After Uncovering His Affair with Her Sister

The blue light of my laptop screen cast eerie shadows across my darkened apartment as I scrolled mindlessly through various websites. It was nearly midnight, and insomnia had become my unwelcome companion since Logan and I had entered the long-distance phase of our relationship. Three states apart, with him finishing his degree while I built my business empire—it wasn't ideal, but we'd made it work for two years. I clicked on a link that redirected me to an adult content site I'd never visited before. My finger hovered over the keyboard, ready to close it immediately, but something caught my eye. A familiar tattoo. My breath caught in my throat as I leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the image of a shirtless man with his face obscured by shadow. But there was no mistaking that tattoo—the intricate phoenix rising from flames on his left shoulder blade. The same one Logan had gotten on his twenty-first birthday, when I'd surprised him with a weekend getaway to celebrate. "Logan?" I whispered, my voice trembling in the empty room.

Chapters

Chapter 1

I clicked on a link that redirected me to an adult content site I'd never visited before. My finger hovered over the keyboard, ready to close it immediately, but something caught my eye. A familiar tattoo.

My breath caught in my throat as I leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the image of a shirtless man with his face obscured by shadow. But there was no mistaking that tattoo—the intricate phoenix rising from flames on his left shoulder blade. The same one Logan had gotten on his twenty-first birthday, when I'd surprised him with a weekend getaway to celebrate.

"Logan?" I whispered, my voice trembling in the empty room.

I clicked on the image to enlarge it, and my stomach lurched. There was the watch I'd given him for his birthday—the limited edition Tag Heuer with the custom engraving on the back. "To my forever," it read. A sentiment that now felt like acid burning in my chest.

The listing was explicit: "College jock looking for extra cash. Check my other listings for more." I scrolled through the images, each one more intimate than the last. My hands shook as I navigated through the site, finding three different listings featuring Logan's body—always with his face obscured but his distinctive tattoo prominently displayed.

"What the hell is this?" I muttered, scrolling frantically through the comments section.

"Great body, bro. When's the next shoot?"

"Those abs are sick. You should model professionally."

"This dude knows how to work the camera. More please!"

Each comment was a knife twisting deeper. I slammed my laptop closed and paced my apartment, trying to calm my racing thoughts. This had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe someone who looked like Logan? But that watch—I'd saved for months to buy it.

After twenty minutes of pacing, I reopened my laptop with a new search strategy. If Logan was selling intimate photos, what else might he be selling?

I navigated to a popular secondhand marketplace and typed in the brand name of the leather jacket I'd bought him last Christmas. The limited edition Harley Davidson jacket had cost me $2,500—a splurge that had made me feel guilty for weeks afterward.

The first result made my blood run cold.

"Gently used Harley Davidson limited edition leather jacket. Worn twice. $800 OBO."

The photos showed the jacket draped over what looked like a dorm room chair. I recognized the backdrop immediately—the Star Wars poster Logan had taped to his wall freshman year. The seller's username was "LoganW1998."

My fingers flew across the keyboard, searching for other gifts I'd given him. The Ray-Ban sunglasses I'd surprised him with after his wisdom teeth surgery. The Apple Watch that had replaced his old one when it broke. The gaming console I'd ordered special delivery when he mentioned missing playing with his roommates.

All listed for sale. All at bargain prices. All photographed in his dorm room.

I sat back, numb with shock. The total value of these gifts was over $10,000—money I'd worked overtime to earn, money I'd been proud to spend on someone I loved.

"You son of a bitch," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Logan's number before I could stop myself. Three rings, then his sleepy voice answered.

"Tash? Everything okay? It's late here."

"I sent your watch for repair last week," I lied smoothly, my heart pounding. "The jeweler called saying they couldn't fix the damage. What happened to it?"

There was a brief pause—so brief anyone else might have missed it.

"Oh, that," Logan said, his voice suddenly more alert. "Yeah, I dropped it in the gym. The back cracked. I took it to this place near campus—they said they could fix it for cheap. It's already as good as new."

I navigated to the listing I'd found earlier. The watch was still available for purchase, listed at $1,200—half its original price.

"That's great," I said, forcing brightness into my voice while my mind raced. "I was worried you'd be upset. It was an expensive gift."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Logan replied casually. "I know you've got my back, babe."

The pet name made my skin crawl now.

"I should let you sleep," I said. "Big day tomorrow?"

"Yeah, midterms coming up. Gotta crush these exams so I can graduate and finally be with you full time."

More lies. All of it lies.

"I love you," he added before hanging up.

I stared at my phone, then back at my laptop screen where his naked body was still displayed for strangers to bid on. The watch he claimed to have repaired was still listed for sale, its engraving visible in the product photos.

"To my forever," it mocked me.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The pain was there, raw and throbbing, but something else was building beneath it—something cold and calculating that demanded satisfaction.

