Historias cortas de Melodramatic y novelas con Scumbag ambientadas en Cheating

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.

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!”

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."

For the national championship final, I took time off work and flew halfway across the country to surprise my boyfriend. I'd barely settled into my seat when the girl beside me started gushing to her friend. "See his tie? I picked it out for him last night. Good taste, right? He even said I was the inspiration behind his entire Human Emotion Thesis for this tournament." Her friend gave her a knowing smile. "You actually landed Lucien Grant, the debate star. You should be thrilled." I froze. My boyfriend's name was Lucien Grant too. And the Human Emotion Thesis she claimed to have inspired? It had been born from seven years of pillow talk between Lucien and me.

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."

My fingerprint had never been given a permanent place in Haiden Buckley's smart lock. He always registered it as temporary access. Whenever he set it up again, he gave me the same reassuring promise. "Come by whenever you want. You're always welcome here." His words sounded generous, yet the result never changed. Whenever I returned to his house, the scanner rejected me with the same message—fingerprint not registered. That day was no different. I stood outside Haiden's front door, watching the scanner flash red after rejecting my fingerprint once again. After staring at it for a moment, I pulled out my phone and called him. Haiden answered almost immediately. His apology came easily, as though this were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Sorry. My friend was playing around with the lock yesterday and accidentally removed your fingerprint." He continued before I could respond. "Wait there for now. I'll register it again the next time I'm home." There it was again. Another promise for next time. My fingers tightened around my phone as memories of all the previous incidents returned. Two times ago, Haiden had blamed a system update for wiping out my access. Somehow, Kendall Hatfield's fingerprint had remained perfectly intact. Last time, he claimed the lock was faulty and that he needed to replace the entire control panel. But the truth had been much simpler. Kendall had casually remarked, "Keeping too many fingerprints in the system isn't safe." Soon afterward, mine had been removed. Haiden always had an explanation that sounded reasonable enough on the surface. Somehow, every convenient accident ended the same way. He gave Kendall exactly what she wanted, leaving her as the only woman with unquestioned access to his home. Haiden was still trying to reassure me over the phone. "Just stay there. I'll open the door for you when I get back." The call ended. A second later, a sharp click came from the other side of the door. I knew that sound. Someone inside had turned the deadbolt. Kendall knew I was right outside, yet she had deliberately locked the door anyway. I remained still for a few seconds before slowly getting to my feet. I brushed the dust from my pants and looked at the door one last time. 'Forget it. I don't want to go inside anymore.'

The college girl I was sponsoring, Yasmine Reed, texted me that she was pregnant. She asked me what to do. She was only a sophomore. I told her to focus on her degree. Before my message was even sent, she blocked me. A few weeks later, I twisted my ankle. My best friend, Clara Barnes, brought me to the clinic. Clara pointed at a young couple standing outside the maternity ward. "If your husband were in town, he would pamper you just like that," Clara sighed. "I still don't get why he insisted on taking that project that faraway." I stared down at my phone. "Julian is doing it for our future. As long as he loves me, I don't mind." As we walked out, the couple turned the corner. The man held the girl close, kissing her forehead. "Be good, Yasmine. Right after this ultrasound, I'll buy you that designer purse." My blood ran cold. My feet froze to the floor. The man holding her was the same man that was supposed to be faraway. He was standing right in front of me. It was my husband, Julian Drake. And the girl in his arms was Yasmine Reed, the student I was funding.

Mason Chapman has lost his memories. He has forgotten everything about me. His memories are stuck in the year he was most in love with his ex-wife, Tiffany Auburn. No matter how much the people around him try to talk sense into him, he remains convinced I'm the other woman who has come between him and Tiffany. The doctor says there's a chance he might recover his memories, so I cling to that hope and refuse to let go. Within three years, we divorce and remarry many times. We become the biggest joke in the city's social circles. People even start placing bets on when I'll finally give up and when Mason will regain his memories. Then, news of our eighth divorce makes the trending searches again. Reporters storm into the law firm I work at with cameras on their shoulders. They shove microphones in my face, their questions dripping with provocation. "Ms. Gardner, as a divorce lawyer, what do you have to say about getting divorced eight times yourself?" Someone smashes the firm's sign. My personal award banner is trampled underfoot. Before I can even respond, my boss fires me for ruining the profession's reputation. "Take my advice, Isabel. Have some dignity, and stop chasing after Mr. Chapman." I clench my trembling hands and suddenly feel depleted. They're right. Maybe this time, I should just give up.

Ten years into my marriage to Joshua Ford, heir to the largest fortune in Kingsbury, I receive a video. The footage is shot inside a car. The video is shaky, and the sounds coming from it are vile. When I hold up my phone to confront him, the moaning is still echoing through the living room. Joshua's expression remains calm. He just shrugs like it's nothing. "Younger women are just fresher. Your health isn't great, so I wouldn't dare push you to try anything wild. But everyone craves a little excitement, right?" I freeze in place, my arm going numb from holding up the phone. "That's your explanation?" Joshua doesn't answer me. His gaze drifts over me with casual indifference. "The truth is, all these years, you've never exactly been someone I could take out in public." I look at him, and my heart goes cold. So, the forever we promised each other turns out to be just ten short years.

