Scumbag Melodramatic Short Stories & Novels

I was the best liar in the slums. I'd stolen church donations and forged medical records to get relief money. I'd even framed Clara Gray, my younger half sister, and gotten her kicked out of our home. Yet Alpha Logan Blackwood had taken one look at me at an underground auction and marked me as his. A werewolf took only one mate. For life. For three years, I'd played his sweet, submissive fated mate. Then someone brought Clara back from a casino. Clutching so-called evidence, she stood before him and sobbed. "My sister's been rotten since she was a child. She doesn't deserve to be your mate." Logan's expression turned cold. Right in front of me, he took Clara back to the pack house. "I thought you were my destiny. Turns out you're just a snake." That night, the backlash from his rejection killed me in the pack house basement. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the underground auction. The auctioneer had already raised his gavel. Before he could bring it down, I pointed at a man in the corner. "I'm selling my life to Kane Ashcroft."

My cheating wife suffered brain damage in a car accident. Her entire vocabulary shrank to "yes" and "no." She couldn't say another word. Better yet, every answer had to be true. Someone up there was watching over me! I asked her, "Were you cheating on me with my friend?" Her face went pale, but she couldn't stop herself from saying, "Yes." "Did you transfer any assets?" "Yes." "Is your bank card PIN your first love's birthday?" "Yes." Thanks to her inability to lie, I got my friend sent to prison and took all her assets. She couldn't even curse me out. Then one day, a pretty barista hit on me while making my coffee. I turned to my wife, who just stared blankly. "Are you even my wife? Doesn't that make you jealous?" She blurted out, "No." I froze and stared hard into her eyes. A long moment passed before I asked, "Then is my wife, Shannon York, dead?" "Yes and no."

Gavin Fletcher’s twin side chicks had caused trouble yet again. Having gone three months without contacting me, his very first call was to demand I clean up their mess. I agreed calmly. First, I spent the freezing winter night searching through a man-made lake to recover the necklace belonging to our partner’s wife, Mrs. Sinclair—a piece Stella Wright had thrown away in a fit of rage. Next, I took the fall for the video of Luna Wright stripping drunk at a private club, calling a press conference to issue a public apology. That same night, the hashtag #Oakhaven’sMostPatheticTrophyWife was trending like crazy. I swiped the notification away without giving it a second glance. In my past life, I had made a frantic, desperate scene over these two lovers of his, only to ask for a divorce in heart-wrenching despair in the end. Gavin hadn’t bothered to keep me. Instead he used every resource at his disposal to ensure I walked away without a penny. The ink was barely dry on my divorce certificate when I received my son’s diagnosis: terminal brain cancer. Staring at the astronomical figure in the medical expense column, I cast aside every ounce of dignity, begging on my knees before Gavin while sobbing my eyes out. Yet he simply sat there with the twins wrapped in his arms, ordering the butler to throw me out of his mansion. “Using your son’s life for reconciliation—the Fletcher name can’t have any tie to such a snake of a woman!” In the end, I could only watch helplessly as my son drew his final breath in my arms. Now reborn and given another chance, I would do anything to save my son’s life.

We had been in love for five years and married for three. My husband had taken the whole “going Dutch” to an absurd extreme. A two-dollar bottle of water for the house? Split it in half. A $105 utility bill? He'd send me a Venmo request for my half. He called it “the spirit of equality in a modern marriage.” According to him, rules were rules. I gritted my teeth and put up with it. Until I found out I was pregnant. To save money on the prenatal appointments and nutritional expenses he insisted we split, I could barely afford anything more than plain boiled eggs every day. Even when I was heavily pregnant and caught in a downpour, if I tried to call a cab, he'd lecture me for lacking the independence a modern woman was supposed to have. Yet when another woman told him she was “having a bad day,” he didn't hesitate to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on luxury goods for her. He even paid her expensive tuition to study abroad. I thought I'd already become numb to it all, so numb that I was prepared for whatever came next, even if it killed me. Then came the day when his disgusting penny-pinching calculations went too far. He tried to make me pay my “share” of the medication I needed to stay alive.

It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral. Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress." Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip. In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport. My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?" The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old. "I love Julian. I love everything about him." That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room. "I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this." I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent. Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

Five years after their breakup, Lauren Scott signed a master-servant contract with Yale Sutton, the ex-boyfriend who had been penniless when they were together. Yale would pay off her debts, and in return, Lauren had to fulfill his every demand. "Lauren, take off one piece of clothing, and I'll knock a million off your debt." Yale spoke slowly, his voice dripping with mockery. Around the private room, the men hooted and cheered while the women laughed and made teasing remarks. Lauren gritted her teeth. "Fine. Just don't go back on your word, Mr. Sutton." Without a moment's hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor, baring her porcelain-white skin and most of her full, rounded breasts. The room fell silent for a moment before whistles erupted from every direction.

