Cheating Gf

I finally became pregnant after my husband and I underwent over a dozen rounds of IVF. However, to my horror, I discovered that the embryo growing inside me was the fertilized egg of my husband and the family maid. They even schemed to have me disappear so that the child could inherit everything. I pretended not to know, carried the child to term, and took care of him, raising him with love and care. It was not until 20 years later that they forced me to sign a share transfer agreement by my hospital bed, along with a divorce agreement that left me with nothing. "After 20 years, we finally have our happy family. You never saw this coming, did you? The child you fought so hard to give birth to is my biological son!" Even my son, without any remorse, said, "Honestly, your illness is beyond help. It'd be better for you to just die." With a knowing, almost bittersweet, smile I replied, "For your happiness, I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

I was married to Gideon Strathmore for eight years, but he was unfaithful, bringing home different women. The 100th, Vesper Quinn, smirked at me and turned to him, saying, "This is your useless wife, huh?" Gideon leaned back in his chair and lazily nodded. Emboldened by his attitude, she strutted over and patted my cheek. "Listen closely to what a real woman sounds like." That night, moans filled the living room. I couldn't escape them. The next morning, Gideon ordered me to breakfast as usual. I refused, unwilling to be his puppet any longer. He forgot our marriage was based on a contract, and it was due in three days.

The day I learned the truth about my husband, Duke Alistair, and his adopted sister, Liana, I left. I abandoned my title, my home, and returned to my father's palace. A year passed. Then came news of chaos in the duchy. The servant Alistair sent spoke with desperation, “Your Highness, the Duke and your son are lost to reason. If you don’t return, I fear they will burn everything to the ground.” I looked at the blood I'd coughed onto my handkerchief. I nodded. "Fine. I'll go back." The doctor had already given me my diagnosis. Consumption. I had only a month left to live. So I went back. And I played the part of the perfect duchess. I no longer demanded Alistair's loyalty. I even found him three new mistresses who looked just like Liana and sent them to his bed after he had sent her away for me. I no longer made Damian study the arts of statecraft and not forced him to master his courtly duties. Instead, I supported his ridiculous dream of joining the Expeditionary Force. I took the pain they gave me. I wrapped it in the "understanding" they always craved. And I served it back to them cold. But it drove Alistair mad. He threw out the mistresses. He crushed me in his arms. His kiss was a punishment. He bit my lip, drawing blood. "I sent Liana away! What more do you want from me? How can I earn your forgiveness?" Damian cried and clung to my arm. "I'll never call Aunt Liana 'gentle' or 'beautiful' again! Mother, please. Just stop." They didn't understand. I wasn't making a scene. I just wanted to live out my last month in peace. And then, I wanted to die.

When a hurricane comes, my husband, the leader of a rescue team, takes away everything we've stored at home so he can save his true love. I plead, "Leave some for me. I'm pregnant." He shakes me off. "How can you be so evil? The windows at Lottie's home have already been blown away. Don't tell me you're going to sit by and watch her die! She's not like you—you're not afraid of everything. The hurricane will be over soon, so you won't need any of this stuff." After that, he leaves without another look back. What he doesn't know is that there's also a crack in our home's windows.

Hindi kamukha ng tatlong taong gulang na anak kong lalaki ang asawa ko. Naghihinala, ang father-in-law ko ay kumuha ng paternity test para sa anak ko. Ang resulta ay nagpakita na walang biological na relasyon sa pagitan nila. Galit at napahiya, ang father-in-law ko ay sumabog sa galit, nagbato ng mga insulto sa akin at pinagbantaan pa na patayin kami. Ang asawa ko, galit din, ay sinampal ako ng malakas sa mukha. “Walang hiya ka! Hinayaan mo ako na palakihin ang anak ng ibang lalaki ng tatlong taon!” Habang nakatitig sa kanilang nagaakusang mga mukha, kalmado akong gumawa ng isa pang report—paternity test sa pagitan ng asawa ko at ng kanyang ama. Kinumpirma nito na sila ay hindi din biological na magkaugnay. Ang kanilang mga ekspresyon ay napahinto sa gulat. Na may maliit na ngiti, sinabi ko, “Mukhang hindi natin alam kung sino ay hindi parte ng pamilyang ito, hindi ba?”

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke. My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me. Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there." His words crush me, and I do die. Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him. Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality. Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity. Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help. In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide. My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death. “This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!” Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

My husband's first love had been trapped in a car for an hour. After they pulled her out, his rage shifted onto me. “It’s your fault she got hurt,” he spat, his eyes blazing as he grabbed me. Before I could make sense of what was happening, he forced me into a wooden box, slamming the lid down with a deafening crack. “You’re going to feel every ounce of the pain she went through,” he hissed, nailing it shut. I pounded on the walls, my screams tearing through the air. “Please, I didn’t do anything! Let me out!” My throat burned with the effort, my fists aching, but nothing stopped him. “Stay in there until you’ve figured out how to act like a decent human being,” he said, his voice cold, dripping with contempt. Hours passed. My body twisted unnaturally in the tight space, bones throbbing as blood smeared the wood beneath me. I whispered into the dark, the pain unbearable. "Please… just let me out…" But he didn’t care. A week later, he returned, his laughter echoing with hers as they entered the house, carefree from their trip. He finally opened the box. But by then, I was already gone. The woman he locked away was no longer breathing, no longer pleading. Just a cold, silent corpse.

My husband, Colton Skye, is away on a business trip for two months. When he returns, he and his true love appear at the arrival hall together. I notice the slight swell of her stomach and am about to ask about it when Colton scornfully pushes me away. "Don't touch Darlene with your dirty hands—she's pregnant. I'll kill you if she falls sick!" Then, he gently holds Darlene Williams' hand. "You must be tired. Let's head home." He doesn't even spare me a glance as he leaves with Darlene in tow. I silently rub the spot where he shoved me as I watch them leave. Then, I contact a divorce lawyer. It looks like this ten-year marriage has ultimately come to an end.