For three years, my husband and I had lived apart because of our long-distance relationship. Then I landed a bridal makeup job in the city where he often stayed for work. I planned to surprise him after I finished the job, but three days before the wedding, I sprained my wrist. I explained the situation to my client and offered her a full refund, but she refused. "Everyone only gets one special day like this in their life, Felicia! I want my husband to see me at my prettiest on the most important day of our lives! I don't wanna be anything less for him..." I couldn't convince her otherwise, so I decided to bring my apprentice, Dakota McCree, to apply the makeup while I guided her. Then I stepped into the reception hall and came face-to-face with a gigantic banner that made my blood run cold. The groom looked exactly like my husband. He even had the same name. Panicked, I spun around and scanned my surroundings. My own little brother was at the entrance, greeting guests. My childhood best friend was dressed as a bridesmaid, busy making sure everything went according to plan. Dakota hurried over to me with our cosmetics case, her face bright with excitement. "Come on, Felicia! The bride's waiting for us!" I stopped her, unwound the bandage around my wrist, and flexed my fingers. "Change of plan. I think this calls for my personal touch."

The day after my twin sister died in an accident, I married her fiancé, the man who was supposed to be my brother-in-law. That very day, Mark Zeller printed thousands of copies of my sister's death report and told everyone I was the real murderer. Because of this, everyone despised me, and my parents immediately disowned me. After we got married, he was constantly in the tabloids with his flings and brought countless women home. He'd make me stand by the bedroom door, listening to them making love. Then, after he was done, he'd make me take photos of him and his lovers in bed. I silently endured it all. My only request was to have a baby with him. Mark scoffed. "Gloria Hale, how can you be so shameless? If you're so desperate to sleep with a man, just go out and find one. Instead, you're begging for it at my feet like an animal. Aren't you disgusted with yourself? "You think having my baby will make me change my ways? Let me tell you, never!" To crush my hopes, he went even further and spent a fortune to build a castle in the suburbs. Every single room in that castle housed one of his lovers. The people in our social circle said, "Mark's mistresses are way lovelier than his wife at home who only knows how to wag her tail like a dog." Three years later, Mark's mother sent me a text to remind me: "Gloria, remember our agreement. Three years are almost up. You have one more week to sort everything out."

When I was 14, my father beat me so badly that my ears rang. It was my sister and Micheal Lane who stood in front of me with knives in hand, protecting me. When I was 18, they had fought their way into the court, determined to put our father behind bars and take me away from him. When I was 21, on my wedding day to Micheal, my sister forced him to kneel before me and said, “You will never betray Chloe. If you do, I’ll make sure you leave with nothing, and I’ll kill you myself.” In our eight years of marriage, he truly was the perfect husband. He did not have late-night business dinners, he was never home late, and his phone password was my birthday. Even our son, Tristan, said his dad loved me the most in the world. However, on Tristan’s seventh birthday, he made a wish with his eyes closed, “I hope Daddy stops going to his other home. Daddy sneaks out every night after Mommy falls asleep. I don’t want to lie anymore.” I thought he was joking, so I crouched down and asked, “Who lives at your daddy's other home?” Tristan hid behind me and pointed into the distance. I followed his gaze. The cake knife slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. Standing there was the woman I loved most in the world—my sister. Yet beneath the table, I could clearly see her hand intertwined tightly with Micheal’s.

Jordan Ford lost a bet, and I was forced to remove my makeup in front of everyone. The whole crowd goaded me on while his friends laughed especially loudly. “Don’t be a buzzkill. Eira already did it. “Come on, Clara! You’re not chickening out, are you?” Three years prior, I had saved Jordan from a car accident. Glass shards cut my face and left a scar that could barely be concealed with makeup. “Go on, remove it.” Through the smoke, his gaze met mine with nothing but casual indifference. I dragged a makeup-removing wipe across my face, again and again, revealing the ugly scar. “It’s just makeup. Quit being so dramatic. “You killed my mother back then. That scar is just a light price to pay for it.”

At a class reunion, someone introduced me to the man I had secretly dated for five years. “Mr. Lawson, Mia works on your research team too. Why don’t you two give it a try?” I walked over to Zeke Lawson, ready to take this chance to finally tell everyone that we were together. But Zeke took a step back and pointed toward his childhood friend, who had just returned from overseas. “No, thanks. I already have feelings for someone else.” He kept his distance and made sure no one would suspect anything between us. “If you’re looking to get married, I can introduce you to someone. I think you’d be a great match.” I let out an awkward laugh as I looked at Zeke, who was keeping a good ten feet between us. We had been secretly dating for five years, yet Zeke always made sure everyone thought he was single. He always kept his distance from me. I had waited five years for him to make our relationship public. I was not going to wait anymore. “Sure. Introduce him to me.”