When my best friend and I realized we had been reborn and traveled back several decades, we locked eyes, collapsed into each other's arms, and sobbed, shouting that we wanted to break off our engagements. The entire neighborhood whispered that we had lost our minds. But only we knew the truth. In our past lives, this was the day everything was sealed: she married a battalion commander, Ned Stark, and I became the wife of a high school teacher, Robbie Stark. My husband betrayed me. For the sake of that pretentious whore, Scarlett Wheaton, he stole my university admission letter and let her take my place on campus. The world mocked me as a failure, and Robbie stood by in silence. After we married, every time he touched me, he would immediately write another love letter to Scarlett—atoning for his supposed guilt. "Scarlett, even if I can't be with you in this life, my soul will always belong to you alone." Even my own child despised me, calling me an ignorant village woman, urging me again and again to divorce so that his father could be with his "true love," Scarlett. And my best friend, Rachel Croft—born the daughter of a factory director—was tricked by her husband, Ned, under the pretense of buying a house. He drained her savings and her wages for twenty long years. It wasn't until she fell gravely ill and went to sell the house that she discovered the deed he had given her was a forgery. The real house—the one paid in full—was in Scarlett's name. One of Scarlett's dresses cost more than my friend's entire monthly salary. When Rachel begged to reclaim what rightfully belonged to her, she was met only with contempt from Ned and her child. "All you ever care about is money. You're nothing like Scarlett, who isn't materialistic at all. Your illness is retribution," Ned had said. "Exactly. Only someone as noble and kind as Scarlett deserves to be my mother!" her child had said. Rachel and I both spent our lives working ourselves to the bone, only to end with nothing—dying bitter and broken from the injustice. But this time, fate has given us another chance. I will go to university. Rachel will become a wealthy woman. This time, without us paving the way, those shameless men and that wretched woman think they can still live happily ever after? Dream on.

Two rival packs, Black Moon and Bloodclaw, ruled the eastern werewolf territories, locked in a bitter feud over land. I was a pureblood Alpha Female, raised by Elias Reed, Black Moon's Beta and my foster father. Two years ago, I saved Gabriel Cross from a band of rogues who'd nearly beaten him to death. Later, we discovered we were fated mates. Ours was the first union between the two packs in a century. The two Alphas decided that once Gabriel and I completed our marking ceremony, they'd sign a peace treaty. But on the day of the signing, Bloodclaw warriors were ambushed on their way there. All the evidence pointed to Sera Lyle, the woman Gabriel had secretly loved for years. Yet he burned the evidence and let everyone blame me. “Sera's an Omega. If she confesses, they'll execute her! “You're an Alpha Female, and you're my mate. Even if you go on trial, the worst they'll do is banish you from the pack.” Even the people around him thought that made perfect sense. “Without Gabriel, who in Bloodclaw would ever accept you?” I searched desperately for clues and fought to clear my name, but Gabriel put me in chains and handed me over to the Werewolf Court. They were all waiting for me to confess. Black Moon's Alpha, James Thorne, and Bloodclaw's Alpha Female, Audrey Vance, were both at the trial. The moment they saw my face, they both shot to their feet. Nobody in either pack knew they'd once been in love. Or that I was their biological daughter, whom they'd left in the care of my foster father for 20 years.

On our fifth anniversary, Alpha Liam gave me nothing more than a simple pack mark of protection. That same night, he held a bonding ceremony with his first love, the she-wolf Seraphina. I refused to accept it. He accused me of being irrational. “My bonding with Seraphina is for the future of the pack, not because I still have feelings for her.” “You’re only human. Shouldn’t my pack’s mark be enough? This was your final test, Elena, and you’ve failed.” I walked away. And he turned around and proposed to Seraphina. Five years later, we met again at an exclusive hotel designated by the Alpha Council. His pack was on the verge of becoming a major power, and he had Seraphina, draped in a moonlight silk gown, on his arm. When he saw me, covered in sand and standing ankle-deep in the hotel’s ornamental fountain, he frowned. “Elena,” he scoffed. “You looked down on my protection back then. Look at you now. I bet you can’t find a single pack in this city willing to take in a human.” “And don’t think this pathetic display will make me take you back.” I ignored him. My cub’s treasured moonstone, a gift he’d found while combing the beach, had slipped into the fountain. The little guy was beside himself, and I had to find his precious amulet.

