Chasing That Big D Novels & Stories

Just days after being discharged from the hospital, my husband’s adopted sister, Wendy Crowley, went live. Crying on a rooftop, she accused me of causing her miscarriage. "The ultrasound already showed it was a boy… and that woman took his life! "She can’t have children herself, so she couldn’t stand that I could. I want her to pay for my child’s death!" My husband, Tristan Crowley, believed every word. "Wendy, I failed to protect you. If I’d known she hated you this much, I would’ve locked her away long ago." The livestream sparked outrage. Everyone demanded justice. "This is murder. She’s rotten to the core!" "Where’s the law? Lock her up immediately!" However, when Tristan and Wendy tracked me down–still streaming live–everyone watching… broke down in tears.

My mate is Ryder Blackwood, Alpha of the pack. As the approaching bonding ceremony, he tells me that his "savior", Isabelle Morrison, is dying. She took a silver dagger meant for him three years ago. Now she is terminal, and her days are numbered. Her last wish, he says, is to leave behind a pup bearing the strongest Alpha blood. I tremble. "What about me? I'm your only mate." His voice is cold, emptied of feeling. "Don't worry. I'll always be your mate." Two days later, I receive the pregnancy test results. Isabelle is five weeks along. Turns out there was never a choice. All I get is a belated notice. What he doesn't know is that I'm the one who took the silver dagger meant for him three years ago. The healer tells me I have, at most, a month to live. I neither weep nor protest. I cancel the bonding ceremony I've dreamed of and quietly book a flight out. It leaves on the very day of the ceremony. Ryder stands at the venue of the canceled ceremony when my message reaches him. It's my unwavering rejection of him as my mate. That's when he finally breaks. For the first time, the Alpha who controls everything tastes a fear that tears the soul. He searches for me frantically, only to find every trace of me erased from his world.

On the day we reported for the new semester, my girlfriend had just been admitted to one of the country's top universities. That morning, she suddenly told me she had chosen the wrong major and wanted to take a year off to retake the entrance exam. I knew exactly why. It was for her childhood friend, the one who had not made it. Her parents begged me to talk her out of it. After a night of painful deliberation, she appeared downstairs at my dorm and said, "I've made up my mind. I won't retake the exam. Let's stay together and make this work." However, during the freshman welcome event, just as her name was being called, her phone lit up. A message from him. [My prep class started today. My deskmate isn't you anymore. It feels so strange.] She went completely still. I tightened my grip on her hand and warned her quietly, "If you leave now, we're finished. Forever." She whispered an apology, dragged her suitcase behind her, and walked out of the campus.

My husband, Tyler Stone, has been dead for seven years. One day, he suddenly comes back to life. Not only does he bring another woman home with him, but he even wants me to give up my position as his wife. "Ruth almost lost her eyes saving me, and I've promised to marry her. Sign the divorce agreement, and I won't kick you out of the house." I'm briefly silent before saying, "I've actually married someone else." He rolls his eyes. "As if. Everyone knows you're desperately in love with me!"

To help my wife secure a director position, I spent an entire month working on a single deal, negotiating back and forth until I locked in the sale of a multimillion-dollar luxury apartment. On the day we were supposed to sign, Stella Frost handed the main contract to Tanner Davis, a new hire who had barely been with the company. When I asked Stella about it, she hesitated, her eyes shifting away before she answered. "Tanner studied overseas. His background is stronger than yours, and his Waldreich is better. The client has a foreign partner. It'll go more smoothly if he takes the lead." As she spoke, she slipped her arm through mine, like she always did when she expected me to back down. This time, I didn't smile. I just looked at her. That afternoon, I submitted my resignation and finished handing over every major client under my name. Stella tore the letter apart in front of me, her frustration turning quickly into something sharper. "When I married you, I didn't even care that you only had a high school education. And now you're making an issue out of a new hire?" I let out a quiet laugh. She was right. My education wasn't impressive. But she had forgotten one thing. I hadn't become the top closer in the city because of a degree.

