Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Scumbag Cheating Novels

The day I go wedding dress shopping with my best friend, Alice Wilson, I catch her fiance and his female friend getting intimate inside the fitting room. I rush over to tell Alice, only to get a hard slap across the face. "I know you're jealous I'm marrying into wealth, but I never thought you'd make up such vile lies about my boyfriend! He and Fiona are just best friends. How could he ever do something like that?" Despite my desperate warnings and pleas, she marries Matthew Price anyway. She even posts about me online. "My best friend of over a decade turned out to be the one who couldn't stand seeing me happy." The post goes viral, exposing me to a barrage of relentless hate. Everyone brands me a toxic friend. Matthew holds a grudge against me for exposing his affair with Fiona and hires someone to ruin me. As I try to escape in a panic, I get hit by a car and die on the spot. When I open my eyes again, I am right back to the day I was helping Alice try on wedding dresses. From inside the fitting room, those same scandalous sounds ring out once more.

After our engagement, my fiance, Justin Ford, has someone bring a child back from Verdanne and hand him over to me. An email arrives along with the boy. "Nora, I got bored out of my mind in Verdanne and accidentally knocked Cindy up. Since you've always been sweet and obedient, I'm leaving my son with you. Consider it practice. When we come home, you'll be all set to work as our nanny." Without a word, I hand the child over to the butler. Seven years later, all the CEOs stationed overseas return to headquarters to report in. Justin pulls up in a Maybach with a whole entourage, blocking the entrance to the Ford estate where I live. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, he tilts his head and takes off his sunglasses. "Did you miss me that badly? Is that why you're waiting out here?" He takes a drag from his cigarette before continuing, "By the way, Cindy and I got married in Verdanne so we could get our son registered. From now on, you two can treat each other like sisters. Whatever she gets, you'll get too. "The Shaws and the Fords are practically family anyway. You don't care about a piece of paper, do you?" With that, he blows smoke ring after smoke ring into my face, leaving me choking with tears streaming from my eyes. I quickly step back and wipe away the tears. My son's dad is an extremely jealous man who warned me long ago to keep my distance from the younger men in the Ford family. If my husband catches his nephew harassing his wife, all hell will break loose in the Ford family.

I'm the most famous marriage-desperate woman in Merrowfield. But every time my fiancé, Gavin Northwood, and I try to hold a wedding, disaster strikes. The first time, his mother fell down a staircase and broke her leg. The second time, Scout, the dog Gavin had raised for eight years, died of poisoning. The third time, my mother was struck by a falling sign and critically injured. The fourth time, the fifth time... every attempt after that ended with someone close to us getting hurt. I hated that curse, and on my thirtieth birthday I dragged Gavin out to see a spiritual adviser and have it stripped off us for good. Before we left, I happened to see a group chat on his phone called "Operation: Protect Gavin and Serena." One name came straight into my head. Serena Colebrook. Gavin's first love, and my stepsister. I stared for a long time before I opened the chat with shaking hands. The pinned announcement at the top read: "Twenty-ninth successful operation preventing Gavin Northwood from marrying Maris Ellington." The members were my mother, Gavin's mother, my stepsister, Gavin himself, and my best friend, Paige Merrick. Everything came clear in an instant. My heart clenched hard, but I only opened my own phone, my face perfectly blank. It doesn't matter. Who says the man I'm desperate to marry has to be Gavin Northwood? I looked at the message that other man had sent me. "Didn't we agree that if you still weren't married at thirty, you'd marry me?" I answered calmly. "Yes. I'll be there."

On my fifth birthday after getting together with Kimberly Rivers, I sit at a table filled with dishes that have gone cold, just like I have for the past few years. Much like she did last year, Kimberly promises to celebrate my birthday with me this year, but then she goes back on her word. This year, her excuse is that her childhood friend, Gregory Morales, has invited her and several of her best friends to appear in his glamor shoot. Hence, she stands me up once again and runs off to him without any hesitation. At 11:00 pm that night, Gregory uploads a photo onto his Instagram and sets it so that only I can see it. In the photo, four women in skimpy bikinis are partially kneeling around a man who stood with the unshakable confidence of truth itself. The attached caption read, "I want more than just your heart—I want your body too." I take a screenshot of the photo, then send it to the boyfriends of Kimberly's three best friends. Since they look down on me so much, they'd better hope that they won't need to come begging me on their knees in the future.

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 day before our wedding, my fiance, Brandon Foster, and his girl bestie pulled out their wedding certificate at the casino. Brandon shrugged as he said, "It's just a joke—we'll be divorced tomorrow, and everyone knows that Wanda and I are strictly platonic." Wanda Stiles, however, was smiling provokingly. "Come on—they say marriage is sacred, so you guys can quit gawking already and hand us our wedding presents!" Everyone around the table laughed, with someone saying, "Alright! I own a business in the West End, and you can have it for your wedding… if you beat me at the dice game. Table rules." I didn't argue and merely sat at the table, smiling faintly as I met Brandon's frown. "The dice roll decides the wedding gift, no? I'll play too."

