Guilt About Cheating Novels & Stories

The day I learned the truth about my husband, Duke Alistair, and his adopted sister, Liana, I left. I abandoned my title, my home, and returned to my father's palace. A year passed. Then came news of chaos in the duchy. The servant Alistair sent spoke with desperation, “Your Highness, the Duke and your son are lost to reason. If you don’t return, I fear they will burn everything to the ground.” I looked at the blood I'd coughed onto my handkerchief. I nodded. "Fine. I'll go back." The doctor had already given me my diagnosis. Consumption. I had only a month left to live. So I went back. And I played the part of the perfect duchess. I no longer demanded Alistair's loyalty. I even found him three new mistresses who looked just like Liana and sent them to his bed after he had sent her away for me. I no longer made Damian study the arts of statecraft and not forced him to master his courtly duties. Instead, I supported his ridiculous dream of joining the Expeditionary Force. I took the pain they gave me. I wrapped it in the "understanding" they always craved. And I served it back to them cold. But it drove Alistair mad. He threw out the mistresses. He crushed me in his arms. His kiss was a punishment. He bit my lip, drawing blood. "I sent Liana away! What more do you want from me? How can I earn your forgiveness?" Damian cried and clung to my arm. "I'll never call Aunt Liana 'gentle' or 'beautiful' again! Mother, please. Just stop." They didn't understand. I wasn't making a scene. I just wanted to live out my last month in peace. And then, I wanted to die.

It was my third year with Timothy Jones when he had fallen for someone else and wanted to end things. At his birthday party, he embraced a petite and cute woman, telling his friends, "It's better to go for the sweet, innocent ones." Someone asked, "What about Olivia?" "Olivia? We've been fooling around for three years. Sure, she's fun, but sometimes you need a change of pace, right?" The "Olivia" he casually dismissed was me. And his new girlfriend? None other than my dad's illegitimate daughter, Willow Lambert. It was fine. I decided it was time for me to change things up, too.

Nine years into my "non-cohabiting partnership" with Simon, his father passed away. The first condition in his will was simple: Simon and Ella had to conceive a child. On the day the child turned one month old, Simon would inherit his father's fortune. Simon told me this himself—the night I walked in on them tangled in our bed. Afterward, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, he murmured, "Lily, just wait a little longer. Once I get the inheritance, I'll marry you." But he went back on his word. From then on, every time Simon planned to meet Ella at our house, he would hang a string of bells on the door. Since his father's passing, those bells had chimed ninety-nine times. After the ninety-ninth, the news arrived—Ella was pregnant, and their engagement party was set. My daughter saw the invitation, hesitated, then softly asked, "Mom, is Daddy's name on this?" I forced a smile and gently smoothed her messy hair into a neat ponytail. "Daddy is marrying the one he loves," I said. "And I'm taking you home." Simon never understood—I never cared about that marriage certificate.

Everest Quentin, my commander husband, has fallen in love with his dead comrade's widow, Selene Brooks. When I find out about it, I don't bother kicking up a ruckus. Instead, I just turn in my resignation letter at my workplace and trick Everest into signing a divorce agreement. After Everest drops his signature, he falls silent for a very long time. Finally, he speaks up in an extraordinarily warm tone. "If you truly intend to quit your job, can you write a recommendation letter for Selene to work at your school instead? "You know that Selene's husband has sacrificed his life in the war. Life will be very difficult for her if she doesn't secure a job to make ends meet." I nod without turning Everest's request down. Previously, I've donated my own heart to him, only to find out that he has it transplanted into Selene's chest instead. I only have three days to live, so I have nothing else in this life. That's why I've tricked Everest into signing the divorce agreement on the first day. On the second day, my resignation letter officially goes into effect. My position is now Selene's. On the third day, I die right in front of my parents' graves. Unfortunately, that also means I never get to attend the banquet Everest has thrown for Selene. The banquet is so boisterous that one would think it's a wedding instead. Everest scans his surroundings, only to realize that I'm absent. He frowns immediately before admonishing me for throwing a tantrum on Selene's big day. The next thing he knows, a soldier rushes over and announces my death right in front of the guests. For once, Everest, who has always prided himself on being cool-headed all the time, actually drops the wine glass he's holding in his hand.

