Explore All Web Novel Categories

After four empty years, Willa finally spent a night with her husband, only to discover she was pregnant. Ready to share her joy, she found Bryan already with another woman-who was expecting his child, too. Willa endured his coldness and nights alone, but when he let his ex move in and exclaimed, "Caylee carries my only heir," her heart broke for good. She signed the divorce papers with a bold note about their sexless marriage and walked away. Devoting herself to art and science, Willa thrived. When an old flame returned, Bryan grew jealous. "Have you forgotten who your husband really is?" She chuckled, "I'm single now. Stay out of my way!"

Emma had agreed to pretend to be her boss's girlfriend at an event where his ex-wife planned to show up with the guy she had cheated with. "We'll see how this turns out."

"I want a divorce." I was eight months pregnant. He didn't know. For three years, I fixed every SEC filing he signed. Caught every error. Kept his billion-dollar firm clean. He never once asked what I did all day. When he said those three words over dinner, I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I just smiled and said, "Okay." Then I went upstairs, unlocked my study—the room he never entered—and pulled out a lease for a Brooklyn apartment. Incorporation papers for my own firm. And a folder full of evidence that could send his company up in flames. He thought he was divorcing a wife. He was actually firing the only person keeping him out of federal prison. Now his partners want to sue me. His mother is panicking. And he's been sitting in a hospital waiting room for seven hours—just for a chance to hold our daughter. He spent three years not seeing me. Now? He can't look away. My name is Nora Kidd. And I'm just getting started.

The flowers were white dahlias and eucalyptus, and they smelled like something I couldn't name — clean and a little cold, the way late October in New York always feels right before it turns mean. The rooftop was strung with warm lights, and Central Park spread out below us like a painting someone had the nerve to make real. It was the kind of setting that made people believe in things. I was not in the business of believing in things anymore. But I could appreciate the view. 'You're tilting,' Haisley said from the corner of her mouth, not looking at me. She was radiant in ivory silk, her bouquet held with the white-knuckled grip of someone who had been planning this day for fourteen months and was not about to let a crooked maid of honor ruin the photos. 'I'm not tilting,' I said. 'Your left shoulder is lower than your right.' I adjusted. Mango, perched against that same left shoulder, made a sound of mild protest and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Hands on the bed Tessa" Killian growled behind his voice rough and unsteady. My eyes widened as he pulls my legs apart and comes in between them and wraps the belt tightly against my neck choking out my breath from me But you're my stepbrother I choked against his hold. He smiles as he tighten his grip on the belt"Little slutty girls like you deserved to fucked.

Obsessed with her sister's best friend, Cassandra orchestrates a desperate scheme to trap Hades into marriage through a pregnancy he never wanted. But her dream quickly turns into a cold, domestic hell. Hades remains hopelessly in love with her sister, Klare, treating Cassandra with nothing but venom and disdain. Can love really come after marriage? Or will it bring nothing but pain? If you have a second chance at building your life again, will you take it or risk on a second chance?

The champagne was still bubbling in my hand when a five-year-old boy ran onto the ballroom floor and screamed "Daddy" at my husband. Then his mistress, Hayden, walked in wearing a dress that cost more than my car, announcing to the stunned crowd that they were a family. Instead of kicking them out, Emilio protected them. The next day, when I confronted them, Hayden lied and claimed I tried to hurt her. Without hesitation, Emilio shoved me hard to "protect" his real family. I fell backward onto the concrete curb. While I lay there bleeding, losing the baby I had wanted for years, he didn't even check on me. He stepped over my body to comfort his mistress and illegitimate son, leaving me to wait for the ambulance alone. In the hospital, I learned the sickening truth: he had only married me years ago because he thought I was terminally ill and would die quickly. Now that I had survived, I was just an inconvenience blocking his happy ending. He even tried to force me to sign away my assets to save his company from a scandal caused by his mistress. "You're nothing without me," he sneered. I looked at the check he offered to buy my silence and tore it up. If he wanted me gone so badly, I would grant his wish. I arranged for a one-way ticket to Zurich and left a single white tulip on his pillow—the flower of the dead. To the world, Elana Acosta died on that pavement. But Elana Valeri was just getting started.

