Bias Tragic Love 短篇故事與小說

Once the graduation ceremony is over, I take a five-hour train ride to meet my boyfriend, Blake Jones. While I wait for him at the station, I come across a popular post on Reddit. "Am I Overreacting? My Childhood Friend Ditches Me for His Girlfriend, and I'm Pissed. "His girlfriend is my best friend, and the three of us have always been close since we were kids. He's always been really sweet to both of us. "Two days ago, I had a fever, and he rushed me to the hospital in the middle of the night. He even took a day off to keep me company. When my supervisor rejected my thesis, he stayed up all night to help me revise it… "I never used to mind his relationship. But now, whenever I hear him talking to my best friend on the phone, I can't help feeling awful." That catches me off guard. I remember one night when I called Blake, but his phone was switched off. He didn't get back to me until the next afternoon. He said something had come up, but he never mentioned who he'd been with. The comments on the post are all urging the poster to call her childhood friend back and see who he'll choose between her and his girlfriend. I'm just about to type a reply when a notification from Blake comes through. "Babe, something came up. I can't pick you up today. Can you take a cab and come over?" My breath catches. I click on the poster's profile and realize that her location tag is the same city I'm in.

My sister Sofia and I married into the Moretti family, New York's most feared dynasty, and got pregnant less than a month apart. I married Dante Moretti, the eldest son and youngest trauma surgery chief St. Vincent's had ever appointed. Sofia married his younger brother Luca, a Major Crimes detective with a badge and a Moretti army at his back. One carried a scalpel. The other carried a gun. Behind them stood a family that owned docks, unions, private clubs, and half the secrets in Manhattan. Everyone said we'd won a life women would kill for. On my first anniversary, I left a maternity clinic with our daughter's fetal heart scans. Sofia hopped out at a bakery for a cinnamon-apple tart. That craving saved her life. The black Cadillac carrying me cut through an intersection and drove straight into an armored truck. Metal folded around me. Glass filled my mouth. Beneath the screaming brakes, I felt my baby stop moving. I called Dante with a bloodied hand. He rejected me three times before answering the fourth. "Enough with the loyalty tests, Elena. Valentina's old gunshot wound triggered an arrhythmia, and I'm treating her. You and Sofia don't get to invent emergencies every time we help her." Sofia called Luca in tears. He was at Valentina's townhouse investigating a triggered alarm. "A false report leaves a record," he said. "Stop helping your sister put on a show." In the end, my eight-month-pregnant sister smashed open the warped car door and dragged me through broken glass and leaking gasoline. She commandeered a hotel SUV and drove me to the ER herself. I survived. She went into premature labor and lost her son the same night I lost my daughter. After surgery, we lay in neighboring beds while dawn bled through the windows. "Elena," Sofia whispered, "I'm done with my marriage." I reached across and took her ice-cold hand. "So am I."

No one knew that I, the one they called the Angel-Faced Executioner, had been tangled up with the heir of the Grahams more times than I could count. In the latest model sports car, Doug Graham pressed a marriage certificate into my hand, his teeth grazing my lower lip as he murmured, "The Grahams have enemies on both sides of the law. I found a shield, a way to protect you." I was ecstatic and completely swept up in it, giving him whatever he wanted. I never imagined it was the beginning of a nightmare. Doug publicly announced his engagement to the Sowles heiress, making a show of it, and he clarified that I was nothing more than a low-level enforcer in front of everyone. But that night, he left marks all over my body, whispering against my skin, "The less I care about you, the less anyone will suspect you're my real wife." From then on, he and Lindsey Sowle humiliated me at every turn. Only when we were alone would he finally show the truth, his voice strained with pain. "I know this isn't fair to you. Once I'm done using her, I'll kick her out for good." When Lindsey caused me to lose the baby, he dropped to his knees in front of me, slapping himself over and over. "That idiot keeps ending up kidnapped and abused. Serves her right!" Until one day, I was taken in a setup by Doug's rival, Chad Conner. He grabbed me by the throat and forced me to look inside the room. Lindsey was blindfolded and gagged, crying and gasping as Doug lashed her with a pink whip. "They've run this whole kidnapping stunt seven times already. You'd think they'd be tired of it by now." Tears poured down my face. So I was the fool all along, the one who got played by Doug's so-called love.

