Scumbag Regret Short Stories & Novels

On the day of mafia families' annual gathering, my mother and I sat in the back of a Lincoln, heading toward the Falcone estate. I was adjusting my dress when my phone buzzed with a video from my fiancé's secretary. The footage showed a middle-aged woman being dragged by her hair across a marble floor. Her cheek was already swelling, red and angry. The secretary's sharp voice cut through the audio as she delivered slap after slap. "Gianna, you pathetic gold-digger! Did you really think you could fool Don Falcone into marrying you, and then let your thieving mother wander into the estate to lift his mother's jewelry? Please." Another slap. The woman's head snapped to the side. "I'm doing Don Falcone a favor by handling this trash." I lowered the phone. My mother sat beside me, checking her watch with a slight frown. When she felt my gaze, she looked up and smiled, then reached over to fold my hand between both of hers. "The Falcone family is struggling with the new casino licensing, but we can help them with that since Don Falcone is your fiancé," she said lightly, "He is a striking man, sweetheart. Once the alliance is sealed, your father and I can help straighten things out." I frowned and replayed the video. Long dark hair pulled back loosely. Warm brown eyes filled with pain. A small scar on her left eyebrow. Oh God. The injured woman was none other than Anthony's mother! I called the secretary immediately. "Lilian, you idiot. That's Anthony's mother!" She let out a vicious laugh. "Please, I know exactly who you are, Gianna. A nobody his father pushed onto him. Don Falcone doesn't give a damn about you, so why would he care about your family?"

On the day the earthquake hits, my father, Collin Rimes, carries my injured little sister, Poppy Rimes, on his back, trekking about four miles through the mountains before finally reaching the emergency relief camp. His spine is bent low as he paces back and forth outside the command center in anxious hesitation before finally plastering a pleading, subservient smile on his face. "I'm looking for Captain Rubin. I'm his father-in-law. My little girl is injured. Could you please find a place for her?" The guard in camouflage frowns and heads inside to report. A moment later, Scotty Rubin's cold voice drifts out of the tent. "There are injured people everywhere waiting for help, from three-year-olds to 80-year-olds. Every one of them is just as desperate. But we follow protocol here. No special treatment." The smile on Dad's face freezes. Lost and helpless, he glances down at Poppy, who's drenched in cold sweat from the agonizing pain. His Adam's apple bobs, and he swallows the words he wants to say. Nodding emphatically, he hoists Poppy onto his back and shuffles to the side. "Yes, yes, of course. We should follow the rules. That's only right. Scotty is right." Seeing this, a sharp, suffocating pain stabs through my heart. But just as I'm about to speak up, I manage to get a peek at Scotty's phone lighting up on the desk. The latest message is to the woman he's never truly gotten over. "Don't worry, Mae. I've already arranged a private shelter for you. You and your family can all go there. There'll be hot meals, hot water, and dedicated doctors on standby." In that instant, I realize I'm the world's biggest joke. Well, since that's the case, I'll just set Scotty free.

While tidying the house, I discover that my newly bought pack of sanitary pads has been opened. Without any hesitation, I contact my lawyer to have him draft up a divorce agreement and send it to Lucas Gardner. It doesn't take long before Lucas calls me. "This again? What's your reason this time?" Biting my lower lip, I answer, "There's one less pad in my drawer."

My childhood sweetheart hated me for tearing him away from the Beta's daughter, and he hated that my father was the pack's Alpha. My father not only sent the woman my childhood sweetheart loved off to another pack to be their Luna, he even refused to let him reject the mate bond that tied us together. For seven years after the marking, he wept every single night. "The North is bitter and brutal. How will Gianna ever survive there?" But to me, the woman he lived beside every day, he had only this to say. "Why did the Moon Goddess bind us together? I don't care about Alpha blood at all..." "If I could, I'd wish I had never met you!" Every night we shared one bed, yet our hearts felt miles apart. For Gianna's sake, he fought against the pull of fate itself. But the day the vampires attacked the pack, he shielded me behind him. Claws tore through fur, fangs sank into his forearm, and a cold silver dagger buried itself in his heart. His scalding blood splashed across me. I tried to drag him to the statue of the Moon Goddess, but he shoved me away without a moment's hesitation. "I've already failed the woman I love in this life. I won't fail the pack too." "Matilda, the bond between us is finally broken. In the next life, may we each get what we truly want..." With that, his wolf faded into nothing. The pack was destroyed, and I would not go on living in a world without it. That day I cut out my own heart with a silver blade, and as the Alpha's daughter, I shielded the pack's people with my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they chose who would be sent north to marry. "Father, I'm willing to go to the North and become the Luna of its Alpha." This time, I'll let them have their happiness, and I'll claim my own!

