Bias Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

The last hope I had of finding my parents was destroyed right in front of me. I had just arrived at the meeting place when they were hit by a car and killed before my eyes. By the time I returned home, I was numb. Then I heard a voice coming from the entryway. It was Eric Terrell, speaking to one of his trusted men on the phone. "First, it was the fake DNA report," the man said. "Now it's a staged car accident." He gave a low laugh. "Mr. Terrell, you've really gone to great lengths to stop Aimee Walters from finding her family." I curled up on the couch, and for a moment, I felt as if I had forgotten how to breathe. Eric took off his coat. His voice sounded tired, but there was no hesitation in it. "This is the last time. Aimee will never find her biological parents now." His man sighed. "Why go this far? Even if Ms. Walters reunites with the Hart family, it wouldn't really threaten Ms. Hart's place..." "No," Eric cut him off, his voice cold and firm. "If Aimee returns to the Hart family and wins back Mr. and Mrs. Hart's love, Isabelle will be the one who gets hurt." Then he added, "That's why I had no choice but to arrange for Mr. and Mrs. Hart to fake their deaths in front of her. In three days, they'll leave the country and never come back." My blood ran cold. Eric continued, as if my entire life were nothing more than a problem he had already solved. "As for Aimee, I've already agreed to marry her." The man sounded surprised. "Then what about Ms. Hart?" Eric fell silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and defeated. "As long as she's happy, that's enough for me."

On the first night of our graduation trip, the class representative, Gordon Perkins, suggests that we draw lots in order to get our rooms assigned to us. "Let fate decide the pairs who get to stay in the same room as long as they have the same number, regardless of their gender! Imagine how exciting this is!" Throughout my four-year college life, Ivan Decker and I have been in a relationship for three of those years. No one knows about our relationship, though. I pull out a ball from the box and await my partner. When it's Ivan's turn, he draws out a ball with the number seven. Gordon raises his voice immediately. "The other lucky person who gets to stay in room seven is… Rebecca Benson!" Rebecca, the young woman whom Ivan has pursued in a high-profile manner in the past, goes bright red. Everyone cheers on them right away, claiming that Lady Fate really wants them to be together. But I'm the only one who stays silent. No one knows that I've heard Gordon secretly tell Ivan something before it's time to draw lots. "Look for the ball with the raised dot. I specially saved those ones for you and Rebecca." As I look at Ivan, who walks over to Rebecca and picks up her suitcase for her with a soft smile, I find myself smiling as well. It turns out that Ivan never plans on making our relationship official despite having waited for him for three years. This time, I decide to be the one who leaves first.

I had been married to Matthew Zackman for 20 years, taken care of my bedridden mother-in-law for ten years, and supported him as he transformed from a rural teacher to a well-known professor. Everyone called me a model of a virtuous wife and a great contributor to the Zackman family. When my mother-in-law was on her deathbed, she held my hand and said that she still wanted me to be her daughter-in-law in her next life. Matthew had held me in his arms and said gratefully, "Jamie, you've worked so hard all these years. I'll make it up to you in the future." I thought the hard times were finally over, but my mother-in-law had just passed away when he handed me a divorce agreement and embraced my best friend, who had grown up with me. He said, "Jamie Lingsworth, I've endured this marriage for 20 years and am finally free. Rosie is the one I've loved all along." I left the marriage empty-handed and was forced to wander the streets until a car accident ended my life. When I reopened my eyes, I had returned to the day of my blind date 20 years ago. The matchmaker was enthusiastically praising Matthew, "This young man is a diamond in the rough! He's kind and filial. Whoever marries him is one lucky woman!" I looked at the polite and sincere-looking man across from me and smiled. Then, I threw the matchmaking document in my hand into the trash can. "Sorry, I don't think we're a good match."

