Scumbag Romance Short Stories & Novels

On Christmas night, my husband, Finnick Carson, can't spend the holidays with me because he's on a business trip. In order to make it up to me, he's specifically ordered a Christmas feast from a fancy restaurant and has it delivered to our home. But when I open the box containing the feast, I'm shell-shocked by what I see. Not only an array of seafood—that I'm allergic to—is arranged in containers, but there's also a kid's meal set included in the feast. When the deliveryman sees the food, he apologizes to me and tells me that he's mixed up the two meals that Finnick has ordered. This leaves me feeling uneasy. Why would my husband order two meals? So, I decide to find my way to the delivery address that the other meal is meant for. Shockingly enough, I see Finnick standing in a villa's backyard while picking candies from a Christmas tree with a mother and a son. The little boy then rushes into his arms happily. "Daddy, I'd like an amusement park for my birthday gift this year!" Finnick pinches his cheek gently. "Okay. I'll give your mommy a set of jewelry, too." The woman cuddles with him happily. "You're so nice to us, honey!" Having recorded the entire scene quietly, I send it to my lawyer. "Help me expedite my divorce so that my husband can reunite with his family as soon as possible."

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry. Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car. I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.] The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his. "Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me." I stroked my son's pale, bluish face. "Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."

On the day of my birthday, I'm burning with a fever that almost hits 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of that, I've called Tristan Graham more than a dozen times. He never picks up any of them. In the end, my dad has to take me to the hospital. When we walk past a corridor, he suddenly stops in his tracks. "Mr. Graham? What are you doing here?" I raise my head to see Tristan and Madison Franklin walking from the OBGYN department. Their fingers are tightly laced together. Tristan is even carrying a bag of medication. Birth control pills as well as ointment meant to be used on private parts can be seen in that bag. My mind goes blank at that moment. All I can do is stare at Tristan. As soon as our eyes meet, Tristan frowns slightly at me, though his gaze only lingers on me for a second before he turns to look at my dad. "I'll be hosting a banquet in the garden tomorrow night. Remember to decorate the garden nicely." Dad quickly accepts the order. "Don't worry, Mr. Graham. When Luna's fever breaks out, I'll deal with this task right away." Tristan is momentarily stunned by Dad's words. When he notices my unnaturally flushed cheeks, he instinctively takes a step toward me. But that's when Madison tugs his sleeve. "Stop wasting precious time on a gardener's daughter, Tristan. Let's go. I'm still in pain, you know." Tristan stops in his tracks instantly. Then, he leaves with Madison. Later on, he pays for my hospital bills. Our seven-year underground relationship that's considered a taboo is also paid off as well.

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.

I am Nicholas Greene's assistant and also his secret girlfriend of ten years. At the age of 29, I bring up marriage with him. He responds coldly, "I can give you love, but I can’t give you marriage. If you are desperate to get married, I can introduce you to another man to deal with your parents." I accept calmly. A few months later, he stops me at the door. His eyes are bloodshot as he questions, "Didn’t I tell you to just pretend? How did you end up actually getting a marriage certificate with him?"

After eight years of dating my boyfriend, Zachary Corington, I finally can't take it anymore and suggest breaking up. Zachary asks, "You're breaking up with me just because I drove over to find you and called your name?" "Yes," I reply. He curls his lips into a mocking smile. "Go on. What do you want this time?" I shake my head and say, "Nothing. I just want you to stop showing up before me."

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

The day before we are supposed to go abroad to get our marriage registered, George Anderson slips a five-carat diamond ring onto my ring finger. "Geri, once you wear this, you'll be Mrs. Anderson for the rest of your life." Before I even have time to feel moved, his tone suddenly shifts. "But I've already canceled tomorrow's flight and asked for a refund. Let's put off the registration for now." He slowly turns the rosary beads on his wrist, speaking as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Mia's depression has relapsed. She's threatening to jump off a building. The only thing that can calm her down is getting a marriage certificate with her. "I have to go register my marriage with her right now. If she finds out I married you abroad, she'll lose her mind." I freeze and stare at him in disbelief. However, he ruffles my hair with eyes full of indulgence and helplessness. "Be good. It's just a piece of paper. Once her condition is stable, we'll have our wedding. If you really want to go to Frosh Isle, just join a tour group yourself." I watch as his figure retreat in a hurry and touch my lower abdomen. Then, I tear the prenatal checkup report for the twins in my bag into pieces. Next, I make the call for my final confirmation of starting the overseas study program. I no longer intend to see the aurora in Frost Isle with George.

