Cheaters Death Novels & Stories

After Penelope Hart, a rich socialite, loses her memories, she starts pursuing me relentlessly. Having played the role of her boyfriend for the next three years, I realize that I've developed actual feelings for her. When Penelope gets pregnant, I plan on proposing to her. That's when I hear Jonathan Parker, the high school senior who used to bully me, tell her, "Penelope, thank you for pretending to be amnesiac and pull a prank on Edward for 99 times just to get revenge for me. "Once you've pulled the 100th prank on him, I'll date you." Only then do I find out that Jonathan is the man Penelope has been yearning for but can't date the whole time. As for me, I'm just the clown whom she uses just to please Jonathan. Later on, I die in a plane crash. After searching for my remains like a lunatic in the wreckage, Penelope finally locates a ring. A message is carved on the band. "For the 100th prank, I bet you love me." Rumors have it that Penelope has cried her heart out while on her knees to the point that her body goes into shock, resulting in her getting sent to the hospital. When she wakes up, she decides to get revenge on everyone who's involved in the pranks that were used on me. I, on the other hand, burn my medical records with a smile on my face on a winter night in Ferentia. Since Penelope decides to toy with my feelings with her fake amnesia, I decide to fake my death so that I can teach her a proper lesson in life.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

After my younger sister suffered an allergic reaction from eating the food I cooked, my husband flew into a rage. He grabbed a whole crate of red wine from the house, pinned me down, and forced it into my mouth. "You should feel Rosie's pain too!" Soon, red rashes spread across my body, and my throat began to swell. On the brink of death, I begged him to call an ambulance, but he locked me in the room instead. "Take your time and enjoy it. Only when you suffer enough will you stop hurting others." In despair, I felt my throat closing, and my skin itching unbearably as if pierced by needles. I scratched my skin until there wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left. Three days later, he finally decided to show mercy and make it up to me with a candlelit dinner. "I bet you have learned your lesson. As long as you behave from now on, you'll still be Mrs. Henderson." However, he would never see me again. By then, my body had already turned to ashes.

My fiancé was the CEO of a powerful financial conglomerate, and to the outside world, he adored me beyond measure. A week before our wedding, I found out I was pregnant with triplets. I had planned to tell him the joyful news in person. But instead, I witnessed him in bed with other women. Not with just one. It felt like a knife had carved into my soul, cutting so deep I lost all hope, all trust. My tears begged for release, but I held my head high, forcing myself to stay strong. For him, I had given up everything—my pride, my family, my career. Yet he chose to share our love with others. All those vows to love me and only me for a lifetime had been lies. Our so-called future, our wedding—it was all a cruel joke. He was no longer the man I once loved. He had become tainted. I would not endure his betrayal. He no longer deserved to be the father of my children. So I made my decision—to disappear, to fake my death and start over, to give myself and my babies a chance at a free, unburdened life. But I never imagined he'd become obsessed and start searching the world for women who resembled me, all while declaring I was the only one he ever loved. Too little, too late. His affection now is worth nothing. This time, I'm not looking back.

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

In the final second before the elevator crashed down, my husband finally picked up my desperate call for help. I begged him, who was in charge of elevator maintenance, to save me. "That elevator was just serviced. What game are you playing?" he snapped. "Wasn't your silent treatment so strong? Keep going and stop bothering me. It's Marina's birthday today." I never reached out to him again. I died. Later, he'd have given anything just to see me one more time.

I, Gianna Johnston, am born into a family of prodigies. My dad, Henry Johnston, is a computer science professor from Hafford University. My mom, Naomi Liddell, is a medical professor at Starvard University. And my brother, George Johnston, is an international math olympiad champion. Meanwhile, I'm barely passing my math classes at school. George gets so mad at me that he immediately writes down three full sets of math exam questions and exclaims, "You're so dumb that you're nothing but an embarrassment to Mom and Dad and me! "Don't you even think about leaving the house and embarrassing us again without completing all these math questions!" Mom then forces a few pills straight down my throat. Those pills are one of her inventions, called "smart pills". However, she doesn't care that I'm choking so hard on them that my eyes roll to the back of my head. "Stop using excuses, saying that you're tired or sleepy. These pills will keep you up for 24 hours without sleep. That should be enough time for you to complete all those math problems!" Dad then turns on "Strict Mode" on the smart house system, Domi. He says to me, "And don't even think about escaping the house to look for help. I will lock the door and cut off every signal going in or coming out. If you don't finish your work in time, nobody will even care if you die here!" After that, the three of them leave me behind and head off for their vacation in Hervaii. While shutting the door behind them, however, the vase of flowers full of water suddenly crashed into Domi's control panel. I'm choking so hard on the pills that I feel asphyxiated. I keep banging my fists against the front door for help. However, Domi, who has now short-circuited, keeps repeating, "Please complete your math questions, Gianna. Study hard and be a good student. "Study hard and be a good student. "Study hard and be a good student." I grip the sheets of math problems in my hands in agony. Will Mom, Dad, and George finally be happy when they see that I'm giving up my life for this?

