Scumbag Romance Short Stories & Revenge Novels

When Jeremiah Jenner, an academician from a research lab, has bombs strapped to him by a malicious criminal, I know that I can save his life by cutting the right wire. But my husband, Callum Johnson, keeps pinning my hand down with all his might. He tells me that I should wait for his crush, Shirley Gibson, to arrive so that she can save the day for once. This was what happened in my previous life. Thanks to Shirley's mistakes, the timer's countdown decreased from ten minutes all the way down to ten seconds. I was the one who had to shove her away and cut the triggering wire based on my experience. That was how I saved Jeremiah's life. Shirley, on the other hand, was so frightened that she passed out on the spot. She became the laughingstock of the entire squad, which led to her leaving the squad due to depression. Callum didn't say a single word. Instead, he dispatched me to the border as a spy. On the day my mission was supposed to be wrapped up, Callum got in contact with me via a secretive channel. Then, he leaked my coordinates to my enemies on purpose. "Couldn't you just let Shirley play the hero for once? Since you like showing off that much, then you might as well stay as a heroine forever in this place!" The next thing I knew, I felt a bullet piercing through my chest. My enemies had me surrounded immediately before burning me alive, resulting in my death. As I breathed my last breath, I saw Callum embracing Shirley while watching me being licked hungrily by the flames from a long distance away. There was nothing but satisfaction in his eyes. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the scene where the bombs are set to be removed. Slowly, I put down the pliers in my hand. Fine. I won't steal Shirley's thunder this time. I'd like to see how the golden couple can maintain their bombastic, passionate relationship in a place that's about to be blown apart.

My husband, James Zeller, and I have established a common-law marriage. We did not have a formal wedding ceremony, nor do we have a marriage license. We also live separately, our lives barely intertwining, because he has a special profession. Therefore, despite being married to him for seven years, we've never met each other's friends and relatives. As his wife, I'm proud of being married to him despite how it pains me. I'm willing to give up the opportunity to study at the National Academy of Sciences to take care of things at home while he works. One day, my son, Jasper Chalder, comes home from elementary school crying. He sobs about not being a bastard child and requests to see James. Greatly distressed, I decide to take him to visit the military base over the new year for a family reunion. However, I don't expect this trip to turn my life completely upside down.

Before the flight takes off, my fiance, the pilot, boards the plane with a suitcase. He says it's a gift from his childhood sweetheart and warns me not to touch it. I can't shake the uneasy feeling creeping into my heart, so I sneak inside. To my shock, I find high-risk contraband hidden in the luggage. I report it immediately and use my commendation to cover for Edward's mistake and save his career. However, his precious childhood sweetheart is arrested, detained, and sentenced. He doesn't say a word after the incident. However, during another flight, he cuts the cord to my parachute. "Jade, I know you're jealous of Cindy! You sabotaged her during her flight attendant training and framed her afterward! Do you think this will make me love you? Dream on! I would never marry a petty woman like you!" I plunge from ten thousand meters above the ground, leaving nothing but blood and broken bones behind. When I open my eyes again, I see Cindy sending Edward off, and he's carrying the same suitcase. I quietly step back and decide I won't save him this time.

Just before my wedding, I did the unthinkable—I switched places with Raine Miller, my fiancé's childhood sweetheart. It had been an accident, but I uncovered the painful truth—Bruno Russell, the man I loved, had already built a happy home with Raine. I never knew before, but now I do. For five long years in our relationship, Bruno had never so much as touched me. I once thought it was because he was worried about my weak heart, but I couldn't be more mistaken. He simply wanted to keep himself pure for Raine, to belong only to her. Our marriage wasn't for love. Bruno wanted me so he could control my father's company. Fine! If he craved my wealth so much, I would give it all to him. I sold every last one of my shares, and then vanished without a word. Leaving him, forever.

Everyone in Asterhaven knew—Maxwell Porter hated Zoey Bradford. Hated how she clung so desperately to their marriage. Hated how she refused to set him free. He asked for a divorce. Ninety-nine times. But the hundredth time, when he thought she'd turn him down like always, her voice cut through the air, cold as ice that had been frozen for a thousand years. "Fine. Let's get divorced."