Fiona prepared a candlelit anniversary dinner, scallops glistening on porcelain, champagne chilling beside a "Three Years" card—her secret pregnancy swelling beneath her silk dress. The doorbell rang, but it was just a delivery. Then Emmanuel called: his ex, Carley Marshall, crashed her car. He blew off their night. Cramps hit like a vise. She collapsed, blood soaking her gown, screaming into the phone: "I'm losing the baby!" Emmanuel scoffed, "Fake ploy for attention," and hung up—Carley's voice cooed in the background. Paramedics rushed her to ER for emergency D&C. The baby was gone. Audrey saved her life. Emmanuel sent lilies with a card: "Stop dramatizing." She signed divorce papers. He laughed it off, contested everything, froze her out of hotels and clubs. Dragged her from the St. Regis by force, dumped her sobbing on a rainy sidewalk with her suitcase in puddles—Gus drove off without looking back. He thought she was manipulating him, playing jealous games for attention. But she'd truly carried his child, bled out alone while he comforted Carley. How could he not believe her, even after the hospital proof? Why twist her agony into lies? Now blacklisted and broke, Fiona clutched her grandfather's antique restoration tools. No more begging—she'd expose his cruelty, rebuild from the ashes, and make him regret ever underestimating her.

Emma brought her husband his favorite bourbon late at night, hoping to ease the lingering tension in their marriage. Instead, she opened his study door and found his adopted "sister," Ashlea, intimately feeding him strawberries. When Emma confronted them, Darius didn't show a hint of guilt. He called her a jealous shrew and fiercely defended Ashlea. Checking the home security footage, Emma watched months of them cuddling like lovers, and heard Darius confess that marrying Emma was his biggest mistake. Even her stepdaughter, whom Emma had raised with all her heart, screamed that she hated Emma and wanted Ashlea to stay. The final straw came on the anniversary of Emma's parents' death. Knowing Emma's mother had died from a severe rose allergy, Ashlea deliberately baked rose cookies and presented them with a feigned innocent smile. "Come on, Emma. Try it. It's Ashlea's way of saying sorry." Darius smirked, fully aware of her trauma, cruelly forcing her to accept the venomous attack. Emma stared at the pink cookies, her heart turning to absolute ice. She had spent years walking on eggshells, playing the perfect wife, only to be gaslighted, replaced, and tormented in her own home by the people she loved. When Darius raised his hand to slap her into submission for throwing the cookies away, Emma finally woke up. She didn't cower. She grabbed his wrist, slammed him hard onto the floor, and walked out the door to start a scorched-earth divorce.

"Tonight, I will see him again. But not as the boy who once saved me... tonight, I would see him as my sister's fiancé." ★★★★★ Madeline never stopped thinking about him. He was the boy who saved her once, hoping that every Christmas they come here, she'll get to kiss him under each mistletoe. But now he's back...and betrothed to her sister. Maddie knows she should step back. She should stay invisible, hold her feelings in check, and let the wedding plans continue. But every glance, every touch, and every forbidden moment threatens to break her resolve. And Calhoun? He's no longer the boy she remembers. Confident, sharp, and magnetic, he's done playing the good son, the obedient fiancé. Now, he wants what he wants...and Maddie is dangerously close to being his.

Sophie Esinberg is on the verge of losing everything she has worked so hard to build. When her best friend offers her a risky, ride-or-die opportunity, Sophie reluctantly agrees, even though it pulls her into a world she despises: wealth, privilege, and glamour. Everything goes according to plan until she meets Raymond Reynolds. He is charming, infuriating, and captain of the U.S.A Football Team. And oh, he is also the boy who broke Sophie's heart seven years ago. As unresolved feelings resurface and time draws them back together, Sophie and Raymond struggle to move on from a past that refuses to stay buried. Facing love again means confronting their deepest fears and the truths that once tore them apart. For both of them, healing may require risking their hearts one more time.

