Plot Twists Short Stories & Scumbag Cheating Novels

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.

My cheating husband, Steve Manson, gets hit by a car and suffers brain damage. After the accident, he can only say two words—"Yes" and "No". He can't say anything else. And somehow, every answer he gives has to be the truth. For once, it feels like heaven is finally on my side. I ask, "Is the woman you're having an affair with my best friend?" His face turns pale, but his mouth moves against his will. "Yes." "Did you transfer assets behind my back?" "Yes." "Is your bank account password your first love's birthday?" "Yes." Thanks to this bizarre ability of his, I successfully send the mistress to prison and walk away with all of his assets. Yet, he can't even curse me out no matter how much he wants it. Then one day, a handsome food delivery guy flirts with me. I turn to look at Steve, who stands there with the same dull expression as always. "Are you really my husband? Why aren't you even jealous?" Without hesitation, he blurts out, "No." I freeze instantly and stare into his eyes. After a long silence, I finally ask, "Then is my husband... dead?" He answers, "Yes and no."

[Wanna do it?] I accidentally sent the message meant for my bestie to her brother, Gerald Cooper. Ten minutes later, I received his reply. [In the Maybach downstairs. Come down.] To my surprise, her brother was very well endowed too. That night, things got heated and we almost lost control. When we sobered up, he promised me that he would bear responsibility for his actions. He treated me well and doted on me, giving me anything I asked for. However, there was only one rule: I must never admit in public that I was his girlfriend. Five years later, he brought another woman home. With his arm wrapped around the woman, he told me that she was his girlfriend. I confronted him, asking, "If she's your girlfriend, then what would that make me? I waited five long years for you!" He chuckled indifferently and said something that chilled me to my bone. "Wait for me? Did I tell you to wait? Nyssa Bennett, don't ever fall in love with someone so desperately. It's terrifying." So it turned out that my love for him was nothing but trouble. From then on, I tried to live without him, let go of my feelings, and finally left him. But one week later, when I was exchanging my vows with another man, Gerald was standing there in the aisle, looking up at me with reddened eyes.

To the Moretti family, I'm nothing more than the Don's trophy wife of five years. Five years into our marriage, I found a used condom in his study. We were trying for a baby, so we never kept condoms in the house. I was still staring at it when Alessandro Moretti walked up behind me. "Olivia, Daisy is back in the country. We slept together last night." Daisy Ward was his first love. On her first night back, Alessandro had brought her straight into our home. He picked up the condom and tossed it back into the trash. "I promised Daisy I'd marry her in three days." I turned to him in shock. "So you want a divorce?" He answered without hesitation, "Olivia, I'm not leaving you. I just want to make up for the one regret I've carried all these years." Before he could mention divorce, I beat him to it. "I understand. I'll move out tomorrow. We should start the divorce process too." Alessandro froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to take it so calmly. "Don't worry. I won't shortchange you after the divorce. You'll get fifty million dollars and all my shares in the Sicily Group." I smiled and nodded. That night, I sent a message to my hacker friend, Nina. "Once the assets clear, get me a new identity." Alessandro, I gave you five years of my life, but I was never the woman you chose first.

At our dinner gathering, my best friend, Maya Miller, leaned in with a drunken smirk. "If you find out I'm sharing someone's husband, would you still be my friend?" Before I could answer, Maya kept going. "I didn't miss our lunch yesterday because I was sick," she whispered. "He installed a floor-length mirror, just to try something new with me." She took a sip of her wine. "And that retreat last month? Fake too. His wife just had a baby, so he took me to Aspen instead." I froze in total shock. Maya Miller suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh, come on! I’m totally joking. Look at your face!" I let out a breath and laughed it off. That evening, I drove to the office to drop off files for my husband, Ethan Cross. I walked in and froze. The floor-to-ceiling window in his private office was gone. Replaced by a massive floor-length mirror. Cold sweat broke out on my neck. I turned to Ethan. "Why the mirror?" Ethan pulled me into a soft hug from behind. "The window had a small crack, sweetheart. I got the mirror so you can touch up your makeup whenever you visit." I smiled and nodded, staying silent. As soon as Ethan walked out to grab his keys, I stepped up to the glass. Near the bottom corner were two faint, rounded smudges. I measured the shape with my hands. A D-cup. Exactly Maya Miller's size. I pulled out my phone, snapped a clear picture, and dialed a contact. "Get a construction crew here tonight. I want to replace a mirror with a two-way glass." I took a deep breath. "Then call the press. Tell them Ethan Cross is holding an emergency conference downstairs on Thursday.”