My mate is the bravest patrol chief of the Sundara Pack. When the rogue straps a bomb laced with wolfsbane to me, I try to reach him through our mind-link. Once, twice... He blocks me 99 times. The rogue forces me to call for help, and when Aiden Campbell finally answers, his first words come blazing with anger. "Lina Rutherford! You're risking your life over jealousy again? Kate's pet snow wolf has been stuck in a tree for three days! "She loves that wolf like her own child—if I'm late to save it, that's on you! You'll be a murderer!" I laugh so hard that tears stream down my face. That so-called "trapped" snow wolf? It's simply climbed onto a slanted pine tree in the yard so it can lazily sunbathe on the branches. No one trapped it—it just doesn't feel like coming down. "Thank you, Aiden. You're amazing!" There comes a soft, delicate voice through the phone. It's Kate Summers—Aiden's late brother's widow and also his childhood sweetheart. The bomb's countdown ticks down to three minutes. With a calm heart, I send my final message. "In the name of the Moon Goddess, I sever our mate bond." And then, I cut the mind-link.

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

My parents divorced when I was ten. I didn't want to be a burden to my mom, so I chose to stay with my dad and brothers back home. Dad spoiled me, and my brothers loved me. We were a happy family, and everyone treated me well. Then Dad remarried, and my stepsister, Chloe Dubois, moved in with us. Everything changed after that. Chloe was sweet and lovable, so she quickly took my place. The room my father, David Flanagan, had spent six months remodeling just for me became her private room. The strawberry cakes my oldest brother, Alex Flanagan, used to bring me every day were replaced with the mango pudding she loved. My second brother, Lucas Flanagan, even gave her his most treasured game console. I finally couldn't take it anymore when they gave Chloe the guaranteed college admission spot I had worked toward for an entire year. I confronted them. David sighed and said in a heavy voice, "As her older sister, shouldn't you be willing to give in to her?" Alex grabbed my wrist tightly and scolded me, "Stop making such a big deal over one admission spot. If word gets out, our family will be a laughingstock." Lucas frowned and took a step back. "She's already been through so much. Why do you have to make things harder for her?" I watched them comfort Chloe as she cried, and I felt completely hopeless. I went back to my room and pulled out a number I had saved a long time ago but had never dared to call. Then I pressed the call button. "Mom, you asked me before if I wanted to study abroad. I've made my decision. I want to go."

Everyone calls me shameless, accusing me of using underhanded tactics to seduce Benjamin Sterling and get into his bed. But they don't know the truth. Benjamin marries me only because it gives him an excuse to see my older sister, Rebecca Beaumont, every single day while pretending to love me. I finally reach my breaking point and tear our engagement agreement to pieces. "I'm not marrying Benjamin anymore. I'm marrying his uncle, Louis Sterling, instead." My mother turns pale with shock. "Queenie! Louis has been disabled for years! If this were ancient times, he'd practically be a eunuch!" My heart is completely numb. "Mom, it doesn't matter who I marry anymore."

A lethal neurotoxin had taken hold of my lungs. My time is running out. My mother, Sofia, was the most connected lawyer in Palermo, excelling in burying crimes and twisting the law. When my brother Vincent mowed me down and shattered my leg, she called in every favor to clear his record. My father, Tommaso, the most feared private doctor in Sicily, faked my medical files, branding me unstable and delusional, all to mold me into the obedient son they needed. Then there was Lina, only daughter of Don Vitali, my wife. She said, “We let him out for Vincent’s liver. What if he says no?” Dad’s voice went cold. “He has two choices: lie quietly on that operating table… or waste away in the sanatorium for what’s left of his life.” I pushed the parlor door open, steady and slow. My voice was flat. “I’ll do it.” Every one of them let out a breath they’d been holding, showering me with hollow words. They didn’t know there was no life left to threaten. I had twenty-four hours. By sunrise, I would be dead either way. Funny… now that I’m in the ground, why are they all crying?

After Graduation, I Married Lucas Bellmont, the Hottest Star Captain in American Hockey. Three years into our marriage, he suddenly became obsessed with my body, a complete 180 from his usual cold demeanor. He wanted me night after night, saying he wanted us to have a child. Despite the ache in my body, my heart swelled with sweetness. I thought he'd finally accepted me. At a gala, I shared the news with my best friend—Lucas's adopted sister, Clara. She ran off in tears. Lucas, usually so composed, went pale. He lashed out at me for saying such things in front of Clara, then left without a second thought. I followed, worried, and found them locked in an embrace. "If it weren't for you, I'd never have married her. If it weren't for your pregnancy, I wouldn't be touching her now." "Everything I'm doing—making her have the baby quickly so we can swap it with ours—it's all for our future. So our child can be the rightful heir." "Clara, just hold on a little longer, okay?" Lucas's voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. All for another woman. His adopted sister. My so-called best friend. I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I turned around and called my lawyer for a divorce agreement. Since he'd never loved me. In seven days, I'd be gone from his life for good.

