Tragic Love Short Stories & Scumbag Cheating Novels

Everyone says that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Landor, Prince Colin Livingston, loves me to the core. But on the day of court presentation, he bypasses me and presents the princess consort's diamond ring to my elder sister, Monique Payne, instead. However, I'm not the least bit upset. I even smile and congratulate Colin, saying, "I wish you and my sister a lifetime of happiness, Your Royal Highness." In my past life, I caught Colin rolling in the sheets with Monique when I was six months pregnant. I flew into a rage and accidentally killed her with a sword. Colin hated me for the rest of my life after that. When he finally ascended the throne, he posthumously crowned Monique as his Queen and even registered the many children I risked my life bearing for him under her name instead. I was heartbroken, requesting a royal decree to depose me as his wife. However, he tore up the royal edict and imprisoned me inside the palace instead. "You are my wife. And you will never escape me in this lifetime!" Ultimately, while I was still locked up in my room, our enemies ambushed and attacked the palace, setting fire to the place. And despite being struck down by numerous arrows, Colin still used every last ounce of his strength to protect me and save me from harm. Just before his death, he wiped away my tears with bloody hands and whispered into my ear, "Don't cry for me, Merry. I was the one who let you down in this lifetime. "But if there ever is a next life, I hope that you will let me be with Monique instead." I agreed in a trembling voice. But when I open my eyes again, I realize that I have gone back in time to the day the Crown Prince chooses the princess consort. So, I help him fulfill his wish this time.

On the last day before the college application portal closed, Juliette Larkin watched Colton Hayes reach for the mouse, delete the university choice they had agreed on together, and enter a completely different school. The school he picked was the one her best friend, Kelsey Tyndall, had been dreaming about for three years. Juliette's fingers went stiff over her keyboard. She could not process what she had just seen. "Colton, did you put in the wrong school? Why'd you suddenly pick Lakewood?" Colton closed the browser tab without so much as a glance her way. "It's not wrong. I'm not going to Stanmore anymore, Juliette. I'm going to Lakewood with Kelsey." "Why?" Juliette stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "We said we'd go to Stanmore together. You promised me." "It hit me that Kelsey's always loved the sycamore trees at Lakewood, so I'm going with her. You can just pick whatever school's nearby. It's not like your scores could get you into Lakewood anyway." His profile was calm and indifferent, while she was close to tears. The day their college entrance exam results came out, Colton had scored 650. When he asked about hers, Juliette had only smiled and said, "It's about the same as yours. We can go to Stanmore together, Colton." The truth was that she had scored 705, a full 55 points more. And the full score for this exam is 750. Even so, she had never once considered changing her plans. However, he was choosing Kelsey over her. In that case, she would choose her future over him. Juliette took a deep breath, turned to her computer, and changed her application. She was not going to Stanmore or Lakewood anymore. She was going to Kensington University, one of the country’s top-ranked schools, far away in the north.

At the wedding ceremony, just as I was about to formally greet Alexander York's parents as my in-laws, his longtime female best friend, Casey Clarke, sprang up from the groomsmen's table and charged onto the stage. She dropped herself into the chair beside Alexander's father and crooked a finger at me. "Come on, Lucille, honey, my daughter-in-law. Come over here and pay your respects." By local tradition, newlyweds kneel before their in-laws and pay their respects during the wedding ceremony. The guests burst out laughing. Without the slightest hint of shame, Casey pulled up a video from the night before and played it on the big screen. In the video, she straddled Alexander's lap, forcing him to call her "Daddy". After Alexander finally said it, she asked, "What if your bride-to-be refuses to play along?" He lowered his head and lit a cigarette, his smile full of certainty. "She wouldn’t dare. She loves me too much to embarrass me at our wedding." The video ended. Casey reached over and patted me on the head. "Well, Lucille?" I remain still. Alexander walked over to me. "Casey's been by my side for 20 years. If you marry me, the least you can do now is show her some respect." Back then, when she stole my wedding ring, he said a twenty-year friendship like theirs shouldn’t become distant because of me. When she left hickeys all over his neck, he told me a twenty-year friendship like theirs couldn't fall apart just because of me. Now, he was still using the same old excuse at our wedding to pressure me into giving in. Alexander leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Come on. One time on your knees in exchange for a lifetime of my love. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me." I looked at him and realized how straightforward this equation is. So I decided I no longer want the deal.

