Historias cortas de Scumbag Romance y novelas ambientadas en Cheating

Her husband, Graham Prescott, had a dream. In it, he betrayed Evelyn Fitzgerald for a young woman who worked at a private club, then hurt Evelyn again and again for her sake. For no clear reason, Evelyn's heart ached when she heard the story. The feeling passed almost immediately. Once she recovered, she teased him with a smile. "And then what happened?" "Then?" Graham pulled Evelyn into his arms and bit her ear in mock frustration. "Then you tricked me into signing divorce papers without realizing it. By the time I discovered the truth, you had vanished!" Graham insisted it was only a nightmare that could never come true, yet he began examining every document that passed through his hands, especially anything Evelyn gave him. He stopped visiting the club where he had always met his friends and kept his distance from every woman who worked there. He would wake in the middle of the night and could not fall asleep again until he saw Evelyn resting safely beside him. His separation anxiety became so severe that he needed therapy for a time. Evelyn found the whole thing both touching and absurd, but to reassure him, she became even more openly affectionate and dependent. Eventually, they both forgot the dream. Until Mara Holloway, a student Graham had sponsored, appeared.

On the night before my wedding to my childhood sweetheart, Rylan Benton, my sister, Elisa Houghton, shows up with an ultrasound image. She tells me she's pregnant with Rylan's child. When she fails to force me to call off the wedding, she leaves behind a suicide note and jumps to her death, taking her unborn child with her. Rylan hates me for it. He forces me to have his child, only to smother our newborn in its crib. His eyes burn crimson as he grips my jaw. "Amy Houghton, her baby never got a chance at life, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" Now, I am reborn. I wake up on the eve of the wedding. Ignoring the sly glint in Elisa's eyes, I offer a faint smile. "Fine. The wedding is off."

On my wedding day, the officiant had just asked me whether I would take this man as my husband. Then my fiancé's secretary shoved her way onto the stage, heavily pregnant, sobbing that her baby couldn't grow up without a father. The whole audience was in an uproar. Adrian grasped both of her hands, turned to look at me, and kept his voice mild. "Vivian, she's stood by me for five years. That has to count for something." "The baby's already seven months along. I can't let him come into this world without a name." "You'll remain Mrs. Locke and we can treat her as part of our family. The three of us will build a harmonious life together." I looked at the big backdrop screen behind him, emblazoned with both our names side by side, and I started to laugh. "Adrian, did you forget?" "For this wedding, the hotel is mine and the guests are all those I invited." "Even that tux you're wearing was paid for with the card I gave you." I pulled off my wedding veil and dropped it onto the floor at his feet. "You want to give her a name? Fine." "First, cough up every last cent you owe me."

Three days before the wedding, the Lawsons held a bride appraisal event for me. The full mark was 100, and I scored 89. Yves Lawson, my fiancé, sighed in front of the guests. "Rules are rules, Emilia. You scored less than 90. So, the wedding will be delayed by a year." My best friend, Wendy Shaw, stood right beside him, begging with tears in her eyes. "She's already great enough. Can’t she have another shot?" In my previous life, I thought they were actually defending me. So, I held back my dissatisfaction and waited for a year. Over that year, the Lawsons' estate project made money, Yves changed the prenup's terms, and Wendy eventually became the one to marry Yves. My eyes snapped open, and I was back to that appraisal event. I looked at the score on the screen, and I took the mic. "I accept the delay, but before that, I'd like to find out who graded me a one."

The night I found out I was pregnant, my six-year-old pointed at a child influencer on his tablet and said, perfectly calm, "She's my little sister." I didn't know whether to laugh, so I flicked him on the forehead. The girl posted from Harborcrest, halfway across the country from us. Caleb had never so much as met her. "She's got millions of followers. Don't make things up. "You want a sister that badly? Should Mommy have one for you?" I watched him, nervous and hopeful at once, afraid I'd miss whatever crossed his face. Instead he pulled up one of her older posts, no expression on him at all. "The purse in this picture, that was from me. Dad says she's the only sister I'm getting, so I have to take care of her." My stomach dropped, and the smile set on my face. "Mom. Dad and I are tired of pretending." He put a hand on my belly and looked up at me with flat black eyes, nothing behind them. "I promised Dad I'd protect her. So you can't have another annoying baby. "You'll do what I say. Right?"

