Novelas y relatos de Homewrecker Porn Gifs

After getting into a fight with my CEO husband, Zachary Langford, I decided to sleep in a hotel room that night out of fury. Little did I know that a video would go viral on the Internet the next day. In the video, I took turns pleasuring seven men in my birthday suit. My moans filled the room the whole time. Zachary delivered a heavy slap across my face with the video shown on his phone. "How could I have ever married a shameless slut like you?" I couldn't even defend myself. All I could do was call the police for help. But once the police were done inspecting the video, they determined that it wasn't a deepfake. They had also discovered traces of the men's and my DNA in the hotel room. Everyone went into frenzied discussions on the Internet based on the video. It was then Zachary publicly announced that he shall be divorcing me soon after. Thanks to that, my mom died of a sudden heart attack. Apparently, the heart attack was triggered out of pure fury toward me. As for my father, he got into a fatal car accident on his way to the hospital. His corpse was completely broken and battered. After I got cast out of my family, those men's wives went as far as to hire hooligans to violate me in order to get revenge on me. Not wanting to get violated, I ended up falling down the stairs while I was fleeing from them. My brain suffered from internal bleeding, which killed me in the end. Even when I breathed my last, I still failed to understand why those videos and the evidence still existed despite the fact that I had done nothing at all. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm having a fight with Zachary.

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?

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.

At the parent-teacher conference, Emery Carey's essay, My CEO Mom, won first place, earning thunderous applause from the class. But the mood soured when my daughter ran to me in tears, her cheeks marked with red handprints. "Emery hit me again. He said I don't belong in his class and spat in my face." I scooped her up and marched to the teacher to demand answers. The teacher brushed it off. "It's just kids' horseplay. Don't blow it out of proportion. Emery's mother is the CEO of Mills Group. Get the picture and pull your kid out. Don't affect the mood." I froze, shocked by the absurdity. Then I dialed my lawyer. "Prepare the divorce agreement. Olivia is leaving with nothing." She'd been using my money to fund her lover and his son. That betrayal would not go unpunished.

On the day of the wedding, my fiancee, Bianca Newton, approached me with a bright smile, handing me a glass of wine. I drank it down in one gulp. Suddenly, her male best friend, Xander Lynch, raised his phone and burst out laughing. "See! I told you this idiot wouldn't even notice that it was my piss! Pay up, everyone! Don't forget to follow my account! Pay up!" I started puking uncontrollably, but Bianca merely looked at me with disgust. I demanded that Xander apologize, yet Bianca placed herself in front of him and stopped me. "It was just a joke! Why are you taking it so seriously?" At the same time, Xander said smugly, "Come on, say hello to the views in my livestream! Tell them how it feels to drink piss!" I smashed a wine bottle right on his head. Bianca demanded that I kneel and apologize to him. Then, she hurriedly escorted Xander to the hospital, still in her wedding gown. Looking at the wedding venue in utter chaos, I calmly took my phone out and dialed a number. "Are you interested in marrying me?"

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

My wolf awakened on my eighteenth birthday. Soon after, the Feral Curse tore through the werewolf world. The curse nearly claimed me, but a young Alpha, Lachlan, saved my life. He brought me to his pack. His parents, the Alpha and Luna, took me in. They gave me the best room in the pack house and treated me like the daughter they never had. Lachlan never left my side. He risked catching the curse himself, patiently feeding me potions one sip at a time. His wolf knew. I was his fated mate. I was the envy of the pack. I had an Alpha's total devotion. Then one day, Lachlan knelt before me. In his hands was the Moonstone necklace—the symbol of every Luna who came before me. He held me tight, whispering a promise to show the world that I belonged to him, and him alone. I accepted the necklace. But that night, I twisted his love into a poison. A poison I used to murder his parents and eighteen of their loyal retainers.