Homewrecker Porn Gifs Novels & Stories

As Don Julian Vitale's woman, I've accompanied him every step of the way, from the streets all the way to the peak. It all starts because I don't like the way Julian's god-sister, Milena Santoro, uses so much force in dressing my wounds that I've dismissed her in favor of other people. The next day, my explicit photos are plastered all over the underground casino's chips. I clutch my abdomen, which still sports the stab wound I've blocked for Julian. As I search for him, I end up overhearing his subordinates' lewd laughter outside a private room. "Winona sure is hot, Don Vitale! Now that her body's printed all over the chips, our luck has tremendously increased as well!" "That's not it! Previously, Don Vitale rewarded me by letting me grope Winona's chest! Because of that, I was able to seal a business deal that's worth tens of millions of dollars!" "Then again, Don Vitale, won't Winona get into a fight with you for spreading her explicit photos like this?" Julian puffs out some smoke while toying with a casino chip with my crotch printed on it. "She's just a plaything whom Lady Luck favors. Without my protection, she's even lower than a mutt. Besides, she's nothing compared to Milena, and yet she has the gall to complain about how much force Milena uses in dressing her wounds?" As the crotch-imprinted chip is flung onto the table carelessly, I feel my heart dying once and for all.

The new teacher gave the wrong medicine, causing a child to suffer sudden cardiac arrest and die after failing to receive timely help. My fiance, who was also the vice principal, forged evidence on her behalf and pinned all the blame on me. I was fired and reported by the child's parents. Due to insufficient evidence, I was acquitted. But the child's devastated parents broke into my home with a kitchen knife and hacked me to death, severing me in multiple places. My fiance chose to cover it up for them. He disposed of my body and even comforted the parents. "A life for a life. Let this be my atonement." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the teacher gave the child the wrong medicine.

I have just been discharged after leg surgery when Victor Clark, my wife's former colleague who resents her for taking his position, drags me up to the roof and stabs me repeatedly. My wife, Melissa Lane, is the captain of the rescue unit, yet she is busy mobilizing everyone to stop her depressed first love, Ethan Hayes, from setting his rental apartment on fire. I don't call her to save me. In my previous life, I begged her for help. She abandoned Ethan and rushed to rescue me. In the end, I survived while Ethan died in the blaze. Melissa never blamed me. She said that Ethan got what he deserved and even promised me a surprise for my birthday a week later. But on my birthday, she drugged me, tied me to a bed, and drove a knife into me again and again. "You and Victor set me up that day, didn't you? Those stab wounds aren't even serious! You were never going to die! Since you like getting stabbed so much, I'll make it real for you!" When I open my eyes, I am back to the day Victor took me hostage. This time, I let Melissa go save her first love.

On the fourth day after our son died, I decided to end my military marriage. Before that, I spent three days taking care of what remained of him. On the first day, I tricked my wife into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to my son's school and collected the textbooks he never had the chance to use. On the third day, I prepared a table full of his favorite dishes and begged my wife to come home so we could celebrate his birthday one last time. She agreed. Then she turned around, claimed she had a mission, and spent the entire night setting off fireworks with her childhood sweetheart. That night, I sat beside my son's memorial photo and ate alone. The next day, she came home looking guilty and handed me a brand new backpack. She said it was a gift for our son to use at school. She did not know that our child would never live to see his first day of school.

A whirl wind romance Between a conglomerate CEO and a porn star desperate to experience a different life than the cruel one she is a captive of...

The lab blew, and my girlfriend—Beatrice Whitmore—didn't even glance my way. She bolted straight for Joseph, wrapping herself around him. When the dust settled, she climbed into the ambulance with him. I was still on the ground, bleeding out, and she didn't spare me a look. Eighteen years raising him, and apparently, that was all the space her heart had left. My coworkers dragged me to the hospital. ICU, barely breathing. When I finally clawed my way out, throat raw, I called my advisor. "Prof. Beaumont, I'm in. I'll go. Even if it means disappearing for five years, I don't care." That was supposed to be my wedding month. Not anymore.

When I witness my husband, Wayne Donaldson, and Valeria Meadows, a poor scholarship student he had been funding, exiting the hospital with a baby, I finally realize that Wayne has been lying to me about the fact that he got drugged by others. That day, I file for a divorce from him. But Wayne grips my hand and promises me, "Don't worry, you'll be the only Mrs. Donaldson. She won't be able to affect your position in any way." I just laugh in his face. He thinks I choose to be with him because of his money. But what he doesn't know is that my dad is the richest man in the city. Even the Donaldsons' ascent through the ranks is all thanks to my secretive help. That night, I send my dad two texts. The first one writes, "I agree to enter a marriage alliance with Mason Frost." The second one writes, "You can terminate all investments devoted to the Donaldsons right now."

My husband, Michael Collins, has offered to buy his childhood sweetheart, Natalie Sweeney's virginity for ten million dollars so that she can afford to treat her cancer. I'm about to stop him from doing so when he begins berating me instead. "Natalie has always been prideful since young. If I were to give her money outright, she'd think that I was giving it to her out of pity. It'll bruise her ego instead. "Can you please be more sympathetic toward her? Must you feel jealous over such a small thing?" Instead of replying to Michael, I just smile and nod in agreement. What Michael doesn't know is that I, an infectious disease specialist, have already picked up on Natalie's weird symptoms. She doesn't have cancer at all—she actually has late-stage AIDS infection.

My husband, Don Cassian, just survived an assassination attempt. He limped in, bleeding, and ordered me to stitch him up. But when I reached into his blood-soaked suit, my fingers brushed against something soft. Black lace panties. Not mine. My hand flew to my still-flat stomach. For our child. How could he do this to us? Ice flooded my veins. “We’re done, Cassian.” His gaze was heavy, exhausted. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Fine. I’ll have my lawyer draft the papers.” But then, a frantic little voice—one that wasn't mine—screamed from deep within my womb. [Mom, don’t leave him! Dad didn’t cheat! The family isn’t going to fall. It’s a setup!] [Oriana Gallo planned all of this! She wants your place! She put those panties in his pocket herself!] [If you leave, her men will grab you. They’ll take you to an abandoned warehouse and dump your body in Lake Michigan. Then she’ll play the grieving friend, comfort Dad, and become the new Mrs. Marino!] [Mom, I came back to stop this! Please, don’t fall for it again!] I snapped back to the present. Spinning around, I launched myself into Cassian's arms, my body wracked with sobs. “I was just trying to scare you! How could you agree so easily? Are you that tired of me?” I jabbed a finger at his chest, tears streaming down my face.

I was born a liar. That was the label my mother gave me. In the Dark Moon Pack, every pup carries a Lunar Mark on their wrist. Green means truth. Red means liar. My twin sister Maya slashed Mommy's ceremonial dress with a blade and blamed the pack hounds. Her wrist stayed soft and green. My mark went crimson when I said I was cold. "Mommy, I'm telling the truth. Please believe me." Elena would crouch down, look me in the eye, and say the same thing every time. "The Goddess's mark is absolute, Selena. Your own heart betrays you." She never touched me. She just looked at my wrist with disgust. No matter how honest I tried to be, my heart would race when I was scared. And every time my pulse spiked, the mark turned red. I lied when I said I was hungry. I lied when I said I loved her. I lied when I cried. After enough years, I stopped fighting back. I started to believe her. Maybe I really was broken. Maybe I was just born wrong. The night I died, I wrote one last line in my Penance Journal. "Mommy, help me. It hurts. Please — just believe me once." She never saw it. She had already locked the door and walked away. I'm sorry, Mommy. I died still trying to get it right. In my next life — will you hold me?