My fiancé, Jim Smith, had always been the kind of older brother who spoiled his younger sister. Harriet Smith, his adopted sister, was the first person he thought of whenever anything happened. When the craze for seasonal drinks swept through town, he was quick to buy Harriet the first one of the season. When he bought his first car outright, he saved the passenger seat for her to try first. Even when a fire broke out in our house in the middle of the night, his first instinct was to rush into Harriet's room and carry her downstairs. Only after he knew she was safe did he call to wake me. After I was injured in that fire, I finally lost my temper and demanded that he choose between Harriet and me. He looked genuinely confused. "Cecilia, Harriet and I have been through everything together since we were kids. She's just a kid. Why are you comparing yourself to her?" Then, as if he were offering me some perfectly reasonable solution, he added, "How about this? From now on, I promise I will treat you both equally. Okay?" I hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing. I had no idea that, later, the first wedding ring Jim had custom-made would go to Harriet. Even the wedding dress was no exception. Today was the day we had agreed to go to the county clerk's office and make our marriage official. Harriet came with us. The moment we arrived, she looked at Jim and said, "Jim, it's your first time doing this, so I wanna do it too."

My husband, Ethan Caldwell, has three mistresses who have no idea the others even exist. That is because I always make sure to plan his schedule. "On the 15th, you're going skiing with Lydia Bennett. On the 18th, you're taking Vivian Sinclair house hunting. On the 25th, you're flying to Derbin Isle with Jennifer Harrington to see the Northern Lights. I've already booked the tickets." After checking the three conversations he has pinned to the top of his phone, I recited his schedule to him as calmly as if I were discussing an ordinary business meeting. Without even looking up, Ethan says, "Add one more thing on the 20th. It's Vivi's dog's third birthday." I freeze for a moment but eventually add it to his schedule. The 20th is supposed to be the day he finally keeps his promise to give me the wedding we've never had. He has already postponed it 99 times, all for the sake of those three women. When I fall silent, Ethan pulls a silk scarf from one of the mountains of gift bags piled beside him and hands it to me. "Be good, Sienna. I promise this is the last time I'll postpone it." The scarf is actually part of Jennifer's gift package. I'm the one who goes to the boutique and places the order for him. I don't make a scene. I simply accept the scarf, then pull out the contract I've already reviewed and hand it to him to sign. Ethan seems pleased by my reaction. "You're finally starting to act like a proper wife from a wealthy family. Everyone in our circle envies me for having a fabulous wife like you. If you'd come to your senses two years ago, we wouldn't have had to keep postponing the wedding." I say nothing. I just watch as he signs his name. What he doesn't know is that I've slipped a divorce agreement into the stack of documents. The wedding I've been waiting for all these years is never going to happen. Someone else has already promised me the wedding I never get to have.

My husband's long-distance girlfriend is coming to check up on him again. I hear she'll be here in 20 minutes. Before my husband can say anything, I head to the master bedroom and grab my suitcase, as I always do. Thankfully, after her last visit a month ago, I never bother putting my clothes or toiletries back where they belong. So, this time, I don't have to pack in a panic. It's also thanks to her frequent visits that I'm able to go from hysterical and heartbroken in the beginning to completely numb and unfazed now. Seeing how efficiently I'm making my exit, Isaac Jones actually follows me out for once. He reaches out and ruffles my hair. "Once Candy leaves, we'll get remarried. She's always been proud and would never agree to be the other woman. So, you'll just have to put up with this a little longer. Once I'm done with her, I'll settle down. I won't keep messing around like all the other guys in my circle." As he speaks, I receive a bank transfer of one million dollars as compensation. This time, I don't send it back. I simply pull the car door shut. What Isaac doesn't know is that after eight marriages and eight divorces, I've finally broken free from him. This time, I'm not coming back.

Adam Locke made it his mission to control our marital finances. Every time I needed money, he subjected me to an interrogation. All I was allowed was 300 dollars a month, no more, no less. "Asking for money again?" Adam asked, shoving his ledger in my face. "You've already reached your withdrawal limit for this month!" I stared at the ledger. That 300-dollar budget was supposed to cover our children's medical bills, our daily household expenses, and even the money Adam owed restaurants or colleagues whenever he got drunk at one of his "business events." Not a single one of those expenses had been for me. Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up from the table, and his tone softened almost instantly. "Oh no. Did Zack get into another fight? How much do you need to settle it? I'll send you the money right away." "They said 15,000 dollars, or Zack's getting locked up at the station," replied his secretary, Yolanda Sharpe. Adam did not need to be asked twice. He hung up and immediately wired Yolanda the full amount so her little brother could stay out of trouble. It was as if Zack mattered more to him than his own wife did. I waited until he finished, then calmly said, "Mom was in a car accident. I need money for her medical bills. Please, anything would help." He tossed the ledger in front of me. "I told you, you've reached your withdrawal limit for this month!" he grumbled. "Can't she wait until next month to take care of whatever business she needs to handle?" This time, I did not argue or insist that he give me the money. I simply nodded and said, "Sure." Then I turned away from him and called my mother-in-law, who was lying on an operating table in the ER. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems your son has refused to pay to save your life."