Ariana Grande Cheating Novels & Stories

Lips meet; Bodies tangle. It should never have happened. Opposites, who could never attract. Enemies, who were never able to coexist. That was what Ariana and Cross were to each other. She was the city’s most famous detective, known for her crackdown on gang activity that once plagued the cityscape day and night. And Cross? He was THE most powerful Mafia Don. Everything was at his disposal: money, loyalty, sex. But when night falls and enemies become lovers, the line begins to blur between love and hate. Ariana feels like a traitor to her city. But Cross is relentless and unwilling to let go of her after a taste and Ariana is willing to let him own her.

At 4:30 in the morning, my husband answered a call from his ex-girlfriend and accidentally put it on speaker. "Jason, my daughter, Alison, has a fever—over 104. I can't get a ride..." The sudden sound of sobbing jolted me awake. Jason hurriedly turned off the speaker and lowered his voice. "Send me your location. I'll come right away." It seemed he had forgotten that today was my first prenatal checkup.

When I had only three months left to live after taking the cursed blade meant for my husband Lucian, his first love Lily returned. When I endured the pain and prepared a dinner to commemorate our anniversary, he did not come back, he was having a steamy car session with Lily. When I went to the hospital alone to buy medicine, he was accompanying Lili for her pregnancy check-up. I pretended not to have noticed, I just silently played the role of a perfect wife, and wrote him four letters as a gift for our anniversary. After I die, he saw the gifts I left behind and went completely insane.

“You must be fooling yourself if you think I would accept being mated to a filthy, wolfless omega like you. Let’s cut to the chase and get to it. I, Xavier, future Alpha of Crystal Pack, reject you as my mate.” Xavier said and threw me to the ground. “Pathetic!” With one last disgusted glance, he left the room. *********** Abused and disregarded by the entire pack members, her adoptive parents, and her twin sister, who loathes her. Ariana endured all of this, hoping for a better life when she finally meets her mate. But when she is rejected by the one person she has waited for all her life, Ariana is heartbroken and plots to escape and start a new life of freedom, but fate has other plans for her. When Alpha Arthur comes to trade for omegas, and Ariana is brought forward as the last omega, she discovers she has been given a second chance mate. Arthur, the ruthless Alpha King who doesn’t believe in love but sees it as a weakness to his legacy, and a fragile, wolfless omega who happens to be his mate and maid. Can these two ignore the pull that keeps drawing them closer? Can Ariana break through the cold-iced heart of Arthur and bring warmth into it? Arthur is related to Ariana’s painful past. Will she claim her rightful place as his Luna at Shadow Howl Pack or let the consequences of their past destroy her forever?

For three years, Ariana Grace Chase played the role of a wife who was never truly chosen. Their marriage was a contract. His heart belonged to another woman. And when his first love returned, Maxwell Cox handed Ariana divorce papers without hesitation. He thought money would erase her. He thought she would beg. Instead, Ariana walked away, with his assets, his power, and the inheritance he never knew he could lose. After the divorce, Maxwell realizes too late that the woman he discarded now controls everything he was raised to inherit. Pregnant, untouchable, and finally free, Ariana disappears from his world only to return as the woman he can no longer reach. As secrets unravel, families collapse, and bloodlines are exposed, Maxwell’s regret turns into obsession. He wants his ex-wife back. His empire back. His legacy back. But some women are only disposable once. And when a man comes crawling back after the divorce, he may find the door permanently closed.

The day before Chris Carter and I were supposed to get engaged, my parents sent me to prison. Three years later, when I was finally released, Chris was the only one who came to pick me up. I knew he despised me. I trembled, keeping my head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But he blocked my path, frowning. “Emily York? You stink.” He pinched his nose and told me to get in the car. I fell to my knees, desperately begging him not to take me home. If he did, I would die. He looked at me with chilling indifference and said, “Then go ahead and die.” I agreed. But later, he cried and begged me to stay alive.

On the night of my 30th birthday, I waited until the early hours of the morning, but my husband, Theodore Hawk never showed up. Instead, I came across an Instagram post from his childhood sweetheart, Emily Gallagher. [What romantic is not the starry night, it is having you by my side.] In the picture, she was wearing a delicate, sky-blue camisole that revealed just enough to charm and seduce. A man stood close behind her, his hand firmly gripping her waist. The scene was set in the seaside villa that Theodore had gifted her, their figures intimately entwined under the soft glow of the night. Someone had commented beneath the post: [I can’t stand you two being this lovey-dovey all the time! Just get married already!] Emily had responded with a shy-face emoji. I had just liked the post when Theodore, who I had failed to reach all night, blew up my phone with calls. "Are you out of your mind, Camilla? Emi and I grew up together! If we wanted to be together, we would’ve done so long ago! Why are you being so petty?" Looking at how Theodore gently held her in his arms, comforting her, I realized something. Letting go of someone you’ve loved for seven years... can take only a moment.

Ten years ago, the Harrington family went through a home invasion. My mother, a maid, shielded Liam with her life. Holding my hands tight, Liam promised, "Andrea, don't worry. I'll protect you forever." I believed him. Our bond grew naturally, and we had a beautiful daughter together. Then, she was diagnosed with leukemia. In her last days, all she wanted was to spend one birthday with her dad. I called him, desperate to make it happen. "Millie doesn't have much time left. All she wants is one birthday with you. Can you come?" His voice on the other end went icy. "Really? This your latest stunt? Using your dead mom wasn't enough, now it's our daughter for pity? Disgusting." I tried to deny it, but he cut me off. "Don't mess with her head. Learn from Vivian—she's got a real heart." That night, our daughter passed away. Later, Vivian posted on social media: [Finally taking that couples' trip someone promised me!] I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just texted Liam: [We're done.]

When news of my arranged fiancee's death arrived, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I quickly reclaimed her shares and had the death certificate issued. I did it because I've been reborn. In my past life, Dad was worried that women would eye my fortune as the heir to the wealthiest family. So, he arranged for me to marry one of three women he personally picked. I chose the most outstanding one, Monica Harris, and married her. However, just three days after our wedding, she died suddenly. Heartbroken, I was persuaded by the remaining two women to give up on marriage and remain single for life. At 80 years old, when I returned to our special place in Sunmere Valley to reminisce, I saw Monica. She should have been dead for 60 years! She stood beside Liam Rogers, my driver who'd gone missing decades ago, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, living a picture-perfect life. I realized I'd been deceived my entire life. The shock sent my blood pressure soaring, and I died of a stroke on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day I died. This time, I'm going to find out exactly how someone who's supposedly dead keeps on living.

While cleaning Desmond Maynard's house, I accidentally knocked over his mother's keepsake. He once told me it was his most precious possession. But when I picked it up, hundreds of love letters spilled out. There were beautiful poems, passionate lyrics, and heartfelt confessions. He had written one letter a week without stopping. On the back of each one wrote a line: To My Love, Bunny. The nickname rang a bell. It was his junior in college. Things started to make sense. I slaved away for 13 years, running his household and caring for his family, but Desmond never even said he liked me. That was because he already had someone he liked. I sorted the letters by date, put them back, and grabbed my phone to make a call. "Mom, I'm in for the marriage proposal."