เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉาก Mistress Tragic Love

Jasmine Pepper and I had been married seven years, and because we were poor, my son and I spent our nights secretly collecting bottles to recycle. My son was quick at it, and good, always looking up at me with a hopeful little face when we finished a round. "Dad, do we have enough saved up to take Mom to the amusement park?" Jasmine was frugal and quiet by nature, and she often turned down our son's requests, always claiming there wasn't enough money. But that day, I counted a whole bag of change and could hardly believe it. I grabbed my son's hand and took him to buy tickets for the amusement park. The moment I looked up, though, I froze. There was Jasmine, one hand laced with another man's, the other cradling his son, riding the carousel like she didn't have a care in the world. My son and I stood rooted to the spot. The ticket seller gave us an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, sir, but that lady's booked out the whole park for the day. You'll have to come back another time."

When I'm seven months pregnant, my mate, Kayden Booker, brings me to a celebratory party hosted in the Darkwind pack. Vera Walker, a Beta warrior, purposefully splashes red wine onto my gown. She also accuses me of smelling like a Rogue. I shove her away, only for her to collapse to the floor. Kayden immediately picks Vera up before slapping me in the face. "You're just a plaything to warm my bed, and yet you have the gall to touch what's mine?" That night, the video of me doing a lap dance while heavily pregnant is projected to the pack's public monitor, all thanks to Vera. The comment section is filled with the wolves' lewd chuckles and mocking comments. As I hide outside the door, I listen to Kayden and his subordinates' conversation. "She's just a human being who's meant to carry my pup. I'm going to abandon her when I get sick of her." "Only the Moon Goddess knows if that pup inside her womb is a bastard pup or what." "Vera is right. Women like her should be groomed." The wolves laugh among themselves. "Alpha Kayden, that woman sure is hot! Will you give her to us and let us have a taste?" Kayden replies icily, "Once she gives birth to that wretched pup, you can do whatever you want to her." Laughter fills the conference hall once again. I pull out the silver dagger that I've been tucking under my pillow. Then, I scratch out the countdown timer on my calendar.

During the long holiday, to accommodate the travel plans of my hospital director wife, I—someone who hadn't taken a single day off all year—begged and groveled, burning through every last bit of goodwill in my department just to scrape together seven days of comp time so I could go with her. But I waited at the airport from morning until night. After a hundred ignored calls, she finally rang me back, her voice totally casual. "The signal's a nightmare out at the scenic area. I forgot to mention—Julian booked the tickets a day early by accident, so we're already at Tamoe Mount! Since you missed your flight anyway, just go back to the hospital and cover some shifts. It's the hospital's busiest time. Didn't you say everyone in your department was upset about you taking time off? Go make it up to them." On the other end of the line, the wind was howling. Her young colleague, laughing brightly, jumped in. "Hey, Rita, I had no problem switching my shifts. I guess he just slacks off too much—no wonder nobody likes him." Not only did she not stand up for me, she actually agreed. "You hear that, Kevin? Learn to play nicer with your coworkers. Stop obsessing over fun all the time. Then later, it'll be easier for me to push through your raise and promotion." I didn't argue or make a scene. I just said "Got it," hung up, and walked straight to the hospital run by her biggest competitor. "Are you still looking for a vice director? I work hard, I don't need weekends off, and as long as I get normal comp time, I'm good."

In my past life, Killian cut off all his mistresses and spoiled me rotten, doing everything to win my hand in marriage. But the day before our wedding, I overheard him boasting to his friends. "Killian, that orphan girl you supported is still clinging to you. She's younger and prettier than your fiancée. Are you really not tempted?" Killian curled his lip in disdain, "What is she even? She isn't even fit to lick my wife's toes. Tell her to get lost." His words sent a rush of euphoria through me. He had told me himself that financing Vivienne Moore was merely a strategic move to bolster my charity foundation. At that moment, I truly believed I had found my happily ever after. But on the wedding day, the orphan girl drove her car straight into me. She sobbed and pulled out a terminal diagnosis. "Killian, I don't have much time left. I beg you. Don't abandon me, please!" I got injured in a collision and pleaded with Killian to take me to the hospital first, but he scooped her up in his arms without a second glance. "Sierra, I need to take Vivienne abroad for medical treatment. If I were her husband, it would be way easier for me to get stuff done. We have to get a divorce first. I’m sorry.” I stared at him, my eyes widening in sheer shock. He kept going, his voice stead, “I promise I'll come back and marry you in five years. Just wait for me.” Five years turned into ten, and I waited for him in vain, nothing more than a fool. It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that I received his letter, "I'm sorry, Sierra. I'll marry you in the next life." I tore the letter to shreds and died of sheer rage. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. I calmly gazed after Killian as they faded into the throng. Then, without hesitation, I turned around and boarded a plane to Switzerland.

