The Ugly Truth

My mom always said, "I've never played favorites. "You and your brother mean exactly the same to me." She said it so often I almost believed it. Growing up, anything my brother had, I had too. If he got a new pair of sneakers, so did I. If he signed up for coding classes, I was enrolled in the same ones. Even this year, when we came home for the holidays, my mom smiled as she handed each of us a neatly-packaged designer shopping bag. "I picked these out for you two at the store. One for each of you, exactly the same. "These outdoor brands are expensive, you know. A single jacket costs thousands. I'd never buy one for myself, but I don't mind splurging on you two." I took the jacket. It was well-cut, structured, and looked high-quality. A small warmth stirred in my chest. However, when I tried it on, the collar felt oddly irritating against my skin. Frowning, I pulled back the lining to check. There was a ring of yellowed sweat stains around the label, and tiny flakes of dandruff were caught in the Velcro. A faint musty smell lingered on the cloth, mixed with the stale odor of cheap tobacco. It was sour and impossible to ignore.

My husband, Jonathan Rivers, was a notorious playboy in Polesburg's elite circles. Beautiful women surrounded him constantly, yet he claimed to have fallen for me at first sight, saying it was a love that would last forever. He dismissed all the other women around him for my sake. Everyone said I was his destined soulmate. Seven years into our marriage, I had seven abortions for him, simply because he said he did not like children. Then on Father's Day, I saw him on his secretary's social media feed. The same man who claimed to be away on business was there with a child beside him, calling him "Daddy" loudly. It turned out that when he said he did not like children, he meant that he did not like children with me. I dialed his number through tears. "Do you want another wife?"

For eight years Felicia was in love with Max Hawthorne the kind of love that leads to excessive effort and insufficient demands. The closest she ever came to being selected was when she became his assistant. Then an error turned into a marriage, and she became the antagonist due to her pregnancy. It was said that she orchestrated it. Max didn't dispute it. While his mistress made sure she felt insignificant, he didn't even glance at her. Felicia then departed. After giving birth, she left the divorce papers there and turned to go. After five years, she is back at the top, successful, and untouchable. Max now demands her attention as if he has always been entitled to it. He discovers her grinning and announcing her engagement while perched on the arm of another man. With fear in his eyes, Max intervenes and presses her up against the wall. "Felicia," he murmurs. "Return to me. We're still together."

I'm three months pregnant when my husband, a doctor, personally performs an abortion for me. I can see the fetus in the trash can. Chuck Gross uses his doctor's coat to block Valerie Green's curious eyes. "Don't look, Val. You'll get nightmares." After the abortion, he throws a few tissues at me, looking icy. Then, he leaves with Valerie. Later, when Chuck learns the truth, he bursts into agonized tears. "Can we not get a divorce? Please?"

I had been on a business trip overseas for less than six months when I suddenly received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Jones, your wife is having a difficult labor. Should we proceed with a C-section or try to continue with a natural delivery?" The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I stood there, frozen. When I left, my wife had not shown any sign of pregnancy. How could she be giving birth less than six months later? I quickly dialed her number. The moment the call connected, I heard her cries of pain. "Honey, what's wrong?" From the other end of the line, I could hear a nurse urging her to push harder. However, my wife forced her voice to sound calm. "Sweetheart, I just slipped and fell a moment ago. It's nothing serious. You should keep focusing on your business trip. Don't worry about me." As I listened, the faint sound of a baby crying filtered through the phone. My grip tightened so hard around the phone that it nearly cracked. "Is that so? Then, get some rest," I said calmly. After hanging up, I immediately called my father, the richest man in the country. "Dad, Rebecca's cheating on me. She's in the delivery room right now, having another man's child. Stop all investments in the Harris family immediately. I want her thrown out with nothing to her name."

On August 23, the Metropolitan Police entered a well-appointed flat at 36 Suffolk Street, in the heart of London. In the flat, they found an ensuite bathroom; in the bathtub, they found a padlocked bag, and in the bag, they found the body of Tina Davis Tina, a brilliant mathematician, worked in Cheltenham for GQHC, Britain's domestic eavesdropping agency. She lived in London on secondment to MI6, Britain's Secret Intelligence Service, and the block of flats where they found her body is an MI6 "safe house reportedly". Uninterested in potential national-security angles, the police immediately announced they were looking for clues to Tina's mysterious death in the details of her private life. But they didn't make much headway. A month after discovering her body, they still hadn't determined the cause of death, although they had admitted the case was "complex" and "unexplained." It seemed like a job for Quintus Noone Fortunately, he happened to be available.

Two years of marriage. Two years of trust. Two years of secrets I never knew existed. I thought I was coming home to the man I married—surprising Nathan after my work trip ended early. Instead, I stood frozen in the doorway of our bedroom, watching my husband tangled in the sheets with someone I never expected. Someone whose face I only caught a glimpse of before she bolted—running out the back like a ghost escaping the scene of a crime. But I know that face. I’ve seen it every day of my life. Felt its presence in my laughter, my tears, my memories. That night shattered everything. The perfect husband. The perfect life. All of it was a carefully crafted illusion built on lies. Now, nothing is what it seems—and I have no idea where this road will take me.

Our third anniversary trip to Hawaii was supposed to be a new beginning—just me, Tom, and our son. But then she showed up. Blair. Our single, sexy neighbor with a killer smile and a suitcase full of charm. I thought she was just tagging along. I was wrong. One night, I overheard her hiss, “Why the hell didn’t you just let her die?” That’s when it hit me—Blair wasn’t just having an affair with my husband. She had planned to let me drown in the tsunami. I survived. But I kept quiet. I decided to play dumb—to smile, to act fragile, to stay close—for my son’s sake. I needed to know what they really wanted… and how far they’d go. Then, on my son Noah’s birthday, he made a wish. “I want Aunty Blair to be my new mommy.” The candles flickered. My heart cracked. Had Blair already replaced me?

His hand clamped around my chin, rough and unrelenting, sending a sharp ache through my jaw. His eyes bored into mine, dark and merciless, as if he could strip away my very soul. “You belong to me now,” he snarled, his voice low and venomous. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat a desperate plea to escape. --- Nyx Caprienne was feared by all, known as “The Queen of Death.” A mercenary without equal, she moved like a shadow, silent and lethal, leaving destruction in her wake. Her latest mission was simple. To hunt down a man who seemed untouchable. A man drenched in blood and power, his name whispered with fear. To Nyx, he was just another target. Another job. But this time, fate turned the game against her. This man was more than she’d anticipated. Beneath his wealth and charm was something far darker, a predator who thrived on chaos. He wasn’t just dangerous; he was the devil himself. And now, Nyx was caught in his web, realizing too late that this was a fight she might not survive.

At my mother's funeral, my fiancé, Matt Moore, arrived with Kayla Wood to pay his respects. In front of everyone, he announced that our engagement was over. He was going to marry Kayla instead. As the whispers and laughter of the crowd swirled around me, Zach Hayden, my childhood friend, suddenly knelt on one knee and proposed. He said he had loved me for many years. Moved by Zach's sincerity, I accepted his proposal. For three years after our marriage, I remained childless. Each time the topic came up, Zach would reassure me gently that it didn't matter. As long as he had me, that was enough. But not long after, I overheard a conversation between him and the family doctor. "Mr. Hayden, I've prepared the contraceptives as you instructed. Should I continue giving them to your wife?" His voice was cold and detached. "Yes. Don't stop. Marrying her was nothing more than a convenient arrangement. In my heart, only Kayla is worthy of being the mother of my child." So, this marriage I thought was filled with happiness was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie. Since he never loved me, I no longer wanted him either.