I'd known Ethan for twenty years. We'd been together for five. Everyone was certain that at the Rose Crown Gala, I would place the crown in his hands and publicly confirm our engagement, sealing the alliance between our families. But when I walked onto the stage, the person standing beside him was my adopted sister, Claire. She wore a custom white gown, my mother's missing rose diamond ring glinting on her finger. Behind them, the screen that should have displayed my name alongside Ethan's had been changed to theirs. The most laughable part? They'd been together behind my back for six months. My father ordered me in front of every guest, "Give Claire the crown. We'll discuss this at home!" They wanted to throw me out of my own family. My crown was tossed aside and landed in the arms of a mud-streaked stranger the guards had mistaken for a homeless man. I didn't hesitate. I pulled off my engagement gloves and walked up to him. "Will you marry me?" But after marrying that homeless stranger, I became the most powerful woman in the country.

Eight years after I left the country, I'm offered a fortune to come back. After a research symposium, I run into my ex-boyfriend, Ethan Grimsley. He proposes to me and asks me to give him another chance. My former colleagues from the research institute immediately start cheering, all of them waiting for me to burst into tears and say yes. After all, they remember how crazy I used to be about Ethan. Back then, there was nothing I wouldn't have done for him. Apparently, they've forgotten what happened eight years ago. At a project showcase, I proposed to Ethan in front of everyone, only for him to turn me down without a hint of emotion. And that wasn't all. To help Michelle Lindberg, someone he knew from grad school, win the bonus, he accused me of stealing her research in front of over 100 cameras. I did everything I could to clear my name, but the evidence he fabricated was so convincing that every attempt to defend myself only made me look guiltier. Then he stood by while Michelle paid to spread the scandal all over social media, turning the entire internet against me. All those years of hard work became the biggest stain on my career, and the man I'd loved for years turned our relationship into a joke. After that, I had no choice but to flee the country. Now I'm back, and Ethan is down on one knee in front of me, holding out a ring with an easy smile. "That's all in the past. I'm not angry anymore. Now that you're back, let's get married." What he doesn't know is that I already have a husband.

At a party hosted at our house, my husband sang a soul-stirring rendition of “Missing You Tonight". He poured his heart into it, his eyes misty and his voice raspy with emotion. I secretly recorded a video and posted it online. To my surprise, the video blew up. Hundreds of thousands of likes poured in, with the comment section overflowing with sympathy. Laughing, I handed my phone to my husband. “Jacob, you went viral.” The top-voted comment read: [Girl, I’m not one to stir up drama, but your husband looks like he’s nursing a broken heart.] I thought he’d just laugh it off with a half-hearted smile. Instead, he took the phone and looked me straight in the eye with dead seriousness. “You’re right, I am heartbroken. I fell for a younger girl, but she refuses to be my lover and is trying to break up with me.” The room fell silent. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just took my phone back and spoke in a flat, even tone. “That works out then. Let’s get a divorce. The young guy I’ve been seeing on the side has been throwing a fit, too, demanding I make things official with him.”

My avoidant fiance refused to talk to me about anything. Every time we fought, he would put on his earphones and turn the volume all the way up. This time, we were arguing over laundry detergent again. He impatiently slammed the earphones on me. "Are you seriously going to do this again, Jessica? You fight because of bad photos. You start a fight because I didn't take out the trash in time, and you start fights because I forgot our anniversaries. And now I can't even choose which detergent I use?" I stared at the red mark on my thigh and the broken earphones on the ground. I saved up most of my salary for that. It was a present, but now he was using it to vent. Yet he had kept the laundry detergent his childhood friend gave him for six whole years. Every time an important date was coming up, he would use a bit of it to wash all his clothes. The sickly sweet scent of that detergent filled the room. I looked up and held back my tears. "Let's break up, Zack."

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!

At a gathering with friends, my boyfriend, Donovan McPherson, suggested we play a game of “I Have, Have You?” The winner would get to make one request of him. Everyone there knew I had been trying to get him to make me, Celeste Campbell, Mrs. McPherson for five years, and for as long he had not obliged. Now they all assumed he was giving me a chance. So, tacitly aligned, everyone held back to let me win. But his childhood sweetheart, Lily Kensington, would not relent. “Donovan watched the first snowfall with me. “He gave me a scarf he knitted with his own hands. “The tattoo on his wrist is my initials. “His passenger seat is permanently adjusted to fit my height.” After those four, I had only one finger up. Yet she was not done. Tilting her head, she flashed a smirk at me. “Donovan only started this game to make me happy.” My heart dropped, while my eyes darted instinctively to Donovan. He wore a doting smile, choosing to side with her, just as he had every single time over the past five years. I slowly dropped my finger down. “I lost.” In that split second, something dawned on me. There was nothing left in this relationship worth holding onto.