At the wedding reception, every place card at the last table bore an online username instead of a real name. I turned to my husband and quietly asked who these people were. Before he could answer, a young woman at the table blinked at me and said playfully, "Hey, we're not strangers. I've been hiking with Zane for three years. Every time we go out, we sleep in the same tent." The others at the table burst out laughing. "Say it. Does Zane snore in his sleep?" I stood there frozen, wineglass in hand, utterly humiliated. To my surprise, Zane laughed along with them. "They're all my friends. I bought you tickets to Caldera Bay for our honeymoon, but I'm not going. I finally have some time off after the wedding, so I'm planning to hike the Blackridge Trail with them." I was about to demand an explanation, but the young woman had already pulled Zane into the seat beside her and started drinking with him. She playfully punched him in the chest as she laughed, her tone half teasing and half annoyed. I thought about all the times over the years he'd left me behind just to go hiking, and my heart went cold. I turned and walked away, leaving Zane with a single message. [Our honeymoon is supposed to be something we share as a couple. Since you're unwilling to go, I'll just find somebody willing to.]

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”

Caleb Gallagher is still under the influence of anesthesia post-surgery when he calls out to his first love, Naomi Whitmore, while holding me. "I regret getting engaged to her, Naomi. It wasn't until after I left you that I realized I never stopped loving you. It's no big deal that I got stabbed while protecting you; I would have given up my life for you if you'd asked." A hush fills the room, and everyone looks at me with sympathy. I don't make a scene or throw a fit. Instead, I do Caleb a generous favor and call Naomi on the phone. "Come look after your husband. He is in surgery."

The young woman Royce Drayton has his eye on is fierce. He throws 200 million dollars at her, but she still refuses to leave her broke boyfriend. In a rage, Royce locks her away in his Crescent Shores villa for seven full days and nights. The staff whisper that Royce has his ways, that he can turn even the most defiant woman soft and willing. Afterward, he comes to me with the same easy apology he always gives. I can't even count how many times he cheats on me. Just like right now, I'm still giving him the cold shoulder over the secretary who crawls into his bed the month before, but he's already over her and on to someone new. It makes my jealousy feel pointless and a little pathetic. At some point, he stops even bothering with excuses and just tells me, "You're my only real wife. Isn't that enough?" I even start convincing myself that no man can resist temptation, especially not one who owns the entire city of Grayport. He's just playing around, and his heart is still mine. That's all that matters. But when I find out this young woman gets Royce to add her name to the Drayton family registry in just ten days, something I spent ten years trying and failing to earn, I know he's truly fallen for her. Later, I bring the terms of an old wager to Royce's mother myself. "I lost. I'll leave Grayport." "Sweetheart, love isn't something you win or lose." There's pity in her eyes, but she doesn't ask me to stay. She only asks, "Will you come back?" I beg the Draytons for their blessing to marry Royce. I cut ties with my own parents, give up everything, and swear never to leave this city. Now, standing at the waterfront one last time with the harbor wind on my face, I know I'm never coming back.

The pair of pink diamonds I've had my eye on for the longest time is finally auctioned off for a staggering price. Outside the auction hall, the young woman who won the bid is talking sweetly to someone on the phone. "Babe, you really don't have to come all the way here. Margot will be with me, so I'm good… Okay, fine. Love you!" I watch her with slight envy. Those pink diamonds are supposed to be my fifth-anniversary wedding gift. Before the auction, I've called my husband, Gabriel Hudson, and asked if he could come with me. But he said it was a trivial matter and that I could handle the bidding myself. The woman was on the phone earlier, and from what I could make out, they're planning to have dinner together to celebrate. My rideshare arrives. I'm about to leave when the woman suddenly shouts excitedly, "Margot, over here!" I follow her gaze. The person approaching is none other than my housekeeper, Margot Lawrence.

