Cheating Fiction

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

My fiancee gets drunk the day before our wedding. While I'm taking her home, she mistakes me for my best friend. "Jackson, don't bring our child to the wedding tomorrow. I don't want Samuel to know about us." I slam on the brakes, causing Madelyn Wilkinson to hit the seatback and come to her senses. When she realizes it's me, she freezes for a moment before slowly explaining, "Since you heard that, let's call off the wedding for now. You don't have to worry. Jackson doesn't plan on getting married again. But I'm still that child's mother no matter what, so I need to help out. "Jackson's your best friend. You feel sorry for him if he has to raise a child alone, don't you? I'll marry you after my son starts school." I can't help smiling bitterly. "Alright then… I don't have a problem with that." When we get home, she packs up a suitcase and leaves without another word. Feeling a sting in my eyes, I suppress my emotions as I sit on the couch, falling into a daze. That's when my phone rings at the worst possible moment. My childhood friend, Hazel Parsons, says in a hoarse voice, "Sam, don't marry her. Please." I fall silent for a beat. "Alright."

The night before the design competition, my husband took my design draft, promising to secure a patent to protect my work. In the intense competition, my work stood out and won first place. During the award ceremony, I walked on stage wearing the necklace that my daughter and I had made together. Suddenly, my seven-year-old daughter rushed up to the stage, screaming, "Mom, how could you steal Veronica's necklace? That's horrible and embarrassing. Just come down and go home with me."

Three months pregnant, I doubled over in agony, blood pooling beneath me. I called Milo Prince in a last-ditch effort for help. The moment he picked up, his voice dripped with irritation. "What is it now?" My vision was blurring. Before I could cry for help, I heard his childhood sweetheart's teasing laugh. "No interruptions today, okay?" The line went dead in the next second. When I opened my eyes again, my belly was flat. I checked Jessica Clay's social media. A photo showed their hands intertwined, her wrist adorned with the Prince family's heirloom bracelet. Her caption read, [He said this bracelet was made for me, so I'm keeping it.]

When Joseph Belfort was at his lowest, he caught me lying in bed with another man. Later, he made it big and married me in a wedding of the century. Everyone said he loved me more than life itself, but I knew he only did it out of revenge. Every day, he brings different women home. He sleeps with them to my face, even telling me to serve them. I do as told as long as he pays me. He's thoroughly disappointed in me and asks for a divorce. Then, he gives everything I once wished for to Yarra Quinton. He doesn't know everything I did in the past was just a lie, though. I'm about to die.

Before Andrew and I formed our mate bond, I overheard him and his Wolven Clan brothers mocking me: "My Luna must serve my family and dedicate herself to the Blood Moon Pack." "Lina is obedient and devoted—she loves me with all her heart, keeps the pack running smoothly, and takes care of my mother. She works tirelessly, giving her all to my family." "However, Louise? She cherishes her dreams and craves freedom. She's a carefree spirit, meant for the vast open plains, not to be tied down and become a dull housewife." I did not argue or shed tears. Instead, I left the Blood Moon Pack without a word. Andrew assumed I was just sulking nearby, unaware that I had traveled far to the Northland. In the Northland, I not only rekindled my dreams but also found my true mate—the one who truly loves me. Now, I am his Luna Queen.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

After I became a vegetable, Samuel kept me alive for two years with all sorts of tubes. I thought he couldn’t bear to let me go—until his true love returned to the country. He took my corneas and transplanted them to her. Right in front of me, he spoke to her with the utmost tenderness: “Don't worry; you'll be fine. These eyes have been prepared for you for two years.” As a result, I had an adverse reaction after the surgery and passed away. When he heard the news, his eyes turned crimson with rage, and he nearly smashed the hospital: ”Didn't you say there wouldn’t be any problems?!”

On the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Vicente Buckley, he violated my trust by sleeping with my best friend Kinsley Gilmore, on our bed. Through the camera, my son Jamie Buckley's childish voice sounded. "Kinsley, I'll keep watch at the door. I won't let my mom come in!" As if rewarding him, Kinsley pecked Vicente and suggested, "Your son is great. Don't you think about having another child with Patricia?" Vicente responded by covering her face with a pillow, saying, "The scar on her belly disgusts me."

Alpha Ethan's first love, Sarah, died unexpectedly just days before their marking ceremony. His grief was so profound, it sent shockwaves through the entire Duskrend pack. I spent my youth walking beside him, helping him crawl out of that darkness. And finally, when he was ready to love again, he chose to mark me. In the first two years after he marked me, I got pregnant twice. Both times ended in miscarriage. Ethan, heart aching, told me he couldn't bear to see me suffer through childbirth again. That he didn't want me to endure that kind of pain anymore. But in the third year, I conceived again. On the way to see the pack healer for a routine checkup, I was attacked by a wild beast. My wolf, desperate to protect me, burned through most of her life force holding the creature off. Ethan arrived just in time and carried me to the pack hospital himself. But the healer shook his head. We had lost too much time. The pup couldn't be saved. Worse, my ability to bear pups would be permanently damaged because my wolf was too injured to ever carry life again. My mother clung to me, sobbing. Ethan stood in the corner and smiled. "Joy just can't have pups anymore," he said. "But Sarah—Sarah lost her life because of people like you." Then he looked at my mother, his voice edged with contempt. "You were the one who forced Sarah to abort. You watched her—an Omega without a wolf—scream herself to death. So now, your daughter shall feel that pain too." Five years after severing our mate bond, Ethan had become the most powerful Lycan Chairman the region had ever seen—courted, admired, endlessly celebrated. And me? I was working at an underground club. I was dressed in scraps of fabric, smiling until my cheeks ached, bowing and pouring drinks for whoever walked into the VIP room. There shouldn't have been any reason for our paths to cross again. But Ethan held me tight, eyes red and refusing to let go— “Say it,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Call me your mate.”