Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Tragic Love at mga Nobela ng Independence na may Countdown

The day I married Santino Connor, he went from the infamous heir of a mafia fortune to a broke nobody. When he handed me a plastic ring in a shabby basement and asked if I would start from scratch with him, I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and nodded without a second thought. "Santino, as long as it was with you, I would do anything." For him, I worked more than ten hours a day until my stomach bled from the stress. Our son, from the moment he could walk, trailed me from one odd job to the next. I thought my love could eventually build us a life in the sun. Until, at a lavish banquet where I was serving the elite, he showered me with cash from his seat at the head of the table. "What's that thing crawling on the floor? It's blocking my view!" "Take the money and get out of my sight!" When I saw the woman by his side, her face an eerie copy of my own, I finally understood. To him, this was just a game, and I was the only one playing for keeps. If he was going to go to such lengths to deceive me, then it was time for his game to end. What he didn't know was that one month later, he would be tearing the world apart to find me.

Five years into my marriage to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Outfit, the entire underworld knew he loved me more than life itself. He’d had a violin—for me—tattooed right next to his family crest, a symbol of loyalty that could never be erased. Until I got the photo from his mistress. A cocktail waitress, sprawled naked in his arms, her skin marred by the dark bruises of rough sex. She had scrawled her name right next to the violin he’d gotten for me. And my husband had let her. "Dante says only being inside me makes him feel like a man anymore. You can’t even get him hard anymore, can you, sweet Alessia? Maybe it’s time to step aside." I didn't reply. I just made a single call. “I need a new identity. And a plane ticket out.”

After four years with Killian, I got pregnant. I took the pregnancy test and my ID to a private hospital to set up a file, but when entering insurance information, I was stopped by the blonde administrative specialist. "Mrs. Smith, the system shows there is a problem with your marital status." She looked at me awkwardly. "Your marriage to Mr. Killian is not legally effective." I was stunned and instinctively retorted, "That's impossible. We registered in Las Vegas, all the procedures were..." "There is only an application record, no final signed effective document." The specialist turned the screen around and tapped the keyboard a few times. "Moreover, Mr. Killian's legal wife... shows another lady's name." That name was like a thorn, piercing fiercely into my retina. Elena. Killian's personal secretary, and also publicly recognized as the benefactor who saved his life in the Alps avalanche five years ago. I felt all the blood in my body flowing backward. How could it be her?

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

Clara Sterling, the richest woman in the city, successfully got a divorce and the custody over her daughter. I married her right away. Five years into our marriage, I've already quit my job and focused on becoming a great father and husband at home. Everything changes when Clara's ex-husband, William Sawyer, returns to the country abruptly. That night, my stepdaughter, Sarah Sterling, moves my things from Clara's room to a guest room. "You're my stepdad, so you can't sleep with my mommy. I can't make Daddy sad. You should leave our home!" The maids make fun of me. Meanwhile, Clara raises an eyebrow at me. "It's completely normal for Sarah to take her biological father's side. Don't take her words to heart. You're my husband now, anyway." I just hum in response as I pack up my luggage silently. Clara tries to climb into my bed late at night, only for me to turn her away. "Our marriage contract will come to an end in two days. Once the time comes, let's get a divorce."

Everyone in New York knew I was the Godfather’s heart. Gavin Whitestone’s heart. He loved me for ten years. He’d fly into a rage if I so much as got a paper cut. But he’s the one who gave me these three scars. The first time, he pulled every doctor to treat Sofia, the girl who took a bullet for him, and ignored the shrapnel tearing into my side. The second time, he was drugged and fucking Sofia in his bed. When I walked in on them, he shoved me aside, desperately carrying her to the hospital. The third time, he took my father's last gift to me—a revolver—and gave it to a pregnant Sofia, just to make her smile. He told me, “It’s all for the baby. Once the baby is born, we’ll go back to how we were.” But this time, I didn't forgive him. I threw away every gift he ever gave me and vanished without a trace. And that’s when the untouchable Godfather finally broke.

Three years ago, Alaric shattered all expectations. The proud Alpha heir of the Black Moon Pack, he defied the Elders and broke a thousand-year-old bloodline law. He chose to mate with me. A rogue Omega. When his childhood sweetheart, Rowena, humiliated me, he threw her entire family out of the pack. After we mated, Alaric’s love for me became an obsession. Everyone said he would tear the whole North apart if I even got a scratch. I thought I was special. The one rogue lucky enough to capture the future Alpha's heart. I thought our mate bond meant he'd be loyal forever. Until I discovered his betrayal. He had a pup with Rowena. And the mate mark he gave me? Our bond? It was all a lie. I turned to my best friend. "In three days, help me fake my death. I need to disappear from Alaric's world forever."