On Julian Sterling’s birthday, Zara Xavier secretly traveled six hours to his city to surprise him. She knew he had been eyeing a limited-edition watch, one of only a few in the world, so she arranged to meet a college student in person to buy it. When the girl arrived, Zara was surprised to see that she was pregnant. She was still in college, but her belly was already quite large. She was well into her third trimester. “Hi, I’m Zoey Ramsey. You’re the one who wanted the watch, right?” Zoey pulled the watch out of its original box and handed it to Zara as if it were no big deal. Zara happily took it. “Yes, this is the one. My husband really likes it. Ms. Ramsey, how much are you asking for it?” “One dollar.” “One dollar?” Zara frowned. “This watch is worth at least a hundred thousand dollars.” “Exactly! I only want a dollar. Today’s my husband’s birthday. I was going to give him this watch as a birthday present, but he was being mean and wouldn’t let me have any ice cream. So, I got mad and decided to sell his present instead!” As soon as she finished, her phone started ringing. She refused to answer. She pouted as she stared at the screen. “It’s definitely him. I’m not answering! Oh, are you free later? Why don’t you come hang out with us? My husband, Julian Sterling, owns the club.” Zara froze. “Wait. What did you say your husband’s name was?” Zoey flashed a bright smile and said without hesitation, “My husband’s name is Julian Sterling. We’ve been married for three years, and we’re about to have a baby.” Julian Sterling? Her husband was also named Julian Sterling and wanted the same limited-edition watch.

Six years ago, when the Berlandi family accused Nico Valenti of leaking their financial records, I found the evidence that proved him innocent. When they still refused to take him back, I mortgaged my mother's restaurant and put everything I owned on the line for him. With my backing, Nico eventually became the person in charge of Saint Vito Port. He promised that at this year's council meeting, he would openly introduce me as his wife. But that night, I was stranded at Blackwater Docks. I called Nico for help twelve times. He never came. Instead, he was at the council giving my pin to my best friend, Bianca Rossi, and letting her take my seat as his wife. When Bianca finally answered my call, she smiled and turned the camera toward the crowded hall. "Alessia, you're good at handling things. I'm sure you'll figure it out." Then Nico accused me of being petty. "It's her first time at the council. Do you have to embarrass her in front of everyone?" I looked at the seven fresh stitches in my palm and laughed. Nico had built his career with my help. Bianca was enjoying a status she'd gotten through me. Yet somehow, I was still the one expected to step aside just because I could "handle it." I didn't argue. I called the registrar. "Strip them of everything tied to my name. Effective immediately." If Nico and Bianca truly believed they had gotten this far without me, it was time for me to take back everything I'd given them.

When my father died, he left me with two prospective husbands. I was supposed to marry one of them, Nolan Mercer. But on our wedding day, he ran off with a housekeeper's daughter. So his younger brother, James Mercer, married me instead. On our wedding night, I slipped out onto the balcony and cried because I missed my father. James kicked the door open, mockery in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. "Are you really that heartbroken just because you had to marry me instead of Nolan?" For the next five years, he brought a different woman home every week. I swallowed the pain and did everything I could to be a good wife. But this time was different. Four months had passed, and the woman by his side was still the same one. My heart sank. She slipped her arm through his and said, "James, looks like the lady of the house is upset." James looked at me, his face unreadable, and let out a mocking laugh. "Lady of the house? She doesn't even want to be. She'd rather be the lady of the house across the street." That night, a gas leak sparked a fire in our home. James scooped the woman into his arms and rushed outside. I'd inhaled so much gas that my limbs had gone weak. I collapsed to the floor and watched him leave without a second thought. Something inside me finally snapped. I'd had enough of this miserable five-year marriage. This time, I was going to end it myself.

My husband, Graham Hale, was known in our circle for being almost impossible to rattle. In three years of marriage, nothing ever seemed to get much of a reaction out of him. When his company went public, all he said was, "Got it." When his father was in critical condition, Graham spent the entire night outside the operating room without ever looking shaken. Even the day I miscarried, he held me while I was still bleeding and calmly wiped away my tears. "Don't cry. We can have another." I always thought he just wasn't wired for strong emotions. Then one day, I happened to check his smartwatch. Over the past two weeks, it had recorded six unusual spikes in his heart rate. Every single one happened around 6:20 a.m. What could make a man who never lost his composure suddenly have a heart rate over 130? I got my answer two weeks after my older sister, Celeste Whitmore, came home following her divorce. One day, as I passed Graham's home office, I heard his mother ask, "After all these years, you still can't get over Celeste?" Graham was silent for a long moment before answering. "Yeah. I've had feelings for her since I first saw her in high school." His father sighed. "Then why did you marry her sister?" Graham looked down and slowly turned his wedding ring around his finger. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a business deal. "The Whitmores were on the verge of losing everything back then. "It didn't matter who I married. Marrying Dawn at least gave me a legitimate reason to put money into Whitmore Group. "That way, the Carvers wouldn't look down on Celeste." I stood outside the door, thinking about those six heart-rate spikes. Celeste went out for her morning run at around 6:20 every day. So Graham's heart could race after all. Just never for me. And in that moment, my own heart finally went still.

