Scumbag Romance Short Stories & Marriage Novels

My husband Jim Sully and I kept our finances separate. We lived our own lives and stayed out of each other's way. Today, he suddenly decided to compare our savings. "In three years, I saved 300,000 dollars. That's pretty impressive, right? If I had handed my paycheck over to you back then, you'd have blown it all!" I smiled without saying a word and tossed my bank card onto the table. It held a seven-figure balance. "Right back at you." Suddenly, he exploded in anger. "Are you taking advantage of me? Half of that 1 million dollars is mine!" When I didn't answer, he snapped, "You take 30 minutes to shower, while I take five minutes. That's not fair!" He said we had to split the cost of everything from the past three years all over again. "You use more water, so you have to pay more!" My expression darkened as I pointed at the cherries. "One, two, three…" I added, "I bought 40 cherries for 10 dollars. You ate 18, so you owe me 4.50 dollars." "We're married! You're seriously keeping track of how much fruit I eat?" Jim snapped. His expression darkened. "Fine, then. Let's split the cost of all the emotional support you've gotten from me over the past three years too!"

After his twin brother dies, my husband, Cassian Howell, starts supporting two households, splitting our family's money equally between them. Half goes to our daughter and me, and the other half goes to his late brother's widow, Esther Heaton, and her son, Noah Howell. He says he can't let his nephew grow up without a father figure. When our daughter, Anne Howell, graduates from elementary school, her teacher asks each student to contribute 50 dollars toward graduation photos. Cassian refuses at once, calling it an unnecessary expense. It's the same excuse he used the week before when I asked him for new undergarments. I call him. "I'll go without if I have to, but everyone in her class is getting graduation photos. Anne is the only one who hasn't paid." He sounds annoyed. "Faye, you know I have two households to support. We have to cut costs wherever we can." Before I can answer, he hangs up on me. Moments later, Esther posts a photo in our family group chat: a limited-edition children's camera and a brand-new designer bag. Her caption reads, "Thank you for the gifts, Cassian! I'm so grateful Noah has a father figure in his life, all thanks to you." I stare at the words "father figure" for a long moment before I finally understand. In Cassian's heart, Esther and her son are his real family. Anne and I are just outsiders he can afford to neglect.

"Your marriage is a $50 souvenir, Ms. Vance. And your husband's already married to someone else." In a single moment at the immigration office, my life as the wife of NHL superstar Liam Sterling evaporated. Our secret Vegas wedding was a fraud, and Liam was already legally married to his "manager," Sophia. But the cruelty didn't end there. Liam expected me to adopt a "war hero's orphan", a child that was actually his and Sophia's secret son. He didn't want a wife. He wanted a world-class doctor to fix his career and a free nanny to raise his real wife's child. Liam made one fatal mistake: he forgot that I'm the only one who can keep him on the ice. I signed a record-breaking contract with the Titans, his bitterest rivals. Now, while Liam's knee shatters during the playoffs, I'm on the enemy's bench, healing the only man who can destroy him. He want a nanny? I'm sure he'll get his worst nightmare.

Six years into our marriage, I discover another woman on my husband, Simon Mercer's, phone. He isn't the one who shows her to me. While he's in the shower, an unknown number sends him an intimate photo. A woman in pajamas leans against his chest, flashing a peace sign at the camera. I pick up his phone and tap on the message. I scroll up and notice the chat history's been wiped clean. The entire chat box contains only this one photo. The contact is saved under a single letter, "L." He doesn't save her full name. There is no other information. However, it's evident that he's cheating on me.

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."

My CEO husband told me he had a last-minute job to handle. He said that because of it, he couldn't accompany me to retrieve the body. Then I went online and saw a photo my husband's secretary had posted as a birthday status update. [Thanks for the red velvet cake, Mr. Mitchell! Happy birthday to me!] I smiled and left a comment. [Happy birthday.] That single comment sparked a frenzy among my colleagues. They immediately began placing bets on how big of a scene I would make. Then he called. "Lucy is just celebrating her birthday, Brianna! Why do you have to ruin it by showing up in the comments?! Don't you know how sensitive she is? How is she supposed to feel comfortable at work now?! "She's only been here for two years. She doesn't even have any friends! What's wrong with me looking out for an employee and keeping her company on her birthday? A lucky girl who grew up in a wealthy family like you wouldn't understand! "If you want to talk about this, fine. Wait until I get back. But delete that comment right now! We can always wait another few days before retrieving his body. Where is your father going to go anyway? He's already dead!" I clenched my fist and replied, "That won't be necessary." By the time he returned, we would already be legally divorced.

