Tragic Ending

While I try on various wedding rings, my fiance, Don Demetrio Farese, who has tagged along, suddenly snatches the ring from my fingertip. "You already lost a finger, Lucia. The ring will look ugly on you. Carlotta, on the other hand, looks beautiful with a ring on her finger." Then, Demetrio fishes out a photo featuring him sinking down on one knee while sliding a ring onto Carlotta Rini's finger. My chest tightens. "What are you trying to say?" "Let Carlotta wear the wedding ring. You've already lost a finger anyway—you don’t need it." Pain slowly spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. For a moment, I almost lose my balance. The truth is, Demetrio's mortal enemy is the one who severed my finger by shooting at it. Back then, I only got shot because I had shielded Demetrio from the bullet.

Because I had a face that screamed 'pick-me girl', I became the target of my mother's deepest hatred. She claimed that just seeing me made her sick, bringing back memories of my father's affair. In retaliation, she channeled all her affection into helping a child from a poor village, praising her for being kind and genuine while insisting she loved her hundreds of times more than she ever loved me. But then that same girl went behind my back and seduced my boyfriend, and my mother reacted by hitting me across the face repeatedly. "How did I end up with such a shameless daughter? You're the third wheel, and you're accusing her of being the other woman!" Yet when I fell gravely ill with cancer, she was beside herself with grief, begging for forgiveness while praying earnestly. "How could I not love you, my dear? I've made such terrible mistakes…"

We were supposed to be in love for eternity. But my vampire fiancé, Caius, has stood me up at our blood-bonding ceremony thirty-three times. The first time, the girl he’d sired, Evangeline, lost control during a hunt. He raced to her side, leaving me alone in the church under the blood moon. The second time, he vanished mid-ceremony because Evangeline was being bullied by another clan. He left me to face the elders’ mockery alone. After that, his little fledgling always had some fresh disaster for him to avert. And he always had an excuse: “I sired her. She’s like a child to me.” Then I saw the fresh bite marks on their necks. They had shared blood—the ultimate intimacy between mates. My heart turned to ash. It was time to burn our betrothal to the ground. The day I finally disappeared, he went mad, tearing our world apart to find me.

After seven years of marriage, Kayla Campbell had finally become pregnant. But during her prenatal checkup, she noticed something was wrong. The space to fill in the name of the child’s father was blank. She instinctively spoke up. "The father should be Luke Hudson. Was it missed during registration?" In Havenport's upper circles, almost everyone was aware of how devoted the head of the Hudson family was to his wife. He loved her so deeply that he had once been willing to undergo a vasectomy for her. "Kayla, watching you take medicine and get injections again and again breaks my heart. You're everything to me. If having a child means you have to suffer like this, then I would rather never have one." Perhaps the heavens were touched by them. Luke was a man known for his decisive and ruthless nature. On the day they confirmed her pregnancy, he had knelt and pulled her into his arms, crying until his voice gave out. He had personally handled all the medical registration paperwork afterward. With how carefully he treated her, a mistake like this made no sense. The staff member was clearly new to the job, and she worked at the computer for a long while before finally nodding. "The father's name was blank when the file was created." As she continued checking, her expression changed slightly. "But Mr. Hudson's name does appear in another patient's record. He's listed as the father of her child. The mother's name is Stephanie Campbell. Do you know her?" Kayla froze. Her thoughts went blank. People in their social circle all knew Kayla's background. She had been adopted by the Campbell family. But when the family finally found their biological daughter, they accused Kayla of having taken their real daughter's place for years and kicked her out without mercy. That biological daughter was Stephanie.

I was eight months pregnant and had just gone into labor, but my Alpha mate, Damien, locked me in a silver cage in the basement to delay my labor. When I cried out for help, he just told me to wait. Because his late brother's mate, Victoria, was also giving birth that day. The Pack Seer had foretold that only the firstborn pup would be blessed by the Moon Goddess and become the future Alpha. "The title belongs to Victoria's child," he said. "She lost Marcus. She has nothing. You already have all my love, Elena. The silver cage will make sure you deliver after her." The contractions were torture. I begged him to take me to the clinic. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. "Stop pretending. I should've known you never loved me. All you've ever cared about is wealth and status!" "To force your labor early, just to steal what belongs to my nephew… You're truly wicked." Pale and trembling, I whispered: "The pup is coming, I can't stop it. Please, I'll make a blood oath. I don't care about the inheritance. I only love you!" He scoffed."If you loved me, you wouldn’t have forced Victoria into that contract to give up her pup’s birthright. I'll come back for you after she delivers. After all, that's my pup in there, too." He stood guard outside Victoria's delivery room. Only after he saw the newborn pup in her arms did he remember me. He ordered his Beta to release me. But the Beta's voice trembled. "Luna… and the pup… they're dead." And in that moment, Damien went feral.