In my fifth year as a full-time housewife, I was diagnosed with severe depression. The only way I could prove that I was still alive was by posting on social media. I would post the dinner I'd burned, the plants withering on the balcony, or even the strands of hair that fell out late at night. My husband, Calvin Kenneth never left a comment, but he would immediately leave a like on every single post. Again and again, his likes were what made me pull my hand away from the sleeping pills. Everything seemed peaceful until, on my birthday, I found a group chat from work on his tablet. The group was called "Mr. Kenneth's Personal Image Management Team". In the group, his secretary had posted an update. "Mrs. Kenneth's post has been liked on schedule today." Calvin had replied with a thumbs-up emoji. Then, I checked his private account. His cover photo had been changed to a picture of him and his first love standing beneath the Northern Lights in Icethern. The caption read, "After all the roads I've traveled, I'm just glad to be with you in the end." Only then did I finally understand that Calvin couldn't even be bothered to pretend that he cared about me himself. Calmly, I threw the dinner I had spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash. Then, I signed the divorce papers.

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."

For our fifth anniversary, I planned to bid on a pink diamond ring. A young woman outbid me. I followed her outside to ask if she would consider selling it to me. She stood at the curb, showing the ring on her hand to the friend who had come with her. "I'm already tired of this one. "So my boyfriend told me to pick out something I liked for our first anniversary." I stopped. She would never part with an anniversary gift. Reese was busy handling the smuggling trade along the coast and could not come with me. He had only said he would not be home for dinner and told me to buy myself something nice to celebrate. When I heard her say her boyfriend had a candlelit dinner waiting for her, I smiled and envied their young love. My car pulled up. As I was about to get in, she turned around. I saw the ring on her hand, the one she was already tired of. My breath caught. Cold shot from the soles of my feet to the base of my skull. It was the ring Reese had given me last year, then discarded because it did not fit.

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.

My husband, Damien Falcone, had 99 lovers. And I was the mafia princess men lined up to die for. The day we got together, everyone in our world took bets. They said we wouldn't last three months. But then , everything changed. For me, he wiped his phone clean, built a rose manor, and got down on one knee. Then, on our wedding night, he told me he wanted an open marriage. "Our bodies can play," he said. "But our loyalty? That's just for us." I agreed. Then came his 100th lover, Sophia Ricci. She betrayed our family in an arms deal. Almost got my father killed. But Damien protected her. He even moved her into our home. So, I did what any heartbroken mafia princess would do. I got drunk and woke up in another man's bed. I just didn't know that man was Damien's uncle.

On the eve of our wedding, Trevin Hoffman's childhood sweetheart, a mercenary who had vanished for five years, was struck by a deadly love spell during a mission. When her teammates dragged her back to him, she was covered in blood, barely clinging to life. Trevin, usually calm and composed, lost control. Ignoring my protests, he locked himself in with her for the entire night. I sat outside that door, sleepless until dawn. The next morning, when I demanded an explanation in hysteria, he shielded her with his body and snapped, his mask completely gone. "I couldn't just watch Wren die. One wild night before marriage, what's so wrong with that?" At that moment, I was disillusioned. My love for him vanished in an instant.

I'd been married to Dante Vitale, the Don of the Sicilian Mafia, for three years. Everyone knew it. I was the woman he'd carefully protected and cherished since we were young. When I was fifteen, a group of thugs cornered me. Dante stepped in to protect me and ended up with several broken ribs. Three years ago, in front of the entire Mafia, he swore before my late father's portrait that he would love me and take care of me for the rest of our lives. Then I accidentally spilled coffee on our marriage certificate. When I took our marriage certificate to get it reissued, the clerk told me it was fake. Isabella was his real wife. And Dante didn't even seem to think it was a big deal. "Dante says you're as pure as the moon, meant to shine where everyone can see you. I'm the blade he keeps close to his side. He wants us both. But, Marie, I'm the one who's actually his wife, aren't I?" I closed the message without responding to Isabella's taunt and replied to my friend's email instead. "Book me a flight to Paris for next week."

Lena Fields was my best friend. When I found out her boyfriend had cheated on her, my mate and I rushed straight over to back her up. Lena and I clawed at that homewrecker’s face while my mate, Garrett Blackwood, held the cheating jerk down. On the way back to the pack, the three of us looked one another over. We were covered in claw marks, and we burst out laughing. Lena laughed until she started crying. “You two had better never break your mate bond. Otherwise, who am I supposed to tag along with?” Garrett rolled his eyes at her. “We’re fated mates chosen by the Moon Goddess. Only death can separate us.” After that, I helped Lena settle in the Windwolf pack. I stayed by her side through the pain of breaking her mate bond and encouraged her to start a new life. I was so busy helping her that I even neglected my mate. Every time Garrett got jealous, he’d pull me into his arms and complain, “Elise, do you even remember that I’m your mate?” Then Alpha Rowan Blackwood sent Garrett to the border for three months. When he came back, we couldn’t wait to throw our arms around each other. The moment I sank into his arms, I felt a sharp sting where he’d marked me. I also caught another werewolf’s scent on him. I shoved Garrett away, furious. “You cheated on me! I’m breaking our mate bond!” Then I grabbed Lena, who was standing behind Garrett. “Come on, Lena! You stayed in the Windwolf pack for me, so now you’re leaving with me!” But the second I said it, she shook me off. I turned around, stunned, and saw Lena step back to Garrett’s side, her eyes full of guilt.