I spent decades taking care of my kid and the elderly. I ignored my stomach pain until it turned into cancer. By the end, it had eaten me alive. Before I died, I went back to my old family home to sort through my stuff. That's when I found Danny's diary. My dead husband's diary. Hidden for fifteen years. I carefully flipped through it until I reached the last page. [Some loves are worth dying for. Alicia, I'm coming with you.] The diary never mentioned me. Not once. Page after page, it was all Alicia. That was when I learned Danny hadn't died in an accident. He and Alicia Doyle—the woman he never got over—had chosen to die together. I sank onto a chair and stared at his framed photo. "Danny Caldwell, if you loved her that much, did you regret marrying me?" Blood filled my throat. I threw his picture to the floor. "Because I regret marrying you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I refused to rot in a loveless marriage. I walked out and never looked back. He smirked and told his friends, "She'll crawl back. Bet she won't last three hours." But three hours passed. Then three days. Then three months. I never came back. Later, he asked when I'd return to him. My answer was simple. "Never."

At the sip and see a month after Suzanne Lynch's baby is born, I find out my husband, Mike Harris, is the father. However, he insists he hasn't cheated on me. Mike explains that Suzanne, his childhood sweetheart, has always wanted to be a mother but doesn't want to find some random man to have a child with. So, he donated his sperm once. No kissing, no feelings, and certainly no betrayal. Suzanne chimes in through tear-filled eyes, "Nadia, I only borrowed his genes. I didn't borrow your husband. I never even let him stay overnight during my entire pregnancy. I've already shown you plenty of respect." My mother-in-law, Rita Harris, holds the baby and beckons me over for a family photo. "Nadia is Mike's wife, and the other is his child's mother. There's no conflict between the two." When I don't move, Mike's expression darkens. "Our relatives are all here today. Don't turn this into a spectacle and embarrass everyone." I take off my wedding ring and place it inside the baby's gift box. I'm done with this man.

After three years of haunting forensics, the sadistic killer is finally caught. They question him about whether he's hidden any other bodies. Glenn Harris sits shackled hand and foot, but his eyes gleam with an excitement and madness he couldn't contain. "Of course!" He flashes a sly grin and says, "My sculpture instructor was my very first masterpiece. I encased her in plaster while she was still alive. "Her face had turned purple, yet she was still begging me to spare her children. I wouldn't have won that competition if it weren't for her expression. It looked so real." The detectives fight back their revulsion and demand to know why he did it. A knowing smile spreads across Glenn's face. "One of my juniors wanted her husband. She didn't want to be the bad guy, so I took care of it for her. "And once she'd become his partner, I was able to stay one step ahead of that brilliant detective for three years." In just three years, this detective has caught 20 fugitives who'd been on the run for 25 years or more. And yet, Glenn has slipped through his fingers 33 times. The detective in question is my ex-husband, Tobias Clark.

After my fox shifter scratched me again, I went to the hospital alone. The nurse looked at the gash running from my wrist to my forearm. "That is going to scar. Did your shifter even go through socialization training?" I smiled. "He did. He was top of his class." My phone lit up. Lucian rarely messaged me, but today he did. [I barely touched you. Was the hospital really necessary?] [I have plans tonight. When are you coming back? I need you to press my shirt.] [Also, can you do something about the laundry smell? It is embarrassing.] [I do not even want to tell people you are my sponsor.] I stared at the screen for a moment. So that was how he saw me. Then I walked down the street to the shelter: "I would like to exchange my shifter." The worker opened my file, and her face went pale. Lucian had always believed I was a broke, ordinary sponsor who was lucky to have him. He did not know I was the only heir to the family that built the Shifter Registry.

While shopping at the mall, a child suddenly slams into my five-month pregnant belly. Blood immediately pools on the floor. With trembling hands, I call my boyfriend, Garrett Holloway, and beg him to come get me as quickly as possible. But even after I am rushed into surgery and finally pulled back from the brink, he never shows up. But through the glass, I see him helping another woman into the hospital for a prenatal checkup. "She only stumbled a little, and her husband got so worried. He brought her to the hospital right away. Some people are just luckier than others. Not everyone gets a man who cares for them so attentively." Listening to the nurses whisper among themselves, I tighten my grip on the miscarriage report in my hand. Then, I send a message to my family. I write, "Mom, I'll go with your arrangement. I'm not marrying Garrett anymore."

