Tragic Novels & Stories

When James Chapman and I first got together, I was a regular student while he was one of the most popular guys in school. Five years down the road, I'm still a regular woman. James' attitude toward me has changed drastically, though. He frequently complains about my appearance. I know it's because his true love is back in the country. He misses our fifth anniversary because of her. His true love makes fun of me for being ugly to his face, so he orders me to get cosmetic surgery at her newly opened clinic. He wants me to use my fanbase to make her business boom. "You're so ugly that you'd be the perfect person to prove Barbara's skills… if she can actually make you look better, that is. We're all friends, aren't we? What's wrong with lending her a hand? Stop being so petty!" Barbara Simpson kills me—I die on the operating table in her inhumane clinic. James thinks I go missing because I'm just throwing a tantrum, but he realizes he's wrong when he finds my mangled body in the basement. The diamond ring he put on my finger is still there, too.

When Evelyn Foster brought a man home for the ninety-eighth time, I still thoughtfully placed two cups of tea on the nightstand along with three boxes of condoms in different flavors. Seeing how meek I looked, the man let out a scornful snort. "No wonder women all want to marry men like you. Only men like you can put up with this kind of humiliation." I smiled and said nothing. I lowered my head and looked at the message my foster sister Claire had sent five minutes ago. [The family's financial crisis has been resolved. You don't need to sacrifice yourself anymore. Once you divorce Evelyn, we'll get married.] I replied with a single word. [Alright.] Then I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement and send it to where Evelyn and I lived. I just forgot to tell my foster sister one thing. I would divorce Evelyn. But I would not marry her, either.

After getting drunk, my husband’s childhood sweetheart drove and ran over my seventy-year-old mother, crushing her into a mangled corpse. She died on the spot. However, my CEO husband, Jason, insisted on signing a settlement on her behalf. “My mother-in-law was committing insurance fraud. She deliberately lay under the tires. She should bear full responsibility.” Not only did he get his childhood sweetheart, Olivia, cleared of all charges, but he also transferred the 10,000,000-dollar insurance payout from my mother to her as emotional damages. “Olivia and I grew up together. I cannot just watch her go to prison and ruin her life. Be reasonable and stop making a fuss.” After leaving the police station, Olivia made a post on social media. [Jason standing up for me was so amazing. Childhood sweethearts really are forever family!] Jason liked her post right in front of me. I remained terrifyingly calm. “Jason, let us get a divorce.” He scoffed. “You’re just saying that to make me comfort you, right? Megan, you are 30 years old. Can you stop being childish?” I had brought up divorce countless times, and he never believed I would truly leave. What he did not know was that among the case documents he had just signed, there was a divorce agreement. He had already signed it himself.

My wife, Sandra Wren, had suggested taking our daughter, Annie, to a childcare center, saying that it would be better for our daughter. I didn't think much of it and handed her a card. I went on a business trip for half a month. Watching the daily charges on my card, I felt nothing but satisfaction. Until my best friend suddenly sent me a video. The location tag was at the childcare center. "Dude. Why is your wife staying after class for 'extra lessons'? Is it more exciting in the classroom?" In the video, Sandra's lace underwear hung around her ankles. The floor was littered with used condoms. The tables in the childcare classroom creaked noisily. I immediately called her. On the phone, I could faintly hear her suppressed yet excited breathing. She said, slightly panting, "Honey, I'm flying a kite with Annie. Did you miss us?" I let out a cold laugh. "Yes. I missed you so much, I came back overnight. Which classroom are you in? I'll bring you condoms."

After Leo Carter’s older brother passed away, his mother proposed that he marry his late brother’s pregnant wife, Ariel Sullivan. Leo refused. “Fawn is my life,” he said coldly. “I’d rather give up inheriting my brother’s position as the don than ever betray my wife.” I was deeply moved by his devotion. That was until I accidentally overheard a conversation between Leo and his mother. “The child in Ariel’s womb is clearly yours,” his mother said sharply. “So why won’t you marry her?” Leo exhaled a cloud of smoke. His gaze drifted somewhere far away, unreadable. “I promised Ariel I’d leave my brother with an heir,” he said calmly. “But this stays between us. If Fawn ever finds out, I’m dead.” His mother’s expression darkened. “So what if she finds out? She can’t even have children herself. Are you going to end the family bloodline because of her?” Leo cut her off, his voice suddenly cold and dangerous. “If she finds out, she will leave me. And I can’t survive losing her. If you want a grandson, then keep your mouth shut.” I stumbled away in a daze, and the blood in my veins slowly turned cold. Leo understood me better than anyone. He knew that in my world, love could not tolerate a betrayal. So the moment he betrayed me, I made my decision. I was leaving.