For five years, I was Alpha Damon’s secret. On the surface, I was his personal Beta. His most trusted second-in-command. In private, I was his fated mate. The one he was obsessed with. He wanted to be inside me every night, to lose himself in my body forever. Then, I got pregnant. I was so excited to tell him we were starting a family. But when I went to find him, he had another she-wolf pinned to his desk. His bite marks littered her skin. "I waited ten years for my fated mate, but she never came," he growled. "Chloe. You will be my chosen mate. My only one." Her answering moan shattered my soul. My wolf howled in agony. The pain of his betrayal was so intense, I felt a horrible cramp. Then, blood. I lost our baby. When I woke up in the hospital, I made a call I hadn't made in five years. "Brother," I choked out. "That arranged mating with Alpha Ethan? I'll do it."

At the underground black market auction in New York, Lorenzo Moretti won a rare red diamond with a bid so high it made jaws drop. The entire Commission was waiting for the other shoe to drop—waiting to see me become a joke. Because in the Moretti family, every time Lorenzo gives away a diamond, it represents another one of his betrayals. White diamonds are hush money to cover up tabloid scandals. Blue diamonds mean he had a "slip-up" at some wild party. Pink diamonds mean I caught him in his private apartment, rolling in the sheets with another woman with my own eyes. But this time was different. It was a rare red diamond. Everyone guessed the Don was preparing to divorce me. Instead, Lorenzo publicly declared his love. He said this red diamond represented a "Blood Oath"—a symbol of his true heart and loyalty to me. He said that from now on, he would return to the family and pledge his allegiance only to me. Everyone congratulated me on finally taming the Sicilian Wolf. I, however, left the signed divorce papers in the safe, and all alone, I left him forever.

My fated mate, Alpha Ryker, postponed our bonding ceremony thirty-three times after my Luna Ceremony. All because his student, Isla, always had some new problem. Our first ceremony, Isla claimed she was attacked by rogues and her shift failed. She needed help. Ryker left me at the altar. I waited all night. Alone. The second time, Isla said her wolf was weak, that she was about to collapse on the training grounds. Ryker dropped my hand and ran to her. Without a second thought. After that, every time we tried to have our ceremony, every time he was about to mark me, Isla would interrupt. I swallowed the sharp pain in my chest and finally decided to reject him. But the moment I did, Ryker went feral. He started tearing the entire werewolf world apart, just to find me.

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

I was reborn on the night the Alpha lost control to dark magic, his heat spiraling out of his grasp. This time, I didn't become his remedy. Instead, I called his true love—my own sister. In my past life, I fell in love with Nicholas, the Alpha of our pack. When I learned he'd been cursed by ancient dark magic and couldn't control his heat, I made a choice I shouldn't have. I didn't push him away. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. As an Alpha, Nicholas needed an heir. The Council of Elders forced him to hold a marking ceremony with me. On the day of the ceremony, Leah couldn't accept it. She ran from pack territory. Rogue wolves attacked her. Before she died, Leah sent Nicholas ninety-nine distress signals through the mind-link. But Nicholas was in the middle of the marking ceremony—at my request—and never answered. Not once. Afterward, when the pack brought back what was left of Leah's body, his face remained eerily calm. But on the night of our pup's first full moon, he poisoned me with wolfsbane. Before I died, I heard his voice, cold as ice. "If you hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have been forced to mark you. I wouldn't have missed Leah's call for help. Her death is on you. And you're going to pay for it." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night Nicholas fell victim to the curse.

Clarence, the Vampire Prince, fell for me the moment he laid eyes on me. And I fell for him just as hard, just as hopelessly. I accepted his Embrace. The whole dark world knew he loved me more than life itself. He branded the rune of our blood bond directly over his heart. That lasted five centuries. Then I got the video from his new blood doll—a human stripper named Seraphina. She was sprawled naked in his lap, fresh bite marks dotting her throat. Using her own blood, she’d painted a crude sigil right beside the sacred rune meant only for me. And my mate had let her. “Clarence says my young blood is the only thing that makes him feel alive anymore,” she purred. “He says you’re a dead fish in bed, darling Molly. Time for the new generation to take over.” I didn't bother to reply. My fingers were steady as I contacted an ancient witch. “I need a glamour,” I said, my voice even and low. “A perfect human shell. One that will hide everything—my scent, my trail. All of it.”

My stepsister, Chloe, wanted to test the loyalty of my childhood sweetheart. So she drugged him with a lust potion. Then she threw him in my room. I couldn't watch him suffer. He was spiraling into a bloodlust. For a vampire, that's a death sentence. So I gave him the only cure. Myself. When Chloe found us, she fled in a jealous rage. She married a cursed, brutal king—the Lord of Eternal Night. And he killed her. Julian and I were blood-bound, but he began to hate me. He ignored me for a century. Then a rival clan ambushed us. He shielded me with his body. He burned to ash to save my life. Before he faded, he gave me one last look. "If I could do it all over again, Elena," he whispered, "I never would have needed saving." My world shattered. Darkness took me. I opened my eyes. I was back in Julian's room. On the night it all went wrong.