Ten years ago, I died in a shootout. My men recovered my body. I left behind only one daughter. My husband, Colton Rinaldi, found our daughter selling cigars at the docks. Under the blazing sun, she was drenched in sweat. The wooden crates had rubbed her shoulders raw and bloody. Colton's face fell. He pulled her aside. Then he demanded, beside himself with rage, "Why are you doing hard labor here? Where is your mother? How could she dump you in a place like this? "She's so damn selfish!" Mia Rinaldi had never seen him before. She stared at him, bewildered. "Who are you? Do you want a cigar? They're cheap." Colton lifted the crate off her shoulders. The veins on the backs of his hands bulged. "Even if she's angry with me, she has no right to torment you like this. Come with me. As far as you're concerned, you don't have a mother anymore." With that, he grabbed her hand and tried to lead her away. Panicked, Mia bit his arm and glared up at him. "Don't talk about my mom like that! Who are you? Get away from me! "Let go of me!" Blood streamed down Colton's arm. Colton went livid. "What has Monica Bellini been teaching you? She's angry with me, so she taught you to be this rude? "I'm your father!" My spirit hovered beside Mia. I tried to wipe away her frightened tears. My hand passed straight through her. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. How could Colton not know? I wasn't sulking. I was dead.

After finding out I'm pregnant again, I decide to check the trust fund I set up for my deceased daughter, Ivy Stewart. To my shock, I learn that someone has been withdrawing money from the account for the last five years. The first withdrawal happened the day Ivy passed away. Every year since, five million dollars has been withdrawn from the trust fund on Ivy's death anniversary, all transferred to the same account. Over dinner, I bring it up to my husband, William Stewart. He nonchalantly explains, "Ivy's death hit me hard, so I decided to do some charity work in her memory. I've been providing financial support to a little boy with leukemia all these years. He's a pitiful child, just like Ivy." Nevertheless, I still feel uncomfortable about the whole situation. "Why didn't you discuss things with me first?" Before William gets to say anything, my mother-in-law, Martha Cook, snaps at me, "Doing charity is a good thing! Why would William need to discuss it with you first? It's not like we can't spare the money. He's doing it in Ivy's memory, so don't be so petty!" I stop asking questions, but I secretly approach the fund manager, Shane Mitchell, and tell him I want to visit the boy. However, the fund manager looks at me, shocked. "Isn't the recipient your child? The money was transferred from the trust fund account with the explicit designation that it was for the child's education!"

I had just closed a ten-million-dollar deal. I was overjoyed and ready to go on a honeymoon trip with my husband, Braxton Darnell, to celebrate. However, just outside his study room, I overheard him talking to his assistant, William Goodwin. “For tomorrow’s flight, switch Adeline’s ticket to Vivienne’s.” My hand, which was about to push the door open, froze in midair. William hesitated. “But isn’t this supposed to be your honeymoon with Mrs. Darnell? “She has been looking forward to this for three months and pulled multiple all-nighters to clear her schedule. She was even hospitalized two days ago.” Braxton spoke as though this were a given. “Vivienne just got out of a relationship. She’s a mess right now. I’m worried she might do something stupid. “Adeline is already legally my wife. What’s the big deal if she gives up one honeymoon so I can be there for a friend? “When I get back, I’ll agree to give her a wedding ceremony. That’ll make it up to her.” The next day at the airport, Braxton pressed his hand over mine and explained, “The system must have glitched and booked the wrong ticket. You just wrapped up a huge deal. It’s the perfect time for you to rest at home. “While you’re at it, look into some wedding planners. Once I’m back, we’ll have the wedding.” I watched in silence as Vivienne pulled her suitcase and went through security. Seven years of being legally married to Braxton, and all I got in return was him going off to be another woman’s emotional crutch. She could have the wedding and the title of legal wife. I was done being Mrs. Darnell.