My CEO husband, Martin Gentry, finds out I volunteered to donate some of my brainstem tissue to wake Evelyn Stout, the woman he's never gotten over. He finally leaves the monastery where he's spent the past seven years praying for her. For the first time, he comes to see me at the office and asks what I want in return. Everyone assumes I'll use the opportunity to ask him for a baby and secure my place as his wife. Instead, I hand him divorce papers. Everyone thinks I'm just playing hard to get. Martin's expression turns cold. He removes me from every position I hold at the company. Then he promotes Evelyn, gives her a raise, and tells me to think long and hard about what I've done. What Martin doesn't know is that the surgery wiped out seven years of my memories. I'm no longer the wife who put up with everything just to keep the peace. I'm the woman I was seven years ago, full of dreams and never afraid to stand up for myself. And this time, I'm done putting myself last for anyone.

The night before the Fourth of July holiday, my husband gathered the entire company for what I thought would finally be our long-awaited public announcement. Instead, his clueless assistant burst into the room wearing a wedding dress. "Cameron, I'm here to marry you." He didn't turn her down. If anything, his eyes softened with unmistakable affection as he promoted her to vice president on the spot. The entire company erupted in cheers for their love story. When my coworkers noticed me standing frozen off to the side, one of them couldn't resist reminding me. "Stephanie, you've been with Mr. Cox for nine years. You can't let a moment this special pass without saying something!" I smiled, walked onto the stage, slipped off my wedding ring, and tossed it to Poppy Campbell. "What kind of wedding doesn't come with a ring? Here, take it."

The day I find out I'm pregnant, I also discover my husband is cheating on me. To think that Brock Emerson, a celebrated OB-GYN, is sleeping with his own protegee, Wendy Blair! I strip Wendy's clothes off in front of the entire hospital, humiliating her for everyone to see. After that, the staff group chat turns into a daily betting pool on whether I'll show up to cause another scene. When Brock pulls me off the balcony railing yet again, he drops to his knees. "I've already had Wendy transferred. What happened that day was just an accident. You're all I care about." I give Brock two choices—either he sends Wendy to prison, or he signs the divorce papers. He personally submits evidence of Wendy's medical malpractice and chooses to stay. From then on, every year on the anniversary, I visit Wendy in prison to ease my grief over losing my child. On one of those visits, as I sign the log on my way out, I overhear two janitors talking. "That poor woman still hasn't figured out it's not really Wendy in there. It's just some actress they hired as a look-alike." "Dr. Emerson was scared she'd lose it again and hurt Dr. Blair, so he paid to build a whole fake prison wing just to keep her fooled. He and Dr. Blair are the real thing." "I heard their baby turned one today, and the whole family's celebrating together. They couldn't be happier." My blood runs cold. I can't believe what I'm hearing. The whole time I think we're starting fresh, Brock already has another family.

"I want a divorce! My husband doesn't love me anymore!" I step into the county clerk's office holding my water-damaged marriage certificate just in time to hear a young woman at the next window filing for divorce. She's sobbing uncontrollably, insisting that she and her husband have fallen out of love. By a strange stroke of luck, her husband shares the exact same name as mine—Louie Russell. The only difference is that her husband is the wealthiest man in Jalenne, while mine is just an ordinary guy. Smiling at the coincidence, I hand my marriage certificate over to the clerk. "Could you please issue me a replacement?" But the next second, the clerk gives me a strange look. "Ma'am, your records show you're single. As for this gentleman, he's already married. And this certificate is a fake." I freeze, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. My head snaps toward the next window. The woman's phone wallpaper is a wedding photo. The man in the tuxedo standing right beside her is the same man I've been married to for the last three years.

At the party celebrating the multimillion-dollar deal I've landed, my husband, Nick Ferguson, is about to announce my promotion and raise, but Ruby Holm, his secretary, deliberately interrupts him by feeding him her drink. My germaphobic husband doesn't even flinch. Without thinking, he puts the straw she has just used into his mouth. The employees immediately start teasing them, asking when they're getting married. Instead of denying it, Nick promotes Ruby to department manager. A coworker nudges my elbow. "Chloe, you've been with Mr. Ferguson for ten years. You're really not going to say anything?" I let out a cold laugh and toss my equity transfer agreement to Ruby. "Mr. Ferguson, don't be so stingy. A promotion isn't enough. Take these shares too. Consider them my wedding gift to the two of you!"

At a major press conference, my husband, Julian Winslow, is about to publicly introduce me as the love of his life when his young assistant suddenly walks onto the stage carrying a girl. "Go on, sweetheart. Daddy's calling for you." The room erupts. Reporters start firing questions about Julian's relationship with his assistant, but instead of correcting them, Julian simply takes the little girl into his arms and fastens the company's multimillion-dollar new necklace around her neck. "Yes," he says. "We have a daughter." As I stand silently in the crowd, the reporters turn their attention to me. "Ms. Aldridge, you've been with Mr. Winslow and the company for years. Surely you have something to say on such a special occasion?" I smile. Then I take the designs I spent an entire year perfecting and toss them straight into the assistant's hands. "You can have the designs too. Consider them my gift to your happy little family."

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.

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.