My boyfriend's tablet, left behind at my place, suddenly lit up with a group chat notification. "Ron, that gold digger's totally hooked, right? When are you taking her to the luxury boutique so we can humiliate her in public?" "Everything's ready. We're just waiting to film her fawning over the designer goods like the greedy little gold digger she is. The guys are gonna love it!" The group chat was called "Exposing Gold Diggers." And my boyfriend Ron was the one who'd created it. I opened the tablet and scrolled through the message history. Screen after screen of vile, disgusting garbage. My blood boiled with every word. So that so-called love at first sight at the designer boutique had been a setup from the very start. He'd spent the better part of a year carefully worming his way into my life, showering me with attention, all while treating me like prey, waiting for the perfect moment to humiliate me for an audience. What a joke. I was the real deal, a genuine heiress from one of the wealthiest families in the country. The gifts he'd gone to such lengths to give me? I couldn't have cared less about any of them. If he was so obsessed with playing people, then I'd give him a taste of his own medicine! Let him see what it felt like to be the one getting played!

At our wedding, my husband, Justin Garner, pushes me—three months pregnant—toward our enemies as an apology in order to save his foster sister, Clara Garner. "This is my sincerity. You can do whatever you want with her." I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly follow the enemies away. That's because in my previous life, I had traded all my wealth for freedom and returned to Justin's side. In the end, I was forced to drink drugs and lost my unborn baby, suffering for three days and nights. "Justin, those 'enemies' were people you hired to act, and Maxine didn't even lose her innocence. Why did you have to get rid of the baby?" Clara asks. Justin coldly laughs. "If you're acting, you have to make it look real." I died full of hatred. When I wake up again, I choose to let those people take me away. Three years later, when I arrive at a banquet on the arms of my new lover, Justin goes mad, grabbing me and demanding, "Maxine Preston, where is our child?"

I'm born with a congenital heart condition. But when my illness flares up, my longtime boyfriend, Zeke Fulton, doesn't try his best to save me. On the contrary, he forces me to sign over my shares while I'm in agony. Then, he stands by and watches as the pain rips through me. I end up dying on that hospital bed. Thankfully, I'm given a second chance at life. I'm reborn on the very last day of filling out college applications. This time, I don't fall for Zeke's sweet talk. I turn my back on him and run straight into the arms of my childhood friend, Hugo Lodge. Hugo wraps me up in his embrace, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. He says, "Elisa, come to Joslin University with me."

The day my husband, Ramsey Collins, completed his classified deployment, I brought our daughter to the local elementary school for registration. The administrator looked up from her screen, visibly confused. "Ma'am, your daughter's father is already registered in our database as a parent, but for a different boy. Did you mistype his details?" My forehead creased. "That's impossible. Let me check." I unlocked my phone. An update popped up from my husband, who had forgotten to hide his private posts from me. [Seven years in secret. Now I can finally tell the world that you are my wife.] The attached photo showed my best friend, Evelyn Reed, resting her head on his shoulder, smiling gently as she held her young son. In their hands were marriage certificates. Identical to the one sitting in my purse. My mind went completely blank. My thumb scrolled down the screen on autopilot. The comment section was packed with congratulations. Mutual friends. My own coworkers. At the bottom, there was a message from his mother, Juliet Collins. [She hid her marriage for seven long years. You need to make it up to them both from now on.] [Make sure you hide this from Clara. If she finds out her own marriage certificate is a fake, it will destroy her.] My husband replied with a quick nod emoji. [I will.] My hands began to tremble. For seven years, I looked after his mother. I raised our child. Meanwhile, he was playing family with someone else. Everyone knew. Every single person helped him keep the lie alive. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe. A tiny tug pulled at my sleeve. My daughter pointed toward the door, her eyes wide and cautious. "Mommy, the rain is getting heavy. Are we still waiting for Daddy?" I opened the umbrella and took her hand. "No, sweetie. We're not waiting. We'll never wait for Ramsey Collins again.”

The night I finished my month of recovery, Donald Inksworth brought up, without warning, the nightmare I least wanted to talk about. "Actually, the man who kept you locked away and violated you five years ago was Levi." Levi Sinclair was the husband of his foster sister, Jolene Trafford. A roar filled my head, and my mind went blank. "What?" Donald continued, his voice as calm as still water, "Back then, Jojo found out she couldn't have children, and her mother-in-law had never liked her to begin with... To help her secure her place as Mrs. Sinclair, I agreed to what Jojo asked of me. We used you to get pregnant in her place… Lev had always wanted you for himself. So..." So the three of them had conspired together. They locked me away and violated me day and night until I became pregnant. I forced down my nausea as my lips trembled. "Why are you telling me this now?" Donald let out a breath, as if a great weight had finally lifted from his chest. "I kept this secret for five years. It wore me down. And I've given you back the child I owed you. "They say a woman's heart softens once she becomes a mother. Looks like that's true... You're not falling apart like you used to. You've really become much better behaved." I tugged at the corners of my mouth and forced something resembling a smile. He didn't know that I hadn't become better behaved at all. I simply had a secret of my own that I had yet to confess to him.