I accidentally discovered that my boyfriend's group chat with his friends had a nickname for me: the "Prank Endurance Queen." Every month, they held a vote to decide what they would do to me next. Some suggested pretending my boyfriend wanted to break up with me. Others wanted him to sleep with his girl best friend, Yvonne Mercer. Someone even put up two thousand dollars, betting on how long it would take me to cry after I found her pregnancy test report. For the past three years, I'd thought every one of those incidents had just been some terrible coincidence. Then tonight, they tricked me into coming to what I thought was my own proposal. There were roses, a ring, even a live band. Cole Lawson dropped to one knee and asked me to marry him. I had barely nodded when confetti suddenly burst into the air, and huge words flashed across the screen behind me. [CONGRATULATIONS! THIS MONTH'S PRANK WAS A SUCCESS! TIME: 47 SECONDS.] His wealthy friends nearly doubled over laughing, some of them slapping the table. Cole got to his feet and casually handed the ring to Yvonne, letting her play with it. "After all the times we've pranked you, how are you still falling for this?" Someone called out from the crowd, "Hey, future Mrs. Lawson, let's make next month's prank a big one!" I thought of Cole's profile picture in the group chat, the one that had placed the biggest bets on me for three years straight. Then I suddenly started laughing too. "Sure. Let's break up."

Graduation season arrived, and my boyfriend's childhood friend, an influencer, posted a video titled "The Four of Us Through the Years." It went viral overnight. Viewers envied the friendship the four of them had maintained for ten years, and many began shipping her with my boyfriend as childhood sweethearts. What no one knew was that I had filmed every piece of footage and written every word. The video was twenty minutes long, yet my name never appeared, and neither did my face. When I asked my boyfriend why, he replied flatly, "You didn't come along until college. You weren't part of those years." Later, I found a folder on his childhood friend's computer. Every clip that included me had been cut out and placed inside. The folder was labeled: [Outsider in Frame.] My boyfriend had even reminded them in their private group chat: [Make sure you get every last bit. Don't spoil the whole 'four of us' thing.] I didn't argue. I simply revoked their permission to use any of my footage. If there was no room for me in their memories, then they could stop using my footage to relive them.

Six months after Ryan Holt returned to our marriage, he was still trying to quit Winnie Lowe. For his birthday, I made him a chocolate cake from scratch. The moment he saw it, he said without thinking, "Too bad she prefers matcha." I'd never been afraid of thunder. But one night, with lightning flashing and thunder crashing outside, he pulled me into his arms in his sleep and murmured, "Don't be afraid." On Winnie's birthday, I watched him enter a long string of numbers from memory. He tossed and turned all night, but somehow stopped himself from making the call. He even set our wedding photo as his lock screen. Across it, he'd written in red: "Remember, this is the woman you love." "You have a responsibility to this family." He had to constantly remind himself because although he'd come home physically, emotionally, he was still with Winnie. And suddenly, I realized there was no point in clinging to this marriage anymore. Maybe it was time to let go.

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.

I had been dating my boyfriend, Julian Hayes, for four years, yet my best friend Fiona Blake still looked more like his girlfriend than I did. Whenever the three of us went furniture shopping, the sales associate would hand Julian and Fiona a catalog for couples. Whenever we went out for fondue, the server would ask if Julian and Fiona wanted a photo together. At the beach, a stranger once handed me her phone and asked, "Would you mind taking a picture of your friend and his girlfriend?" I smiled, took her phone, and raised it to take the picture. On the screen, Julian and Fiona looked every bit like a couple. Fiona always brushed it off. "We just have similar face shapes. It's a coincidence." Julian always reassured me. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. You're my only girlfriend." And year after year, I believed him. By our fourth year together, I started pushing him to finally set a wedding date. He said he was too busy and promised we'd set the date the following month. But when the next month came, he had another excuse. Fiona's visa was about to expire. She wanted to stay in the United States, and the easiest way to get a green card was through marriage. I stared at him. "And so?" He was silent for a long moment before finally answering. "I'll marry her first and sponsor her application. It's only a formality. Once she gets her green card, we'll get divorced." For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "And what about me?" He answered without hesitation. "Just give me a few years. It'll be over before you know it." A week later, Fiona posted a photo on Instagram. She held up their marriage certificate and leaned against Julian's shoulder, smiling so widely that her eyes crinkled. The caption read, "As of today, it isn't a coincidence. It's fate." I went back through years of messages. That was when I finally realized the truth. Julian had never once told anyone I was his girlfriend. Whenever strangers mistook Fiona for his girlfrien