To celebrate our daughter's eighteenth birthday, my husband, James Miller, decided to go nude cycling. I told him he was too old for that and would embarrass himself, but he looked at me with disdain and said, "Liliana, your life is so boring. You refuse to embrace new things." Then he brought the dog belonging to his first love, Sophia Lewis, and placed it before me. It was then I realized it was Sophia who had organized the nude cycling event. I felt my anger boiling beneath the surface as our son, Thomas, took the leash and handed it to me. "Dad, you can go have fun with Sophia. Mom will take care of the dog," Thomas said. But when the dog lunged at me later, Thomas protected it. Meanwhile, my daughter, Alice, fought to shield me. In the end, both Alice and I were bitten to death. James didn't even take us to the hospital. Instead, he dragged our bodies straight to the crematorium. Just before I turned into a wisp of smoke, I saw Alice rolling in the flames. During that time, James and Thomas were comforting Sophia. At that moment, I felt a deep rage—rage at myself for being so naive and for causing my daughter's death. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day when my son handed me the leash. This time, I was determined to make them all pay.

My husband, who was a drug enforcement police officer, personally got me into rehab. My son was cheering on the side, saying that he no longer had to see me under the influence for a long time. After I was discharged, I discovered my husband moved in with his lover and our son. I begged him to come back and told him that someone would kill me. He did not believe me. Instead, he said coldly, “If you die, you better end up in a trash can. Otherwise, I’d have to deal with your body.” My son cheered at the side. “Mommy is finally gone!” After a week, I was dismembered. My body parts were found in multiple trash cans. He was the police in charge of the case.

I was a sketch artist acting for the police. On a secret mission, I was discovered by a murderer. My eyes were gouged out, and my body was dismembered, unceremoniously dumped in a garbage bin. On the brink of death, I called my boyfriend, a criminal investigator. However, he hung up on me because he was busy accompanying his first love to a prenatal checkup. A few days later, he received a painting that was a vital clue to finding the murderer, but he thought I was playing tricks on him. In his anger, he tore that portrait to shreds. After he found out the truth, he spent the whole night searching through the garbage to piece it back together.

My father is the First Warrior of the Moonflash pack. He often takes me to all kinds of banquets, and I always look forward to them. Today, he brings me to a banquet hosted by Judy. I take a bite of raw meat on my plate and immediately spit it out. I once ate raw meat when I was younger, and my stomach hurt for several days. I nearly died. The healer later told me that I'm allergic to the protein in raw meat, and that experience left a lasting impression on me. Judy looks hurt when she sees my reaction. "I went to the forest myself to catch that reindeer," she says. "I killed it just this morning. I didn't cook it so that I wouldn't ruin its freshness. I didn't expect Ray would turn her nose up at it." Dad is angry about how rude I am, so he chases me out of the banquet and locks me up in a cramped lounge. The lounge is hot and stuffy, and I soon start finding it hard to breathe. A sharp pain twists in my stomach like a knife. I want to find Dad, but no matter how much I bang on the door, he refuses to open it. Through the window, I can see Dad and Judy standing in the center of the hall. They're conversing happily, but no one even looks in my direction. I'm suffocating, so I lie on the floor. I want to shout for Dad, but I can't make a sound no matter how hard I try. Then, I realize that I'm standing up and can walk through the door. But why is my body still lying on the floor? That's when it hits me. I'm dead.

After failing the mission, the System gave me one final chance, and to succeed, I had to give birth to a child. The System promised that if the baby were born safely, it would reveal the truth to my target and give me one last glimmer of hope. However, six months into my pregnancy, just when things seemed stable, I was dragged onto an operating table in the middle of the night by my husband and family. My husband stopped the anesthesiologist from giving me any pain relief. “Let her feel the pain,” he said coldly. “We need to keep the kidneys as fresh as possible.” My parents instructed the doctor to draw my blood. “She’s the same blood type as our precious girl. Let’s take some for backup.” Even my childhood friend, the boy who had always been by my side, was the one to slice open my abdomen.  They wanted my kidneys to save my sister, who was dying from kidney failure. No one believed I was pregnant. No matter how much I begged, they went ahead with the operation, tearing me open. The baby couldn’t survive, and I died on that operating table. However, as my soul began to fade away, something strange happened. Those who had murdered me—my husband, my parents, my so-called friend—they all lost their minds.