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, a group of bandits stormed into my home. They robbed us of everything we owned and burned our estate to the ground. Then they used my six-year-old sister as leverage, forcing me to show myself. More than a dozen bandits dragged me back to their hideout and tortured me for three days and three nights before selling me to a brothel. I had thought about dying, but even death was beyond my reach. When I was at my most desperate, Duke Landon Knight paid for my freedom and asked if I was willing to go home with him. After crawling through the darkness for so long, I suddenly saw a light that had never gone out. Three years into our marriage, I once asked him why, among all the flowers in the world, he had chosen this withered one—me. "When I caught my first glimpse of you as a child, I swore I'd never marry anyone but you." I thought he truly loved me. I thought that was why he was willing to marry a brothel girl whom everyone else called a woman who had been with countless men. I spent those three years healing from my wounds, hoping that one day I could give him a son or daughter of our own. Until I overheard a conversation between him and his closest friend in his study. "Lucia Bellamy is arriving in the capital tomorrow. Are you really planning to bring her into the estate? "Isabel has already suffered the loss of her family and been humiliated and sold to a brothel. Her life has been tragic enough. Can you really bear to bring Lucia into the estate and hurt her all over again?" Landon answered without hesitation, "What do the lives of a few dozen Conrads matter? If the Conrads hadn't reported the Bellamys back then, Lucia wouldn't have been exiled to Southvale, and we wouldn't have been prevented from marrying. "As for Isabel, I bribed the bandits to sell her to a brothel. I did it only to spare her life and leave her alive long enough for Lucia to come back and take her revenge herself." So that first glimpse he'd never forgotten had been of Lucia, and I was nothing more than a tool for him to use in taking revenge for the woman he loved. The next day, I used the Conrad family signet my grandfather, Leonard Conrad, had left me to secure two imperial decrees. The first was my own request for a divorce, so Lucia could enter the estate as his legal wife. The second ordered a full investigation into the truth behind the massacre of my family, so that their names could finally be cleared.

The day my son gained the lifetime achievement award in research, I died alone on the street. On stage, he thanked his father, a professor, and his biological mother, who had just returned from abroad. He even thanked the nanny at home. But he left me out, his foster mother who had raised him. My husband, Charles Zimmer, learned about my death. He immediately disassociated himself from me. “We’ve long separated. I’ve got nothing to do with her.” I had worked hard to give them a decent life, but they regarded me as a stain that they could never remove. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the time of my life when my destiny changed. Holding the college admission letter, Charles smiled at me and said, “Yes, I’m divorced. But we can live in the city together if you marry me. I’ll let you discipline the kid if he makes any mistakes. I won’t complain about you.” During my previous life, he had me fooled by false promises. I naively thought that it would be easy to be a stepmother. I helped him care for his son and worked hard to support the family. In the end, they conspired with each other to drive me out and leave me penniless. It was because Charles’ ex-wife, who had abandoned them when he was poor, wanted to come home and remarry him. Since I had gained a second chance, I planned to dump such an ungrateful husband and son.

My cheating husband came crawling back on our daughter Lily's fifth birthday. He was ruined. Fired over a dirty scandal. Dumped by his gold-digging mistress the second his cash dried up. He begged me to save our marriage. In my last life, I was weak. I stayed for the kids. My reward? He went insane. In the dead of night, he locked the doors of our Greenwich estate. Poured gasoline everywhere. And lit a match. My parents. My four babies. Me. And him. All eight of us burned to ashes. But then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the day of Lily's party. This time, I will protect my family. And I will send that demon to hell.

On my wedding day, my husband's female bestie showed up holding a torn bridesmaid dress and accused me of assaulting her in front of all our guests. I had no way to defend myself, so I turned to my husband for help. Instead, he looked at me with fake disappointment and publicly labeled me a lesbian. Then, to get his hands on my family's assets, he had me committed to a psychiatric hospital, where I was tortured and humiliated. I barely managed to escape, only to die in a car accident they'd carefully planned. It wasn't until my final moments that I found out the truth—the torn bridesmaid dress wasn't evidence of my crime. It was proof of their affair in the stairwell moments before the ceremony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my dressing room, minutes before the wedding. This time, I'm going to make sure those two pay for everything.