On the night I found out I was pregnant, I stumbled across a viral "Truth or Dare" challenge video online. In the comment section, my best friend had tagged my boyfriend. Erika McKnight: [Do you dare to tell her that the only reason you take off her hearing aid every night is that she won't hear you in my room next door?] David Frazier had replied almost instantly: [No. Erika, don't be crazy.] Erika: [Don't worry. I won't say a word, not since I'm dying. My only wish before I go is to see you two happy.] The comment section exploded with fury. What nobody knew was that years ago, a drunk caretaker at the orphanage targeted me as a kid. Erika had shoved me into a utility closet and locked the door from the outside. She had protected me that night. And David had turned down a famous university offer and given up studying abroad just to spend three whole years tutoring me so I could make it into college. I owed them far too much—so much that even after discovering they were seeing each other behind my back, hating them felt ungrateful. After closing the app, I received a phone call from the hospital, informing me that Erika was running out of time on the liver transplant list. As it turned out, I was a perfect donor match. I looked down at the other lab report resting in my lap. It showed that I was six weeks pregnant. I went to the hospital alone and signed the organ donation consent forms, alongside the paperwork to terminate my pregnancy.

George Matthews had a peculiar habit of arranging tasks according to his priority. I jokingly asked him, "The wedding is a huge thing. That's probably first on the list, huh?" But he merely replied, "I have something else to handle first." I never understood what could possibly be more important than our wedding. Not until I came down with appendicitis. George was sending me to the hospital when he suddenly made a sharp turn. He casually explained, "Kayley cut her hand. She faints at the sight of blood. I need to go get her." Kayley Greene was my best friend and his assistant. I was in so much pain that I could barely sit upright, yet George still left me alone in the car. Just then, his laptop beeped. I found a to-do folder on the screen. "Prioritize things Kayley asked for help with." "See the Northern Lights with Kayley in Ebrax." "Help pay off Kayley's debt." A whopping 208 tasks related to her. I scrolled all the way to the bottom. Only then did I finally see the word—wedding. So the thing that mattered most to me had always been last on his list. I moved the mouse. Then I deleted it. Since the wedding was not important, he could forget about it.

Back in my hometown, the women would brew wine at a young age for their future husbands. Since college, Jake Sanders and I had left our hometown for a brighter future in a city far away, and we finally returned in glory. I was finally able to open my vat of wine, which had been kept for 28 years. I knew that Jake was quite particular about hygiene, so I changed my wine to store-bought wine during the town celebration, even though I knew it was taboo. When I was about to share this secret with him, I heard his conversation with his buddies. "Are you sure you're going to drink Erica's wine? You'll have to marry her according to tradition if you do that. Won't Cassie be mad?" "Yeah. Cassie has already opened her vat of wine. If no one drinks from it, she can't marry." Jake laughed with indifference. "She won't be able to leave me. She's even willing to change that vat of wine for me. Besides, her wine has been left for 28 years. Who would want to drink that? Erica's wine is only 20-years-old, and I heard wine is sweetest at this stage. "Even though I've chosen Erica, I'll still make sure to treat Cassie well. I'll marry her if no one will." It felt like my heart had been cored out and a cold wind was gusting through it, but I decided to let this go because I was not an unwanted woman, and Jake was not the only man in this world. I replied to the text that was sent to me every year: [Will you marry me?] He replied right away: [Wait for me.]