The stench of silver dust filled the air, and every breath seared my lungs. My broken body lay twisted among the jagged rocks of the abandoned silver mine, where even the strongest werewolf would feel their strength waning. Beside me, my mate’s first love, Sophia, whimpered softly. A shallow scrape marked her knee. The tunnel was collapsing. Only two people could pass through the exit at a time. Lucas did not hesitate to scoop Sophia in his arms and abandon me. His golden eyes, once filled with unwavering loyalty toward me, now burned with something colder—indifference. I reached out, my fingers trembling as they grasped the hem of his clothing. My voice was hoarse with despair. "Lucas… please… don't leave me here." “I am your mate. I’m carrying your pups.” He glanced at me with a clenched jaw and broke free, shoving me back onto the silver-laced ground. Agony burned through my veins, consuming my soul like fire. “Are you serious, Ava?! After pushing Sophia into this damn abyss and getting her injured, you still dare to compare with her.” “You know what?! You deserve to be left here and reflect on your mistakes!” With that, he vanished into the light, and the tunnel collapsed behind him. His words cut deeper than silver ever could, and the last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was the sound of their retreating footsteps.

When I drink the amber-colored poisonous wine, I can hear the joyful melody of a toast song coming from the manor. The wedding between Emanuela Romano and my ex-fiance, Benedetto Martini, is being held there right now. The elderly butler, Vincenzo Romano, puts away the wine glass with a blank expression. The way he speaks is as somber as one sounds when they give a speech at a funeral. "You know the Don's will very well, Ms. Andreotti. Five years are officially up, yet neither Mr. Andreotti, Mr. Martini, nor Dr. Foscari is willing to pledge their loyalty to you via the blood vow. According to the rules, you must take your own life within seven days. "The Don had left the Ashwine to you as a means of protecting… what little pride you have." Scorching pain begins spreading from my throat. I just smile at Vincenzo in return. Pride? Does a bastard spawn of a loose Iernian woman deserve to retain pride of any sort in the cruel Andreotti family? I begin making my way toward the banquet hall, which is brightly lit. As I walk past the shimmering waters of the pond in the family garden, I can tell that the waters are insanely cold. Then again, nothing is as cold as my icy heart right now. After taking a deep breath, I fall face-first into the pond… only to feel an iron-clad grip wrenching me backward. As such, I collapse onto the lawn heavily. My older brother, Alessandro Andreotti, has bits of grass covering his expensive suit. Disgust is written all over his handsome face. "Eva!" he grits out through his teeth, his voice lowered. "Must you spoil the mood on Emanuela's big day?" He then scoots closer to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over my face. "You want to die, huh? Go ahead and do that, but can you die somewhere further? Don't stain the Andreotti land!" Alessandro turns to walk in the direction of the radiant lights, leaving me on the lawn, completely covered in mud. I can feel the countdown of my lifespan burning my insides. Seven days… I only have seven days to live. Meanwhile, my very own brother wants me to die somewhere further away.

After I fail in my mission, I am about to be erased by the system and will disappear from this world completely. In the final 24 hours before I am erased, I agree to donate a kidney to my younger brother, Zachary Durham. My wife, Judith Sanford, hugs me excitedly and says she will not divorce me anymore. When Zachary plagiarizes my design, I take the blame and admit that I am the one who copied it. My parents nod in satisfaction, saying I have finally become sensible. Finally, I become the good husband and son they always wanted. But when they see my lifeless body sometime later, they all lose their minds.