On the day of our graduation photo, the class started sorting everyone into groups. I'd barely taken my place beside my boyfriend, Evan Brooks, when someone started shouting. "Put Claire next to Evan!" "Right? Claire's the prettiest girl on campus. She belongs beside the campus heartthrob!" Before I could react, my childhood friend Liam took my arm and gently traded our positions. "Nina, switch with Claire. "It's only a graduation photo. Don't be petty." Evan smiled and didn't refuse. He only stepped half a step aside, opening a space for Claire. I froze where I stood and touched the barrette in my hair without thinking. It was the first gift he'd ever given me. I'd stood in front of the mirror for ages getting it right, because I wanted one proper photograph with him. Right before the shutter, Evan called to me. "Nina." My heart lurched. The next second, he reached up and took the barrette out of my hair. "Claire's hair is a mess. Let her borrow this." The teasing started up again. Claire lowered her head and smiled. Evan didn't explain. The photographer called out. "All right—happy graduation!" When everyone shouted it together, I was standing at the very edge. At that moment, I finally understood that I had never belonged there. Since I had no place in your graduation photograph, you would have no place in my future.

When my dad was diagnosed with cirrhosis, my husband was indifferent. "That illness is a bottomless money pit. We'll end up broke with nothing to show for it." My dad happened to hear every word. That night, he quietly left behind his entire life savings and bought a one-way train ticket back to his hometown alone. A week later, at the dinner table, my husband suddenly pushed a medical report in front of me, his voice tight with panic. "My dad has liver problems, too! Hurry and get him in to see the best specialist in the city!" I stared at him, my heart turning to ice. But on the surface, I showed nothing, nodding without hesitation. "Of course. If he's sick, we should get him the best doctor and make sure he receives the best care possible."

Lawrence Yancey gave me a supplementary card with a spending limit of 300 dollars, and any excess required his approval with a receipt. He said this was to ensure transparency in the management of the family's finances. I did as he asked for three years. At last month's medical checkup, I was diagnosed with thyroid nodules, and the doctor recommended that I undergo a needle biopsy. I took a picture of the bill and sent it to him. “7,200 dollars?!” He replied in an instant. “It’s just a nodule. Can’t you just monitor the situation first?” I didn’t reply to his text and canceled the appointment. That night, when he got home, he flung two shopping bags onto the floor by the foyer. I recognized that logo. I opened one of the bags and pulled out a necklace worth 8,600 dollars. A greeting card lay at the bottom of the bag with a message in his handwriting. “Happy birthday, Wendy. You deserve the best.” Wendy was his new colleague in the Planning Department. At last month’s department gathering, she had even asked me with a smile, “Mrs. Yancey, is Lawrence extremely generous to you?” I put the greeting card back where I found it. My mom ended up accompanying me to the test for the nodule, which turned out to be benign. The day my report was out, I didn’t tell him the results. I told the court instead. When he received the court summons, he asked, “Can’t we talk things through?” I finally learned how to use the phrase he taught me: “Send in an application and wait for my approval.”

A day before our wedding, my fiancé, Vincent Anderson's friends egged everyone on. They wanted to play a "bride challenge" game. My best friend, Anna Reid, and I were answering the questions about Vincent at the same time. Every time I lost a question, I was to hand out one thing that belonged to the bride. The first question was on Vincent's favorite color. I answered black, and Anna answered blue. Even though Vincent did not own a single piece of blue clothing, everyone shouted in unison, "Anna's right!" I had no choice but to take off my wedding shoes. The next question was Vincent's what he most wanted to eat when his stomach hurt. I answered oatmeal porridge, and Anna answered chicken noodle soup. Once he ended up in the emergency room after eating chicken noodle soup when he had gastritis. All these years, I was the one who woke up in the middle of the night to make him oatmeal porridge. I was about to protest when Vincent's face fell. "Do you really need to prove that you know me the most?" I handed over my bridal bouquet. It continued until we reached the very last question. "Who does Vincent want to marry the most tomorrow?" I clenched my wedding ring in my hand as Anna smiled and pointed at herself. The next second, Vincent walked past me and held Anna's hand. The whole room erupted in cheers and teasing shouts. "That's correct!" Following the rules, I lost my ring, and I lost my groom too. Vincent forcefully took my wedding ring off and put it on Anna's finger. Then, he turned to me. "It's only one rehearsal. "Don't be a sore loser!" I looked at everyone as they laughed, and I suddenly realized something. The answers did not matter. They had never intended to let me win from the very beginning. I took off my veil and placed it in Anna's arms. "Alright then. "Then tomorrow's wedding can be her reward too."