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

Before our graduation trip, three of my childhood friends and my boyfriend all come to me, one after another, asking to borrow money. Drake Owens claims he needs it for his startup, Evans Harding says his mother has been hospitalized, and Finley Booker mentions an overdue credit card bill. Finally, my boyfriend, Boaz Marshall, takes the money I had spent three years saving for my heart surgery. With reddened eyes, he says, "I only need it for two weeks, Ari. I swear on my life that I won't let it interfere with your surgery at all." Then came the day my heart condition flared up again. The doctor slams my test results onto the table and says in a grave voice, "You can't put this off any longer, Ms. Dawson. You need to pay the hospital fees and get admitted immediately." But after lending out 260 thousand dollars, I'm only left with 327 bucks in my bank account. I call each of them, but they all claim the funds haven't come through yet and ask me to wait a little longer. I pass by a travel agency on my way home. Through the glass, I see Boaz, Drake, Evans, and Finley gathered around my best friend, Cindy Myers, planning a trip to the Northern Pole. Five plane tickets are spread out on the table. "Who would have thought that this would be the trick that worked after all? We just had to drain her of all her cash, and she wouldn't be able to pester us to tag along anymore." "Arianna has a bad heart. She'll only be nothing but a burden. It's better just to leave her at home." "Exactly. This trip is for Cindy's birthday. There's no reason to let one person ruin the mood for everyone else." After a brief burst of laughter, someone asks, sounding a bit hesitant, "But that was money for her heart surgery. What if she has an attack in the next few days?" Boaz hands a brochure for a mountain resort to Cindy, completely unconcerned. "She's lived with that condition for years. It's not like something's going to coincidentally happen right now when we're away. We'll just pay her back once we return from the trip." Boaz happens to look up just then, facing the window. The moment he sees me, however, the smile on his face freezes.

After an accident, I gain the ability to hear a notification chime whenever the man I love lies to me. On our eighth anniversary, I hide my positive pregnancy test and ask him playfully, "Tell me. Do you love me?" Elliot Cahill smiles at me tenderly. "I do. You're the only woman I love." I hear a chime in my head, and my smile instantly stiffens. Elliot's phone suddenly lights up. After glancing at the screen, he gives me an apologetic look. "Josie, I really want to stay and celebrate our anniversary with you, but something urgent just came up at work." I hear another chime. I hurry after him, the pregnancy test digging painfully into my palm. "Elliot, will you ever lie to me?" He pauses before chuckling and patting my head. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I won't. I'm coming back as soon as I'm done." Yet another chime sounds. The door closes behind him. With a trembling hand, I caress my stomach. "Your father is lying to us. We don't need him anymore, right?"

After finding out I'm pregnant again, I decide to check the trust fund I set up for my deceased daughter, Ivy Stewart. To my shock, I learn that someone has been withdrawing money from the account for the last five years. The first withdrawal happened the day Ivy passed away. Every year since, five million dollars has been withdrawn from the trust fund on Ivy's death anniversary, all transferred to the same account. Over dinner, I bring it up to my husband, William Stewart. He nonchalantly explains, "Ivy's death hit me hard, so I decided to do some charity work in her memory. I've been providing financial support to a little boy with leukemia all these years. He's a pitiful child, just like Ivy." Nevertheless, I still feel uncomfortable about the whole situation. "Why didn't you discuss things with me first?" Before William gets to say anything, my mother-in-law, Martha Cook, snaps at me, "Doing charity is a good thing! Why would William need to discuss it with you first? It's not like we can't spare the money. He's doing it in Ivy's memory, so don't be so petty!" I stop asking questions, but I secretly approach the fund manager, Shane Mitchell, and tell him I want to visit the boy. However, the fund manager looks at me, shocked. "Isn't the recipient your child? The money was transferred from the trust fund account with the explicit designation that it was for the child's education!"

When I surprised my husband, Carlo, the Don of a Mafia family, with a positive pregnancy test, he threw an azoospermia report in my face instead. "Who seduced you?" I thought he was joking. Then his childhood friend Mia called. "Don Moretti, you've seen the report. Madison's trying to pass off another man's bastard as yours!" That was when I realized one piece of paper had convinced everyone I'd betrayed the Mafia Don I'd married. Carlo didn't ask for a divorce. He didn't even pursue the accusation any further. He still drove me to my law firm and canceled family meetings to accompany me to prenatal appointments. But every time we came home from the hospital, he'd stare at my belly and ask, "You still won't tell me the truth?" Over and over, I told him the baby was his. He would stroke my cheek and shake his head. "Give me your lover's name, Madison. Once he's dead, I'll accept the child." It was insane. There was no other man. A month later, I suddenly miscarried. Carlo stood beside my hospital bed, white as a sheet. I thought he might finally believe me. Instead, he immediately ordered the doctor, "Preserve the embryonic tissue. Run a paternity test against my DNA. I want to know if the baby was mine." I couldn't take another second of it. I pulled off my wedding ring and looked him in the eye. "I want a divorce." I didn't care what the test found anymore. Our marriage had been doomed from the moment he chose suspicion over me.