Luca Moretti was the heir to the Moretti family, and my childhood sweetheart, the boy I had loved for five years. He always said I would be his wife once he took over the family. Then one night, with his arms still around me, he asked for another woman’s number. “Bella, we’re going to get married sooner or later.” “But do you really expect me to spend the rest of my life with only one woman?” “I won’t let anyone touch the position of Mrs. Moretti. You’re smart enough not to make trouble over this.” That was when I finally understood. He wanted my loyalty, my patience, and my silence. But he had never planned to give me the same. The day I moved out of his house, Luca blocked the door. “We’re not over. I can have fun, and so can you. Why are you acting like this?” I picked up my suitcase. “No.” “I’m traditional.” Later, when he finally came back for me, his eyes bloodshot and his voice breaking as he begged me to give him one last chance, I looked at the ring on my finger and smiled. “Sorry.” “I don’t take back what someone else only remembers after letting go.”

I used to think loving Karl Varek long enough would make him love me back. Even when high society mocked me for being a poor orphan who didn’t belong beside the billionaire heir of the Varek empire, I endured it all quietly. After all, his grandfather forced him to marry me because I once saved his life. I knew Karl never wanted me but I still foolishly believed that one day, I could become more than just his unwanted wife. I was wrong. For three years, my husband humiliated me openly. He brought different women home, let the media compare me to his beautiful ex-girlfriend, and watched silently while everyone treated me like a shameless gold digger clinging desperately to the Varek name. But the cruelest part? I still stayed. The night I discovered I was pregnant, I thought everything would finally change. I rushed to tell Karl the news only to overhear him telling his friends that I was nothing more than a burden forced onto him by his grandfather. He said I disgusted him. He said I was never worthy of becoming his wife. And while his ex sat in his arms, he looked me in the eyes and admitted he would never love me. Heartbroken and humiliated, I walked into the street and got hit by a car. But when I woke up in the hospital, I couldn’t remember the man I once loved so desperately. Suddenly, the wife who used to beg for Karl’s attention no longer cared about him. And for the first time in three years, Karl Varek panicked at the thought of losing me.

After Silas Sterling and I began our long-distance relationship, he sent me a blind box every month. Each one was his way of replacing the companionship he could not give me, helping us get through the long years apart. Two years ago, Silas made me a promise. "Once I take over my family's company, I'll bring you home. I'll make sure you can stand proudly by my side." For that single promise, I waited in a city more than 1,200 miles away through hundreds of lonely days and nights. Then, inside the 773rd blind box I opened, I found a first-class plane ticket to Sutherland. On the flight, I could barely contain my excitement. My obvious happiness made the young woman beside me smile. She cheerfully showed me a photo of herself with her fiance, her face glowing with joy. "We're getting married in three days." The moment I saw the wedding photo on her screen, my fingers froze on the boarding pass I had been absentmindedly stroking. The groom-to-be in that picture was the very man I had traveled more than a thousand miles to see.

