I Am A Psychopath

Today happens to be Yvonne Ziegler's birthday. Yvonne is Shawn Jacobson's, my husband's, newly hired personal assistant. Shawn spares no expense in buying her a villa as a birthday present, and Yvonne haughtily takes to social media to show off on the day she moves in. "I'd like everyone to know that I'm married to a wealthy man now." Shawn comments on the post, saying, "Happy birthday, my beloved Yvonne!" In the picture, Shawn's hand rests intimately on Yvonne's slender waist, leaving no doubt about their intimate relationship. In that instant, the company's group chat erupts into a frenzy of notifications, as colleagues declare their envy of Yvonne and heap praise upon her for being young and accomplished. Oscar Jagger, my childhood friend, notices the picture and immediately tags me in the group chat. He then sends me a pointed, teasing message, saying, "Shawn's display of love is so glaring! Congrats on being cheated on, Leslie!" I manage a bitter, wry smile, taking my time to type out the response. "Do you need a villa as well, Oscar? I'm happy to give you a place—a much nicer one than Shawn's, of course."

After eating a poisonous, hallucination-inducing mushroom, I genuinely thought I’d woken up inside a spicy erotica novel. I was the heroine—a live-in housekeeper working for a rich heir, the kind of impossibly handsome, impossibly wealthy man who only exists in fiction. When I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, I felt… oddly disappointed. I muttered under my breath, “Only six guys? What, do I need to take Sundays off?” The heir let out a short, disbelieving laugh. A slow, dangerous one. “If I’d known you were this bold,” he said, “I wouldn’t have bothered being gentle.” The moment the hallucination faded, I grabbed his sleeve and practically burst into tears. “Honey, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of that.” He loosened his tie with maddening calm and murmured, “Relax. No one here takes Sundays off. And if you’re that eager to follow the plot of your little erotica novel… we can start right now.”

In our five years of marriage, my husband, Derrick Wickham, bails on me 99 times for his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Harson. This time, after he stands me up, I find two plane tickets to Frantines in his office. "I was planning to surprise you for our anniversary. Since you've already seen them, we'll just meet at the airport," he says icily. I eagerly pack and get myself ready, arriving early at the airport. I wait from the wee hours of dawn till the late hours of night, but Derrick fails to show up. Then, I see a post on Jessica's social media. "It's my birthday today. Though he doesn't have the time to go on a trip with me to Frantines, I forgive him because he brought me to the amusement park instead!" In the past, I'd have called him, crying and demanding answers. But this time, I'm truly done.

I promise I didn’t do anything that day”. He cups my face and stares deeply into my eyes.      “I want to believe you but I can’t”. I place my hands on his. I close my eyes and let the tears fall.    I feel a soft kiss on my cheeks trailing down to my neck. His hands move up my back as he claims my lips in his. My tears flow freely. He pushes me to the wall gently and claim my lips again. I let my hands do what they have been itching to do and run my fingers through his soft hair.   ******************************************   When Isabel Díaz finds out about her boyfriend and soon-to-be baby daddy’s betrayal on Christmas Eve, she packs up and leaves.     Two years later, she is unexpectedly transferred back to America. She later discovers that this is Jaxon Slade’s doing. Moving back there right before Christmas feels like déjà vu.     Will the health of their child bring them together and allow him to redeem himself or will it drift them further apart?

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

The very day she came back into her home country, she heard the most absurd news. "Your sister is getting married with Mr. Stephenson". "What did you say?" She couldn't believe it. At the engagement party, she was shocked to see her sister getting engaged to her fiancé. "Daniel, remember this, I dumped you! Did you hear that? I dumped you, not the other way round." ..... Who could have guessed that after being betrayed by her fiancé and sister and being labelled as a home wrecker, someone would still want to marry her? "Don't you want to get revenge on your fiancé for what he did?" Nathan Clemon asked Hilda. "What has that got to do with you?" She snapped back. "It has got everything to do with me. I am the only person who could help you achieve that whiles giving you the happiness that any woman would wish in this world."

I dated Jacob, my Alpha, for five years. Yet on the day of our marking ceremony, he marked another she-wolf behind my back. “Molly is pregnant with my pup, your new heir!” Jacob proudly announced the news. Everyone cheered for them. I stood in the crowd and ignored the challenging look Molly gave me. When the ceremony was about to end, I turned around numbly. I knew that I was unnecessary here, so I went back to the house I shared with Jacob and packed up to leave. I had joined Jacob’s pack because I loved him. Since he no longer felt the same, it was time for me to leave.

After sixty-six months of waiting,on the day of our Mating Ceremony, my fated mate, Alpha Asher, rejected me. He held his first love, Cora, in his arms, his gaze on me cold and cruel. "Cora is already carrying my pup," he said, his voice void of any warmth. "I am rejecting you. Once the pup is born and its place in the pack is secure, we can still be mates." He added, a cruel smirk on his face, "Besides, being my mate is the greatest honor an Omega like you could ever hope for." Everyone expected me to endure the humiliation, to wait quietly for Asher to come back and finally accept me. But that very night, I followed the Moon Goddess's guidance and left for good. Five years later, I returned to my old home. My mate Ronan called away on urgent business. So he had no choice but to arrange for a local Alpha to greet me. I never expected it would be him: my ex-mate, Alpha Asher. Exhausted from the long journey and weary from my pregnancy, I was met with mockery. With Cora on his arm, he sneered at my plain clothes, telling me I was nothing without him. "Seeing as you've hit rock bottom and look like some pathetic rogue, I suppose we can be generous enough to take you in. Our pup could use a healer." I just laughed coldly and refused. He has no idea — I’m now the Luna Queen to the Alpha King. His entire pack existed only at my mercy.

After eighteen years of wandering alone, I looked like a tomboy covered in dirt when I was found and brought home. Just as I was about to shower, there was a loud scream in the bathroom. The fake heiress rushed out. She pushed me down before she threw herself into Mom’s arms and cried. “He… He peeped on me while I was showering. He even tried to touch me inappropriately!” Mom was furious, and Dad raised his arm to punch me. My brother was so enraged that he even wanted to throw me out! However, I was a girl! Did they forget that the child they lost was a girl?

My friend and I transmigrated into a melodramatic novel about a wealthy family. When the mission ended, I chose to leave. He fell for the obsessive female lead and chose to stay with her. Eight years later, the system told me that she had locked him in a mental hospital, and he had only three days left to live. When I rushed to him, he was tied to the bed. His eyes were dull, and he kept repeating my name. His crush, Sterling Group's CEO, was planning a grand wedding with the man she truly loved. I looked at my friend’s hands. They had once played the piano with grace. This time, they were covered in countless needle marks. “You came, I knew you would...” He mustered the last of his strength to look at me. “I was a fool. I thought staying by her side was the truest form of my love for her. “I never realized I was only a stepping stone in her path. “Take me home. I don’t want to die here...”