Kathniel Break Up Cheating Novels & Stories

When my identity as a spy for the enemy nation was exposed, my two childhood friends faked their deaths and made a bet. Whose memorial tablet I chose to marry at the altar would be the one to protect me. One was Rio Murray, the young general to whom I was betrothed. The other was Prince Bayram, who had concealed my identity as a spy for many years. But I chose neither for the simple fact that I had lived this life twice. During my first time, I chose Rio, only to be buried alive by the prince, who had “returned from the dead.” During my second time, I chose Bayram, only to be torn to pieces by vultures sent by Rio. Later, I learned that all those years of care had been a facade. It was because they had mistaken me for their dream girl, who had been abducted by the enemy nation in childhood and vanished without a trace. They hated me for usurping her place. So under the pretext of eliminating a rival, they subjected me to the agony of slow torture! This time, I ignored both memorial tablets placed before me. Amid the gasps of the crowd, I produced the Royal Decree and declared while enunciating every word clearly. “I am already betrothed; I’m afraid I cannot choose.”

When the murderer tortures me to death, my criminal investigator dad and chief forensic pathologist mom are cheering at my brother's match. The criminal saws off my tongue. He answers my Dad's call with my finger. Just before the call ends, Dad's cold voice cuts through. "Playing dead, huh? We should never have brought him back." The murderer chuckles mockingly. "Looks like I grabbed the wrong kid. I thought they'd care more about their real son." When Mom and Dad arrive at the crime scene later, they stare at the mutilated body in shock and rage at the murderer's cruelty. But they never realize that the broken, bloodied body is their biological son.

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

"Fuck.." I moan as my feverish skin makes me dizzy with lust. [Yes.] "Evet, Mila. You make me want to ravage you when I should be disgusted by the thought of even touching you." He mutters. "But I'm not. Instead, everything about you makes me mad with desire and I can not control it. God's, I tried to but I don't want to anymore." He removes his hand from the wall, wrapping his fingers around my jaw and he forces me to stare up at him. "You've already had a taste of me and one taste is all you get." I swallow loudly, throwing his words back at him. >>> When it comes to my prince charming, my life has been anything but a fairytale. The Esposito family robbed me of all I held dear to my heart. From the depths of my dignity to the depths of my son. I was living in continual terror; my body, as well as my trust and beliefs, were being exploited. Until one fateful day, I gained the strength to flee, dashing into an Irish bar and meeting a Turkish man. I stayed with him for the night before being compelled to return to the house of terrors. After being thrown down a flight of stairs 37 weeks later, I gave birth to my son. I knew who the father was the moment my son's gaze met mine, but I opted to keep it to myself. However, destiny had other plans for me, and I begged my son's biological father for protection as I fled the Italian mafia. We will work together to rescue our son and demolish their network, all while finding love along the way. My name is Mila Starkk, and this is my Screwed Up Love Story.

I’m Daisy Valence. Eighteen. The favorite daughter of the Valence family. I woke up and found myself eight years in the future. Not only was I married to my nemesis, Lorenzo Astor, but we had a four-year-old son. Even crazier, the future me was a stone-cold snake, plotting to gut Lorenzo's operation while planning to run off with her "lover" after the divorce. And this "lover"? Just some nobody from the slums I was bankrolling. I must have lost my mind. Just as I was about to cut ties with all of them and get my free, single life back... I found the love letters Lorenzo wrote me, a secret stash of things I’d used, and a phone filled with my pictures… Then he grabbed me, his eyes bloodshot, and held me so tight I could barely breathe. He growled, "Who the hell gave you permission to leave me?" "I never agreed to any divorce, my wife."

Gabriella Halim woke up in a luxurious room she didn’t recognize. When she looked in the mirror, she nearly fainted. Her face was still beautiful, but… more mature. She was no longer the twenty-year-old girl she remembered—she had become a thirty-year-old woman. Even more shocking, she had been married to Adryan Lewis for five years, a young, ambitious, and notoriously cold politician. Gabby immediately realized one thing: her husband hated her. Cold glares, cutting words, and an impenetrable distance left her bewildered. What had happened in the past ten years? Rather than crying or pleading for love, Gabby chose a different path: enjoying the luxury she now had. A grand house, wardrobes full of designer dresses, and an unlimited bank account. Why bother chasing love when life could be this comfortable? But the world of politics was never simple. Public scrutiny, rival political intrigues, and scandalous gossip forced Gabby to take on a role far greater than that of a mere “trophy wife.” And as Adryan began to notice the dramatic changes in Gabby, the question remained: would his hatred persist, or could it transform into something he never expected?