If Logan thought he could play me for a fool, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

Continue to next part

After the crash that killed my parents and stole my voice, my childhood friend Josiah swore he would be my voice. For years, I believed him, my silent world revolving around the boy who pulled me from the wreckage. I was even relearning to speak, just for him. Then I overheard the truth. To his friends, I was just the "town tragedy girl," a burden he was tired of carrying. The cruelty didn't stop. He let his new girlfriend publicly humiliate me, and when she faked an injury, he forced me to my knees to apologize in front of everyone. The final betrayal came during a storm. He abandoned me in the woods, deaf without my hearing aids, leaving me to face the same terror that shattered my life years ago. He chose her. He broke his promise. He broke me. So I left. I found my own voice, my own strength. Three years later, I returned for my first art exhibition, and when I saw his face in the crowd, I knew he was about to hear everything he'd forced me to keep silent.

Modern Mystery Romance

8.7

His office, my rules

8.7

He was my ex’s older brother. Now he’s my professor. And I just fell into his lap — literally. After a brutal breakup, Eli just wants to survive his final year of law school in peace. What he doesn’t expect is Carter Vale — cold, powerful, and off-limits. Oh, and now standing at the front of his classroom. Carter doesn’t care about rules. Especially when Eli starts testing his control. One slip. One taste. And suddenly, his office… has new rules.

LGBT+Modern Romance

8.7

My Husband Made Me Apologize to His Dead Mistress

8.7

The ticking of the brushed-steel wall clock in Dr. Sylvia Chen’s office was the loudest sound in the world. "Late-stage," Sylvia said. Her voice was a soft, practiced velvet, designed to cushion the blunt-force trauma of a death sentence. "Metastasized. I’m so sorry, Tatum. We can discuss palliative care to manage the pain, keep you as comfortable as possible..." I didn't blink. I sat in the stiff leather chair, feeling the steady, rhythmic thrum of my own pulse in my neck. It felt like a lie. My body was quietly dismantling itself from the inside out, yet I just felt cold, suspended in a strange, lucid detachment.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.1

No Water Like the Sea

9.1

"Donna, have you lost your goddamn mind? Who told you to go near Grace?" After Donna had Robert's beloved, unattainable ideal blacklisted and sent abroad, he completely snapped. "You're hurting me..." Trying to pull her hand back, Donna found Robert's gaze fixed on her, his eyes bloodshot with fury. He didn't let go—instead, he tightened his grip. "Hurt? You think you know what hurt feels like? Grace slit her wrists, and you still arranged to have her sent away? Did you ever stop to consider her pain?" "Tell me, what did you say to her the last time you met?" Pain paled Donna's face, yet a stubborn defiance hardened within. Fighting to keep the tears at bay, she refused to show vulnerability and glared back at Robert without flinching. "What does her life or death have to do with me? Or with you!? I'm the one you're about to marry!" "Oh, wonderful. The future Mrs. Robert. Is that it? Donna, you're just counting on me having no choice but to marry you, aren't you? You think a piece of paper can trap me?" "Hah, looks like I've spoiled you too much all these years. You're still this naive, even at your age!" Robert sneered, eyes full of mockery. Blindfolding Donna, he hoisted her onto a wire dozens of meters high. She struggled desperately, the thin cord suspending her seeming ready to snap at any moment. "Stop!" Utterly hopeless. This was the same man who once cooled a cup of hot water before handing it to her, afraid she might burn herself. Now, he stood there coldly, savoring her desperate pleas. Donna was the only legitimate heir of her generation in the family. A pity she was a girl—Michael didn't believe women should lead. So Laura took matters into her own hands. She selected six boys from affiliated families, raising them alongside Donna with the explicit understanding that her choice would become her husband and inherit the family empire. "Whoever Donna marries gets the keys to the empire!" Those six boys had always catered to Donna's every whim. As children, they were her entourage, teasing and tormenting others at her command. As adults, they accompanied her, beating the illegitimate family children into submission. Robert, the standout among them, always charged ahead, dealing the harshest blows. In Donna's eyes, that fearless brutality defined a man. So at her coming-of-age ceremony, she chose Robert as her fiancé without hesitation. She even spent hundreds of millions on advertising, announcing to the world that Donna was engaged to Robert! Only when those overwhelming ads reached Grace's ears, driving her to slit her wrists in anguish, did Donna finally realize: Robert had a cherished first love all along. And that tender "Donna" he whispered in moments of passion—that wasn't her either. Donna had tried to win Robert back, but Grace sought her out first. On one hand, Grace acted pure and proud, declaring she'd never be the other woman, urging Donna to help her go abroad. "Miss Donna, I have no interest in being a homewrecker, but you should keep your man in check. Don't let him come crawling to me—it puts me in an awkward position." On the other, she sent tearful messages to Robert, sobbing, "We're just not meant to be. Maybe in another life"—making Robert believe Donna had forced her hand. Donna's voice grew hoarse from crying, her eyes dull. The ropes cut into her skin, fresh wounds bleeding steadily. Finally, Robert deigned to crouch down and lift her chin. "Grace came back but refuses to eat properly, avoiding me on purpose." "She says as long as you're alive, she'll always be the other woman. She won't accept me. What am I supposed to do?" He thought the problem lay with Donna. Donna shook her head in despair. "I never said anything. She asked to leave herself..." She no longer had the strength to explain. Robert scoffed. "Donna, you really are heartless. I played the loyal dog for you all these years, and still you bite the hand that feeds you." With that, he gestured to someone beside him. The next moment, the rope around Donna's waist snapped... When she opened her eyes again, Donna was back at her coming-of-age ceremony, the day she chose Robert as her fiancé. "Donna, are you sure you want to choose Robert?"