After a night of passion, the amnesiac boyfriend I took in leaned back against the couch and watched me. My legs were still weak as I headed into the kitchen to prepare a meal for him. Halfway through cooking, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind. After a moment of silence, he murmured, "Actually, I lied about having amnesia. I'm the heir to the Payne family." I burst out laughing. "Sure. And I'm the daughter of the richest man in the country." He pinched my cheek and laughed along with me. "I have a fiancee," he added. "I'm getting married tomorrow." Feeling me stiffen in his arms, he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. "She's too possessive to tolerate another woman around me, so I ran away from home," he explained. "But the first time I saw you, I wanted you. It was purely physical. So, I faked amnesia just so I could stick around." I stared at the photo. Chandler Payne—the man I had been calling my boyfriend—was leaning into his fiancee, Sabrina Shaw. They looked like a perfect match. Tears streamed down my cheeks before I could stop them. Chandler sighed, pulling me tighter against his chest as he stroked my hair with that same doting touch. "Hey, don't cry," he said softly. "It's not like I have a choice either. My heart already belongs to her, but my body wants you. "It's just a marriage of convenience anyway. As long as we're careful not to get you pregnant, we can keep seeing each other." "So…" he paused, then asked, "It'll be dawn soon. Are you coming with me?"

After I get detained in the police station, my husband, Gavin Pratt, specifically comes over to bail me out. But I grip a policeman's arm without letting go. "I'm the one who did it! Hurry up and arrest me!" In my previous life, I was surrounded by the family members of a car crash victim. A bar owner and a saleswoman who sold cosmetics were there as well. They claimed that I had gone into a drunken frenzy and stole perfume from the store. On top of that, I even ran a red light and hit someone with my car. I kept explaining the truth to everyone, yet no one believed me. Instead, they all had me surrounded and beat me up till I died. When I wake up again, I've returned to the day I'm detained inside the police station.

When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage. My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute." Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring. But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot. When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?" Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding. I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base. "Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

The day Jack Prescott's family went "bankrupt," he dumped me on the spot. "My mom's house is getting auctioned. I don't want you dragged into this." I actually bought it. Went against my family and stuck by him, slinging street food just to scrape by. "Don't stress. I'll help you buy it back." Three years of nonstop work—burn scars up and down my arms—and I finally scraped together a small fortune. The day we were supposed to sign the papers, I caught him on the phone. "Jack, you coming back?" some guy asked. Jack flicked his cigarette, all smug. "What's the rush? I'm still milking this sad little simp. She's totally whipped. It just keeps getting funnier." All that time, all that love? Just a joke to him.

I notice that the surveillance camera we bought when we got married keeps glitching. I casually open the accompanying video app while I request an on-site repair from customer service. I suddenly hear Edward Zucker, my husband who swore to love me for the rest of his life, wishing for my death. "Maddie treats me well and hasn't done anything wrong. She has lost her parents in the car accident, though, so she's of no use to me now." I then hear my seemingly gentle and kind in-laws, Victor Zucker and Mary Smith, thoughtfully toss out various suggestions. "You can just sneak something into her food since she's allergic to so many things. You can also claim she suffered from depression after losing her parents and jumped off a building, then cremate her body on the very same day. "Your cousin just got diagnosed with a psychiatric condition, so he won't face criminal charges for murder." Edward struggles to pick the best way for me to die. "It can't look suspicious. I have to secure the three-million-dollar inheritance her parents left her without a single slipup." I tremble violently with rage. If they want me dead, then let's see who ends up dying first!

The day I found out I was pregnant, my husband, Julian Calloway, told me he had been reborn and wanted a divorce. “Three months from now, I’ll go bankrupt. You’ll work yourself to death helping me pay off my debts, and you’ll die young. “This time, I absolutely refuse to drag you down with me. Take this $9,000,000. We’ll get divorced—” Before he could finish, I picked up the pen and signed. “Fine. Just transfer the money to my account.” That evening, while I was gathering my things from the living room, I overheard Julian’s secretary, Naomi Foster, speaking smugly through his phone. “I can’t believe she’s actually that stupid. How did she ever get into Harvard? “You made up some ridiculous story about being reborn and going bankrupt, and she actually believed you.” Julian chuckled. “Who cares? If she leaves quietly with the money, isn’t that better than having her make a scene?” I raised an eyebrow. Of course I knew he was lying. Because I really had been reborn. And in one month, Julian Calloway really would go bankrupt.