My husband and I were in a passionate embrace when his phone suddenly rang. He pushed me away without hesitation, and I snatched the phone from his hand angrily. It was a message from his sister-in-law. [Henry, my mastopathy is acting up again. What should I do? My breasts hurt so much.] It was followed by a picture of her in sexy lingerie. That was when I lost my temper. "Your sister-in-law is such a shameless woman! How could she share such a picture with you in the middle of the night? How dare she harass you like this after your brother's passing?!" Henry kicked me out of bed. "Stop being petty and vicious, Tessa! My brother's death has been a huge blow for her. What's wrong with me showing her concern as family when she's sick?” "Have you any idea how disappointed I am with you? Apologize right now, or I'll divorce you!" In all our years of marriage, Henry would always threaten me with divorce because I was the one who courted him for five years before finally marrying him. He felt that I would never be able to leave him, but this time, I had lost all hope in him. I did not want him anymore.

My Vampire fiancé, Vincent, was the powerful prince of New York's most influential coven. He had lived for centuries and was notoriously ruthless, yet he bestowed upon me, and only me, every honor imaginable. But one month before our Union Ceremony, he suddenly insisted on postponing it. The reason was his childhood friend, Camilla, was dying from a rare condition known as Bloodline Degeneration. To repay a life debt from long ago, he wanted to hold a mock wedding with her to fulfill her last wish to wear a wedding gown. I refused outright. It was a flagrant violation of coven dignity. But he pressured me relentlessly, using a supposed ancient code of honor as emotional blackmail. Then, two weeks before the ceremony, I received an anonymous email containing an advanced blood analysis report. Only then did I learn that he hadn't just been preparing a wedding; he had already secretly formed a Mutual Blood Bond with her, a pact that would bind their lives together for eternity. In that moment, I finally understood. My two centuries of devotion to him had been nothing more than a joke. And so, I called off our union and set fire to everything he had ever given me. On the day of the ceremony, I traveled to Europe's Supreme Institute for Vampiric Research in Italy and took charge of the Institute's most secret and critical project. From that day forward, I would have nothing more to do with the noble prince. We were finished.

As the Principessa of the Falcone family, I craved danger and absolute freedom. But on my ninety-ninth attempt to escape my arranged marriage, Vito Moretti finally caught me. My dangerously handsome betrothed cornered me at an underground racetrack. "No one walks away from me, Liliana," he smirked from his modified Mustang. "You're the first." With my weakness for dangerous men, I made a life or death wager. "Beat me on the track, and I'll marry you. Lose, and you get out of my life." Our engines roared as we tore along the cliffside road, its curves dangerously free of guardrails. Nearing the finish line, I took a turn too fast and hurtled toward the edge. But just inches from victory, Vito jerked his wheel. He slammed his car into mine, knocking me to safety as his own plunged into the icy bay below. I scrambled down the cliff, terrified, and dragged his bleeding body from the water. "I lost," he gasped, life fading from his eyes. "You're free." My heart shattered into a million dazzling pieces as tears streamed down my face. Startled by my reaction, Vito swore softly. "Don't cry. I'll tell our fathers the broken engagement was my choice. No one will dare lay a finger on you." I sobbed and pressed my lips to his. "To hell with the bet, Vito Moretti. I'm marrying you!"

On the night before the wedding, New York was washed in cold rain. The rehearsal at St. Patrick's Cathedral had been set for seven o'clock. Under the vaulted ceiling, the white roses, black satin bows, and silver candelabras had all been arranged exactly the way I wanted. But by the time the rehearsal ended, he still hadn't shown up. At 11:17 that night, I finally got a message from him. [Sophia is pregnant. Although the baby isn’t mine, I can’t let her child be born carrying the name of an illegitimate child.] [I went to City Hall with her tonight and made it legal.] [The wedding is still happening tomorrow.] [That piece of paper is just a formality. The person standing at the altar will still be you.] [Don't let outsiders know too much. And don't ruin her reputation.] I stared at those lines for a long time. In the end, I replied with a single word. [Okay.] I don't want the wedding and you.

Three days before the Mating Ceremony, the Alpha confessed his affair to me. "While you were away on business, I slept with Sophie." "But don't worry — we'll still go through with the ceremony. You'll still be the pack's Luna." My heart went cold. I left him without a second thought. The next day, the girl I'd sponsored for ten years showed up at my door. She rubbed her slightly swollen belly with a smug look on her face. "Vivian, I'm carrying Ethan's child. This baby will be the Alpha's heir — so you can give up now." But what Ethan didn't know was that I was pregnant too. I didn't tell him. I just booked a ticket out of the pack. What I never expected was that after I left, Ethan would lose his mind trying to find me.

Half a month ago, I found out my husband, Vincent, was cheating on me. I accidentally discovered an encrypted burner phone hidden in a secret compartment of his armored SUV. Inside were dozens of explicit photos and countless graphic, flirtatious texts. The other person was his hot chief secretary, Chloe. The fairy tale was shattered by reality. I looked at the positive pregnancy test in my hand and calmly threw it into the trash can. I put the phone back exactly as I found it. That very day, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and signed my name, stroke by stroke. I opened my phone and replied to an email:[Professor, I officially accept the invitation to the Zurich Institute.] This time, I won't look back.