Tragic Romances Novels & Stories

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

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."

My husband, Clement Norman, promised to make up for our missed honeymoon. It was five years late, but I was still excited. I got ready and really looked forward to it. But right before we boarded the plane, I realized there was someone extra in our group—Clement's childhood friend, Madison Bowen. He explained half-heartedly, "Madison's never been abroad before. I figured we could bring her along." I wasn't thrilled, but when I spoke up, he made it sound like I was being dramatic. "Are you jealous of our relationship because you didn't grow up with a proper family? I see her as a sister. You wouldn't get it—you grew up an orphan." I chose to stay quiet, not wanting to ruin our honeymoon. But we encountered an avalanche halfway through the trip. My leg got stuck deep in the snow, and I couldn't move. And the first thing Clement did was grab Madison's hand and run. He didn't even look back.

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.

Grote Mendoza, the Alpha of the Valkyrie pack, has an extremely strong libido. Whenever he sees my body, he can't seem to control himself at all. He's very rough with me in bed, resulting in me fainting every time we sleep with each other. "Honey, can you endure this for me one more time?" It's been seven years. This is my 99th time enduring the torturous session with Grote. Because of that, my private part suffers from severe ulceration and infection. I thought Grote loves me, but it turns out that he's just a wolf who suffers from weird fetishes. I thought he'll slowly learn how to be gentle with me for my sake. But when I watch all 99 tapes that he and his mistress, Christine Henson, have recorded of themselves going at it, I finally realize that his gentle side is never meant for me at all. Grote blames me for not being able to be with pup thanks to my private part's condition. He allows Christine to abuse and humiliate me however she wants. In fact, he even beds her before my eyes. He refuses to believe that I will ditch him. All he does is beg me relentlessly for my forgiveness and promise me that I'll be his only Luna. Apparently, having a mistress spices up his bedroom life for him. But Grote repeatedly allows Christine to humiliate me. She forces me to become her slave and keep serving her until she gives birth to her pup. I've been enduring Grote's actions for seven years. All I get is pain and abuse that keeps worsening in return. I don't want to endure the humiliation anymore, even if it means dying right here, right now. I jump into the sea without hesitation, allowing the ice-cold water to swallow me whole. I'm willing to do anything just to escape from Grote's suffocating love that's packaged as abuse… After I die in the sea, Grote completely loses control of himself and keeps looking for me everywhere he goes.

On the day the true heiress and I swapped places, my childhood sweetheart, bound to me by a promise made in youth, gripped my hand before our families and declared, "I chose you, not your title." Anna Pedersen, tears brimming in her eyes, enveloped me in a trembling embrace. "Joanne, we'll always be family. I'd never take what's rightfully yours." Everyone assumed I'd turned misfortune into fortune. Though I lost my status as the Pedersen heiress, I gained a steadfast lover and a selfless sister. But three years after fate corrected itself, photos of Calvin Thomas escorting Anna to a prenatal checkup flooded the internet. When I confronted him, he exhaled a plume of smoke and said coolly, "Anna is my true betrothed. This is just setting things right. Why are you so worked up?" He seized my wrist and dragged our engraved engagement ring across the back of my hand, leaving a bloody gash. "This scar will remind you of the twenty years of life you stole. Your life and I belong to their rightful owner."

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

Nico Romano told me he had no choice. After his brother Enzo died, the Varrone family needed a new Don—and Enzo’s widow, Serena, needed a child to secure the bloodline. So Nico went to her bed again and again. Every time he came back to me, he carried her perfume on his skin and the same gentle lie in his mouth. “Just wait a little longer, Valentina. Once Serena gives birth to the heir, I’ll give you and Luca everything you deserve.” So I waited. For six months, I watched the man I loved become another woman’s husband in every way that mattered. I watched my son fall asleep by the window, waiting for a father who always promised to come home and always found a reason not to. Then Serena was declared pregnant. The entire Varrone family celebrated as if a miracle had happened. Nico’s mother announced that Serena’s child would be the rightful heir, while my son would be introduced to the world as an orphan Nico had taken in. “No one can know the Don has an illegitimate child with a nobody,” she said. My son’s little hand trembled in mine. “Mommy,” Luca whispered, looking at Nico, “am I not Papa’s child?” Nico heard him. He saw the tears in his son’s eyes. But Serena held his arm, and Nico said nothing. That was the moment I stopped waiting. I took off the ring Nico had given me seven years ago and placed it in Serena’s hand. “Congratulations,” I said. “You belong in this family far more than I ever did.” Then I took my son—and the child Nico did not yet know I carried—and walked out of the Varrone mansion for the last time. They all thought I was a nameless woman with nowhere to go. They didn’t know my father was the most feared man in Italy’s underworld. And I was his only heir.

When the earthquake struck, Pierse Jones instinctively shielded me with his body, taking the full brunt of the impact and suffering multiple fractures. In the hospital room, the girl in the next bed looked at me with envy and said, “Your husband didn’t even care about his own life to save you. He really loves you.” I forced a smile. “Yeah.” But just last night, after I had fallen asleep, he slipped into the bathroom, his voice soft and soothing as he spoke to someone else—his little mistress, “I’m fine, don’t cry. Be good.” “As long as I think of you, I’m not afraid of anything.” Pierse and I grew up together, from childhood sweethearts to each other’s first love. We had been together for ten years, admired by everyone as the perfect couple. No one knew he had a mistress on the side, a girl who looked just like me when I was eighteen.

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.