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."

A typhoon warning had been issued. I drove out to pick up my mother, who lived by the coast. My car broke down halfway there. I called my boyfriend fifty-eight times, and every single one was declined. The rain kept getting heavier. No rescue services were available, and the water was rising. My hands were shaking so badly that all I could do was get Mom to a nearby bus shelter. That was when I scrolled past a Facebook post from my boyfriend's assistant, Megan. "Derek is such a sweetheart. Spent two hours searching, and the little stray finally has a home." In the photo, Derek was at Megan's place, giving a stray cat a bath. I looked at my mother, soaked to the bone, and a wave of hurt washed over me. By the time evening fell, my boyfriend finally called back, but the wind was so strong that the signal kept cutting in and out. I was about to ask him to come get us when his voice crackled through the receiver, broken up by static. "Don't let your mom... the seafood... mess up the car." Before I could say a word, he hung up. The rescue team arrived. As we climbed in, Mom was still shivering, fretting over the seafood that had spoiled during the delay. I picked up the bag and tossed it into the trash. If it's spoiled, there's no point keeping it. Same goes for people.

My husband, Jonathan Rivers, was a notorious playboy in Polesburg's elite circles. Beautiful women surrounded him constantly, yet he claimed to have fallen for me at first sight, saying it was a love that would last forever. He dismissed all the other women around him for my sake. Everyone said I was his destined soulmate. Seven years into our marriage, I had seven abortions for him, simply because he said he did not like children. Then on Father's Day, I saw him on his secretary's social media feed. The same man who claimed to be away on business was there with a child beside him, calling him "Daddy" loudly. It turned out that when he said he did not like children, he meant that he did not like children with me. I dialed his number through tears. "Do you want another wife?"

I took my husband's suggestion and got myself a college-aged boyfriend. Only then did I understand why my husband never came home whenever he was with his college-aged girlfriend. In simple terms? It was too damn good. I let the young man stay in our house. I let him wear my husband's pajamas. I let him drink my husband's wine. I even gave him my husband's research data to help him write his thesis. I stood my husband up on a date so I could celebrate my boyfriend's 100th day with me. He responded by shoving me onto the bed, his eyes bloodshot. "Today's our third wedding anniversary, Madeline! Why do you only seem interested in spending time with him instead of me?" I stared at him in confusion. "What? You're the one who said we had an open relationship and that I could take another lover too!" I shot back. "I'm just doing exactly what you told me to!"

I'm the most famous marriage-desperate woman in Merrowfield. But every time my fiancé, Gavin Northwood, and I try to hold a wedding, disaster strikes. The first time, his mother fell down a staircase and broke her leg. The second time, Scout, the dog Gavin had raised for eight years, died of poisoning. The third time, my mother was struck by a falling sign and critically injured. The fourth time, the fifth time... every attempt after that ended with someone close to us getting hurt. I hated that curse, and on my thirtieth birthday I dragged Gavin out to see a spiritual adviser and have it stripped off us for good. Before we left, I happened to see a group chat on his phone called "Operation: Protect Gavin and Serena." One name came straight into my head. Serena Colebrook. Gavin's first love, and my stepsister. I stared for a long time before I opened the chat with shaking hands. The pinned announcement at the top read: "Twenty-ninth successful operation preventing Gavin Northwood from marrying Maris Ellington." The members were my mother, Gavin's mother, my stepsister, Gavin himself, and my best friend, Paige Merrick. Everything came clear in an instant. My heart clenched hard, but I only opened my own phone, my face perfectly blank. It doesn't matter. Who says the man I'm desperate to marry has to be Gavin Northwood? I looked at the message that other man had sent me. "Didn't we agree that if you still weren't married at thirty, you'd marry me?" I answered calmly. "Yes. I'll be there."

My billionaire husband suffered from chronic insomnia for years. Only the sleep balm I made could help him sleep. On the night of our seventh wedding anniversary, his childhood sweetheart poured a basin of scalding water over the old camphor tree in our garden. I wept and tried to save the tree as she apologized, “I didn’t know you used its leaves to make the sleep balm.” My husband gently comforted her and ordered his men to tie me to the tree trunk instead. “What a precious tree. You’ll spend the rest of your days with it!” With my wrist fractured as a result, I filed for divorce immediately. A month later, my husband was unable to sleep late one night. He stood in the garden and stared at the withered camphor tree.

It was three days before New Year's Eve when a court summons arrived. The court ruled that I had defamed Ethan Tanner and his mistress when I insulted them in the homeowners' group chat and ordered me to issue a public apology every day for fifteen days straight. Ethan was beside himself with delight as he waved the judgment in my face. "I told you. This is a society governed by law. Shrews who hurl abuse have to pay the price. You better get cracking on those 15 days of apologies and not a day less!" I stared at his smug face. Instead of crying or making a scene, I turned around and set up my phone stand. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll apologize right now." "I'm gonna make sure that you go viral and watch as your whole life goes up in flames," I thought to myself.