One day, I stood in line outside the fondue place for six hours. My boyfriend, Daryl McCabe, called. "Brooke wants Cajun food. Come meet us." Brooke Jennings was my best friend, and Daryl's ex-girlfriend. This was the thirty-fifth time Daryl had blown up our plans for her. He'd been talking about this fondue place for a month, but we could never get in, there were always too many people waiting. So I'd taken the day off and stood in line for six hours just to get us a table. Every ten minutes, I'd texted Daryl an update on how close we were to being called. Five minutes ago, I'd sent him the last one. My number was 3601. They were already calling 3595. I gripped the ticket in my hand. "Daryl, I took the day off. I've been standing here six hours. We're only six people away..." "I know," he cut in, impatient, "but Brooke wants Cajun food. We can do fondue some other time." The line went quiet for two seconds. Then his voice again, pushing. "We're literally five or six doors down from where you're standing. Just come over." I'd given in thirty-four times before this. Suddenly, none of it felt worth it anymore. "No. I want fondue." I hung up and sent my boss a text. [Vincent, I accept the overseas assignment to Zwinterland.]

In the seventh year of Julia Fenner's marriage to Colonel Everett Warden, she carried her family papers to the housing office to buy a subsidized faculty apartment and was told the record in her hand was a forgery. How could that be possible? Certain the clerk had made a mistake, Julia politely asked her to check again. "My husband transferred my records after we married." The clerk checked the county and military-family registry again, her patience visibly thinning, and looked at Julia with something close to scorn. "There's no mistake. Everett Warden's lawful record lists two other people: his wife, Lydia Warden, and their son, Peter."

Julian Seibert and I had been stuck in a divorce battle for six months. We'd gone from Auremont City's favorite young couple to the couple everyone knew was at each other's throats. Thirty minutes before our third hearing, Julian asked to meet me. He rubbed his forehead, unable to hide the exhaustion on his face. "It's time to end this. Winnie can't wait any longer. "Name your price. Whatever you want, I'll agree to it." Before I could answer, his phone rang. Julian picked up, a soft smile crossing his face without him even realizing it. "Don't worry. It's no big deal. I'll just give her a little more money. I'll be done soon. Be good and wait for me at home." I looked at the face I knew so well, yet barely recognized, and suddenly had no fight left. "Forget it. "Julian, there's no point dragging this out. I agree to the divorce."

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.

Seven days before my wedding, I discover that my stepsister Harper Brooks' wedding invitation lists the same groom as mine—Jeffrey Sullivan. At first, I assume the printing company has made a mistake. So, I take the invitations to my mom to ask what's going on. Before I can knock, I overhear her talking to Harper through the door. "Marry Jeffrey first. Once the baby's born and everything's settled, he'll go back to Barbara. She owes you her life. Letting you marry him first is the least she can do." Tears stream down Harper's cheeks. "But what about Barbara?" Mom sighs, then says matter-of-factly, "They've been together for 12 years. One piece of paper isn't going to change much. But your situation is different. Your baby needs a father." Outside the door, I grip the invitations so tightly they crumple in my hands. Only then do I realize why Jeffrey skipped my wedding dress fitting three months earlier. He claims he's busy with work, but in reality, he's taking Harper to a prenatal appointment. At the time, I just laugh and tease him. "Stand me up on our wedding day too, and I'll find another groom." Jeffrey smiles as he settles my veil over my hair, then leans down and kisses me. "Don't be silly. I'm the only man you'll ever marry." Now, that promise seems every bit as ridiculous as these two wedding invitations. When Jeffrey finds me, he doesn't deny any of it. Instead, he pulls me into his arms, his eyes red-rimmed. "I've always loved you. But I have to take responsibility for the baby she's carrying," he says. "I'll marry her, but my heart will always belong to you." I know exactly what he means. He wants Harper to be his wife while turning me, the fiancee who's loved him for 12 years, into his mistress. I look at Jeffrey and smile. "Okay." He thinks I've agreed. But he doesn't know that on our wedding day, he'll marry Harper, and I'll marry someone else.