After the surgery, Keith Blackwell becomes exactly the kind of husband Celine Ingram wants him to be. He no longer shares the interesting little moments of his day with her or calls her repeatedly through the night when she doesn't come home. Even when someone falsely accuses Keith of causing an accident, and he ends up at the police station, he doesn't call Celine. When the officers tell him he can only leave if a family member comes to bail him out, he simply says he has no family and calmly spends a week in detention. Seven days later, as evening falls, the iron gates of the police station swing open with a loud clang. Keith has barely stepped down the stairs when a black car screeches to a halt in front of him. The car door opens, and Celine steps out in a haute couture outfit. Tall and slender, she looks as cool and elegant as ever. She strides over to him with a slight frown. "Keith, why didn't you call me when someone was giving you trouble?"

We've been stuck in traffic on the highway for ten hours during the Fourth of July, and my best friend, Lindsay Lockhart, is so desperate to pee that she bursts into tears. My brother shoves me out of the car and orders me to take her place in the restroom queue at the rest area. Three hours later, I am finally almost at the front of the queue, only to discover that the car we had left behind is gone. I call all four of them repeatedly before my boyfriend finally sends me their location. Under the scorching sun, I walk two miles along the emergency lane before I finally find them. When my childhood friend sees me drenched in sweat, he barely bats an eye. He says, "Traffic started moving, and we couldn't wait around for you on the highway." No one in the car asks if I am tired, and no one notices my heels are bleeding. Lindsay sits in my seat, empty wrappers scattered around her feet. Our five bags of chips, five cups of mac and cheese, two containers of fruit, and eight bottles of water are all gone. When I look over, she is stuffing the last potato chip into her mouth. My boyfriend twists open the last bottle of water and hands it to her, glancing my way. "You came back from the rest area empty-handed? Didn't you think to bring us something to eat?" Lindsay playfully nudges him and laughs, "Nina has always been a slow walker. You know that." My childhood friend chuckles, "That's right. Every time we go hiking, she's the one who gets left behind." For a moment, I am speechless. In reality, I'm not a slow walker. They just never cared enough to wait for me. When Lindsay needs to use the restroom, they can't bear to make her wait. But when it's my turn, even three minutes is too long for them. There's food for all of us, but I don't even deserve a sip of water. So, from the day we started planning this trip, I was never really part of this group. My brother hands me a trash bag. "All right. Clean up the trash, and we won't hold it against you." This time, I refuse to be the one who cleans up after everyone. I say, "Forget it. Go on without me. I'm done with this trip."

I had been a manservant for three women of nobility. The first was the sick and weak Crown Princess. She used me to experiment on medicine to save her childhood love who had been sent to another kingdom far away as a political hostage. The second was the scheming Ninth Princess. She clutched me by the collar and sneered, "How dare you covet the true heart of your master when you're just a mere pawn?" The third was the pure and aloof High Priestess. She turned away from me while saying, "You're just a lowly, unrefined manservant who is nothing but a speck of dirt in my eyes." When I was of age, I accepted the Palace's grace to leave and prepared to return to my home village and marry my childhood friend, who was also a Palace maid. The Crown Princess snatched the edict for my release and kept me locked up in her private quarters, while the ruthless Ninth Princess said with tears in her eyes, "You're mine, even in death." As for the High Priestess, she stepped off her pedestal and begged me, "Don't go, I'll marry you." Wait. I thought our relationship was just master and servant. What was going on?