On the day I successfully conceived through IVF, my CEO boyfriend—the sole heir to a nine-generation business empire—finally agreed to marry me. Yet, after a flight of more than ten hours, I landed only to be greeted by a public announcement of his marriage to his secretary, with journalists watching from every angle. The secretary eagerly showed off the marriage certificate, fresh off the press. "Don't worry, everyone. From now on, I'll personally supervise Mr. Lane for the rest of our lives." When the journalists spotted me, they all focused on me, hoping I'd cause a scene. However, I merely smiled and congratulated the couple. "You and Mr. Lane are perfect for each other, Ms. Quinn. I wish you both a long and happy marriage." Everyone was shocked. No one had expected such generosity from me—Harold's girlfriend of nine years. As I turned to leave, Harold darted over to defend himself with a scowl. "Leila worked day and night with me on this international project. She refused every bonus and only asked to experience the fairy-tale romance of marrying a CEO. We already agreed to divorce once the project is over. I'll make it up to you with an even bigger, better wedding." Then, his voice softened. "For the sake of our baby, don't cause trouble, okay?" With a bright smile, I slapped his hand away. "Who told you the baby's yours?"

During a gathering with friends, my husband, Kevin Graham, was asked a question by his buddy in Froise. "What are you going to do with your lover, who's two months pregnant with your baby?" Kevin smiled while helping me cut up my steak, and he replied in Froise, "Evie doesn't like children. I'll get Kandi Chutnam to give birth to the baby and send them overseas after that. At least I'll have a child of my own." Tears streamed down my cheek as I ate my steak, and Kevin asked nervously, "What's wrong, Evie?" I wiped away my tears and replied with a smile, "I must've used too much hot sauce." However, there was no hot sauce on the table. I was crying because I understood Froise.

In the seventh year of my marriage to Adrian Sandford, his ex, Celine Wheeler, came back. She posted: [We were young, reckless. We missed our shot. This time, I'm fighting for love.] That night, Adrian sat on the balcony, cigarette burning between his fingers, staring out till sunrise. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing either. Their friend group—everyone who saw them grow up—flooded the chat. Regret for them. Relief, too. They forgot I was still in there. Adrian had no clue how many times I replayed the years I chased him. Seven years. I'm tired.

The night I sleep with Graham Rowland, he has just broken up with his girlfriend, Leanna Sandoval. Out of responsibility, he marries me. Our marriage is calm and steady. I once believe this is forever. But then, Leanna dies of illness. When he goes to mourn her, he learns that Leanna discovered what happened between us that night. That is why she loses hope and leaves him. At the same time, he discovers my secret diary of unrequited love. He becomes convinced that I deliberately destroyed their relationship and comes to hate me deeply. He divorces me, leaves me with nothing, and makes my life difficult at every turn. At the brink of death, I hear him say in an icy voice, "Your love disgusts me." When I open my eyes again, I return to two hours before the fateful event that night—when he is about to get drunk after the breakup. I grab my coat, rush out of the room, and knock on Leanna's door.

Three days before I got married, Evan Jones' claustrophobic ex-girlfriend cornered my car at the cliff of a winding road and rammed into me 12 times. When Evan arrived with the police, I was being rescued by the firefighters from my driver's seat, which had been smashed out of shape. However, Evan went to the limited-edition sports car, which had only lost some paint, and carried the trembling Nikki Shore in his arms. "Evan, Madison is bleeding on her forehead; she needs to get it stitched up at the hospital." However, Evan stopped my stretcher from getting into the car and glanced at my bleeding forehead and bruised arms. "These are just minor injuries, but Nikki has claustrophobia. Her condition will only get worse, and she has to go to the hospital first." As I was about to be left behind, I used the last of my strength to grab Evan by his pant leg. He frowned and pried off my fingers. "Nikki didn't crash into you on purpose. It's just her condition acting up. You're a lawyer, and you should know how some things are beyond our control, so stop making a fuss right now." With that, his assistant handed him a settlement agreement, and Evan grabbed my limp wrist to print my fingerprint on the papers. "Just bear with this. The ambulance will be coming soon."

After his female assistant crashed her car into my sister, my CEO fiancé, the man who once adored me beyond reason, swore he would make her pay. However, instead of punishing her, he promoted her to my position at work. He claimed that the higher she climbed, the harder she would fall. He spent millions at an auction to buy her a bracelet and even bought her dog a luxury mansion as a kennel. Every time, he told me the same thing: it was all part of his revenge plan and that I needed to endure it a little longer. My sister suffered a brain hemorrhage caused by complications from the accident and urgently needed surgery. Desperate, I begged my fiancé to return the salary he had managed for me over the years. He agreed and told me to get his assistant's approval for the withdrawal. When I submitted the request, she rejected it for incomplete documentation. After I finally gathered everything she asked for, she smiled, said office hours were over, and told me to come back tomorrow. My sister died before tomorrow could come. Only then did my fiancé call to comfort me. “Tell Dolly to wait a few more days for her surgery. Everything I’m doing is to get revenge on Sylvia and avenge Dolly. During her celebration banquet the day after tomorrow, I’ll take back everything I gave her and ruin her completely. After that, we’ll get married. You and Dolly will finally be happy.” By then, I finally understood. His so-called revenge was nothing more than an excuse for the way he indulged and favored his assistant. When my sister died, whatever remained between us died with her.