Colton and I were the two most notorious good-for-nothings in the Sicilian mafia. My oldest brother, Dominic, was the Don of the Turner Family. My other brother, Luca, laundered money for the entire operation. That made me the Family princess who did nothing but max out my brothers' credit cards. Colton had been frail since birth. His hands shook whenever he held a gun. But his oldest sister, Serena, ran several arms routes in the south, and his other sister, Natalia, commanded one of the world's top assassin teams. One day at the racetrack, the four of them got to talking. "Since none of us can stop worrying about the little ones, why not put them together? Easier to keep an eye on both." Just like that, Colton and I got married. We were moved into the Family estate, and life was peaceful and easy. That peace lasted until it was time for me to go abroad with Colton for his long-term treatment. The night before we left, our brothers and sisters threw us a farewell banquet so we could make our formal debut before the Family. At the banquet, Beth, the daughter of the Garry Family, insisted I was the mistress her husband kept on the side. "I don't know your husband, and I'm definitely not his mistress. My husband is right over there." I pointed him out to her. Colton was stuffing cake into his mouth, his hands already starting to tremble. Beth burst out laughing. "You think pointing at some idiot will fool anyone? I've seen plenty of women like you!" She shoved me hard. I crashed into the champagne tower, knocking it over. Glass shattered across the floor, and the deafening noise drew a crowd. A jagged shard sliced a deep gash into my leg. Blood poured out. Colton panicked when he saw what happened. He rushed forward, shoved Beth aside, and was ready to fight. Beth was furious. "So he really is an idiot. Throw them both into the sea." I fought with everything I had and managed to dial Dominic. My voice shook. "Dominic, someone's trying to kill me." They had no idea wha

Shawn Bryant had touch starvation, yet he never let me touch him so much as accidentally. We'd lived together for four years, and every night he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around a goose plush toy. "Holding it simulates an embrace," he told me once. "It gives me a sense of security. It calms my nerves." I curled into his arms and pouted. "Isn't holding me the same thing?" He gently pushed me away and rolled over to hug the goose instead. "Don't start. Bebe's soft. It's comfortable to hold." One time I threw the goose in the washing machine, and Shawn lost his temper completely. "What if it's ruined now?" I didn't think much of it. "So we'll buy another one." "You don't understand anything!" He didn't speak to me for days after that. While he was in the shower, I snuck a look at his phone, hoping to find where he'd bought Bebe so I could replace it and make peace. His screen was still open to a chat thread. Every message in it had an exclamation point beside it, marking it as unsent. Shawn: [Holding Bebe is like holding you.] Shawn: [I can't sleep at all without you.] Shawn: [Cynthia, when are you finally coming back?] The last message had been sent the day before. The exclamation point beside it was gone, and a reply sat underneath it, glaring up at me. Cynthia: [This time it was a hug. What about next time?] My mind went blank. I looked at the goose lying on the bed and suddenly found the whole thing pointless. Shawn, if you were never going to let anyone actually touch you, then I'm done trying to be the one.

The night the hurricane made landfall, the emergency alert had barely stopped sounding when my sister-in-law, Brielle Rourke, called again. I listened to her helpless sobbing, then calmly handed the phone to my husband, Caleb Rourke, who was busy boarding up the balcony doors. Whatever she said, he kept agreeing to it. He pulled on a rain jacket and gave me that practiced, guilty look. "Her window's broken, Lena. She's all alone over there. I'll patch it up and I'll be back before the worst of it hits, I promise." Once again, it wasn't a discussion. It was an announcement. Five years of marriage, and every storm had gone exactly the same way. The moment the thunder started, her call came right on schedule. I used to fight about it, but he always said, "My brother died young. Brielle's raising his son by herself. We help when we can." "You're a grown woman, and a strong one. You can look after yourself and our son, right?" The wind split the glass, and the shards opened my calf to the bone. I reached for the baby sweater I'd never finished knitting. Tonight, Caleb, I don't think your son or I need you anymore.

I spent seven years drafting divorce papers for other people. I never expected that the ninety-ninth agreement would be my own. That night, my husband, Carter, lost a tabletop game during a live stream with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. The penalty was to give up the thing he treasured most. Chloe smiled at the camera, tapping his wedding ring. "Lend me your marriage for a day." The comment section blew up. Carter looked at me like he was giving orders to an assistant. "Evelyn, you know the drill. "Sign a temporary divorce agreement. I’ll cancel it with you tomorrow morning." Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "Forget it. She won't let you. You always choose her over me anyway." I reached into my bag and touched the positive IVF result. Seven years of hormone shots. Four miscarriages. I didn't even have the energy to tell him anymore. As the camera zoomed in on my face, I pushed the papers back across the table. "Carter, this time, I’m putting down a bet, too. “I bet the thing you lose tonight isn't just me.”

