Framed as the mistress, now i'm out for blood Novels & Stories

I screamed, my lungs dry with the tears I'd been shedding. "Wife my ass," His mistress spat, her palms hitting my face again. "I'm the only one who gets to be that and just because I'm not it yet, doesn't mean I won't be," She scowled, standing akimbo. "Don't worry, she's just a clown," Alex said, cooing her. His mistress hummed happily. “Oh, this will be so much fun.” She suddenly grabbed the nearby glass of wine from the bedside table, swirling it in her hand.

And that neglect had festered for years, rotting me from the inside. As I deepened my thoughts, my hands trembled violently. I reached for the glass on the table and smashed it against the edge, watching it shatter into glittering shards. My pulse thundered, and I pressed one jagged piece into my palm until blood welled, thick and crimson. The sting seared me alive, but the pain only sharpened my voice. “People call me the villain,” I hissed, staring at the blood dripping down my wrist, pooling on the floor. “But I am not the villain. I am the reckoning. I am the bitch fate never accounted for.”

I had been an oracle since birth. Whatever I said would come true. When I first started to speak, I said that my father was going to be rich. That night, my father won a lottery that was worth a hundred million dollars. When I was six, I said the village chief’s grandson would return home safely. The next day, someone found him covered in dirt at the village entrance. When I was eighteen, I commented online that Harrison Corporation, which was almost going bankrupt, would bounce back. As expected, two weeks later, their share prices reached a new height. Hence, Brown Corporation invited me as a respectable guest due to my accurate predictions. However, I had just barely stepped thr

I take the frame off the wall. The glass rattles as I carry it into the kitchen. I grab a knife from the counter. Not thinking. Or maybe thinking very clearly. I stab it. Once. Twice. Again. Right through her face. “You had it all,” I hiss. “Everything. And now I’m taking it.” I stab it again, harder. “Don’t blame me for being ruthless.” The sound of cracking glass is sharp, satisfying. My hands shake when I finally stop. I breathe hard and lean against the counter, memories flooding in whether I want them or not.

Blood dripped from my hand onto the beige carpet, stark against the pale fabric. "She hit her! The mistress hit the rightful partner!" The two sales associates reacted immediately and rushed over to shield Scarlett. "How could you hit her?!" "Call the police! Call the police right now!" Even the crowd of onlookers became agitated. "So arrogant. A mistress actually dares to hit the fiancée?" "The world really has changed. The shameless ones are always the boldest." "Film her. Expose her!" Countless phones pointed toward me, camera flashes stabbing at my eyes.

was the last thing she ever said as a free woman in this house. The rift was deep, and the pain was a jagged blade twisted in my chest. But as the “Night of the Blur” threatened to swallow us both, I realized that a woman who has already been branded a “whore” and a “madwoman” has nothing left to fear from a scandal. I dried my eyes, my gaze hardening as I looked out at the storm. The wedding was in three days. The “Blood Banquet” was finally on the menu, and I was the one who would serve the first course. “Stay guilty for just a little longer, Zander,” I whispered into the darkness of the nursery. “I’m going to be the one to burn this house down, and I’m going to do it while wearing the dre

He shifted and charged. Lucian carefully moved me out of the way. Once I was safe, he met the attack head-on. One move. That's all it took to pin Damien to the ground. Damien thrashed and snarled. "Lucian — you shameless wolf! Seducing my mate!" "She's your sister-in-law! Back off!" Lucian smiled faintly. "If you hadn't said you were Damien, I'd have mistaken you for a rogue. Look at yourself." "Where's your mistress? What — she dumped you now that you've got nothing?"

Vivian quickly wrapped herself in a coat and put on the pitiful expression of a victim. "Stella, you really misunderstood. How am I supposed to live after you barged in like that? I might as well die." Her sugary manipulation made my stomach turn. I picked up the knife on the table and held it out to her. "Go ahead." Vivian stared at the knife with tearful grievance, but she did not move. In the next second, a tremendous force shoved me forward. By momentum, the knife plunged straight into my abdomen. The blade seemed to tear into my insides.

But all his confusion mysteriously disappeared when he noticed how she had cancelled out the term mistress and replaced it with another phrase. “...I will be your mute mistress” The way she dubbed herself his mute mistress, Ethan should not have felt this strange fall inside his chest. But he did.

She's wearing a cat mask and white gown that does nothing to hide her hourglass figure. His throat visibly works in agitation as he swallows at the sight of the lighter in her blood-red painted nails. “Who are you?” He whispers as she beacons him closer with the crook of her finger. “They call me Mistress.” She answers with a rasp. Felix's eyes widen at the softly spoken words and he stumbles back. The movement has his eyes eating up his surroundings and there's blood all over the cage. It's all over him. They’d bathed him in stale blood.