The Mistress's Kiss: A Decade of Deceit

For seven years, I lived as "Chloe' s boyfriend," a quiet coder whose entire self-worth was built around her "saving" me from social anxiety. Our Austin apartment was loud, packed for the Super Bowl party, until the music died and everyone stared as Chloe walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, carried by her ex-boyfriend, Blake. His smirk was a dare, a familiar test of my manufactured jealousy, but this time, something inside me was just... quiet. My unexpected calm ignited a terrifying rage in Chloe, shattering her control and escalating her manipulations from fake tears and public flirtations to a staged car crash and a chilling threat to jump from our 15th-floor balcony. I calmly moved on, started a new life, and was building my own success, finally free of her endless drama. Then, just weeks later, at my promotion celebration, she appeared in a white wedding gown, asked for one last photo, and plunged a knife into her own stomach, collapsing into my arms. Her final, horrifying act left me tragically, undeniably free.

My life in San Diego, as a successful architect married to my high-school sweetheart Liam, seemed picture-perfect. But the arrival of our new live-in housekeeper, Brenda, shattered that façade. She relentlessly undermined me, criticizing my career, my home, even my choices, while my husband, Liam, inexplicably defended her every cruel word. Her petty comments spiraled into outright sabotage, culminating in the destruction of my vital project blueprints and the invasion of my private space. But the true horror emerged when, after she brazenly desecrated my revered father-in-law' s military memorial, Liam, the man I loved, shockingly slapped me for confronting her. With the sting of his hand on my face, a profound loneliness enveloped me. Why did Liam consistently choose this woman over me? Why did he strike me? Then, a black town car pulled up, and Liam' s mother, Eleanor, stepped out. Her reaction upon seeing Brenda wasn't anger, but a chilling whisper: "Brenda? Is that you?" That whispered recognition ignited a terrifying suspicion. A hidden camera revealed the unthinkable: Liam wasn't Eleanor' s son, but Brenda' s, swapped at birth, and Eleanor' s real child was tragically murdered. Now, united with Eleanor, my grief transformed into an ice-cold fury. We would unleash a calculated, devastating revenge.

For three years, I poured every ounce of myself into Liam's tech dream, working multiple jobs to keep a roof over our heads. Tonight was the night I'd finally tell him my own life-altering secret: I was Ava Vance, the long-lost, presumed-dead heiress to the colossal Sterling-Vance empire. I believed in him, utterly. But he didn't walk in alone. He arrived with a stunning, polished woman named Chloe, arm-in-arm, and then dropped the bomb: she was his fiancée, and her father was his lead investor. He looked at me, his eyes cold and dismissive. "I'm leaving you," he stated flatly, then mocked our entire relationship, calling me just a "housekeeper" and an "embarrassment." When Chloe spilled wine on herself, Liam forced me to my knees to apologize to her like a maid. The ultimate betrayal came when he returned later, poisoned me to destroy my voice, and dragged my limp body into our cold, damp basement dungeon to keep me quiet. From my prison, I overheard them coldly plotting to frame me as delusional and commit me to a psychiatric hospital forever. The man I had loved and sacrificed everything for was a monster, systematically ripping away my very existence. Every lie, every calculated cruelty, twisted into a horrifying full picture. But they seriously underestimated the woman they thought they'd silenced. Just as two thugs came to haul me away, I found the strength to activate the emergency beacon hidden in my Sterling-Vance necklace. They believed I was a "lost cause," but they were about to face the terrifying wrath of the Sterling-Vance empire.

The fluorescent hum of the ER was my world, a demanding but predictable rhythm. I was a dedicated doctor, a loving wife to Julian, a university professor, and a proud mother to Lily. I even funded a scholarship for bright students from my hometown, like Chloe. Then, a pager call shattered that peace. It led me to cubicle three, where my husband, Julian, was intimately comforting a sobbing young woman: Chloe, the student I' d proudly sponsored. Anonymous whispers from nurses confirmed my worst fear: an affair. His frantic lies, her chilling taunts about my 'unfeminine' career, and later, the explicit photos and a voice memo of him mocking me and praising her, all twisted the knife. But the real horror began when this student, Chloe, started bullying my six-year-old daughter, Lily, at preschool, spreading vicious rumors that caused physical and emotional harm. My blood ran cold with a rage so pure it froze my veins. How could the man I built a life with, and the girl I selflessly helped, conspire in such a cruel, public dismantling of my family, systematically using my child as a weapon? The humiliation was suffocating, the injustice unbearable. When Lily, through tears, told Julian she didn't want him as her Daddy anymore, something snapped. Right there, amongst the whispers and lies, a new resolve solidified within me. I was divorcing him, and I had the evidence to ensure he wouldn't fight it.

Ten years ago, I was just the quiet girl next door, hopelessly in love with Ethan Carter. Prom night was supposed to be my moment, my chance for him to finally see me. But instead, he asked me for my car keys, not for us, but for Jessica Vance, the girl he was setting up fairy lights for. Just as I handed them over, my phone buzzed with the call that would shatter my world: my dad had a heart attack. My heart sank as I watched him kiss Jessica, under those very lights, his flimsy excuse for needing my car keys. When I desperately pleaded for them back, my world crumbling around me, he just fumbled, then admitted they were locked in Jessica's car – and she flatly refused to retrieve them. No one offered me a ride, not even a glance of pity, as I ran miles in my prom dress, missing my father' s final breaths because of their casual indifference. They reduced my raw grief, my trauma, to a mere bid for attention, laughing about the 'dramatic girl' who 'ruined the party.' It was a cold, lonely clarity: they never saw me, and they never would. Ten years later, I returned to New York not as the shy girl they discarded, but as Claire Anderson, a formidable architect. Now, he thinks he can waltz back into my life, seeking redemption for a past he barely remembers, but I' m ready to remind him exactly who he dismissed.

