It's Always My Fault

On our seventh anniversary, an event planner called, already hyping up my wife, Talia. "Ms. Sweeney, we're putting a family photo of you four in the main hall. And some shots of your little princess. That okay? Also, can you confirm your son carrying his sister onstage?" I froze. There were only two people in our house—Talia and me. A family of four? Two kids? I called Talia, the hotel's general manager. She brushed it off. "Probably a client. Wrong number on a contract. I hand out cards all day." I stared at the balloons and flowers I'd set up in the private room—then swiped them all to the floor. Gone. I turned and called my sister, the Director of the Business Compliance Bureau. "Naomi, Talia's cheating. She's got two kids. Get me the best divorce lawyer. I want her out—and out of my hotel."

"Honey, the washing machine's making that buzzing sound again. Can you fix it please?" I got up from my desk and walked over. Just as I placed my hand on the washing machine, a wave of numbness surged through my body. My heart pounded wildly before I convulsed and collapsed on the floor. Just before everything went dark, I heard my wife on the phone. "He has collapsed. He should be dead by now." The power outlet continued to hiss and buzz, like the mocking laughter of a devil. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my wife asked me to fix the washing machine. I then decided to secretly follow her, only to discover she was posing as a topless model for her art teacher.

Genenvieve has always been in love with Daniel, her father's best friend. On her 18th birthday, she kisses him, and is immediately rejected by him. After that, Genevieve never heard from him again. Two years pass, and Daniel has an incredible night with a mysterious woman. He couldn't imagine that this woman was Genevieve, his best friend's daughter...

I went to exactly one party in my new, wealthy neighborhood. Then my neighbor Brenda sued me. In court, she held her bruised and battered daughter, Tiffany. She accused my son of rape. Mid-hearing, Tiffany tugged her collar down. Red marks circled her neck. "He tried to rip my pants off," she sobbed. "He tried to force himself on me. I fought back. So he beat me. He ruined my face!" Outside the courthouse, protesters held up signs, calling my son a piece of trash, a spoiled rich kid. Online, a photoshopped memorial of me went viral. The caption read: The unfit mother should die with her son. My company’s stock plummeted. But I just sat there. Stone-faced. I asked for my son, Cooper, to be brought in. The courtroom doors opened. Cooper walked in. Everyone froze.

It's my first time going on a trip with my boyfriend. I overhear him on the phone with his friend as they discuss how he's going to deflower me. "Grayson, you should be able to have your way with Summer this time, right?" "Don't even talk about that. She's so conservative—I've said and done everything, yet she refuses to budge!" I lower my hand instead of knocking on the door. I stand outside the room and listen as he continues. "Come off it. We've given you so many ideas in the group chat, haven't we? Have none of them worked? And didn't you guys get a room yesterday? You should've just brought sedatives. Think about how easy it would've been if you could've just knocked her out!" Grayson Hale snaps, "I forgot, alright? Besides, who would've known there'd be two beds in the room? She insisted on sleeping separately, too. I sneaked onto her bed in the middle of the night when I saw she was asleep. She woke up just as I was about to take off her clothes and kicked me off!" My blood runs cold. My hands tremble as I reply to my boss' message. "I accept headquarter's decision to transfer me."

“I fall for her, June Bentley, my brother’s fiancée. Yeah, this is silly, and many of my friends may get startled if I declare the truth. They can see me as a third wheel in my brother’s engagement, but I don’t care about their opinions. Though, I really love her at the first place. The moment I meet her as my private teacher is the time when I start developing my feelings to her. There is no other people I really want to see. It is only her and forever will be her. Yet, unexpectedly, after getting engaged to my brother, unexpectedly, she often spends more time for me. Among those times, she suddenly confesses her feelings to me. Her admission certainly makes me happy, but I realize that our love might be impossible to happen, but we decide to go through it, through the thick and thin, whether it is happy or sad.” -Stacy Barfield-

Ellie James, 50, aches for physical connection after years alone. She succumbs to Leo, 24, whose dangerous charm masks a cruel con: seduce her, gain trust, and drain her finances to pay his ruthless creditors. The plan shatters when Ellie learns Leo is the obsessive ex who once wrecked her daughter, Maya. Worse, the scheme was orchestrated by Ellie’s best friend and rival, Giselle, to destroy her. But the game flips. Leo’s cold con transforms into raw, obsessive love for Ellie. Now, explosive questions remain: Can Maya ever accept her mother with the man who still haunts her own desires? Will Giselle succeed in pushing her husband — Ellie’s regretful ex husband — back into Ellie’s bed? And will Ellie’s money truly save Leo from his violent debtors, or will they demand more?

Before I knew he was my stepson, he was my one-night stand — the man whose touch I couldn’t forget, whose way of making love branded itself into my memory. I wanted him from the start. But he resisted. He’s someone I’m supposed to guard, yet when I’m with him, he makes me feel like I’m the younger one and he’s the one in control. When he walked away, I told myself I’d forgotten him — moved on, tucked myself into a safe marriage that promised stability. But our secret affair has lasted longer than it should. No one can know. Now, things are getting riskier. He wants me to leave my marriage — he’s certain we belong together. What do I do when everything I’ve worked for — my reputation, the school I’m trying to save from collapse — is on the line?

“Ahh…” A helpless sound escaped me when the stranger’s hand cupped one of my breasts, his mouth trailing down my neck to my ear. “Fuck… your tits feel amazing,” he groaned. “Tell me, has anyone else touched you like this before?” Why was he even asking that? Didn't he know questions like that only made my body feel even hotter—worse? “Has anyone else ever played with these?” he asked again, squeezing harder. His hand was already under my uniform—God, had he slipped it in without me even noticing? The heat of his palm against my skin made my knees weak. “N-No one… y-you’re the first,” I said before I could stop myself.

When my husband threatened me with divorce for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I did not cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers and willingly handed over the man I had loved for ten years to my sister. A few days later, my sister spoke recklessly at a banquet and offended a powerful family. Once again, I stepped forward to take responsibility, bearing all the consequences in her place. When they later proposed that I become a test subject for my sister's drug research, I gladly accepted. Mom and Dad said I had finally grown into someone mature and responsible. Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He said tenderly, "Don't be afraid. The experiment won't be life-threatening. When you get out, I'll cook you a big meal." However, he did not know that regardless of whether the experiment was dangerous or not, he did not have to wait for me because I was already dying from a terminal illness.