Cheating Smut Novels & Stories

My wife has an emotional breakdown after being violated. She insists I'm the one who orchestrated it, but both our parents know her true love is the actual culprit. Still, they don't object to her insane retaliation. They even have me locked up in a prison abroad. As I'm tormented, she sells my company to help her true love get away scot-free. Ultimately, he's set free, but I die without even having a final resting place. When a judge informs her to collect my body, she sneers and says, "I've had enough of this nonsense. Does he think he can get away with a fake corpse? I won't even bat an eye if his body is flushed down the drain! He's nothing but a disgusting criminal!" Later, she realizes that I've truly died. She's delighted, but her laughter soon turns to tears as she holds my corpse.

On the third day after my death, my body was sent to the police station in different packages. Jonathan Walsh, my husband, and Frank Stone, my junior at work, saw my corpse and frowned. “If only Elena were here, she would have been able to find some clues.” Frank sighed as he stared at my horribly mangled remains. “Don’t mention her. She’s not even worthy of being a forensic scientist!” I stared at my husband with a conflicted look. He analyzed each part of my body and deduced the manner of my death with familiar ease. “The murderer is a monster…” Frank’s face turned pale, and he sighed again. Jonathan calmly used all that I had taught him and perfectly pieced out the entire process of my death based on the clues from my dismembered body. I could not help but feel proud. Unfortunately, he was still a little off the mark. He did not manage to figure out that this body belonged to me, his wife.

My husband, Jonathan Rivers, was a notorious playboy in Polesburg's elite circles. Beautiful women surrounded him constantly, yet he claimed to have fallen for me at first sight, saying it was a love that would last forever. He dismissed all the other women around him for my sake. Everyone said I was his destined soulmate. Seven years into our marriage, I had seven abortions for him, simply because he said he did not like children. Then on Father's Day, I saw him on his secretary's social media feed. The same man who claimed to be away on business was there with a child beside him, calling him "Daddy" loudly. It turned out that when he said he did not like children, he meant that he did not like children with me. I dialed his number through tears. "Do you want another wife?"

"Sorry, Chloe. I really have an emergency!" After ten years of dating, my Alpha mate, Aiden Rothschild, made yet another excuse about handling pack affairs and left halfway through our candlelit dinner. Then, I saw a post by Aiden’s childhood sweetheart, Lana, on social media. In the photo, Aiden was gently holding her foot. [Twisted my ankle a little while cleaning the roof. It got better quickly, but Aiden still rushed over the moment he heard. No matter when I need you, you're always there. That's the reason I feel more blessed than any other woman!] In the past, I would’ve definitely confronted Aiden in anger, only to be scolded for being unreasonable. This time, though, I numbly finished my own meal in silence. I had promised my mentor I would soon leave for a secluded healing assignment in the Northern Territory. It wasn’t until I got in the car to leave the pack and tried to say goodbye to Aiden one last time that I received a video from Lana. It was her and Aiden playing Truth or Dare, calling each other "baby". I wiped away my tears and simply replied, "As long as you’re having fun." However, Aiden panicked. His eyes were red as he messaged me: [Chloe, why aren’t you even mad after seeing that? Do you even love me anymore?!] He tried to confront me in person, only to realize he couldn’t find me anywhere. That day, he completely broke down.

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

In the split second when the research lab explodes, my boyfriend, Thomas Bastion, dashes to Melody Harper, who is standing furthest from the blast zone. He shields her from the impact with his own body. When the sounds of the explosion stop, the first thing he does is carry Melody to the hospital. I'm lying on the floor. My body is covered in fresh blood, but he doesn't spare a single glance at me. Thomas has taken care of Melody for the past 18 years. His heart is filled with nothing but her. There's no space for anyone else. I only survived because my colleagues rushed me to the hospital. When I am discharged from the ICU, I call my teacher, Louis Carpenter. Both my eyes are swollen from how much I've been crying. "Mr. Carpenter, I've made up my mind. I'm willing to join you for the confidential research. It's fine if we have to leave in one month. I don't care that I'll be unable to contact anyone for the next five years." The wedding ceremony that I have been dreaming of is supposed to take place in a month's time. However, I no longer want to get married.

I die in the corridor of the private hospital my husband established after being forced to give my heart to his true love. Before my death, my six-year-old son tearfully begs him to save me thrice. The first time, he holds my husband's hand and says I'm coughing up blood. My husband sneers. "Looks like she's learned tricks—she knows how to teach children to lie now." Then, he has his bodyguards kick my son out of the ward. The second time, my son grabs his sleeve and says I'm in so much pain that I'm incoherent. My husband frowns. "It's just a heart transplant. The doctor said she won't die." The bodyguards step forward and drag my son out of the ward again. The third time, my son grovels at my husband's feet and grabs his pants, sobbing and saying that I'm already unconscious. My husband is infuriated. He grabs my son by the neck and throws him out of the ward. "I told you Nadia won't die! I'll throw her and you out of the hospital if you come here and disturb Ruby's rest again!" My son gives his most previous item—a guardian angel pendant—to a nurse to save me. The nurse accepts it and arranges for me to be admitted to the last available ward in the hospital. However, Ruby Sharpe has someone stand before it with her pet dog. She says, "Sorry, kiddo. Your father's worried I'll be bored without my dog, so this ward has been set aside for my dog to stay in."

To prevent the merfolk from being slaughtered, I decided to go ashore and seduce my childhood friend Cyrus, who had become the Alpha King. He still loved me deeply, and we spent three passionate days and nights together in bed. Waking up from a haze of pleasure, I hadn't even had the chance to rejoice before a corrosive elixir was dunked over my head. Listening to my pained wails, Cyrus smirked. "So even an immortal mermaid can feel pain, too? "Well, this is just a taste of what's to come if you don't tell me where my parents are!" Yes, he was convinced that the merfolk were behind his parents' disappearance. From then on, I was forced to watch him flirt with his mistress, Emily; had to extract my mermaid pearl to help heal her body; was forced to dance barefoot to entertain Emily so that she could sleep… Cyrus hated every fiber of my being, yet always held me tenderly in his arms whenever I was on the brink of death, carefully feeding me medicine. Sometimes, he was cruel. "Do you think I'll go easy on you just because I love you? Quick, continue torturing her!" Sometimes, he was gentle. "Can't you be good and tell me where my parents are?" Silently, I endured his twisted love without a word. Soon, however, these days would come to an end, and I wouldn't have to keep that secret any longer. After all, a mermaid who did not return to the sea after three years on land… Would turn into seafoam. And now, there were only three days until my time was up.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I made a special trip to the salon to have my hair done. While settling the bill, I noticed an extra charge on my account. It was a coloring and perm package. Judging by the price, it was a package meant for waist-length hair. Mine had been cropped short for seven or eight years. I called my husband, Jason Moore. "Have you used my salon membership card recently?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before he laughed lightly, "Oh, I lent it to Quincy a few days ago." Quincy Hahn was his business partner, a fine arts student with long hair. She treasured her natural curls more than anything. She would never be willing to dye or perm it. More importantly, her elder sister was a major shareholder of this salon. Why would she ever need to use my card? I said nothing more and ended the call. Then, I headed straight to a location displayed on my phone. In the cafe, a long-haired lady was nestled in Jason's arms. Her freshly permed curls were soft and bouncy, framing her blushed face with certain demureness. Jason had always complained that my short hair made me look rough and manly. I lacked gentleness and charm. It seemed this long-haired lady suited his tastes perfectly.