Cheating System Novelas e Histórias

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

Bima is just an introverted, scrawny kid used to living behind a gaming screen and being a constant target for body shaming. But his life takes a drastic turn when he wakes up in a ruined city crawling with zombies. In the midst of the chaos, something even stranger than the apocalypse emerges: the "Single Survival System," which hits him with absurd missions likes maintaining an ideal BMI, getting revenge on his bullies, and landing his first kiss. Every mission isn't just a ridiculous challenge; it’s a matter of life and death. Forced out of his comfort zone, Bima must face his dark past. He crosses paths with Donny, his former bully who is now a zombie, and Kevin, an ex-gym influencer who has transformed into a fanatical cult leader obsessed with the perfect physique and extreme protein intake. Amidst the chaos, Bima meets Lia, a tough convenience store clerk who harbors a deep-seated trauma toward food. Together, they survive nonsensical threats, ranging from zombie food vloggers obsessed with livestreaming death to grotesque mutants lurking underground. But the madness is only the beginning. Bima’s reckless actions catch the attention of a far more dangerous entity: the Master AI Fitness Freak, an artificial intelligence that views humans as inefficient unless they meet extreme nutritional standards. With the help of Riska, an AI with cold, business-like logic that shares a secret connection to Bima’s past, the battle shifts into a clash of ideologies: perfection versus happiness. In a world that worships muscles, protein, and ruthless efficiency, Bima fights back in an unexpected way, using Indomie as a symbol of balance, hope, and humanity.

After completing my mission, I married the man I had been trying to win over. On our wedding night, I told him that the system had given me ninety-nine regret pills. Whenever he did something that hurt me, I would take one. Once all the pills were gone, I would completely leave his life. He held me close and promised he would never give me a reason to regret being with him. Three months into our marriage, his childhood sweetheart came back from abroad. The first time he stayed out all night, he realized that I would quietly take a pill after just crying once. After that, he began to act without any restraint. Ten years later, on our anniversary, his childhood sweetheart threatened to kill herself again. He left me without hesitation to handle the situation. The next day, he returned with his neck covered in love bites and begged for my forgiveness. I did not cry. I looked at him calmly and asked, “Can I take one of the regret pills?” He shrugged as if it did not matter. “Go ahead. There are plenty left.” I smiled and let him bring her into our home. He did not know that there were only three pills left in the box. Once they were gone, I would leave him for good.

"Pregnant patient, corpus luteum rupture, heavy bleeding! We need a consent form signed—now!" I stood there holding the clipboard, waiting, when a voice I knew way too well cut through the chaos. "I'm here!" Jimmy. My husband. The same guy who vanished on our anniversary—now signing off on emergency surgery for another woman. He didn't even blink before writing "husband" on the form. Still had our wedding ring on, too. He didn't recognize me behind the mask. Just grabbed my hand and begged. "Please save her. It's my fault. She's pregnant. I messed up. I love her. I can't lose her." His grip tightened. My wedding ring slipped off and hit the floor. I didn't say a word. Just turned and walked into the OR. A doctor beside me, totally clueless, beamed and said, "Dr. Meyer, your test results came back—twins! Your husband's gonna be so happy. Congrats!" I smiled, barely. "Schedule the termination after surgery."

Because of a last-minute business trip, my husband missed the Thanksgiving family dinner. I spent the entire day helping out at my in-laws' place in the countryside with our five-year-old son, only to receive a complaint from the downstairs neighbor just before dinner. "Ari, could you please close your kitchen window when you're cooking? I can smell the hot sauce from all the way here. My husband has a lung condition—he can't handle it." My neighbor's words shocked me, and I immediately called my husband, who was allergic to chili peppers. "Honey, did someone break into the house? The neighbor said there was smoke coming from the kitchen." His breathing hitched for a second before he let out a casual laugh. "No break-in. My flight got canceled, so I was home alone cooking. When are you two coming back? I really miss you." I smiled and told him we'd stay a couple more days, but in the middle of the night, I packed up our son and drove straight home.