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.

When my water broke, I found out my husband, Damian Keats, had given away my private maternity suite to his childhood friend Sienna Lowe, because she had a stomachache. The top-tier medical team I'd arranged became an overflow bed in a drafty hallway without so much as a curtain around it. He was pouring warm water for Sienna when I said something about it, and he didn't even turn his head. "I got the name on the booking wrong. She's already settled in, so just make do out there for one night." I got it wrong. I'd been listening to that sentence for five years. He got the hospital wrong when I registered for prenatal care, and it happened to be the private clinic where he'd spent the whole day waiting on Sienna's cosmetic appointment. He got the food order wrong at the worst of my morning sickness, and the tart drink I could actually keep down turned into the ghost-pepper wings Sienna loved. He even got the crib size wrong, which is how it ended up as a bed for Sienna's dog. To keep him from getting anything else wrong, I paid the full twelve-thousand-dollar deposit on the private maternity suite six months early and taped the confirmation to the most obvious spot on the refrigerator. I set countdown reminders in my own phone, three times a day. He still got it wrong when he checked me in. Damian noticed how white my face was and frowned a little. "Fine, I got it wrong this time. But you're having a baby. What difference does the room make?" He waved it off the way he always did, and I decided I wasn't gambling my life on him again. I worked the IV out of the back of my hand and dropped my bloodstained wedding ring in the trash. "You're right. It's just a baby. But whatever last name this one carries, it won't be yours."

Natalie Shaw, the dance company's new understudy, slipped razor blades into my practice outfit and left my back slashed and bloody. My boyfriend, Derek Mercer, the theater's associate director, sent her makeup case skidding across the room with one furious kick. "Touch her again, and I'll end you!" Natalie was thrown out of the rehearsal room, her eyes rimmed red. After that, she didn't just refuse to back down. She hired a few thugs to corner me in the alley behind the theater. Derek threw himself in front of me to block a steel pipe, fracturing his arm. Everyone said Derek would die for me. Then, at a sponsors' dinner the night before the tour, I drank a glass of wine Natalie handed me. Within minutes, my limbs went slack and my skin began to burn. I dragged myself into a storage closet at the end of the hall, only to hear Natalie's syrupy voice just outside the door. "The way you took that beating for her two days ago almost broke my heart. But..." Fabric rustled, and Natalie giggled. "Back in the private dining room, you watched me slip something into her drink. You knew those sponsors had cameras ready and were waiting for her. And you just stepped out for a smoke." "You let me destroy her reputation, so the principal role is mine now. Right?" Derek said nothing. He only pinned her against the door. The door vibrated slightly, striking a heavy blow against my heart. He had already given his heart to someone else.

Seven years with Luke Bates, and he still can't remember that I have a seafood allergy. Yet he treats that faded lucky charm locket in his car like a sacred treasure. Inside lies a note that says, "May God bless that specific someone with top marks. If it works, I'll go vegan for three months." Luke calls it a prank by his high school buddy and tells me not to get jealous over nothing right before we register our marriage. I believe him, happily pouring my heart into planning our wedding. Then comes today. I accompany him back to his hometown for a banquet, only for a woman in a floral dress to burst through the door with tears pooling in her eyes. The elders pulled her over, their faces full of concern. "Phoebe, you must be exhausted from that pilgrimage. Come, sit next to Luke." A few drinks in, someone speaks, slurring their words. "Remember when Phoebe casually mentioned praying for a favor? Luke went vegan with her and ended up with a stomach ulcer." I take a quiet sip of juice, listening in silence. It turns out the charm locket that has hung in his car for seven years wasn't for a buddy at all. It's for his first love.

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.'