Mabel Wright, an unrivaled superstar, draws the curtains of the presidential suite and kneels on the carpet, meticulously filing my nails. Basking in this rare moment of tenderness, I can't help but think that my 19 years of devotion have finally warmed her heart. That is, until she slides a surrogacy agreement across the table to me. The agreement states in black and white that she plans to use my 50 million dollars to buy her first love, Mateo Thorne's, sperm in Gilead. Not only does she intend to strip me of my legal status as the father, but she also expects me to pay a million dollars a month in child support. Mabel blows the powder off her fingertips and says matter-of-factly, "I'm a staunch believer in platonic love. Physical fidelity is nothing compared to spiritual compatibility. Don't even dream of buying my 3.5-microgram egg with your boatload of cash. Mat's dying. This is his one and only dying wish!" Her tone remains calm. "I'll bring the baby back and have him take your last name. He'll call you Dad." When I don't respond, her brows draw together, as if I'm the one being unreasonable. "I've already agreed to have the child registered under your name. What exactly are you still hung up on? You're already my husband. What more do you expect?" Mabel sighs and continues unapologetically, "If you insist on reducing love to something so vulgar, I don't know what else to tell you."

After my wife Janine Cartwood's 99th argument with her lover, she came to me and complained, "Can't you go down on your knees and apologize to him? He wouldn't have gotten mad at me if you hadn't shown up in front of him with our son." Janine smiled and spoke about this as if it were a joke, but I knew she was serious. I had rejected her once before, but she retaliated by getting rid of my dog and refusing to pay for my mother's medical fees. I took it all in my stride and tolerated her antics because I wanted to give our son a complete home. This continued until yesterday, when she purposely fed our son, Jesse Langdon, medicine that caused him to go into shock in my arms. I lost all hope for her when that happened. Janine thought I was unwilling when she saw me keeping silent. She was about to berate me when I handed her our divorce papers and said softly, "He must have gotten sick of seeing me kneel. Let's just coax him by getting a divorce. I bet that will cheer him up even more." She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and I could see the glee in her eyes. "You're getting better at this. You're even taking the initiative to find ways to make me happy." I did not reply and only smiled understandingly. It was because I was not trying to make her happy. I just did not want her anymore.

When I'm six months pregnant, my mate, Rylan Silverclaw, still forces me to fight. He says it's my duty as Luna, yet when the council presents the honor medal, he locks me up. He makes my stepsister accept the glory meant for me. When I finally arrive at the ceremony, I hear Rylan whisper to her, "The medal is just the beginning. Once Thalia gives birth to the heir, the Luna title will be yours too." Later, rogue wolves attack us. My father and Rylan risk their lives to protect my stepsister. I'm the one left behind. I'm buried under rubble with half my ribs shattered. I lost my pup. I hand our dead pup to Rylan and walk away from the pack forever. Now, he regrets everything.