On the day I was about to give birth, a pack of rogue wolves surrounded me. They tore open my belly and shredded my child to pieces. My Alpha mate Marcus went insane, rushing me to the healing center and commanding the healers to save my life. "If anything happens to my mate, you'll pay with your lives." As they carried me to the operating table, I heard his conversation with his Beta. "Alpha, those wolves disguised as rogues have already been secretly released from the Silver Prison." "As long as we get her forgiveness letter, the Alpha Council won't pursue this matter further." "It's just... both Luna and Miss Celeste are carrying your children. Isn't this treatment of Scarlett a bit cruel..." Marcus's tone turned cold as he shot his Beta a warning glance. "Scarlett cannot give birth to this child! My heir can only be born by Celeste. I promised her that her child would be my Alpha heir." His Beta didn't dare resist, only suppressing his displeasure. "But... there were other ways. We didn't have to let Miss Celeste hire rogues to literally tear apart Luna's child..." "Luna's wolf has been dormant since pregnancy, leaving her without healing abilities. The healers say she might not survive." Marcus became cold, mixed with helplessness. "I didn't expect them to be so brutal." "Keep watch. Make sure the healers save her. If anything happens to her, the healers know the consequences. This is all I can do now. Later, I'll give her all the pack's resources as compensation." The healing center doors slowly closed, severing my love for Marcus forever. When I woke up, there was only the stabbing pain in my lower abdomen and a pile of blood and flesh... Marcus, my child is gone. I wish you and Celeste a lifetime of happiness.

By the fifth year of my marriage to River Grayson, I had stopped checking his call logs and chat records. Instead, I spent my nights drinking and partying with my girlfriends at the poolside bar. When his ninety-ninth missed call lit up my screen, I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone straight into the water. It didn't take long before he came storming in. The moment he pulled the strawberry-scented condom out of my pocket, he turned grim and banned me from leaving the house after 7:00 PM. "Joanne, you weren't like this before." I thought back to last month, when I had run into him at the hospital. He had lied about being on a business trip out of town, but there he was, holding Yvonne Sinclair's hand. I still remembered his words. "You lost your uterus from saving me back then. My sperm is perfectly fine. I'll give you a child—with your mother's help." Now, staring into his furious eyes, I said coldly, "Don't worry. There's no going back for us anymore."

Everyone knew Peter was crazy about me. But five years into our marriage, he knocked up his mentor's daughter. Crying, Cindy grabbed his hand. "I won't let Yuna know." Peter just stared her down. "You'd better not. I'm only helping you because I owe your dad. Don't get any bright ideas." She had the baby on my birthday. Peter looked at the kid like he was already in love. Then Cindy, all smug, texted me: [Ms. Zander, don't you think my baby deserves a dad with a real title?] I signed the divorce papers and caught a flight to Hampsburg.

On my wedding day, my fiancé showed up with another woman, flashing a marriage license. He announced, "She's my true love. Don't even think about taking her place." My doting brother sided with her too. "You've had a cushy life for over 20 years. Let her have this." I left quietly. My brother and my fiancé breathed a sigh of relief. They paraded the new girl around town, my brother even calling her his adopted sister to boost her status. They didn't know I'd gone to the border until someone mentioned me. I was done with them, but they started to regret it.

I went to my best friend's place for her birthday, and out of nowhere, she started complaining. "I'm so jealous of you," she said. "Your boyfriend has basically no sex drive." "Mine's the complete opposite. He wanted it seven times last night. I was crying so hard I lost my voice, and he still wouldn't stop." I gave her a sympathetic smile. "That just means he's crazy about you. Unlike mine—he's practically celibate. Like a monk." She raised an eyebrow, casually stroking the two-million-dollar ruby bangle on her wrist. "He's not bad," she said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "He was with his ex for five years, but he still chose to marry me behind her back. He was so afraid she'd push for marriage that he faked going bankrupt and told her he had ALS. "The girl wouldn't let go, though. She sold her blood, her kidney—whatever it took—to scrape together money for his treatment. "She was working the graveyard shift at a factory, while he and I were fooling around in a twenty-million-dollar villa." I froze. To help my boyfriend Nathan Whitley pay for his ALS treatment, I had done all of those things. Before I could even process it, the door opened, and a tall, sharply dressed man walked in. "Babe," he said, "I got that strawberry flavor you like. How about wearing that silk nightie tonight?" Our eyes met. I stood there, frozen in shock, a chill running down my spine. It was Nathan Whitley—the man who was supposed to be broke, bedridden, and dying of ALS.

After I get off work from the hospital, I decide to exercise by taking my mountain bike out on a ride. However, that's when I find out that the seat of my mountain bike has been lowered. There's even a blue sticky note with a scribbled heart pasted on the bike handle. I call my wife, Sabrina Yellin. "Who took my bike on a ride?" After a few seconds of silence, Sabrina replies nonchalantly, "Kelly's boyfriend wanted to learn how to ride a mountain bike yesterday, so he practiced a few laps with your bike. What's wrong, though? Is the bike damaged in any way?" Kelly's boyfriend? But he had boasted about going on an overseas vacation for one whole month last week on his social media account. My gut feeling tells me that something's fishy about this whole thing. So, I just curl my lips into a smirk. "Nah. He can keep using it." After that, I push the mountain bike back to its original parking slot. Then, I find myself two needles so that I can insert them into the seat. Three days later, when I'm working the night shift at the hospital, a nurse rushes in hurriedly. "Dr. Hart, there's a male patient in the ER right now. He claims that his crotch was stabbed by needles when he was riding his bike earlier."