My husband worked overtime in the studio and suffered from an explosion. His body was blown to pieces. When my bestie frantically told me the news, I just nodded calmly. She called and texted me nonstop. She urged me to go to the site to recognize my husband's body. I blacklisted her and bought a ticket to go abroad. In my previous life, when I heard the news, I stopped at nothing and rushed to my husband's studio. However, I only saw my husband's cold ashes. My bestie said that my husband had poured out his troubles to her once. My husband said that I had run up a mountainous debt for gambling. He wanted a divorce, but I threatened him that he would have a sky-high debt if he divorced me. Even my mother cried and accused me of often going to the casino and taking men home at midnight. But none of this was true. I treated my husband very well; just a few days ago, I gave him a million-dollar watch as a gift. And I had never done anything related to gambling. Facing their accusation, I chose to call the police to prove my innocence. However, the police discovered my diamond necklace at the explosion site, where forensic experts also found my fingerprints. I failed to prove my innocence and became the heinous murderer who killed my husband. My mother took me to court for justice and took over my business empire. In jail, I was retaliated and died. When I opened my eyes again, I regained my life on the day when my husband suffered from the explosion.

My girlfriend's schoolmate is being hounded by creditors. In my past life, the same incident had unfolded before my eyes. I was worried that my girlfriend would provoke these ruthless creditors, so I'd advised her not to meddle. However, her schoolmate later overdosed on sleeping pills. Later on, my girlfriend acted as if nothing had happened and continued preparing for our wedding. But after she got drunk one day, I found her caressing his picture tenderly—before stabbing me in the heart with a knife. She claimed that if not for my indifference and selfishness, her schoolmate wouldn't have taken his own life. Now that I've been reborn, I'll grant her wish and let her help him pay off his debts. Presently, I say, "He's your schoolmate. If you can help him, go ahead. I won't object."

I caught my boyfriend cheating. So I went to the one man he feared most—his father. But heartbreak turned into hate. And hate led me straight into Asher’s arms. Now I’m caught in something twisted and wrong… It was meant to hurt him. Still he won’t let me go without a fight. Asher Thompson isn’t just a father. He’s the man behind the mask. A mafian billionaire who hides his criminal empire beneath silk suits and polite smiles. And now, he owns me. I wanted revenge, to make Henry hurt. But each time Asher took me apart with a look. And every time I try to leave, he drags me deeper into his world of secrets and sin. He touches me like he owns me. He looks at me like I was made to be his. But I don’t know what’s worse, the pain Henry caused… Or how much I still feel for him, even while I’m in his father’s bed. And when the truth comes out? Someone’s going to bleed. And I’m not sure I want to survive it. This started with heartbreak. Now it’s war. And I’m the one holding the match.

I'd been bonded to my mate, Brandon Blackstone, the Alpha heir of the Blackstone pack, for three years. But I'd never been allowed to attend his family dinners. Every full moon, I could only stay home alone. Brandon said it was a centuries-old tradition of the Blackstone pack. Only after passing a long probationary period, proving absolute loyalty to the pack and one's mate, would someone be allowed to attend the Alpha's family dinners. I'd believed him for three whole years. But now, I'd found three photos in his car. In the background, I could see a long table laden with a variety of fruits and delectable dishes. The Alpha and Luna raised their glasses beside the statue of the Moon Goddess, standing quietly to the side. And beside Brandon stood a beautiful she-wolf. Moonlight spilled down, and I could clearly see how close they were standing, their fingers tightly interlaced. That was when I finally understood. Not being allowed to attend the dinners was never about some probationary period. It was because Brandon, or rather the entire Blackstone pack, believed that the person qualified to stand beside the future Alpha would never be me.