Mistress

I had just returned early from a business trip abroad, eager to surprise my five-year-old son. However, as I stood at the entrance of his preschool, the sight before me froze me in place. My son was clinging to my husband's "first love," calling her "Mom." I moved forward to get my son back, but before I could do anything, she screamed, "Help! A kidnapper is trying to take this child! Let's do the right thing today! Stand up for families who've had their kids stolen!"  She egged on the bystanders, rallying them to act in the name of justice. Without a second thought, a crowd of people pummeled me right there in the street, hitting me with rocks that smashed into my face, breaking my legs with metal pipes, and ripping the clothes from my body before tying me to a streetlamp. It was only then that I realized that in the month I'd been away, my husband had moved his first love into our home, taking my place. However, did he forget? He was nothing more than a man who married into my family! I couldn’t wait to see who couldn’t live without the other!

"Hi there, I'd like to emigrate." Christina stood at the counter and handed over the neatly prepared documents to the clerk on the other side of the glass. The clerk quickly stamped each page. The red ink spread like tiny ripples on still water. Then, without looking up, he pulled out another form and passed it back to her. "Ma'am, your paperwork will be processed in fifteen days." Christina nodded, turned on her heel, and headed for the exit. But before she could step outside, whispers trailed after her. "Did I see that right? Mrs. Waldorf is applying for emigration? Did she have a squabble with Mr. Waldorf?" "Even if they argued, would it go this far? Mr. Waldorf practically worships her. What could possibly make her leave so decisively?" "Exactly. Five years ago, their wedding was the event of the century. Even someone like me, who barely goes online, heard about it. And three years ago, after her car accident, the blood bank ran out of stock. Mr. Waldorf ignored everyone's objections and nearly drained himself to save her. Then, just last year, when she disappeared for an hour, he mobilized every media outlet worldwide to find her. Now she's leaving without a word—won't that drive him insane?" The murmurs swirled and lingered, but Christina only smiled faintly. Her expression was calm, but her eyes darkened with a bitterness that deepened with every step. Yes, she thought. Everyone knew just how much Lucien Waldorf loved her.

After I studied and lived in Descensio for five years, I finally graduated and was ready to return to my home country to take over my dad's company. When I arrived at the Sullivan Group building, I took a picture and posted it on my Instagram story with the caption. 'Since you're the man I love most, I'm here to see you immediately after graduation.' Yet, a woman appeared out of nowhere and slapped me as soon as I arrived at the company's lobby. "It's her! She's the hussy! She had seduced my husband back in high school. Now that my husband has become the director, she shamelessly showed up here to flirt with him. So, I want you girls to beat her up. I'll take the blame if anything happens." While the woman was cooking up a story about me seducing Marcus Lane, a director of Sullivan Group, others around simply looked on coldly and judged me. She slashed my limited-edition bag to pieces and smashed the expensive seal I wanted to give my dad. "You're just a gold digger wearing and buying fake luxury goods. It's just a few hundred dollars. I can still afford to pay you." However, little did she know that everything I had was real. Even if she and her director husband worked for the rest of their lives, they would never be able to afford to pay for the damages.

Rozelyn found out she is a vampire when she turned eighteen. To make matters worse, her stepmom is secretly a vampire as well and Cyrill, her stepmom's adoptive son, is a werewolf behind the shadows. As she live the life of being a vampire, several people had come for her—including the infamous Blood Mistress, a witch who hunts vampires and werewolves. Rozelyn become more fascinated with the vampire life, especially when she found out that sex plays a huge role in a vampire's everyday living and it acts like blood: once they tasted it, they will crave for it even more. Will Rozelyn be able to voice out her secret love to Cyrill without risking the familial relationship they have built for years? Or will she watch her loved ones perish due to her identity as the most powerful vampire to ever live? Amidst all these, only one thing is certain: Blood is thicker than water—either literally or figuratively.

In the third year of our marriage, my husband's first love got a divorce. He gave her the forty-five thousand dollars we had saved for a house because she was left with nothing and struggling to make ends meet. I urged him to ask for the money back, but he pointed at my face and angrily shouted, "You used to be so gentle and virtuous—what happened? Why are you so selfish, so shallow now?" "Is forty-five thousand dollars really worth you making a fuss over?" "Chloe is starting over with nothing, raising a child on her own. Don't you feel any sympathy for her?" Fine. He was noble, he was merciful. I did not argue further, because the one who needed money for cancer treatment was him, not me.

As the plane was going down, we discovered one of the parachutes was defective. In that life-or-death moment, Eugene Shaw handed me the last working parachute. I made it to the ground, but my illegitimate sister, Sharon Cook, was lost in the crash, her remains never recovered. After our rescue, Eugene kept his word and married me, fulfilling our engagement. The wedding was extravagant, but our marriage was a complete disaster. For six years, he lived with a searing hatred, convinced I was responsible for Sharon’s death. To him, I was a villain, and my life became a living hell. When we finally reached the end of our toxic marriage, Eugene dragged me back to the site of the crash, choosing to end both our lives in a twisted act of vengeance. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day, just before the crash. This time, I decided to give the chance of survival to the person he loved most.

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."

My best friend was a "mistress breakup consultant". I had lent her money to start her business, and her very first job turned out to be breaking up my own marriage. "Jessie, what's the point of a loveless marriage? You've wasted Harold's time for five years. Are you really going to keep clinging to him and making him miserable for the rest of his life?" my best friend asked. I laughed at the self-righteous nonsense she was spouting and had security escort her out. She came right back, though, this time with a so-called "Anti-Mistress Alliance", live-streaming the chaos as they broke into my company. "The one who isn't loved is the real intruder!" "Fight for love at all costs!" They chanted while smashing up my office. I watched them calmly, waiting until they wore themselves out before pulling out a contract. "The 100,000 dollars you borrowed from me has been overdue for six months. If you don't repay it soon, I'll be forced to take legal action. "And, the lab equipment you've destroyed is valued at 5,550,000 dollars. You'll need to compensate me at full price. "Otherwise, I'll see you in court."

After receiving the report for an STD test, I went back to the barbeque restaurant, and there I ran into a young woman who was about three months pregnant. She asked me to let her cut in line, and, feeling sorry for her, I agreed to help her out. I quickly made arrangements for her and made sure she had a seat. But to my shock, after she finished her meal, she had a miscarriage. The girl posted about the incident online, and before I knew it, I was trending on social media, facing a wave of cyberbullying. The internet users went even further, digging up my health records and finding that everything came back positive. [She's positive for everything—she's clearly a woman with a messy private life!] [No wonder she caused the woman's miscarriage just by being near her—she's a biological hazard!] The cyberbullying got so bad that it pushed me into depression. Even my fiancé turned against me, accusing me of being filthy and breaking up with me. The emotional weight became too much, and in my pain, I drove straight into a reservoir. Meanwhile, the girl gained millions of followers online and skyrocketed to fame as a popular influencer. It was only after I died that I learned the shocking truth—this girl was my fiancé's first love. To boost her own popularity, she and my fiancé had come up with this entire scheme together. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day when she asked me to let her cut in line.

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.