When my mother falls gravely ill, my husband, who has asthenospermia, promises to help me think of something. So, I give him all my savings. Despite being pregnant, I get a part-time job doing DoorDash deliveries. However, I see my husband when I pass by a realtor's office. He's supposed to be hard at work like me, but he's buying a place for his childhood friend. He even has his arm around her. "That old hag thinks I only earn that little each month. Don't worry, Yvette. I only give her 10% of what I earn. The rest goes to you!" I hold back my tears and grab the hem of his shirt, wanting to borrow some money for my mother's treatment. However, he shoves me away irritably. "I give you 2000 dollars a month! Isn't that enough? Have you spent it all on useless things?" He leaves without another look back, ignoring my cries and pleas. He also kicks me, effectively murdering the child he's always dreamed of having. Later, he grovels at my feet and begs for forgiveness. It's too bad I've already given up on him. I don't want him anymore.

Nine years into our marriage, Linda Chancers was constantly surrounded by admirers. She enjoyed captivating inexperienced young men, making them infatuated with her.I understood and accepted it while she took pleasure in it.We continued quietly like this for nine years. It wasn’t until the day I achieved success and left without looking back. That night, Linda smashed everything in the house and grabbed my collar, screaming, "So, all these years, you've never loved me!"Love?What I loved, what I wanted, was nothing more than status and wealth.

Lily Peterson's childhood sweetheart, Sean Clements, ran over my 70-year-old mother in his car while he was drunk-driving. Because of that, Mom died on the spot. But Lily insisted on signing the letter of forgiveness for Sean. "My mother-in-law had planned on scamming Sean for more money, so she lay beneath the wheels on purpose. She should be the one taking on the entire responsibility." Not only did Sean get released as an innocent man, but he also received the ten-million-dollar payment given by the insurance company as compensation for his emotional distress. "Honey, I grew up with Sean since we were kids. I can't just sit by and watch his life get ruined by imprisonment! Can't you be more gracious and stop bringing this issue up?" After leaving the police station, Sean uploads a post on his social media feed in a high-profile manner. "Lily looks so gorgeous when she defends me in front of others! Childhood sweethearts will always be the closest people in life!" Lily leaves a like on Sean's post right in front of me. I remain eerily calm. "Let's get a divorce, Lily." She huffs coldly in return. "You just want me to console you, right? Tristin Foley, you're already 30 years old. Can you stop being childish?" I've already brought up divorce multiple times in the past. That's why Lily refuses to believe that I will leave her for real. But what she doesn't know is that I've snuck in a divorce agreement into the documents meant for the case closure registration, and she has personally left her signature there.

My wife was gone for 6 months on a business trip. The day she returned, however, she was not alone. Hand in hand, my wife showed up with her lover—my client. This was not even the worst part—she was also 3 months' pregnant. My client, in all his beer-bellied arrogance, hurled the contract at my feet, smirking. "Mr. Carter, your wife has gone to so much trouble for this partnership. Truth be told, I would never, not even in a million years, have agreed to partner with you if it wasn't for her!" My wife caressed her pregnant belly and said smugly, "I was the one who successfully got Mr. Lewis' business! I'll let you have it, though, as long as you agree to get a divorce!" I tore the contract into shreds and roared, "You want a divorce? Fine! I'll give it to you, but I'll never sign this!"

At a company team-building dinner, my coworkers started a challenge. We had to call our husbands or boyfriends and compare how much money they sent us. The rules were simple. Whoever got the biggest transfer and the fastest answer won. As usual, I came in dead last. "Seraphina, don't take it personally. Mr. Brooks may not be very romantic, but at least he's rich." Everyone laughed and tried to smooth things over, carefully avoiding old wounds. Like how I had spent seven years helping Conrad build his business, yet he had never once brought up marriage. Like how Conrad had distributed company shares to the executive team, and I was the last person to find out. Or how, on the day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, the only person sitting beside me in the hospital waiting for the test results was my best friend. I simply smiled and said nothing. Then my gaze landed on the new intern. She gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles had turned white, hesitation written all over her face. "I think I'll pass," she said quietly. "He's on a business trip. He's really busy." The mood in the room began to grow awkward. Trying to help her out, I leaned forward with a smile and tapped the speakerphone button as I dialed for her. I had expected the call to go unanswered. Instead, it was picked up instantly. The private dining room fell completely silent. Because the voice that came through the phone belonged to my quiet, unromantic boyfriend, Conrad, and his tone was impossibly gentle. "Babe, did you get the Valentine's Day surprise I sent you?"