Scumbag Synonym Novels & Stories

On the day I'm set to go into labor, I plead to my husband, Timothy Langford, to take me to the hospital when I'm two centimeters dilated. However, a pissed-looking Timothy orders his men to lock me up in a sauna room that's heated to 356 degrees Fahrenheit. This is all because my estimated labor date is one day earlier than my widowed sister-in-law, Natalie Thornton. Since Timothy is bent on making Natalie's baby the oldest grandson of the Langford family, he instructs his men to inject me with 100 labor-suppressant injections. No matter how much I beg Timothy to spare our baby, he remains unmoved. Having received 99 injections, I feel a world of pain crashing down on me, seeing as I'm already suffering from contractions to begin with. But Timothy is the one who injects the final labor-suppressant injection into my huge pregnancy bump. As he gazes at my agonized and writhing form, he says coldly, "It's already difficult for Natalie to survive in this world after losing my older brother. As her brother-in-law, I'm merely fulfilling her wish to become a mother. "Still, you refuse to spare her. It's not enough for you to force her to survive overseas on her own; you even plan on receiving labor-induction injections just to give birth to your baby on an earlier date! "It seems that I've spoiled you far too much for you to have the guts to pull this stunt off! The doctor already told me that once I've given you the labor-suppressant injections and leave you somewhere extremely hot, it can stop you from giving birth. You're only allowed to give birth once Natalie is out of labor." At that moment, I've completely given up on life. The moment Timothy witnesses Natalie's baby being born, his eyes are filled with tears of happiness. He sets off firework after firework to celebrate the grand birth. Later on, as Timothy gazes at Natalie's newborn, he finally remembers me and our unborn baby. When he's about to order his men to take me to the hospital, he receives a phone call from his assistant. "The hospital has called to inform you to take Mrs. Langford's body away."

Five years after we married, Reuben Slade wants to send me to his superior's bed. The first time, he says, "Lissy, I'll get the project once you have a few drinks with him." The second time, he says, "Sleep with him just once, Lissy. I'll be free of debt once you do." He guarantees it won't happen again, but he goes back on his word. "Maybe you should give him a child, Lissy. He'll promote me to general manager once you do." The day Reuben is promoted to general manager, I divorce him and marry his superior.

I’m getting married, but my CEO fiancé, whom I had been engaged to for ten years, had no idea. Thanks to his new personal maid, the man has no time to spare for me. The two of them always shadowed one another, and they might as well be sleeping in the same bed. My fiancé even bought a yacht and brought her to the Arctic to see the aurora when she was in a bad mood, completely forgetting that we were supposed to be picking out wedding gowns that day. I spent the entire day waiting in that bridal shop, waiting for a man who would never show up. So I called my dad, “I’m marrying someone else.”

I go ice fishing with my husband, and we encounter a snowstorm and hailstorm. The mountainside villa has no sustenance and power, and he takes my down jacket to keep his former superior warm. I'm three months pregnant, and my daughter is having a high fever. However, he pushes us out of the villa to look for wild vegetables. Why? Because his former superior wants to eat them. He probably has no idea that I've come to this villa countless times to prepare his anniversary gift. Later, my daughter ends up mentally disabled from the high fever. I finally get my hands on proof of his under-the-table dealings with his former superior. I destroy him before he's promoted!

My husband, James Zeller, and I have established a common-law marriage. We did not have a formal wedding ceremony, nor do we have a marriage license. We also live separately, our lives barely intertwining, because he has a special profession. Therefore, despite being married to him for seven years, we've never met each other's friends and relatives. As his wife, I'm proud of being married to him despite how it pains me. I'm willing to give up the opportunity to study at the National Academy of Sciences to take care of things at home while he works. One day, my son, Jasper Chalder, comes home from elementary school crying. He sobs about not being a bastard child and requests to see James. Greatly distressed, I decide to take him to visit the military base over the new year for a family reunion. However, I don't expect this trip to turn my life completely upside down.

I give birth to my child after accepting a sperm donation. Later, my CEO husband passes away due to an illness. After I take over the company, I take five years to strike a balance between work and caring for my daughter. On her birthday, a shrew makes me out to be a mistress. "Look at how scantily clad you are—you're doing it to seduce my husband, aren't you?" I explain that I'm single, but she slaps me and snarls, "How dare you claim to be single! Your daughter looks just like my husband! I'll show you today what the consequences of wrecking someone's family are!" She drags me away like I'm a dog before the kindergarten's entrance as my daughter watches. The shrew isn't satisfied with that. She laughs cruelly and says, "I'll show your daughter what a shameless woman you are." Then, she throws herself into a man's arms. "How are you going to reward me for getting rid of a woman who thinks she can have you after having your child, honey?" I look up to see the doctor who helped me with my test tube baby back in the day. He's now my subordinate.

I was Brandon Sandler’s most cherished canary—pampered, sheltered, and utterly his for five years. Then came the news of his engagement to another woman. Only then did I realize his affection had been a carefully crafted revenge. He trapped me by his side, flaunting his love for another while subjecting me to relentless humiliation. Eventually, I stopped caring. But the ruthless business tycoon, who once held himself above all, clutched me with red-rimmed eyes, begging me to come home. He said he regretted everything. My hand instinctively cradled my stomach as I glanced at the man behind him. “Darling,” I murmured, “this man is scaring our baby.”

My parents adopted a kid, and I treated him like treasure. Then he started looking uncannily like my husband, Brian. And I caught him whispering "Mom" to my sister, Ruby. Yeah. Plot twist: Brian had been cheating on me the whole time. With Ruby. They played house behind my back, smiling for family pics—with my parents' blessing. When the truth blew up, Ruby had the audacity to beg me to step aside. My parents told me to get over it. And that kid I loved like my own? Told me I deserved to die. But here's the kicker—Brian wouldn't even sign the divorce. Dude broke down, said he still loved me, swore the kid was a mistake. So I smiled and said, "Cool. You've got seven days. Prove it, and I'll forgive you." He went full simp mode. Emptied his bank account, treated me like I was gold. Even kicked Ruby down and yelled at her to apologize. Everyone thought I'd cave. Then the cops called, asked him to ID a body—and Brian totally lost it. He never knew I'd been dead this whole time. The Reaper gave me one last week to say goodbye.

Two days before my wedding, I was sorting through some old belongings when I suddenly remembered the time capsules Ethan Shaw and I buried ten years ago. His expression froze the moment he heard it. He tried to talk me out of going. “It’s been so long. Someone must’ve dug them up already.” I didn’t think much of it and went back to our old school on my own. But at the spot where we buried it, I unearthed five metal boxes of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Ethan and I buried a decade ago, now rusted all over. The other three didn’t belong there—one was just as rusty, while the remaining two looked brand-new. The old box had Rose Quinn’s name carved on it. On top were the words: “My secret crush was a war of myself. Ethan, I wish you happiness.” I remembered her then—an unremarkable girl who used to sit behind us. And the two new boxes were engraved with the names Ethan Shaw and Rose Quinn. The date marked on them was today. On Ethan’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t give you a wedding.” On Rose’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t openly wish you a happy wedding day.”

My daughter hid inside the cabinet, her trembling hands dialing her father—James, the Alpha of our pack. "Mommy's bleeding a lot. Please, come back and save her," she pleaded. "I'm busy. Don't bother me," James said coldly. "If she's going to die, make sure she does it far away." As he wished, I never bothered him again. Because I really did die, right in front of our wedding photo. When he found out, he went mad, completely mad.