My fiance, Simon Rossi, is a mafia Don with a reputation for brutality. He suddenly takes in an orphan girl and spoils her rotten. He names her Giara, saying she's pure, like a beam of light. But that is the name he has promised for our future daughter. He thinks he's hidden it well. But the night before our engagement party, I notice his cufflinks. The ruby ones I gave him are replaced with cheap plastic cartoon cats. I don't believe he's really cheating, so I abduct Giara to get answers without hurting her. Then Simon bursts in with his men. 50 people die, and three armories go up in flames. "Ivina Coleo, consider this a lesson. But don't worry. I'll send her away. Remember, this is the first time you touch her, and the last." But at the engagement party, Giara sits with Simon's parents, smiling right at me. The sight sparks a fury I can't control. I lunge forward, determined to send her away myself. Simon tells Giara to leave, coaxing me through the ceremony. But that night, he binds my limbs with stones and sinks me into the sea. "I told you that was the last time." Cold water fills my lungs. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day I first abducted Giara. This time, I don't want Simon or the wedding anymore.

Alexis Lomb gives me a bank card with a spending limit. I can spend up to 300 dollars a day. For any amount beyond that, I need to photograph the receipt and send it to her for approval. She says it's for financial transparency within the family. I follow her rules for three years. Last month, a physical exam reveals that I have a lung nodule. So, the doctor recommends a biopsy. I photograph the bill and send it to her. She replies instantly, "7,200 dollars? It's just one nodule. Can't you just monitor it for now?" I don't reply. I cancel the appointment. That evening, she comes home and tosses two shopping bags by the entrance. I recognize the logo. Upon taking out what's inside, I see it's a necklace worth 8,600 dollars. Under the shopping bags is a greeting card in her handwriting. It reads, "Happy birthday, Wes. You deserve the best." Wesley Leach is a new planner at her company. At a department dinner last week, he even grinned and asked me, "Emmett, Alexis is especially generous toward you, isn't she?" I put the card back where I found it. In the end, it is my dad, Vincent Selcer, who accompanies me to get the nodule checked. It turns out to be benign. When the result comes out, I don't tell Alexis. I tell the court instead. When she receives the summons, she texts me, "Can we sit down and talk things through?" At long last, I learn how to use her words against her. I text back, "Submit an application and wait for approval."

When my wife, Hazel Zimmerman, is diagnosed with a terminal disease, she insists on divorcing me just to set me free. I refuse to do so. Instead, I travel all over the world to seek doctors and treatment remedies in hopes of finding Hazel a cure. I keep going at it until I start vomiting blood from exhaustion. But as soon as I reach home, I overhear Hazel bragging to her best friend smugly. "Brandon, that idiot, actually thinks that I really have cancer! I just wanted to use this excuse to divorce him so I could go on a world trip with Nathan. "Once I've had my fun, I'll claim that I'm cured of my disease. Then, I'll remarry Brandon again." "Do you really think Brandon will believe your excuse?" the best friend asks. Hazel just sneers in disdain. "That idiot loves me so much that he can't live without me. Ever since he found out that I have cancer, he's been crying his eyes out. What can he tell, anyway?" When Hazel brings up divorce once again, I don't hesitate to accept it this time.

The night before our wedding, my fiancee, Winona Yale, sleeps with her first love. He tells her he has cancer and wants to lose his virginity before he dies, and she agrees to fulfill his dying wish. Later that night, I, Liam Parker, receive photos of them together in bed. I laugh coldly and text back, "If she's that much of a saint, she's all yours." The next morning, I cancel the wedding and announce a party to celebrate staying single. Winona panics, showing up in her white dress with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice shakes as she sobs. "You don't want to marry me anymore?"

My wife, Wendy Sinclair, has a severe sleepwalking disorder. After she falls asleep, she always wanders out in a state of unconsciousness. The night before our wedding, she disappears without a word. I have no choice but to postpone our wedding. Only then does she walk out of her childhood friend's house next door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Afraid I might overthink, she cries and apologizes to me. "There's no cure for my condition. From now on, just tie me up when I sleep, okay?" I feel sorry for her, so I just change the door lock to make sure she cannot go out. But in the middle of the night, I wake up and see her standing on the edge of the balcony. She climbs in through the window and goes into her childhood friend's house again. Soon, suggestive and intimate sounds come from inside. My blood runs cold. Her sleepwalking isn't an illness at all—it is out of love.

