to ignore her when she's in one of these moods." I watched them walk away before sinking to the ground. My strength deserted me as my heart sank. Then a message from HR appeared on my phone. I'd been fired for canceling the meeting. Maybe that was for the best. The only reason I'd stayed in this city and worked at this company was so I could remain close to my best friend and boyfriend. But now, I didn't want any of it anymore.

Shortly after our wedding, my husband, Lucas Whitmore, got into a car crash that left him paralyzed. For over forty years, I gave up everything to take care of him. However, it wasn’t until the day he passed away that I discovered the sickening truth. In his will, he left every single cent to his high school crush. I was evicted from the home I’d called mine for decades. Shaking and leaning heavily on my cane, I dragged myself to a lawyer’s office to reclaim my legal share of the estate as his widow. That was when they dropped the second bomb: he had secretly divorced me years ago. Before I could even process the shock, Lucas’ high school crush, Lily Collins, showed up to rub salt in the wound. "You really had no idea, did you?" She sneered, leaning in close. "Lucas was so worried I wouldn't be able to support myself. He didn’t just find me a high-paying job. He transferred all his money, plus every single paycheck you earned over the years, straight into my account." She continued, "Oh, and remember how he never wanted kids with you? That was because we already had a son together. Honestly, I should thank you for paying to raise our boy." Rage boiled over inside me. My pulse thundered in my ears. Before I could do anything, Lily lunged forward. She grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back, and drove her sharp nails deep into my face. That night, her son hired a gang of thugs to corner me in an alley. They threw a burlap sack over my head and beat me to death, laughing while I spat up blood. Then, my eyes snapped open. I was staring at my husband. He was young again, his legs newly paralyzed, his eyes rimmed red as he stared at me with a pathetic, tragic expression. "Scarlett, the doctor said I’m never going to walk again," Lucas whined, his voice trembling, "What am I supposed to do if I can't get a job?" I quietly slid the debit card I had been about to hand him back into my pocket. A cold laugh ripped from my throat. "What are you supposed to do? I guess you can lie there and starve, and I'll throw you a real nice funeral when you're done."

On Valentine's Day, I set up a candlelit dinner and waited. At 9 PM, my husband, Alfred Johnston, finally texted. [Something came up at work. Don't wait for me.] Then I saw her post. [On a business trip with the CEO for Valentine's Day. Every hotel is fully booked—awkward...] Vivian Bianca, his secretary. Attached was a photo of a guy in a bathrobe, standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. The comments were all 'ooh, CEO's so hot and girl, you're in for a night.' Vivian? Just dropped a smug emoji. So that's what "something came up" meant—a romantic getaway with his secretary. I screenshotted it, posted it on my own feed, and added a smiling emoji. A second later, Alfred called, fuming. "Vivian was joking! Why are you so petty? She's young, not as calculating as you!" I didn't let him finish. "Then let's get a divorce. That way, I won't have to care when you screw around and catch something."

Ever since I married Seth Jerrell, he never lets me go without. If I mention wanting to see snow, he charters a private jet and flies me to Montreve. If I say I want to keep horses, he buys an entire ranch for me. For Seth, money has always been his way of showing love. Until the day I see him at the docks. He's shirtless, hauling heavy sacks from one cargo pile to another, dust covering his skin. He's crouched beside the stacks, eating a dry flatbread, when a young woman in an apron hurries over from the cafeteria and hands him a bowl of free soup. "Seth, once I've saved enough money, I'll buy you some new clothes. You don't have to keep wearing torn ones." He downs the soup in one go, then smiles. "Then I'll work harder tomorrow and buy you a pair of new shoes," he says, his eyes sparkling with delight. I stand in the shadow of a shipping container, barely keeping myself upright. I can't believe that Seth, the man who effortlessly charms his way through countless business dinners and once bought me an entire office building, is willing to pretend he's struggling just to impress a cafeteria worker. "When I get rich, I'll buy you whatever you want." Those are the exact words he told me when he confessed his feelings to me on a rooftop years ago. I don't confront him. I simply delete his number and block him on every social media platform.

On my birthday, Rowan Shore ditches me for the 99th time to run to his suicidal true love. I tell the system, "I'm done with this mission. I've had enough." For years, I have tried every trick in the book, but I can't win Rowan's heart. The system says that if I die in this world, I'll return to my original one. The first time, I slit my wrists in the bathroom. Rowan kicks the door down, sends me to the hospital, and berates me for using self-harm to snare his attention. The second time, I swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills. He bursts in at the last moment and sobs while holding me. He says he knows he messed up. There's still a third time, a fourth time, and more, right?

My family was on the brink of bankruptcy. To save us, my dad married me to a rich and powerful family. Before the wedding day, my fiancé demanded a virginity test. I confidently agreed to the test. To my surprise... The man who examined me was actually the doctor who had repaired my hymen three times by now...

Lisa Jones had never expected how badly her long-distance relationship would go, when James Sachs loved her more than anyone else. As the chief of a hospital, he was a very busy man, but he had flown abroad countless times and clocking over 10,000 hours in travel for her. They could only meet briefly each time. She still remembered in that early winter, he had held her in the snow, saying that he found it all worth it. She received numerous gifts from him, ranging from thousand-word love letters to million-dollar necklaces bought from auctions. If it were just to make her smile, he would pluck the stars from the sky. That love that seeped into their very essence hadn't changed for three years. It was why Lisa forced herself to fly home through the night. But when she heard James' friends marveling at their love, only for James to quietly deny it, she had to admit that she felt like her heart was crushed with the agony of a thousand cuts.