Cheating X Reader Novels & Stories

Three years ago, my girlfriend suffered severe post-traumatic stress after saving my life. She later had a speech impairment that kept her from speaking normally. To cure her, I take on three jobs a day and survive on only bread and water just to come up with the money for her therapy and speech recovery treatment. I happen to be working part-time as a cocktail party waiter one evening when I see my girlfriend, who supposedly has a speech impairment, standing in a fancy dress and being fawned over by the crowd around her. Everyone is calling her "Ms. Holden" and "the heiress of the Holden family". But how can an orphan like her possibly be an heiress?

In my sixth year with Nathan Bennett. "Nathan, I'm getting married," I said. He jolted, suddenly snapping back to reality, looking somewhat troubled. "Hannah, you know the company is at a crucial point with our financing. I'm not in the mood to..." “It’s okay,” I replied, my smile calm and composed. Nathan misunderstood. I was getting married, but not to him.

On the eve of our wedding, I find out that the wedding invitations have Travis Somerson's and his assistant, Victoria Cademere's names printed on them instead of mine. I demand an answer from Victoria, who bursts into tears and tells me that she has accidentally mistyped the bride's name as hers. Travis calls me right away. "It's just a naming mistake, Harper! Must you make such a huge deal out of such a small mistake?" He even calls me a petty and jealous woman who can't even tolerate the presence of a female employee in his vicinity. Five minutes later, Victoria uploads another social media post. Apparently, not only has she uploaded a photo of the wedding invitation, but she also adds a couple photo of her and Travis being lovey-dovey. The caption reads, "Mr. Somerson told me that even if I screw up, he'll be there to help me settle everything." If a female employee were to provoke me in the past, I'd have forced Travis to fire the former. But this time, I no longer care about him anymore.

When the earthquake hit, I found myself buried under the rubble, barely clinging to life. My wife, Meghan Hudson, charges into the collapsing office building without hesitation. However, the person she rescues is Gerald Parker, the new technical specialist at my company. Even as she hurries away with the rescue team, she doesn't spare me a single glance. Severely crushed and bleeding heavily, I'm rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. Yet, Meghan pours all her care and attention into Gerald, who barely has a scratch on him. In the end, I'm completely disheartened and pull out the divorce papers. Meghan goes berserk and tears them to shreds, thinking I'll give in like I always did. What she doesn't know is that this time, I'm truly exhausted.

Lara Night is Mr. Maximo Winston's secretary. A girl who has a dirty mind. She loves trying new things like s*x toys to fulfill her s*x**l fantasies. One day, Mr. Winston discovered her extreme sexual fantasy. Lara assumed it would be the end of her corporate career, but it turns out her boss loves it! The next thing she knew, she was having an intimate affair with her Boss who has an XL size.

It started with a sudden downpour. I turned around to buy an umbrella. By the time I got back, Winston Sterling had already draped his overcoat across Sera Thorne’s shoulders. He pulled me under the umbrella, his tone gentle, as if soothing a spoiled child. "Sera can't handle the cold. Just let her have it this once, Nat. Be a good girl. Don't make a fuss." I looked down at my own shoulder, which was already completely soaked through. I didn't say a word. We had been building our startup for five years. Everyone always said Winston and Sera were the dual heart and soul of Sterling Tech. One wrote the code, while the other pitched the product. Meanwhile, I was the one managing the budgets, chasing down clients, advancing money for our office rent, and pulling all-nighters to grind out business proposals. Yet, all I ever got from him was a single, offhand sentence. "Nat, you're always the reasonable one." But I finally understood. It was always the reasonable one who got pushed out into the rain, time and time again. When the car door opened, Winston practiced an all-too-familiar routine, adjusting the passenger seat cushion for Sera. That was a lumbar support cushion I had bought for myself after injuring my waist. I threw the newly purchased umbrella straight into the trash can. Then, I pulled up my phone and clicked send on the equity exit agreement I had prepared long ago. Three minutes later, his reply came back as a brief, three-word text. "Don't be silly." What he didn't know was that at that exact same moment, I had also opened another email.

During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!" I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments. In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?" That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill. I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…

On our third year wedding anniversary, Ricardo Gambino finds me in the estate located far beyond the city's boundaries. As he clutches a pregnancy report, he finds it difficult to suppress the smile on his face. "I have good news for you, Isabella!" Ricardo exclaims excitedly. "Lucia is pregnant! It so happens that you're infertile, we'll have her give birth to the baby, and you can raise them! After that, I'll make sure to send Lucia away. You, on the other hand, shall remain as my wife!" Ricardo's tone is starting to drift. He sounds like he's done something amazing for me and wants me to compliment him. But I merely look at him as though he were a jester. What Ricardo doesn't know is that he's the infertile one. Also, we've already gotten divorced from each other. At that moment, I receive a new text on my phone. Then, I see a photo of an ultrasound report regarding the first trimester of a pregnancy. "Isabella, we're having triplets." The next text pops up immediately. "I shall marry you in three days."

My health was not good, but I had always wanted a child. My husband, citing concern for my health, avoided intimacy with me for a year. Then I stumbled across his private messages with another woman. [You'll spend Valentine's Day with me, right? You're not going to touch her tonight, are you?] [You know I don't like doing it just to make babies. Got you some lingerie. Wear it for me tomorrow.] That ill-fitting lace lingerie he was talking about was on my body. I'd slipped it on while he was in the shower, thinking it was a Valentine's Day surprise from him. Turned out, he hadn't bought the wrong size. He had just sent it to the wrong address. I clicked on the woman's profile. Her latest video showed her at the beach, hand in hand with the person filming. I recognized her hand instantly. It belonged to my best friend.

My husband was out cold. Middle of the night, his phone lit up on the nightstand—chat app blowing up. I leaned over and grabbed it, quiet as a breath. Messages from someone named 'Viv.' Her last one? [Goodnight, Matt.] I had my fingerprint saved, but I'd never used it. Six years of trust. Six years of believing he was loyal—maybe too awkward to cheat. But something felt off. So I tapped in. And just like that, I opened Pandora's box. My heart? Tanked.