Fiction Books About Cheating Husbands Novels & Stories

We drank in silence for a while then I remembered something. I looked at Alex, “You know what I find funny?” “What?” He asked. “Adrian.” Alex smiled. “The man who was cheating on me came to your villa to investigate whether I was cheating on him.” Alex laughed, “Can you imagine..” “That's the definition of hypocrisy.” I said. “He wasn't exactly thinking clearly.” Alex replied. “No. He was thinking like a man who suddenly realized his wife might be capable of doing exactly what he had been doing.” I told him.

"Now, you are a doll to me. And if you no longer want to call me Erwin or husband, call me monster or devil or barbarian or sadist. Nicknamed me whatever you like, Dolly." "You will always be my Erwin. I haven't lost hope in you, Erwin. Someday, you will change, and you will love me like you used to. Please, love me back. I Miss you as a husband. I need my husband. I want to kiss and hug my husband." Erwin said nothing more. He kissed her back and he went to sleep. *** Erwin was getting crazier and crazier day but day. He rape his own wife almost every night. However, because he was infertile, he forced her to take anti-pregnancy pills every time after they had sex.

That was my duty, as his wife of ten years. When he came to, he just stared up at the ceiling for a long while, without making a sound. I peeled and cut an apple, then pressed a slice against the corner of his lips. At last, he stirred—but all he did was flinch aside, with a vehemence which suggested he was deeply upset with me. "You already knew, didn't you?" he hissed. "About what? That you lied about having late-stage cancer, in the hopes that I'd cede everything to you after we got divorced? Or perhaps you're talking about the mistress you've been keeping hidden at your mom's place—the one you knocked up?"

He once swore he would be my husband, that we would be together for life. When he was a teenager, he moved abroad with his family. At the airport, he clutched my hand, sobbing, begging me to wait—promising he would come back. I waited. And waited. But he never returned. The tenderness of youth faded with time. I found a new love, a new marriage. I thought happiness would last forever. But I never imagined my husband's heart would belong to another woman. And that my unborn child would become nothing more than the lifeline to his so-called "true love."

I smiled and nodded my head "you're right, Purity, they really are disgusting women, it's stupid for any woman to do such a thing" Though I said those words, I felt guilty in my heart. I was one of those disgusting women, I am a stupid person. I was cheating on my husband, though my memory's not with me. There are proofs of our marriage but I ignored all that and still had an affair with Hector. However, it may not be as I thought. I mean, there has been a lot of uncertainty regarding the whole issue and with losing my memory, I can't be the judge of whatever, even my own decisions. I needed not to be this hard on myself.

My ex-husband's life unfolded in damning detail: The male intern he'd been fucking in conference rooms. The offshore accounts Jane knew nothing about. The tax fraud even his fancy lawyers couldn't explain away. Rolin swirled his drink. "Pathetic, isn't it?" Pathetic didn't cover it. This was a guided tour through a man's moral bankruptcy. Then I turned the page. The world stopped. My vision tunneled to three words: "Termination of Eleanor Whitmore." Nana. The paper crinkled in my grip. A sound tore from my throat—half sob, half snarl.

From the pack that had fed him and protected him and treated him like a brother for years. And he had done it from day one of our marriage. Which meant I had been there the whole time. Living in that house, driving that car, wearing the ring he bought while he was quietly robbing the people closest to him. I felt sick. Not guilty, I hadn't known and I hadn't done anything. But sick in the way you feel when you realize how completely you were used. Travis hadn't just cheated on me. He had needed me. A normal wife made him look stable. Made him look like a man who had something to lose, something to protect. Someone boring and domestic and above suspicion.

"I said I didn't—" Stefano's fingers dug in hard, his eyes boring straight through me as he cut me off again. "Lie to yourself all you want. I'm done listening." So that was it. I'd walked right into Isla's trap. And my husband of seven years took her word for it without a second thought. Seven years of us, just gone. I didn't fight back when he hauled me to the car. What was the point? At the hospital, Stefano marched me straight to Isla's room. Doctors crowded in.

Or at least thought they did. I did briefly lose focus of my mission to seduce my mate into at least making out with me, when I got caught up in the sordid tale of money, greed, a cheating dog of a husband, and his mistresses’ mental instability. Plot twist, the church going wife who lit up a room and taught Sunday school, had lived a double life and was a prostitute, with a sugar daddy on the side. It was rarely a robbery gone bad, like I had guessed from the start. My mate chuckled beside me, “This is what you watch to set the mood. Are you getting some ideas, my Love.”

The timeline and corporate entities perfectly matched my history. Finally, an entertainment account dropped "internal chat logs" and claimed my arranged marriage had always been part of a calculated scheme to take over Henderson Group. According to their narrative, I had blown the situation with Archie out of proportion because I was jealous and couldn't stand seeing him and Valerie genuinely in love. To top it off, they dug up photos of Stacey and me from years ago, saying we had been romantically involved for ages and staged this entire sequence together. Three heavily manipulated hashtags climbed up the list of trending topics.