The civil affairs office buzzed with quiet anticipation, couples clutching identical folders of documents while stealing glances at each other with nervous smiles. I smoothed the fabric of my cream-colored dress for the hundredth time, the soft material chosen specifically for this moment—our moment. Seven years of waiting, of supporting Peter through his struggles, of believing in us, had led to this single morning. My fingers traced the edge of the marriage registration forms tucked safely in my purse. Everything was perfect, organized down to the last detail. I'd even brought backup copies of our documents, just in case. The clock on the wall showed 9:15 AM. Peter was only fifteen minutes late, probably stuck in traffic or dealing with some last-minute work crisis. "Next couple, please," called the clerk behind the counter. I watched as another pair stepped forward, their hands intertwined, faces glowing with excitement.

I've been with Kyle for six years, and for those six years, I've also taken care of his dog. But tonight, when I took the dog out for a walk, it suddenly and excitedly ran over to Kyle's ex-girlfriend, leaping into her arms. I didn't have time to react before it yanked me to the ground. I lost the baby. On the way to the hospital, I suddenly saw everything in a new light. A dog with a different master will never truly become yours, no matter how much you care for it. The same goes for people. When I got home, I told Kyle I wanted a divorce. He frowned in disbelief, asking, "You're ending our marriage because of a dog?" "Yes, just because of a dog."

On the eve of the wedding, I accidentally touched the dashcam in the car of my fiancé, Tobias Ford. I heard his heavy breathing, and His bare back dominated the screen. I blushed instantly. He and I both enjoyed the thrill and often had sex in the car, so I felt a bit embarrassed to watch the replay. But the next moment, I froze. A female voice, not mine, rang out. "Honey, how much longer do we have to put up with that silly woman? I'm pregnant now." Tobias said with a chuckle, "As soon as the wedding is over and I trick her into handing over her family's assets, I will divorce her. I've already transferred her apartment to me. She plans to live there with me after we get married. It'll be our home from now on." As the scene intensified, the woman hidden in his embrace finally showed her face. It was my best friend, Stacey Sanderson. They were holding hands and wearing the matching rings I'd picked out. The timestamp in the corner showed it was the evening of two days ago.

The tiny cry pierced the air, and for one perfect moment, everything else faded away. "Here she is," I whispered, lifting the squirming bundle. "Seven pounds, three ounces of pure miracle." The parents' tearful faces blurred before me as I placed their daughter against her mother's chest. The mother's hands trembled as she cradled her child—hands that had been clenched in fear just hours before when we'd detected fetal distress. "Thank you, Dr. Sullivan," the father managed through his tears. "You saved them both." I nodded, unable to form words around the lump in my throat. This was why I'd endured medical school, why I'd chosen obstetrics despite—despite everything. This moment of creation, of life continuing its relentless forward march. "Perfect APGAR scores," my nurse confirmed, her smile mirroring mine.

I went to the Department of Vital Records to pick up my four-year-old son's death certificate, but I left with a birth certificate for my husband's illegitimate child. The date of birth was August 14th. My son, Leo, had drowned in October. While I was choosing a casket for our child, Eli had been holding his newborn with another woman. I tried to confront him at a charity gala, but his mistress walked in holding their son's hand. The boy pointed at Eli and innocently asked if they were playing the "game" again—the same game they were playing in the bedroom while Leo wandered into the pool and drowned. The truth shattered me. I screamed, lunging at the monsters who let my son die. But Eli didn't comfort me. He shoved me off the stage to protect his mistress, breaking my leg in front of everyone. Later, to silence me forever, his family had me beaten and dumped under a bridge, leaving me blind and broken in the freezing rain. They thought I was dead. They thought they had won. But I survived. I found a doctor who could perform a radical procedure: Targeted Memory Suppression. I chose to surgically excise Eli Stark from my mind completely. Six months later, I stood on stage as a celebrated neuroscientist, my sight restored and my life reclaimed. A haggard, weeping man approached me with a massive diamond ring, begging for a second chance. I looked at him with clear, unrecognizing eyes and asked, "Excuse me, do I know you?"