The moment I find out about my pregnancy, a notification from Twitter is displayed on my phone. Apparently, it's a tweet posted by my husband, Don Romano Caliendo's childhood friend, Teresa Fiorino. "Thanks to your sperm, I get to have a child of my own during the last stage of my life." The accompanying photo is a pregnancy test that clearly states that the sperm donor is Romano. I leave a question mark in the comment section. In just half a minute, my phone begins ringing loudly. Romano's angry voice bursts from the loudspeakers immediately. I've only heard him adapt such a tone whenever he gets mad at others during family meetings. "What did you mean by that comment, Selene Gardo? Teresa is dying from cancer! All she wants is to have a baby to keep her company before she breathes her last! Don't you have any sympathy for her at all?" Before I can put down my phone, my Twitter homepage gets refreshed. This time, Teresa has uploaded another photo. It features a luxurious deluxe-style apartment, where the floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the breathtaking cityscape of Brindleport at night. The caption reads, "Thank you for giving me a home so that I don't feel lonely in my final days." In a corner of the photo, Romano can be seen crouching on the floor while piecing a baby cot together. His side profile shows how focused he is on the task. As I wipe my tears from the corners of my eyes, I silently caress my flat belly, which has yet to show any changes. I'll take you far, far away from here, my dear baby.

On my 22nd birthday, my uncle Scott discovered my diary. After he found out about my secret love for him, he sent me overseas. He then spent hundreds of thousands, marrying the love of his life.

Three days after my death, Dominic Sharp receives a phone call asking him to identify my body. He has an arm wrapped around a woman's waist as he says indifferently, "I couldn't care less if she's dead. Call me once she's been cremated." My body is sent to the crematorium. After putting the ashes into an urn, an employee calls Dominic again. He clucks his tongue impatiently. "Alright, alright. I'll be there soon."

I gave everything to save my fated mate, Alpha Austen. I even lost our pups. Twice. But he gave all the credit to his adoptive sister, Seraphina. He called me weak. Useless. He always chose her tears over my scars. He even stood by as her poison shattered my wolf spirit. As I lay dying, I watched him hold my killer and whisper, “I know it wasn’t your fault. This was her fate.” Then I opened my eyes. And I was back. Back before it all went wrong. This time, I’m done explaining. Done sacrificing. Right in front of him, I disguised a potion that would sever our mate bond as a "blessing elixir" and held it to his lips. “My love,” I said, “drink this. It’ll help you comfort your poor little sister.” He drank it without a second thought. In thirty days, under the Blood Moon, our mate bond will be severed for good. But only when I was truly gone did he finally regret it. He knelt before me, again and again, calling himself my fated mate. Begging me to take him back.

At nine months pregnant, I was in the final stretch of my term, and my body heavy with a baby due any day. But my husband, Vito Falcone, underboss of the family, had locked me away. He held me in a sterile underground medical room and injected me with a labor suppressant. As I screamed in agony, he coldly told me to endure it. Because his brother's widow, Scarlett, was expected to go into labor at the exact same time. A blood oath he'd made with his late brother declared that the firstborn son would inherit the family's lucrative West Coast territory. "That inheritance belongs to Scarlett's child," he said. "With Daemon gone, she is utterly alone and destitute. You have my love, Alessia. All of it. I just need her to deliver safely. Then it's your turn." The drug was a constant, agonizing torment. I begged him to take me to a hospital. He grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to meet his icy gaze. "Stop the act! I know you're fine. You’re just trying to steal the inheritance." "To get ahead of Scarlett, you'll stop at nothing." My face was ashen. My body convulsed as I managed a desperate whisper. "The baby's coming. I don't care about the inheritance. I just love you, and I want our child to be born safely!" He sneered. "If you were really that innocent, if you had an ounce of love for me, you wouldn't have forced Scarlett to sign that prenup, waiving her child's inheritance rights." "Don't worry, I'll be back for you after she's given birth. you're carrying my own flesh and blood, after all." He kept a vigil outside Scarlett's delivery room all night. It was only after seeing the newborn in her arms that he remembered me. He finally sent his second in command, Marco, to release me. But when Marco finally called, his voice was shaking. "Boss... the missus and the baby... they're gone." In that moment, Vito Falcone shattered.