The desert heat of Coachella was intense, but I was ready for a day of music and fun, especially knowing my boyfriend, Jake, was five hours away, supposedly stuck in the library studying for a huge exam. My phone buzzed in my hand, a small notification flashing: "Connected to Jake' s iPhone." My heart stopped. He was here, his personal hotspot active, confirming the lie. Then, the crowd cam zoomed in, and my face filled the giant screens. A mic was thrust into my hand, and in front of thousands, I asked for my 'lost' boyfriend, describing his distinctive Nirvana shirt and backward cap. Everyone played along in a giant 'Where' s Waldo,' until the cameras found him: Jake, in a VIP cabana, kissing a blonde girl in a tiny pink top. The gasp from the crowd, then the boos and jeers, echoed the cold fury that washed over me. This wasn't just cheating; it was a public spectacle of his deceit. How could he do this? How could he lie so elaborately, only to be caught in the cruelest, most public way possible? But instead of crumbling, a fierce clarity took hold. Looking directly into the camera, my voice steady, I declared, "Found him." This wasn't the end; it was the beginning of my reckoning, a public declaration that I refused to be his victim.

After five years of marriage, my husband is always absent on my birthday. No gifts, no blessings. He said, "I've given you the money, buy whatever you want." But he started preparing for Fiona's birthday half a month in advance. He said, "She's different, she only has me." As the sole survivor of a unexpected fire, he has been heartbroken for over a decade. Watching Fiona in Moments holding a cake and kissing his face. I slowly commented. 【Just this useless person, I'm giving him to you.】

To fund her father's medical bills, Helena stepped in for her half‑sister and wed the city's notorious deaf heir. On their wedding night, as she bared herself, he dismissed her hope with, "This is strictly business." Living beneath the weight of his unpredictable moods, she learned to fear every moment. When everyone bet on her ruin, he became her fiercest protector. But as their contract expired and she gathered her things, tears shimmered in his eyes. "Please… don't leave me."

Kaelyn devoted three years tending to her husband after a terrible accident. But once he was fully recovered, he cast her aside and brought his first love back from abroad. Devastated, Kaelyn decided on a divorce as people mocked her for being discarded. She went on to reinvent herself, becoming a highly sought-after doctor, a champion racer, and an internationally renowned architectural designer. Even then, the traitors sneered in disdain, believing Kaelyn would never find someone. But then the ex-husband’s uncle, a powerful warlord, returned with his army to ask for Kaelyn’s hand in marriage.

As a simple assistant, messaging the CEO in the dead of night to request shares of adult films was a bold move. Bethany, unsurprisingly, didn't receive any films. However, the CEO responded that, while he had no films to share, he could offer a live demonstration. After a night filled with passion, Bethany was certain she'd lose her job. But instead, her boss proposed, "Marry me. Please consider it." "Mr. Bates, you're kidding me, right?"

"Mr. Evans, please maintain some dignity. Don't forget I'm your brother's wife!" Having caught her husband and best friend together in the bed, Elena wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on the people she once called family. She refused to be a pitiful divorcee and vowed to make everyone who had once looked down on her beg for forgiveness. And to start with her newfound freedom, Elena indulges in a one-night stand with a stranger. However, what was meant to be a fleeting escape turns into a nightmare when she learns that the stranger is none other than her husband's older brother! Would Elena be free from the shackles of her marriage? Or would the mysterious stranger make her life a living hell since he seemed to have a personal vendetta against his family? [The story is 18+ and involves mature content.]

"Ethan, this is unethical. It's criminal. She hasn't consented." Those chilling words, whispered in the sterile hum of an operating room, were the first thing I heard as consciousness flickered back. My heart pounded, cold dread snaking through my veins. Dr. Ben Carter, Ethan's old friend, was arguing with him. "She's my girlfriend, Ben. Practically my wife," Ethan scoffed, his voice laced with a terrifying casualness. "Chloe needs this kidney. Ava is a perfect match." Kidney. Chloe. My blood ran cold. The beautiful, fragile Chloe Vahn, who had always haunted our relationship, was now taking a piece of me, quite literally. I tried to scream, to move, but my body felt like lead, my throat raw. I felt a sharp tug, a searing line of fire on my side-the scalpel. Ten years of love, of sacrifice, building Ethan Reed and his company back from nothing, all for this. To be carved up like an animal for the woman he truly loved. When I finally regained full awareness, Ethan was by my bedside, a practiced look of concern on his face, spinning a lie about a ruptured ovarian cyst. But then, the overheard nurse's whispered conversation confirmed my nightmare: "Chloe's kidney transplant... he barely left her side." The pieces slammed into place. My despair solidified into a cold, hard resolve. No more. I grabbed my phone, scrolling to one contact I hadn't dared to call. Noah Hayes, Ethan's rival, a man of integrity. My finger trembled as I typed. "Noah," I managed, my voice raspy. "Are you still looking for a COO who knows Reed Innovate's strategies... and perhaps, a wife?" The silence stretched, then his voice, calm and serious, cut through the noise of my crumbling world. "My jet, seven days. LaGuardia."