The day before we were supposed to get married, I found out my fiancé, Bradley Bigham, was cheating on me with my best friend, Carla Fralin. So I shoved him into a tub of disinfectant and scrubbed him down three times. Then I posted Carla's intimate photos online, and they spread like wildfire. What I never expected was that my mother, Roxie Boyce, would get so worked up that she ended up completely paralyzed, pushing our already struggling family to the brink of financial ruin. Just as I was ready to drag them all down with me, Bradley's archrival, Connor Magder, saved me. "You're going to ruin your own life over a scumbag and a tramp? Don't be afraid. I'll be by your side from now on." I thought I'd finally been saved. In our third year of marriage, I was holding a pregnancy test, ready to surprise him. That was when I happened to see him on a video call with my ex-fiancé. Connor's eyes were full of complicated emotions. "I'll definitely be at your wedding. As long as Carla is happy with you, these years I've spent with Ariana will have been worth it." I froze where I stood, the blood in my veins running cold. When Connor looked up and saw me, his eyes filled with wariness. He assumed I'd raise hell like I had three years ago, until things spiraled completely out of control. Instead, I stepped in front of the computer's camera and said calmly, "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I wish you a lifetime of happiness together."

Sean Chase had once lost everything after being scammed by his ex-girlfriend. Even after he rebuilt his life, the trauma stayed with him. On the very first day we started dating, he told me he wanted us to split every expense fifty-fifty. "It's the only way I can believe you're with me for me, not my money." I was with him because I loved him, so I agreed. And for the next five years, that was exactly how our relationship functioned. We split the bill for Valentine's Day dinners. We split the cost of a $2.50 pack of birth control pills. We even split our $900 monthly rent. Then, one week before our wedding, my dad got into a car accident and was hospitalized. Almost at the same time, two bills came in. The hospital wanted $17,000 for my dad's surgery, and Sean wanted $1,700 for my half of the wedding dress. I checked my bank account and saw I had less than $14,000. With no way to cover everything, I asked Sean if he could front me the money. Half an hour passed before he finally replied. "Can't keep up the act any longer now that we're about to get married?" Then another message appeared. "Liana Zane, this is worse than what my ex did. At least she was upfront about wanting my money." I tried to explain, but before I could get a message out, he sent another. "How convenient. We're about to get married, and your dad just happens to get into a car accident. Maybe we're bad luck for each other." Maybe he was right. So I returned the wedding dress and walked out of his life.

My fiance's childhood friend, Tori Kerr, calls him 999 times, begging him to cancel the wedding. "I see it in the tarot cards. You can't get married this year. Cancel the wedding right now." Mikael Jardine hesitates and says, "Tori's tarot readings are always accurate. Let's just listen to her." My temper flares up immediately. The invitations are already sent, and the venue is booked. How can we just cancel it? Seeing that I'm angry, Mikael ultimately decides not to listen to her. In a fit of rage, Tori blocks him. I thought that was the end of it. But on the wedding day, Tori suddenly storms onto the stage. The first thing she does is shout at my mom and ask her to leave in front of the guests. Tori says, "I read it in the tarot cards last night. Your mom's rising sign clashes with Mikael's. She can't attend the wedding. Besides, your mom's just a cleaning lady. She doesn't deserve to be here!"

Right after returning from a business trip, Cecelia Moore held her ultrasound report as she hurried to the private suite at the club. She was eager to surprise her husband, Francis Rivera. Just as she was about to open the door, she caught a few words drifting through the crack that stopped her cold. "…So, Fran, did you really marry Cecelia Moore just to protect Melody Green?" In that instant, every drop of blood in Cecelia's body seemed to freeze—she couldn't move.