In the fifth year of our long-distance relationship, I secretly quit my job without telling my boyfriend, Ian Gambino, and travelled more than a thousand kilometers to South Bordington. I wanted to give him a surprise: to get registered and married to him. He worked as a bodyguard for the biggest mafia Don in South Bordington. His job kept him extremely busy, and we were often out of contact. The last time we spoke, he said he had to accompany his boss to an underground auction for security. The job would last three months. Relying solely on the address that I remembered, I managed to find the place. When the guards at the entrance heard that I was looking for Ian Gambino, their expressions turned a little strange. "Don Ian is still busy. Please wait a moment," one of them said. I froze. Don Ian? Before I could process what he meant, I heard him whispering to the person next to him, "So, she's the one that the Don keeps outside? How did she end up here? If Donna Jeanine finds out about this, she's going to cause a huge scene." I was just about to explain to them that they had the wrong person when a woman in a custom-made evening gown walked in. The staff immediately fell silent and addressed her respectfully, "Donna Jeanine." She was on the phone, her voice coquettishly sweet. "Honey, I'm here. You promised you'd come with me and the baby for the medical checkup this time!" From the other end of the call came a deep male voice, filled with affection. "Darling, it'll be over soon. Go take a rest in the VIP lounge. Don't tire yourself out." I had listened to that voice for five years. It belonged to Ian Gambino.

I canceled my ticket to Iceland. Even the customer service agent sounded confused. “There are only two seats left on this flight. Are you sure you want to cancel?” “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.” We had been together for four years. Every February, he flew to Iceland. He always said it was for a photography project. On social media, he only posted glaciers and the northern lights. Whenever I said I wanted to see the aurora too, he would tell me, “It’s too cold there. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Then yesterday, I helped him organize an old hard drive. Inside was an encrypted folder named **February**. When I opened it, every photo was of the same girl standing beneath the same northern lights. The light was soft around her. Even the strands of her hair glowed clearly in the frame. The only photo he had ever taken of me was outside our apartment complex. Backlit. Out of focus. My eyes were squinting, and my entire face was blurred. At the time, he had even laughed and said, “As long as you can tell it’s you, it’s fine.” So it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to take good photos. He just never wanted to take them of me. For four years, he chased the northern lights. And every time, the same person stood beside him. The farthest light I had ever seen was nothing more than an Iceland photo he had posted carelessly online. While I was packing my things, he called me. His voice was rushed. “Weren’t you the one who kept saying you wanted to see the northern lights? Why did you cancel the ticket?” I hung up without answering. Iceland was too far. The aurora was too cold. Since he was never willing to come toward me, I would walk toward the light on my own.

My name is Susan, and I'm the daughter of the Dark Moon Pack's Alpha. Per tradition, I was betrothed to Daniel, the crown prince of South Dania and the future Alpha King, to become his Luna Queen. However, he had been postponing our Marking Ceremony repeatedly, using the excuse that he wanted his coronation first. I thought he was simply being prudent, until I witnessed him proposing to another she-wolf, telling her that she was the one he truly wanted. He was even laughing about the engagement, calling it a necessary tool. Understanding that, I realized that he never formed the mate bond with me because he needed the freedom for adultery and not suffer the pain of backlash in treachery. He wouldn't acknowledge my status, but insisted that I fulfill my spousal obligations nonetheless. He didn't Mark me, while keeping me tangled in his web of lies. I hence decided to disappear in three days under the new moon, when everyone would be waiting to witness our Marking. I wanted to show him that not every wolf was willing to be a tool.

On the ninth year after our bonding ceremony, my mate, Alpha Kyle Burns, finds himself hopelessly in love with Ivy Cline, an Omega who's taken in as a prisoner of war from a pack that has been conquered by the Silver Moon pack. Ivy is supposed to be a lowly prisoner, and yet she often keeps her head high in an arrogant manner. One time, she kicks the things gifted to her by Kyle into a puddle in front of everyone else. "I might be a prisoner, but I refuse to become a traitor who clings to wolves of power for survival! You can keep your disgusting charity act to yourself!" Those are the exact words that have Kyle wrapped around Ivy's little finger. In order to conquer the wild-spirited Ivy, Kyle personally severs the mind-link that he has maintained with me for the past nine years. He completely disregards the fact that I'm his fated mate as well as the most reverent Luna of the pack. But he most likely has forgotten the blood curse my father, who was also the former Alpha of the pack, asked the witch to place on him. If Kyle and I don't head over to the Moon Goddess' altar to extend our bond once ten years are up, the curse will take effect. That's when the mate bond between us will be completely severed.

Years ago, I, Ella Marin, became the wife of Andrew Lorenzo, the underboss of the Lorenzo family. Sadly, my last three years were spent in prison after I caused a fatal car accident. I heard plenty of “good news” about my husband while I did my time. Andrew had officially taken over the Lorenzo family once the Don had stepped down. He then spent a fortune on a woman called Rose Gunfire and was rumored to have had a one-night stand with a rival. He was also seen acting intimately with Sophia, the Principessa of the Rossi family, and private photos of them kept appearing online. When the underboss came to warn me about Andrew, I remained calm. “The Don says that as long as you don’t cry or make a scene, you’ll still have a place in the Lorenzo family after your release.” I replied quietly, “So he has women on the side. I can handle that.” Three days before that, the church’s hospital had called to tell me that my mother was terminally ill. Since the Lorenzo family could help find a kidney donor, I agreed to a marriage in name only. All for my mother’s sake.