My husband's childhood sweetheart was always trying to take what was mine. After being reborn, I realized that no matter how hard I fought, I'd never beat her. Hence, I decided to put a price tag on every single thing she intended to take from me. She claimed she got carsick and insisted on sitting in the front passenger seat beside my husband whenever we went out. I simply stuck a payment QR code on the dashboard. "20,000 dollars a year. Renew at a 20% discount," I said flatly. She took a liking to my project proposal. My husband had barely knocked on my office door when I spoke without even looking up. "100,000 dollars. Once the money hits my account, I'll put her name on it." On my son's birthday, I set aside my work and rushed to his preschool to pick him up. Unexpectedly, he looked up at his teacher and said, "She's not my mom. I'm not going with her." Just as we reached a stalemate, that woman arrived late with the gift I'd prepared for my son. My son immediately ran over and wrapped his arms around her leg. "Look. She's my real mom!" My husband was about to explain when I held out my hand to my son, my expression completely blank. "One million dollars. I'll sign over my parental rights to her today."

Because of the death of his first love, Don Stefano Giullani has hated me for eight years. During those eight years, I make every effort to please him—I broker arms deals for him, handle smuggling routes, and even take bullets meant for him. Even when he sees me barely clinging to life, Stefano only says, "If you really wanted to please me, you should have let the bullet hit somewhere fatal." I press my hand over the wound and stare deeply at him. Later, on the night our enemies surround the casino and it's raining bullets, Stefano pushes me away from him. He's riddled with bullets himself while saving me. Before he dies, he shields me and gets me safely into the car. Once the car door closes, he says softly, "In the next life, I don't want to meet you again." After Stefano dies, his Madre slaps me hard across the face. "Why wasn't it you who died? If I had known it would come to this, I would have let him marry Lucia! "It's all my fault for forcing him to marry you. You deserve to die!" She slaps me again, causing me to lose my footing and fall into the sea. Everyone just stands on the boat, watching in silence. Seawater fills my nose, and when I open my eyes again, I find myself reborn eight years into the past—to the day before Stefano and I are about to get married. This time, I will do as he wishes. I'll stop clinging to him. I'll allow him and Lucia to be together.

One day, I stood in line outside the fondue place for six hours. My boyfriend, Daryl McCabe, called. "Brooke wants Cajun food. Come meet us." Brooke Jennings was my best friend, and Daryl's ex-girlfriend. This was the thirty-fifth time Daryl had blown up our plans for her. He'd been talking about this fondue place for a month, but we could never get in, there were always too many people waiting. So I'd taken the day off and stood in line for six hours just to get us a table. Every ten minutes, I'd texted Daryl an update on how close we were to being called. Five minutes ago, I'd sent him the last one. My number was 3601. They were already calling 3595. I gripped the ticket in my hand. "Daryl, I took the day off. I've been standing here six hours. We're only six people away..." "I know," he cut in, impatient, "but Brooke wants Cajun food. We can do fondue some other time." The line went quiet for two seconds. Then his voice again, pushing. "We're literally five or six doors down from where you're standing. Just come over." I'd given in thirty-four times before this. Suddenly, none of it felt worth it anymore. "No. I want fondue." I hung up and sent my boss a text. [Vincent, I accept the overseas assignment to Zwinterland.]

By the seventh year of my cold war with my father, Don Leonardi Rossi, he finally found a way to win me over. He introduced me to the most powerful Mafia Don in southern Ritalle—Riccardo Colombo. For my happiness, my father was willing to give me half of the family's empire as a gift. I surrendered completely to Riccardo's love. Four months later, I was pregnant. Every prenatal check-up saw Bascily regions' two most influential Dons personally by my side. Everyone envied me for having two men who loved me so fiercely. Yet, on the day of my amniocentesis, they were both absent. "There's a new arms deal in the north," my father said, stroking my head. Riccardo kissed my belly gently. "I'll bring you gifts when I return." I smiled and watched them leave. But as I lay on the examination table, my phone buzzed with an anonymous video. In it, my father wore a groom's suit, standing beside Rosa—the prostitute who had infuriated my mother to death. Their illegitimate daughter, Lina, cradled her swollen belly, proudly wearing the Colombo family crest, and clung to my husband's arm. The announcer cried, "Congratulations to Don Rossi for reclaiming his one true love, and to Don Colombo for marrying his soulmate!" At the video's end, my father laughed and clinked glasses with Riccardo. "The fake crest and fake marriage certificate for Lia—you really outdid yourself. Aren't you worried she'll be heartbroken?" Riccardo snorted. "She never let Rosa into the house, leaving Lina to grow up as a bastard. This was what she owed her." So that was the truth. But when I finally left with my child for the Massimo family, why did they still regret it?

