Cheating Housewife

At our seventh wedding anniversary party, Caleb Thorne shares a drink with his childhood sweetheart. My face darkens, and he publicly snaps at me in front of everyone. "It's just playful fun between friends—why are you so uptight? If I really had something going on with Emma, do you think you'd ever have become my wife?" He storms off in anger. That same night, his childhood sweetheart updates her social media banner to a photo of her holding hands with Caleb. In the past, I would've rushed to her house without a second thought, dragged Caleb out, and demanded to know if he ever truly loved me. But this time, I don't care anymore.

On my wedding day, the first love of my boyfriend appeared and declared she wanted my place at the altar. Sobbing theatrically, she pleaded, "Claire, I’m seriously ill. You have your whole life to be with Evan. Just let me have this wedding." And my boyfriend backed her up without hesitation. "Claire, you’re already pregnant with my child, and we’ve signed the marriage papers. You’ve got everything you need. This wedding? It doesn’t matter." The guests gawked, while I stood there as the punchline of their jokes. But instead of causing a scene, I kept my composure. That same day, I booked an abortion and looked his first love straight in the eye with a smile. "Sure, take the wedding, and take him too. He’s all yours."

My father, the Beta of our pack, had sworn our bloodline to serve the Alpha King, Andrew Amadeus. By tradition, I was destined to be his mate. The night before our mating ceremony, I risked everything to save my stepsister, Emma Hughes, crossing into rogue territory—Wild Nest. I fought fiercely but was overpowered. At the ceremony, a cursed projection stone revealed my assault by the rogues. The pack recoiled in disgust. Andrew, seething with rage, rejected me and marked Emma instead, making her Luna Queen. To them, I was a disgrace, unworthy of an Alpha’s mark. As they called for my exile, Andrew’s younger brother, Anthony Amadeus, stepped forward. "Sophia Hughes, I have loved you in silence. By the name of the moon, I vow to be your mate for eternity." His words saved me. A year later, the healer told me I could finally carry a pup. Overjoyed, I rushed to find Anthony—only to overhear a chilling conversation. "Anthony, we helped the rogues infiltrate, lured Sophia to Wild Nest, and spread the video. She trusts you now… did we make a mistake?" He sighed. "For Emma to become Queen, Sophia had to be sacrificed. But it doesn’t matter—I’ll spend my life making it up to her." Betrayal cut deeper than any wound. My suffering had been planned. But if they thought I was broken, they had underestimated me. I would carve my own fate—with claws bared.

Before the wedding, my fiancé, Alpha Jay, stood in front of me. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but so did hope. “Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. A month. Time to see if he could patch things up with Linda Manwaring—his ex-girlfriend. His fated mate. “If it works out,” he continued, the words deliberate, like he was convincing himself as much as me, “then it’s the Moon Goddess’s blessing. But if it doesn’t… I’ll come back. I’ll marry you. And I’ll leave her behind—forever.” He meant it. He truly believed this was the honorable thing to do. I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips. “Go ahead,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?” Relief broke over his face like a wave, as though I’d just untangled him from a chain he hadn’t known how to break. That night, he drove off, lighter than I’d seen him in months. Meanwhile, I packed my bags in silence. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Once I was done, I picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “Mom,” I said, my voice even and unwavering. “The wedding’s off. I’m coming home to help you handle the Shadowfang Pack.”

At my mother's funeral, I caught my husband passionately kissing a sales associate at the local department store. When I confronted him about it, he turned the tables and accused me of being paranoid and delusional. Later, I discovered she had been calling my husband "daddy" in their text messages. The betrayal left me emotionally numb, and I decided to step aside, giving them my blessing. What I did not expect was discovering that she was not just involved with my husband—she had been sleeping around with multiple men. When my husband finally learned the truth, he came crawling back to me with tears streaming down his face, begging for forgiveness. By then, I had already moved on with my life and wanted nothing to do with him.

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help. In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide. My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death. “This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!” Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

My boyfriend refuses to accompany me to the airport to pick my mother up, but he later rams into my car from behind in my new Maybach. He looks at my secondhand car and wraps an arm around the young woman beside him, who looks frightened. He says, "It's just a rusty old Volkswagen Beetle! So what if I've crashed into it? I can afford to pay for the damages!" The crowd praises him for being handsome and rich. With his back to them, he warns, "This is the woman my mom wants me to date. I'm just playing along for her sake. Don't make things embarrassing for me." I nod understandingly and tell the young woman, "Since you like collecting trash so much, you can have both him and the car. I'll have my lawyer send you the bill." Now, my boyfriend panics. He looks devastated as he hangs around outside my company all day, begging me to give him another chance.

I'm diagnosed with late-stage cancer after undergoing a pre-employment medical checkup. My husband says the medication for my condition is expensive. He also says it can only relieve my pain, not treat the cause. I only have a year to live. Upon my husband's pleading, I agree to do an IVF. I endure the pain and put myself through torture to leave him with a child. However, I overhear him saying the child growing inside me isn't mine—it's his and his lover's. He's the one who wants me dead!

My boyfriend said that art held no restrictions, so he used my provocative paintings to enter a competition. Amidst a row of classic ceramic figurines, I became famous. He shot to fame, landing in the top ten of trending searches, while I was humiliated by the entire internet and mocked as a “ceramic influencer.” When I confronted him, he looked at me with disappointment. “They don’t understand art, and neither do you? I thought you would support my work, but I didn’t expect you to stir trouble! You’re so immature!”

After my husband cheats, my relatives advise me to be tolerant and forgiving. Why? Because my husband's mistress is pregnant, and I'm infertile. Even his parents hurry to our house in the middle of the night to say, "Don't worry—we won't let that woman step foot in this house. Once she gives birth, the child will be yours." Is that so? I sneer as I look at a medical report. Perhaps the child will have something to do with me, but it definitely won't have anything to do with my husband.