Three years into our marriage, my husband, Colin Richardson, changed the username he'd used for six years. It became "AThousandAnswers." I asked him why. Colin ruffled my hair and smiled. "Doesn't your name have 'Ann' in it, silly?" I laughed. I even took a screenshot and posted it on social media with the caption: "My hopelessly unromantic husband just surprised me with the sweetest gesture." Then last weekend, I drove his car to pick up my mom. When I connected my phone to the bluetooth, another paired device popped up: "LoveHasAThousandKnots." Love Has a Thousand Knots. A Thousand Answers. My hand slipped off the steering wheel. That night, while he was in the shower, I opened the short-video app on his phone. Pinned to the top of his following list was a girl with a ponytail. Her username was "LoveHasAThousandKnots." Her latest post read: "He really is the most clueless guy. He has no idea how to pick lipstick shades, so he just buys everything." The photo showed a man's hands cradling an armful of lipsticks. On his ring finger was the wedding band I'd hunted through three different boutiques to find. I zoomed in on the photo. Then zoomed in again. Over and over, I compared the lipstick and the ring. Without saying a word, I deleted every happy post I'd ever shared about us.

On the day of our wedding, my fiance's best friend, Penny Lynd, showed me a video, smiling as she said, "Hey, Lydia. I've already educated Aron for you. He's now a real stud, so enjoy!" I felt my breath leaving my lungs as they made love in the video, while Aron Quaker laughed, clapping her shoulder. "Where did you get that AI video? I only took your clothes off that one time." While he was laughing without a care, I felt like I'd just fallen into an abyss. Seeing me lose my cool, Penny laughed out loud too. "There! I knew it would upset Lydia! She's so dumb that she can't even tell that it's an AI video—and a bet's a bet! Starting today, we will be married for three days." It was only then that I understood. They made the AI video to bet if I would believe it, so that I would embarrass myself at my own wedding. And the wager was for Aron to be Penny's for three days! As the video continued, Aron turned to me, chuckling. "Don't worry. I lost the bet, but the wedding goes on as planned… Although you have to pick up your stuff from the bedroom and only come back three days later." He reached out to me, but I shook it off and took off my ring. "There's no 'later'. I'll get my stuff right now and let you guys have the wedding too. You're her husband now anyway, and you can't go without a wedding, can you?"

After six years of maintaining a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend, I finally saved enough money to buy a house. Without telling him, I travelled to his city. I had only wanted to surprise him and get our marriage officially registered. When the people at the front desk learned that I was there to see Andy, they smiled and handed me a wedding favor. “Are you here to give us the wedding gift? Our CEO, Mr. Ferrell, is getting married today. Here’s a wedding favor for you.” I was about to explain to them that the Andy I was looking for was merely a low-level employee at the company, when I saw a familiar figure step out of the elevator. It was Andy’s ex-roommate. When I saw him dressed as a groomsman, I earnestly asked, “Is someone getting married today? Why hasn’t anyone informed me?” Just then, his phone rang. My best friend’s voice came through the speaker. “Why aren’t you here yet? Andy and Sophia’s wedding is about to start. “How can the best man not show up? We’re going to give you the noogie when you get here!”

On my wedding day, my fiancé's former girlfriend used an old "reconciliation voucher" to take the ceremony for herself. This time, I didn't argue or cry. I simply removed the ring from my finger. My hand stopped halfway as I gave it back. "Derek, if you replace the bride today, then we're completely over." He accepted the ring and gave me a helpless smile. "Elise, don't say things you don't mean. I promised Vanessa that if she ever used that voucher, I'd give her one wedding. I can't break my word. "But relax. This ceremony is only symbolic. You're the only woman I'm going to marry. Tomorrow we'll finish the civil marriage." He patted my head as if comforting a child, then hurried onto the stage and slid the ring onto his former girlfriend's hand. I watched his gentle expression and smiled. What Derek didn't know was that I had a reconciliation voucher of my own. And moments earlier, I had used it.

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.

When Jase Conley's rivals came after him, I took the blow meant for him and lost a leg. Kneeling before me with bloodshot eyes, he swore, "Francesca, one day I'll rise to the top. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again." Seven years later, he shoved me out of my wheelchair over a single glass of wine I'd thrown in another woman's face. "Francesca, I warned you. Don't touch her. If you're tired of being Mrs. Conley, then get out of that seat and let her have it." He threw a divorce agreement at me. "A billion dollars. That's what your leg cost me. From this day on, no one gets to lay a finger on her." I tore the agreement in half and flung it back in his face. "You owe me far more than a leg, Jase. You want to wipe the slate clean between us? Then you and your little girlfriend can pay with your lives."

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.