After Edwin’s first love arrived, I left his home without telling anyone. The first week after I left, he didn't care at all. He spent the week doting on her first love, taking her to social gatherings, making people gossip about me being left. The second week after I left, his friends began placing bets on whether I would come back crawling or scheme against Rose and cry for attention. Edwin heard them making jokes about me, and he actually laughed, keeping Rose on his lap. The third week after I left, he tracked me down and barged into my door. “Stop all this drama, Victoria.” He spat, “Rose’s heart is delicate. Your heart is the right match for her. Donate your heart to her, and I’ll marry you.” But what he expected from me, a long confrontation or an ocean of tears, he didn't get at all. “Okay,” I replied, my voice as calm as the ocean. “When is the surgery’s date?” Edwin froze at his place. What he didn't know was that I was not the Victoria he remembered. I had been transported into his world after an accident, and only by fulfilling his hundred wishes could I finally return to my own. And, this was his hundredth wish!

On my wedding day, my arranged fiancé abandoned me and chose my sister instead. As I became the laughingstock of every elite guest in attendance, my business partner James Crawford shocked everyone by publicly proposing to me with a passionate declaration of love. After we married, he was incredibly attentive, especially during my pregnancy when he catered to my every need. I thought my suffering had finally ended. Until I overheard his confession to my sister: "I've only ever loved you." James's voice carried a passion I'd never heard him use with me. "Marry her? I was only after her resources, connections, and her talent for making money. She's nothing but a useful cash cow." "Now that she's pregnant, even better." His tone was coldly calculating. "With the baby, she'll be even more dependent on me, more devoted. She'll never leave." Everything I had treasured—our love, our marriage—was all a lie. Learning the truth, I turned and walked away without a word. I was done with this charade. Everything that belonged to me, I would reclaim with my own hands.

My CEO wife, Gianna Richmond, plans on finally publicly announcing our marriage after our company successfully secures funding. However, Shane Jagger, a junior colleague that she recently hired, suddenly takes the mic from her and bashfully says, "Ms. Richmond, I really didn't think that you would be making our relationship public so quickly. Aren't you spoiling me a little too much?" Gianna doesn't refute that. Instead, she arranges for him to work on a very important project to help him fast-track his growth. At once, all of her employees erupt in cheer and applause, praising them for being a match made in heaven. A long-time colleague, Henry Danson, notices that I'm not saying anything in response, so he whispers to me, "Hey, Brandon, aren't you usually really good at pleasantries and networking? Hurry up and show some support!" I decide not to make a fuss. Instead, I take off my project manager work badge and push it toward Shane instead, declaring, "I don't think just being part of the project is good enough for your status. You should be the project manager as well. Think of it as my gift to you for making your relationship public!"

During a team-building event, we are playing King's Game, a game where anyone who draws the King card gets to order another player around. The company's new intern, Daniel Zugler, draws the King card. His eyes narrow as he sweeps a glance across everyone present. At last, his gaze lands on my fiancee, Sharon Solt. "Then how about… Sharon, feed me a grape using your mouth." There is an immediate uproar, with people slamming their hands on the table, wolf-whistling, or even holding their phones up in preparation to record the moment. Their loud jeering is almost deafening. I initially think that Sharon will refuse coldly, yet to my surprise, she actually blushes and playfully scolds them, "You guys are seriously too much!" Following that, she plucks a grape from the fruit platter, bites it gently between her teeth, then leans closer to Daniel. Daniel smoothly wraps an arm around her shoulders and brings his lips close to hers, almost brushing against them. However, his eyes aren't focused on her. Instead, he gazes past her to shoot me a provocative look. I immediately jump to my feet, my hand snapping out to seize her wrist. Silence descends upon the room at my action. Yet, Sharon yanks her arm out of my grip. "It's just a game. Why are you making such a huge deal about it? Danny's new here, and this is his first team-building event with us. Are you trying to make things difficult for him and humiliate him?" Subsequently, I don't bother stopping them again, allowing their lips and teeth to clash together. That night, after we return home, the phone she left on the coffee table suddenly vibrates. A WhatsApp message appears on the screen, sent from someone she saved as "Sunshine" in her contacts. "Sharon, the grape was quite sweet. Are you going to feed me again next time?" I lock her phone screen and don't ask any questions. One week later, Sharon goes on a work trip and has to bring an assistant with her. She chooses Daniel, who has zero experience. Still, I say nothing, but I do hand in my resignation letter to the HR department. This time, I won't look back again.