I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school. By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official. But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him. Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you." My whole body went cold. And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter. The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed." June, four years ago. That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love. He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.

On the last day before my study-abroad application closed, I was about to give up my full scholarship offer. Then, out of nowhere, I got a call from my future self. "Don't give it up. Click confirm enrollment. Right now." "Harley locked in his own graduate placement three months ago. The only reason he wants you to stay is that Katy needs you to finish her senior thesis for her, and he needs your money every month to live on. "Two weeks after you turn down that offer, the two of them go public with their relationship. "That so-called best friend of yours, Katy? She already betrayed you. She's been sleeping with him." I froze, my finger hovering over the mouse. The voice kept going, speaking faster and faster. "Listen carefully. Once you confirm the offer, take the twenty thousand dollars left in your account and put every cent into the Eklund Growth Fund. It goes public next March. It'll grow eightfold within the year. "Once you're abroad, apply to your advisor's AI lab before your first semester ends. That project gets acquired by Coogle two years from now, and as a core team member, you'll get a share of the payout. "Twenty-two-year-old me, I'm begging you. Stop wasting yourself on people who don't deserve it." The voice cut off. I took a deep breath and moved the cursor to "Confirm Enrollment." The instant I clicked, my mind was made up. I wasn't going to bury my own future for anyone who wasn't worth it.

When I reach the underground parking lot, I find out that my husband, Victor Blake, has parked his car in a slanted manner. Great, his car has taken over my parking slot again. I call him and tell him to get his ass downstairs so that he can move the car out of my parking slot. While waiting for him, I come across a post on the Internet. "I'm screwing the brains out of my mistress right now. What should I do to avoid getting discovered by my wife, who might be home anytime soon?" The comment section goes nuts. Apparently, the original poster has left a like on one of the comments. "Park your car in a way that it eats into your wife's parking slot. That way, she'll have to call you every time she gets home. Not only do you have time to clean up the scene and protect your mistress, but you also get to tell your wife in a righteous manner that you're reserving a parking slot for her." I frown immediately. As soon as I tap on the WhatsApp chat, I hear someone knocking on my window. Victor can be seen jiggling his car keys outside the car. "What's with the rush? I did this just so I can reserve a parking slot for you, you know."

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.

After my secret crush was discovered, my adoptive uncle Kieran, who always loved me, completely became a different person. He no longer smiled at me, and he began to stay far away from me. I tried everything, even stripped naked and stood before him begging him to mark me. All I got in return was his words of rejection: disgusting. Three months later, he even brought my best friend Scarlett home and claimed her as his fiancée. Looking at the deep wariness in his eyes toward me, I suddenly smiled with relief. I agreed to my Alpha grandfather's tentative proposal for an arranged mating. But when I finally gave up him and mated to another Alpha, why did he beg me to come back?

For seven years, I took medicine to suppress my Alpha bloodline, all to protect the fragile pride of my Beta boyfriend, Liam. On the night of our anniversary, he chose not to show up. He was with a Highborn she-wolf he had only just met. He believed I was nothing more than an ordinary Omega in the pack, someone he could discard at will and win back with gifts. He claimed my bloodline could never compare to hers. Liam never knew the truth. I carried the purest Alpha bloodline because I was a Moonborn. When he finally realized what he had lost and came begging for me to return, it was all too late. My new Alpha mate was standing by my side, shielding me from Liam. His betrayal ended our story, but my true beginning had only just unfolded.

For seven years, I stood by Reese Moretti as he fought his way up from a mafia nobody until he stood as an equal among the Three Families. Then I got pregnant with Reese's child. He promised me the wedding of the century. I was overjoyed and couldn't wait for our future together. Until his childhood sweetheart, Layla, came back, and everything changed. Layla was frail, and she'd once done Reese a great favor. Without even realizing it, he began to favor her over me—his fiancée. One week before the wedding, Layla shoved me to the floor. She leaned in close to my ear. "Ivy, if Reese walks in and sees us both on the floor, who do you think he'll worry about?" Before I could react, Layla suddenly screamed and collapsed. When Reese rushed in, Layla was clutching her chest, whispering weakly that her old heart condition had flared up. "Reese, I can't breathe. I don't think I can hold on much longer." Before I could say a word, Reese scooped Layla up in his arms and rushed her to the private medical wing. Blood spread beneath me. In that moment, the pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony of my heart tearing apart. Seven years of love and the child not yet fully formed inside me vanished in that single instant. Heartbroken and numb, I decided to leave and let them be together. But Reese refused to let me go.