After saving money with Justin Pierre for five years, we finally went to view a house. My best friend, Maria Houston, came along too. "The master bedroom needs a walk-in closet. Can we knock down this wall?" she asked Justin while pointing at the floor plan I had been looking at for the past six months. "I'll get a designer to take a look tomorrow. You can change it however you want." The two of them discussed everything, from the direction the apartment faced to the tiles, from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the bathtub. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner, unable to get a word in. When it was time to sign the papers, he seemed to suddenly remember I was here and said, "We'll put this place under Maria's name for now. She's here all by herself, so consider it a company benefit. The company is a little tight on cash lately. You can keep renting for another two years." However, I had also left my hometown behind to build a life with him from nothing five years ago. Back then, we had squeezed into a tiny apartment without even air-conditioning, and he had made me a promise with absolute certainty. "Once the company takes off, the first thing I'll do is give you a home." Now that the company had finally succeeded, the first home he bought was for someone else. I stared at the two signatures side by side on the contract and realized there was no place for my name. Since he had already planned a future that did not include me, I was not going to wait for him anymore. Thinking about it, I opened the page to terminate my lease and confirmed it.

"Your Highness, are you really going to secretly take blood from Miss Jerryton's heart and treat Miss Mullery with it?" The elderly imperial physician's hand that held the dagger trembled. The candlelight reflected the cold sweat on his forehead. Arrisa Jerryton lay on the bed. Her thin body sank into the luxurious quilt, and her face was as white as the first snow of winter. Louis Xavier spoke in a tone colder than the snow outside the palace. "Yes. I already fed her anesthetic powder. She is in a coma and will not wake up. Hurry up."

After divorcing my unfaithful husband, Yale Gibson, I end up completely miserable. So when we remarry, I become the perfect wife he always wanted. When rumors swirl about him and Willow Leeds, I step forward to clear his name. When Willow falsely accuses me, he turns a blind eye while I immediately take the blame and apologize. Even when I'm set up and brought to the police station, I refuse to call him to bail me out. I simply tell the officers I have no family, letting them lock me up for an entire week. Seven days later, the heavy gates of the police station clang open at dusk. A sleek black Cullinan screeches to a halt right in front of me. Yale strides over, his brow furrowed slightly. "Sarah, why didn't you call me when you ran into trouble?" he asked. I give a faint, distant smile. "It's nothing serious. I didn't want to bother you." A flicker of unease crosses Yale's eyes. He replies, "I was overseas with Willow the past couple of days and didn't check my messages." He pauses, then lowers his voice. "I'm sorry." "It's fine," I say smoothly. "I wasn't expecting you to come anyway. Just focus on what you have to do." Yale stares at me for a moment before suddenly grabbing my wrist. "Why aren't you upset?" he asks. He keeps his eyes on me, confusion flickering in them, along with a hint of unease. I find it almost funny and reply, "Why would I be upset? You gave me an explanation, and I accepted it. There's nothing to be upset about." "Yale…" I look at the man in front of me, completely confused. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

For generations, every she-wolf born into the Frostmoon Pack has been an Omega. We aren't fighters, but our bloodline can stabilize an Alpha's power and produce exceptionally strong heirs. When I came of age, our pack's centuries-old tradition dictated that I should bond with Lucas Grant, the Alpha of the Blackstone Pack. My parents had always put pack law above everything else. Yet for the first time, they urged me to defy tradition and refuse. But I was already in love with Lucas. I ignored their warnings and bonded with him anyway. On our tenth bonding anniversary, I came home to find another she-wolf in our bedroom. She lay in our bed, carrying the unmistakable scent of a pregnant she-wolf. The same scent I carried. But Lucas forcibly shut down the link between us and shielded her. "Evelyn, I'm sorry. Vivian just found out she's carrying my pup. Her wolf is restless, and she needs my scent to calm down. Sleep in another room tonight. If you're upset, I can apologize." Even his apology sounded polite, as though he were simply telling me about a change in sleeping arrangements. He probably expected me to cry and cause a scene like I used to, demanding to know why he kept bringing other she-wolves home. But this time, I said nothing. I was already exhausted. What Lucas didn't know was that a mate bond without true love would eventually disappear. Ten years was the limit. At last, I was free to leave him.