The Marriage Trap Novels & Stories

Beneath the surface, I was shattered too. We were both grieving. For our bodies. Our babies. Our marriages. For the lie we’d built up around the Moretti name. I used to think marrying into the Moretti family was a dream. Two sisters. Two powerful men. Glamour. Power. Love. But it had all been a trap. There’d been a comment once—on one of my old Instagram posts, back when I used to romanticize our lives with cute captions and matching outfits. "Hope you don’t regret marrying them. Men change."

“How, Mom? You want me to hold a press conference and cry?” She finally raised her eyes then. “You’re going to marry him.” Silence. A beat. Then... “Marry who?” She stood and walked over to the window, arms crossed. “Koven Elrik Mavros.” The name tasted bitter the moment it left her lips. My blood ran cold. “I’m sorry—what?” “He agreed. He’ll clean your image, silence the press, and in return, you’ll marry him for a year.” I blinked. “Are you insane?”

Mike asked her. "I married Mr. Center for my own interests. Mr. Center still doesn't know my full identity and he didn't know at the time of our marriage that I am a doctor. I agreed to treat him myself and I had my interests here too. If you think Mr. Center is using me by marrying me, then you are wrong. In fact, I married Mr. Center to use him. Mr. Center has accepted me as his wife from the bottom of his heart and has never forced me in any way. So, please do not think bad of him" Natalie said to him.

I scanned the lines. Then my eyes landed on it. “All contents of this contract are void unless Party A (Arianna Rane) provides Party B (Evan Gates) with an heir. Annulment or divorce cannot be initiated until such a condition is met.” My hands trembled. “No,” I said softly. “This… this can’t be right.” He leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “So, unless I give you a child, I’m trapped in this marriage?” He nodded, unfazed.

Her friend's used to admire her this personality as she was the most charasamstic and positive individual in her group. Yet now, she finds herself trapped in a cage of helplessness, yearning for the freedom she once took for granted. The desire for release is so strong that she has contemplated ending her own life, only to be thwarted by a mysterious savior who seems determined to keep her tethered to this existence. As she crept into the room, her heart heavy with despair, she was relieved to find her not so husband asleep. Collapsing onto the cold floor, tears streamed down her face, a silent witnessed to the pain and suffering that had become her constant companions.

“Noah Thorne wants me to marry him. A contract, one year. I’d be his fake wife, smile for his business deals. He’ll clear the debt—fifty grand, plus interest—and pay me five million. Fund my design business, too.” Mom’s eyes widen, her hands freezing on the bills. “Five million? Scarlett, that’s…” “Insane,” I cut in, my voice rising. “It’s a trap, Mom. He’s a stranger, a billionaire who thinks he can buy me. I’m not some prop for his corporate games.”

"Willow, I've been waiting for you for a long time." Out of nowhere, my nose started to sting and my eyes welled up with tears. I never imagined I would meet someone who looked at me like I was their whole world. And I certainly never thought that an arranged marriage would lead me to somewhere I felt safe and loved instead of completely miserable. When the officiant asked if I was willing to marry Nathan, I didn't hesitate. I nodded and said yes. The officiant joked, "The groom may be a powerhouse in the business world, but today he's a total softie!"

The words landed heavily between us. I leaned back into my chair. “Well, you don’t disappear on someone you love and come back expecting everything to be normal.” “I get that,” he said, reaching across the table for my hands. “I came back for you.” The way he said it made disgust twist in my stomach. I snatched my hands away. “Well, I’m married, Lucas.” I snapped, raising my left hand. “See? Yes. I’m married. To Tristan Castillo.” “And you’re here,” he fired back. “What I find interesting is how quickly you moved on. From what I heard, you got married barely three months after my supposed death.”

“They ask why I kissed you, why you sat in my front seat, why Daniel looked ready to fight, and why you vanished after the biggest scene of the semester.” The truth wraps around my throat slowly. I hate the trap more because I can see every wall of it. “If you show up,” he continues, “they call it drama, jealousy, secret dating, maybe even bad taste on your part, but not marriage.” The word marriage steals the air between us. Two months and a few weeks suddenly feels short and endless at the same time. “You really think a pool party can bury a marriage certificate?” I ask. “No,” he says. “I think people believe the story that costs them less thinking.”

Unfortunately, there was only a deliveryman holding a small box standing before him instead of the figure he was hoping for. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Hunter Jones? You have a parcel from Ms. Audrey White." Hunter eagerly signed his name and accepted the package when he heard Audrey's name. He was dumbstruck after opening the box. That was because there was a fake marriage certificate, Audrey's engagement ring, and several printed images of Sarah's past social media posts in the box. It turned out that Audrey had long known about his marriage registration with Sarah. Each of his affections toward Sarah was posted on social media and became the weapon Sarah used against Audrey.