The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled our tiny kitchen as I stirred the sauce, watching Lucas chop onions with methodical precision. After a nine-hour shift at the café, my feet ached, but there was something soothing about our evening ritual—cooking together in this cramped space we called home. "How was work?" Lucas asked, his voice gentle as always. Three years of living together, and he still asked every day. "The usual. Mrs. Henderson complained about her coffee being too hot, then too cold." I smiled, remembering the ornery old woman who secretly left generous tips. "How about your day?" Lucas shrugged, his broad shoulders rising beneath his faded t-shirt. "Meetings. Phone calls.

The pain was unbearable. White-hot agony ripped through my body as another contraction seized me, the pressure in my head building until I thought my skull might shatter. The ambulance's siren wailed, matching the screaming of my nerves as my vision blurred and darkened at the edges. "Blood pressure 190 over 110," a paramedic called out, his voice seeming to come from underwater. "Patient is presenting with severe preeclampsia, possible eclampsia. ETA to Seattle General, three minutes." I tried to focus on my breathing, the way we'd practiced in our birthing classes, but my lungs felt constricted, as though iron bands were tightening around my chest. My baby. My precious baby. Please let my baby be okay. "Michael," I gasped, reaching blindly for a hand, any hand.

Jaxson Thorne: His arc is about finding a different kind of strength. He starts by thinking power is about being the loudest, biggest person in the room. He ends by realizing that true power is the choice to serve someone he loves. ​Elias Vance: His arc is about coming out of his shell. He has all the money but no one he can trust. Jax provides the safety he needs to finally stop hiding.

My son was set to marry on Thanksgiving Day. I was in a boutique in downtown Dublin, trying on a formal dress for the ceremony when Kolton burst in. Seeing him, I enthusiastically held up the dress I had chosen. "This purple gown is elegant, and the other one..." Before I could finish, Kolton snatched the dress from my hands and threw it to the floor. "Mom, I'd rather you not come to my wedding. It'll look awkward with you sitting there all by yourself. Dad and Khloe look so happy and polished, and a well-organized wedding will reflect positively on you too, right?" My lips quivered with disbelief. "You don't want me at your wedding but you're inviting that disgrace of a father? Have you forgotten what he did when you were little..." Kolton cut me off, irritated. "Enough, Mom.

WARNING ⚠️: EXPLICIT CONTENT UP AHEAD. ONLY SUITABLE FOR READERS ABOVE THE AGE OF 18. Scandalous Affairs brings together sensual short stories filled with tension, longing, and undeniable chemistry. From slow-burning connections to intense encounters, each tale explores what happens when desire takes control. Forbidden touches. Broken vows. Power that bends to raw need. Lust wins. Every filthy time. Some affairs end in regret. These affairs always end with someone begging for more. If you want more breathtaking dirty stories, feel free to click on it.

Emmanuella goes back to Bellharbor, the quiet seaside town she's loved since childhood, planning this visit to be just for the summer and a last memory before moving on. The town and Noah, her first love and heartbreak, remember her-his laughter once in every wave. When the past and present collide under salty skies, she's torn between what was and what could be. She meets Eli, who sees her in ways Noah never did; Lucas, who helps her breathe again; and Noah, still waiting beneath the same sky they once shared. Across four seasons, she learns that growing up means loving, losing, and remembering in new ways. Between the waves and her fears lies everything she's ever wanted to feel and to find again.

Ivy’s wedding is a week away when she finds fiancé Jonah has made 217 calls to “trauma-bonded” Lily, the woman who once took a bullet for him. Cake tastings, therapy and their anniversary trip are all aborted so Jonah can rush to Lily’s side; Ivy ends up flying to Tofino with best friend Maya while Lily posts selfies in Jonah’s hoodie. The bride-to-be realizes the wedding is a battle she has already lost.

In the blink of an eye, I can cause your body to climax with my fingers. I know it's time to change things up when the media begins slamming my bad boy lifestyle. Arcadia is the woman I turn to when I need help. For the sake of avoiding negative coverage, she'll pose as engaged to me. We must exercise caution and avoid being discovered. It's difficult, though, since she's simply so incredibly beautiful. The only thing I can think to do with her is to fuck her hard. She is my "fake fiancée," yet my mistress.