During my senior year of college, I started dating Leo Whitman online. He was the hottest guy on campus. All through winter break, he texted me every day. He kept me company while I took my grandmother to her pre-op appointments. One night, at two in the morning, he even promised that when we got back to Boston, he'd make up for all the hugs we'd missed. Then the new semester started, and we finally met at the student center. The moment Leo saw me, his face fell. He pulled out his phone, showed me a photo, and said there had been a mix-up. He'd added the wrong girl on Instagram. The girl he had a crush on was my roommate, Vivian Blake. Back in December, Leo had spotted Vivian at the school's winter charity gala and snapped a photo of her from the side. He posted it in his fraternity group chat and offered $10,000 to whoever could introduce them. Except his roommate had sent him my Instagram handle by mistake. And just like that, I understood how I'd spent two months in a relationship that had never really been mine. Leo sat by the window without saying a word. After a long silence, he slid a signed check across the table. "We're done here. But I need you to help me win Vivian over. Write in whatever amount you want."

I have a secret. Whenever I touch someone, I can see the face of the person they love most. This is not an ability ordinary werewolves possess. I am a Moon Seer, a rarity that appears perhaps once in a century. I cannot read thoughts or memories, but I have never been wrong about a person’s heart. I had been the person Ronan Hartson loved most since he moved next door at seven. Our wolves recognized each other when we turned eighteen. When our Mate Bond awakened, I still saw only myself in his heart. Ronan officially claimed me at twenty two. He left his mark on my neck and announced before the entire Blackridge Pack that I was his only mate and the Luna of Blackridge. Our Mate Bond remained unshaken for three years. Then, at six weeks pregnant, I touched his collar before he left for work. I had known Ronan for twenty one years and touched him more than a hundred thousand times. This was the first time I discovered that I was no longer the only woman in his heart. That night, he lied about patrols. That night, I saw him feed her cake with his own hands. He thought our Mate Bond would keep me tethered to him forever. He thought I would never leave. But he forgot one thing: I don’t need a man to feel whole. And I will never raise my child in a house built on lies. He chose to protect her. I chose to protect myself.

When I opened my eyes once more, Flora was holding me tightly. I had secretly loved her for a decade. Her warm lips kissed my neck, telling me not to leave. This time, I pushed her away and told the butler to send her to her first love's home. Her first love was Sean Graham. In my last life, Flora drank so much that she was drunk during the celebration organized for me to celebrate me for getting an overseas college's offer letter. After the celebration, I didn't refuse her when she wanted me to stay, and that wild night came to pass. The next morning, when Sean saw me coming out of Flora's bedroom, he pretended to be amiable and said he would make our wish come true despite the darkness in his eyes. Then, he disappeared for about one month. In the end, we found a blood-stained necktie in the mountains and the skeletal remains that had been feasted on by wild animals. Flora didn't sleep for an entire night as she held Sean's necktie in her hand. After that, it was like the discovery hadn't affected her at all, as she still passionately planned for my birthday trip. But that very night during the trip, I was abducted. I begged the kidnappers to beg Flora to pay the ransom, but I heard her personally give the orders. "Don't let him die too easily. He's just some scum of the earth. Do whatever you want with him. When you're done, dump him in the Northern Barrens and clean things up. He owes Sean this much!" Flora, I'm done playing by your rules this time around.

During a company retreat to Colmar, I found out my boyfriend was going to propose at sunset, surrounded by colleagues. Instead, in the golden light, he dropped to one knee with a ring in hand in front of someone else. “Lana, I’m ready to be the father of your child. Will you marry me?” Lana, the woman Mark had loved for ten years, his unforgettable first love. I stared at the two, watching them embrace. Then I quietly turned away, booked myself a trip three days out, and went home for an arranged date. A year later, I ran into him again when I returned to the country. Mark’s eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my wrist. “Rosie, you’re finally back. Don’t leave me again…”

News of my groom's death arrived, but I shed no tears. Instead, I quickly reclaimed his shares and had his death officially recorded. Why? I was reborn. In my previous life, my family had adopted three boys to accompany me since childhood, all of whom were potential candidates to be my husband. As the heiress of the wealthiest family in the country, my father feared I wouldn't be happy marrying someone else we weren't familiar with. I chose Jayden, the most capable of the three brothers—but just three days after the wedding, he passed away. In my grief, I gave up on remarriage. With Jesse and Joel's persuasion, I lived the rest of my life as a widow. Upon reaching eighty, I went to Massalia, where we once pledged our love. There, I encountered Jayden…who had supposedly died sixty years ago! He was living with my maid, who had gone missing decades ago, surrounded by children and grandchildren, living a happy and contented life. When I realized I had been deceived my whole life, I was so enraged that my vision suddenly darkened. I died of a brain hemorrhage on the spot. When I awoke, I had returned to the day the news of his death had arrived. Let's see how a man who should have died intended to continue living!