At her lavish engagement party, Charlotte Ashford learns that her fiancé Connor has been cheating for three years with Sophia, the sister she loved most. When their betrayal unearths old lies, stolen memories, and the truth behind her parents' final moments, Charlotte cuts them out, rebuilds her life, and leaves Connor to face the regret he thought she would never make him feel.

In the third year of my disappearance, Xavier Gardner has transformed into a powerful capitalistic mogul whose influence runs deep in the finance industry. At the celebratory party, he goes down on one knee and proposes to his first love, Nancy Lowe. "Back when my company was on the verge of bankruptcy, you were the one who sold all of your properties and assets just to help me tide over the crisis. Today, I want you to become the happiest woman in the world. Will you marry me, Nancy?" Amid everyone's blessings, Nancy puts on the ring while feeling extremely touched. "Mr. Gardner, it was said that your ex-wife, Victoria Zahn, had stolen all of your funds and fled with her sugar daddy when your company was in a financial crisis. "Now, she's gone missing for three years. If she ever comes back, will you choose to forgive her?" The reporter's sharp question makes Xavier's expression change drastically. His gaze shifts into one of pure ice. "If I ever find that traitorous gold digger, I'll make sure to skin her alive." As I float next to the crystal chandelier, I can only sigh while noting how deep his hatred runs in his eyes. Xavier, you will never be able to find me. After all, I already died three years ago when I was on my way to clear your debt with the loan sharks. Even the money that you've used to tide over your company's crisis is the funds that I gained from selling my family's manor…

In the fifth year of being locked up in a psychiatric hospital, my husband, Cole Foster, finally agrees to discharge me. But when the ward door is opened, I see multiple cameras aiming at me. "Congratulations, Ms. Lawson. The five-year reality show in the psychiatric hospital has officially come to an end!" R-Reality show? I look thunderstruck by the news. At that moment, Cole, who's supposed to sweep me into a hug, shows up. He says calmly, "Joanna, this is a reality show that Natalie has planned. You're just a trial subject whom I've chosen to help her record this show." 300 million people have participated in the voting session. Just like that, Natalie Jackman becomes the most popular director in the reality show world. Meanwhile, I've gotten electrocuted to the point I keep shuddering violently. It's a norm for me to drool subconsciously and go into lapses of haziness from time to time. Cole personally unlocks the handcuffs that have bound me for the past five years. "Now that the show is over, you may go home."

Someone replaces the eye drops with industrial cleaner, causing my patient to go blind in both eyes and jump from the 20th floor. As the attending doctor, I am arrested for intentional harm and sentenced to five years in prison. After my release, my husband, Sebastian Lester, and son, Carl Lester, come to pick me up and bring me home. While everyone else treats me like trash, the two of them stay by my side without abandoning me. I am deeply grateful for that. So, I obey their every word without complaint. But one night after a banquet, I accidentally overhear Sebastian talking to Carl when I am bringing him some hangover remedy. "Dad, Ms. Short really wants to win the top photography award, so I switched the eye drops Mom prepared for her patient. But Mom went to prison because of it. And now, all my classmates call me the son of a murderer." Sebastian quickly covers Carl's mouth and sternly warns him, "Never mention this again. Back then, Jolene's competitor was too talented, so that was the only way I could help her. Your mom's prison term serves as a lesson for her that she shouldn't side with outsiders." So, the five years of darkness and suffering I endure in prison is the doing of the people I love the most.

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

When I am eight months pregnant, I am hit by a luxury car and lose my baby. The female driver, Stacy Bowman, who hits me, falsely accuses me of trying to extort money. Halfway through my uterus cleaning procedure, Stacy forcibly drags me to court. "If you can't afford to have a child, then don't have one. You're so young, yet you're already trying to scam people for money. My husband spent tens of millions of dollars to buy the car for me, you know? He's a billionaire lawyer. Just wait! He'll sue you until you're bankrupt!" At the defendant's stand, my vision keeps going dark, and the pain I'm feeling is excruciating. In the next second, the courtroom doors open. Stacy throws herself into the lawyer's arms. "Your Honor, my wife would never intentionally hit someone. Someone is obviously trying to stage an accident for compensation. They must be severely punished." As I stare at the familiar figure, the blood in my body runs cold bit by bit. The elite lawyer standing before me in a tailored suit is none other than my husband, Xander Foley, who has told me he is forced to go on a six-month-long business trip.