My husband, Clement Norman, promised to make up for our missed honeymoon. It was five years late, but I was still excited. I got ready and really looked forward to it. But right before we boarded the plane, I realized there was someone extra in our group—Clement's childhood friend, Madison Bowen. He explained half-heartedly, "Madison's never been abroad before. I figured we could bring her along." I wasn't thrilled, but when I spoke up, he made it sound like I was being dramatic. "Are you jealous of our relationship because you didn't grow up with a proper family? I see her as a sister. You wouldn't get it—you grew up an orphan." I chose to stay quiet, not wanting to ruin our honeymoon. But we encountered an avalanche halfway through the trip. My leg got stuck deep in the snow, and I couldn't move. And the first thing Clement did was grab Madison's hand and run. He didn't even look back.

I went to my best friend's place for her birthday, and out of nowhere, she started complaining. "I'm so jealous of you," she said. "Your boyfriend has basically no sex drive." "Mine's the complete opposite. He wanted it seven times last night. I was crying so hard I lost my voice, and he still wouldn't stop." I gave her a sympathetic smile. "That just means he's crazy about you. Unlike mine—he's practically celibate. Like a monk." She raised an eyebrow, casually stroking the two-million-dollar ruby bangle on her wrist. "He's not bad," she said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "He was with his ex for five years, but he still chose to marry me behind her back. He was so afraid she'd push for marriage that he faked going bankrupt and told her he had ALS. "The girl wouldn't let go, though. She sold her blood, her kidney—whatever it took—to scrape together money for his treatment. "She was working the graveyard shift at a factory, while he and I were fooling around in a twenty-million-dollar villa." I froze. To help my boyfriend Nathan Whitley pay for his ALS treatment, I had done all of those things. Before I could even process it, the door opened, and a tall, sharply dressed man walked in. "Babe," he said, "I got that strawberry flavor you like. How about wearing that silk nightie tonight?" Our eyes met. I stood there, frozen in shock, a chill running down my spine. It was Nathan Whitley—the man who was supposed to be broke, bedridden, and dying of ALS.

For six years of marriage, Cyran Valehart and I lived with measured respect, as if we were partners holding the same scale in perfect balance. For the sake of my equestrian career, I refused to have children. He shouldered the gossip, endured the judgment, and stood beside me without hesitation. But when I rode into what should have been my final international competition, he went back home with his first love—her hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. "All these years, you chose the horses over me," he spat. "That damned competition meant more to you than our family ever did." His voice shook with righteous anger, but his next words cut far deeper. "Six years ago, I abandoned Celia once. Now she carries my child. I won't betray her again." In that instant, my marriage became nothing but a title. I was reduced to a wife in name only, a figurehead in his home, a shadow he no longer cared to see. During the very competition meant to crown my life's work, Cyran laced a sharp needle beneath my saddle, each stride of my horse a fresh stab of pain meant to break us both. I lost the match. My horse collapsed with a shattered leg. And in that fall, my dream and my marriage were crushed together—ruined by the very man who once swore to protect them. Later, he paid with everything he had, desperate to make amends. But no matter what he sacrificed, Cyran Valehart was already behind me, nothing more than a ghost I would never turn to face again.

Victoria Blackwood was a completely different person after being reborn. She no longer woke up before sunrise to make breakfast for Sebastian Blackwood and deliver it to his military unit so he could enjoy a home-cooked meal. She no longer picked up their son from daycare every evening, holding his little hand as he excitedly told her about the new songs he had learned that day. Even after their son, Ethan Blackwood, was injured in a car accident and rushed to the hospital, Victoria ignored Sebastian's repeated calls. It wasn't until his 38th call that she finally answered, taking her time as if nothing were wrong. Sebastian's voice was filled with worry, but he was clearly holding back his anger. "Do you even know Ethan was in a car accident?" Victoria held the phone to her ear while looking over the documents in front of her. She replied calmly, "I know. Haven't you already called me dozens of times?"

Daniel Hampton and I were married for ten years. For half of that time, we lived apart. When my mother fell ill, I took our son back home to care for her, while Daniel remained in Miston for work. He would fly back every week, and eventually, he collected hundreds of round trip tickets, and every single ticket had a romantic message on it. So before the holidays, I bought two tickets and decided to surprise him. Our son came with me. Then, I saw him engaged in a waltz with another woman under a street lamp. The woman tripped on his foot. They fell into the snow. And instead of pulling away, they kissed. I was going to cover my son's eyes, but he broke free, opened the car door, and charged right at them. "Daddy! Mommy Jessica! I want to have a snowball fight too!" Daniel caught our son in his arms. Then, he looked up. The moment his eyes met mine, all the colour drained from his face.