The ninety-ninth time my Alpha mate blocked our mind-link, I was in the final stages of Wolf Spirit Decay. I dragged my broken body into the Council Hall. The cold marble steps grated against the soles of my feet, and with every step, a tearing pain ripped through my chest. "I am here to petition to leave the pack." The council official studied my pale, thin form with a pitying gaze and asked softly, "Are you certain, Miss? You would be giving up the pack's protection." Since childhood, my wolf has been unstable, making me frail. Ever since my father brought home my adopted sister, Lydia, when I was ten, my parents have treated me like a disgrace to the family. Despite being his marked mate for years, Caleb never promised me a Luna ceremony. He rarely even took me to pack gatherings. As a result, hardly anyone in the pack knew who I was. "It doesn't matter," I said, my voice calm despite the effort. "I will be dead in three days."

When Dante postponed our wedding because of Nadia for the fourth time, I accepted it silently as usual. But after hanging up, I immediately had my private lawyer draft a divorce agreement. I placed the agreement on the last page of our postnuptial agreement, then asked Dante to sign it. He was rushing pick up Nadia, so he signed his name without reading it at all. "The agreement will take effect 7 days after signing." Seven days. Seven days later was the exact wedding date Dante had promised me. The countdown began.

To prepare for a baby, my wife, Daphne Sinclair, suggested we start working out together and keep each other accountable by tracking our daily step counts. While I was away on a two-week business trip, she ranked first on our Fitbit leaderboard every single night. Then one day, my neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag showed it was filmed right in the parking lot beneath my apartment. "Bro, impressive. Your wife's even hired a personal trainer for her workouts now? That Maybach suspension really hits different." In the video, a pink sports bra I had never seen before hung from the driver’s side window. The car rocked rhythmically, accompanied by Daphne's restrained yet excited breathing. I dialed her number. "Where are you?" Her voice turned soft and coy. "On the treadmill, sprinting. Honey, I'm working so hard for our baby." "Really?" I chuckled. "You've worked so hard the entire neighborhood knows about it." Holding the phone, I said slowly, word by word, "Open the door. I'm bringing you a towel."

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

My seventh year with Luca Bellini coincided with the launch of the Santa Lucia. The South Docks were packed with Bellini relatives, district bosses, and merchants who did business with the Family. Everyone knew I had been by Luca's side from the days when he was just a small-time enforcer collecting protection money at the fish market, all the way to his rise as head of the South Docks. Everyone assumed the launch of this new ship would finally make my place at his side official. Luca stood before the gleaming black hull and raised his glass with a smile. "I've had my eye on this ship for three months. Years ago, I made a girl a promise. Today, I'm giving her the ship and keeping that promise." I clutched the Family silver ring I had just taken from the safe, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear the ceremonial cannon fire. He had never told me he was going to announce our engagement today, but I had been by his side since I was eighteen. I'd helped him check his first set of off-the-books ledgers, negotiate the deal for his first beachfront hotel, and survive more close calls than I could count over those seven years. Wasn't this the moment I'd been waiting for? Luca took the silver key from the host and looked at the crowd. I had barely stepped forward when Sophia Costa, dressed in white, rushed into his arms and took the key from him. She was the girl Luca had loved when he was young but could never have. She was the only daughter of one of the Family's longtime advisers. Two weeks ago, the heir of a wealthy East Coast businessman had dumped her, and she'd returned to Gray Harbor. Luca put an arm around her as the crowd toasted them. He glanced at me for a moment, then looked away as if I were just another bookkeeper. I stared at the ship's reflection on the water and laughed. Then I texted my mother, "You said Matteo from the Ricci shipyard wanted to meet me. Tell him I said yes."

At our friends' get-together, my girlfriend, Delilah Stallard, casually stuffs her half-eaten ice cream into the mouth of her childhood sweetheart, Noel Weston. Everyone around us instantly exchanges awkward glances. My best friend looks furious as he asks me what I'm going to do about it. What else can I do? Naturally, I give them my blessing. "Why did you even bother to look for a boyfriend? You two might as well just date each other."

After five years together, my fiancée Selene—a surgeon—canceled our wedding forty-nine times. The first time, she was in the middle of makeup when Kaelen, her male intern, messed up a patient’s chart. She rushed back to the hospital and left me waiting at the altar all day. The second time, just as we were about to exchange rings, she heard Kaelen was being bullied by another doctor. She went back to rescue him. I stayed behind, facing a roomful of smirking guests. After that, every time I tried to reschedule, that intern had some new emergency. Always needed her. Always right when the wedding was supposed to happen. I finally decided to end it. The day I left New York, she searched for me like a madwoman. But I was already gone.