Mature Cheating

I finally conceive after being married for five years. It's then that my junior comes to me, her belly swollen as she tells me she's pregnant with my husband's child. She begs me to let her have the child. I laugh. Later, I show my husband a medical report, which clearly indicates he has a secret dysfunction.

A flash flood swept down from the mountains, causing me to become caught in a car crash. As five steel bars pierced through me, I could feel my blood pouring out in torrents as my life hung by a thread. My husband rushed to the scene. Instead of coming to me, he cradled his true love from the passenger seat and walked away. He didn't even glance in my direction. I was in and out of the ICU three times, clinging to life. Not once did he visit me. His attention was wholly fixed on the girl, who only had a mild concussion. After nearly ten years of deceiving myself, I couldn't keep playing the fool any longer. The day I was discharged, I asked my husband, Dominic Davis, for a divorce. I had survived by sheer luck, and I wasn't about to waste any more time with a husband who didn't love me.

"Lucian, who is she?!" "She is a surrogate?! She is carrying my child." "What?! Surrogate?!" “Yes，Astra will be living with us from now on!” ...... My husband, Lucian, the Alpha of the Crystal Blood Moon pack, urgently needs an heir. I have a wonderful marriage, but my only regret is that the Moon Goddess still hasn't blessed me with a child after five years of being together. But I haven't given up hope yet! Today is Lucian's birthday. I've baked a cake and bought a sexy lingerie. We are going to have a passionate night, and maybe tonight, I'll finally conceive! Knowing he could be here soon, I lit the room with scented candles, and there, the doorbell chimes. Excited, I rush to open it, only to find Lucian standing there with a pregnant woman.  

On our third wedding anniversary, I received a cake from my husband. It had the names Clarisse Burke and Antonio Carey written on it, along with Happy Third Anniversary. But I felt like I'd been plunged into ice. That wasn't my name. Clarisse was his secretary. Sure enough, I saw my cake in Clarisse Burke's latest post, labeled Iva Grant and Antonio Carey. [Three years, and someone's already treating me like his wife.] Below, there was a comment. [Delete that post! The cakes got mixed up. Don't let Iva find out.] That was when I realized he had planned every romantic surprise in pairs. Holding my phone, I laughed at his pathetic attempt to cover it up. But I was done. I started planning my exit.

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party. But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid." I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham. Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long. After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking. "Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."

At the annual company party, my boyfriend of three years openly flirted with the beautiful new secretary right in front of everyone. Without hesitation, I kicked him and his family out of my house where they had been freeloading for all this time. Humiliated and angry, he lashed out: "Sarah, this is all because you can't even get pregnant! Three years together and not a single child. If you just accept Amy in our relationship, you can still be the lady of this house!" Later on, his company was investigated for fraud. He ended up in prison, and to top it all off, it turned out the child wasn't even his to begin with.

My name is Regina Chavez. The first time Carter Gresham cheats, he falls to his knees before me, slapping himself in shame. The tenth time I catch him, he smiles and tries to comfort me. "Once I get my heart back on course, I'll come back to the family." The 20th time, his patience snaps. He yanks my hand away and throws a divorce agreement in my face. I tear the papers to shreds and spend the night destroying everything in the house. By the 30th time, Carter simply sends a signed divorce agreement. In a desperate bid to make him come back, I threaten to cut my wrists. But even as my blood pools across the floor, no one seems to care. When I wake up, his friends are gathered around me, telling me to get a divorce. "Haven't you already spent years building a life with Carter?" "He's already dealing with enough because of your depression. His seeing someone else isn't the end of the world. Do you really need to cry and threaten to kill yourself over it?" Without thinking twice, I find myself signing the divorce papers. The following day, I quietly schedule an abortion, keeping it a secret from everyone. I'm done waiting for Carter to come back.

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, was having a heart attack, and my husband, Ben Dover—a heart surgeon—was the only one who could save her. Did I call him? Nope. I just stood there, watching her gasp like a fish out of water. In my last life, I'd begged Ben to come save her. He brushed me off, accusing me of interrupting his time with his mistress, Ima Schit. No matter how much I pleaded, he wouldn't come. Eleanor had died in the hospital. And when Johnny, my father-in-law, demanded answers, Ben flipped the script, saying I'd never even called. He made Eleanor's death my fault. Johnny, blinded by grief and fury, killed me. But plot twist—I woke up. Right back to the day this circus started.

The day before Chris Carter and I were supposed to get engaged, my parents sent me to prison. Three years later, when I was finally released, Chris was the only one who came to pick me up. I knew he despised me. I trembled, keeping my head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But he blocked my path, frowning. “Emily York? You stink.” He pinched his nose and told me to get in the car. I fell to my knees, desperately begging him not to take me home. If he did, I would die. He looked at me with chilling indifference and said, “Then go ahead and die.” I agreed. But later, he cried and begged me to stay alive.

Before my mother passed away, the person she most wanted to see was her beloved son-in-law, Anthony Brosnan. She supported Anthony financially for five years, and the latter started his own business after graduating. At that time, I accidentally walked into his office and instantly fell in love with him at first sight. However, Anthony changed after three years of marriage and fell in love with his secretary. I called him over a dozen times, and it was the secretary who picked up the phone. "Anthony is cooking right now. Do you need something?" Just as I was about to speak, my mother overheard the voice. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she passed away filled with resentment. Anthony, since I had lost my mother, you meant nothing to me anymore.