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

Parting March

8.2

Since her father Dennis fell seriously ill, Christine had been at his bedside nearly every day, managing everything on her own. She had lost a great deal of weight, her already slender frame now looking frighteningly frail. Dennis watched her, heart aching. “Christine, I’m all right. You don’t have to be here every day. Why not spend more time with Scott at home?” At the mention of Scott, Christine’s hand—which had been peeling an apple—faltered. The knife pressed into the fleshy part of her thumb, and blood welled up instantly. She pulled her hand back, hiding it behind her, afraid her father would notice. Forcing a smile, she said, “Scott? Oh, he’s… swamped at work.” In truth, Scott hadn’t been home for a long time. The house stood empty now, holding only her—lonely, pitiable. She couldn’t understand why her newlywed husband, who had once doted on her, had turned so cold and distant. Was it her fault? Was she the problem? Those questions coiled around her heart during countless sleepless nights, squeezing the air from her lungs until she couldn’t breathe. Finally, one day, she gathered her courage and stopped Scott as he hurried out. “Scott, have I done something wrong?” She had shattered her pride to ask—only to be met with a furrowed brow. “Stop overthinking things.” Then he turned and left. He hadn’t returned since. Her father was gravely ill, and Scott hadn’t visited even once. To say it didn’t hurt would be a lie. In front of her father, she kept up a cheerful front. “Dad, don’t worry. Scott treats me very well. I’ll go get you more broth, all right?” Without waiting for a reply, she stood and hurried out. Clutching her still-bleeding thumb, she rushed to the bathroom and ran the cold water. The icy stream stung the wound. She squeezed the blood out as if punishing herself, the sharp pain making her gasp. It was the pain—and the helplessness—that sent the tears flowing uncontrollably. Christine leaned over the sink, then slowly slid to the floor, trying to steady herself. A long time later, she gently rubbed her swollen eyes and stood to leave. She had no one to rely on now. In the end, she still had to pick herself up. As she lifted her head, her eyes met those of someone entering the room. “Oh, Scott, I just twisted my ankle. Why the wheelchair? You’re making such a fuss,” a woman cooed to the man behind her. The man gazed at her affectionately. “Better safe. I’ll push you.” Christine couldn’t believe her eyes. The man was Scott—the one she thought of day and night. Her mouth opened slightly, but her voice came out hoarse, almost soundless. She wanted to ask who this woman was. After a long moment, she managed a dry whisper. “Scott…” Scott seemed to read her thoughts. “An old friend,” he replied flatly. She just said, “Oh,” not daring to press further. “Scott, my father is right here,” she tried instead, unable to let it go, her voice tinged with pleading. “Could you… go see him?” If only to keep up the pretense of a happy couple—to give her father a little peace. A flicker of displeasure crossed Scott’s face. The woman in the wheelchair paled, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she shook her head slowly. He patted her shoulder reassuringly, then turned a cold voice toward Christine. “I’m not a doctor. Seeing him won’t make him better.” With that, he pushed the wheelchair forward, not sparing her another glance. Christine didn’t understand. How had things come to this? She bit her lip hard, willing the tears not to fall again. But watching his resolute back retreat, the ache in her heart was undeniable. He could push a friend with a twisted ankle, but he wouldn’t visit his critically ill father-in-law. In the end, it meant he didn’t love her—his wife. With that thought, Christine turned and walked slowly away, her steps carrying her in the opposite direction. Scott couldn’t help but glance back. All he saw was her back, moving toward the light. She looked so thin, her face drained of color. He’d also noticed the wound on her hand, her swollen eyes. But then he remembered what Dennis had done. So whatever happened to Christine—she deserved it.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.9

Rescuing Bodhi from Love

8.9

I am Dorothy Crawford. My son, whom I've carefully nurtured, fell head over heels for Charlee Harrison, the classic damsel in distress—a scholarship student with a chaotic past. After some digging, I found a father involved in gambling, a mentally unstable mother, a parasitic brother, and the wreckage of her family life. Quite the introduction. I promptly contacted my old friend Alexandria Hudson overseas, imploring her to send her meticulously educated daughter back, hoping my wayward son would gain some perspective. As expected, Bodhi nearly lost his mind at the news, threatening to disown me just to live a life of struggle with Charlee. Before my patience ran dry, Alexandria's daughter, Selah, flew in. "Aunt Dorothy, I've arrived to assist!" --------------------------------------- "Half a million dollars—walk away from my son!" Staring at the petite, frail girl before me, I was consumed with frustration. What was Bodhi thinking? Those art appreciation classes were evidently a waste.

Billionaire Modern Romance

After Uncovering His Affair with Her Sister

Chapter 1

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