The first time Silvia Robinson undergoes ECT, she is all alone. Even Gregory Fisher, her fiance who loves her so much, is nowhere to be seen. After the doctor gives her a muscle relaxant, she starts to get drowsy. She is in a daze when she recalls what happened that evening. She has waited three hours in line for a special cake, which she is planning to surprise Gregory with. However, she comes home to see Gregory kissing her younger sister, Ella Robinson. The two are deep in a kiss as they hold each other tightly in an inseparable embrace. The cake in Silvia's hands drops to the floor, smashed beyond recognition as Silvia delivers a slap across Gregory's face. Then, she finds herself being pushed down the stairs by Ella. As she rolls down the stairs, Silvia feels like she has already seen this coming. Anyone close to her will eventually be taken away by her sister.

The day we were meant to be mated, my Alpha, Ford, was ambushed. Silver bullets shredded his car, sending it plunging off a bridge and into the river below. He was pronounced dead. Drowned. I was left pregnant with his heir, shattered by the raw agony of our severed mate bond. Then Ford's twin, Aiden, returned from abroad with his mate, Kyra. His identical face and a scent so similar to my mate's nearly drove me mad. A desperate part of me swore Ford was still alive. I told myself it was just grief. A widow's delusion. Until I overheard a hushed conversation and the horrifying truth slammed into me: the man pretending to be Aiden was Ford. He had faked his death. He'd let his own brother die in his place, all for Kyra—the other woman carrying his child. The grief that had crippled me instantly morphed into a cold, sharp rage. Ford didn't just break our bond; he shattered it. And I would make him pay. I wiped my tears and sent a single message to my brother, Billy, the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack. "Brother, I need a plane crash. He loves faking his death? Fine. Let him feel what it's like to truly lose a mate." Only when the news of my "death" spread did Ford reclaim his name. He knelt for seven days and nights in the ashes of the home we once shared, consumed by a grief of his own making.

At the company's tenth-anniversary celebration, my wife's male secretary was in charge of the raffle. When it was time for the grand prize, he somehow drew his own name. My wife asked him what he wanted, and he pointed at the watch on my wrist. I flatly refused. How could a personal belonging be used as a prize? But the male secretary turned to my wife and whined, "That watch is a limited edition. There's only one in the world." My wife signaled for me to give the watch to him. I argued my case, but my wife slapped me across the face instead. "It's just a watch. Don't ruin the mood of the anniversary celebration." I smiled, took off the watch, and handed it to her secretary. It was a wedding gift from her that I had treasured for years, but now, I had decided to throw away both the watch and her.

My mother was critically ill, and I drove five hundred miles back to my hometown alone. At a rest stop, I saw a video online. A young man had posted: "First day driving long-distance as a nervous beginner. My ex followed me for three hundred miles, all the way until I got home safely." In the video, a familiar black Mercedes followed a white car the entire way. The top comment came from a burner account: "I'm the driver's ex. No other meaning. I just couldn't stop worrying. "He's timid, but always tries to act brave. I was afraid something would happen to him. "Please don't overthink it. Don't bother him. I'll feel bad." The internet exploded. "What kind of once-in-a-lifetime devoted ex is this? Get back together already!" I stared at that Mercedes. The plate number was GB-8860V. It was my fiancee Vanessa Tomlinson's car. That morning, she had canceled the plan to drive home with me. She said her company had an emergency project and she could not get away. I had sent her dozens of messages, and she had not replied to a single one. Yet she had time to escort the man she never truly let go of for three hundred miles. My phone buzzed. Vanessa had finally texted me: "Is the interstate jammed? Drive safe."

On Twelfth Night, my wife, Joanna Jensen, and I agree to spend the day at my parents' place. I'm holding the hand of our five-year-old son, Charlie Reed. We've barely stepped through the gate of my parents' neighborhood when Joanna's phone rings. It's her brother-in-law, Ryan Quinn, on the line. "Joan, I'm trying to give Cynthia a bath, but she keeps crying for her Aunt Joanna. She's getting older now, and a girl her age shouldn't be bathed by her dad. I really don't know what else to do…" I've long since grown sick of his helpless act. Without saying a word, I just tighten my grip on Charlie's hand. Joanna's voice softens instantly, full of reassurance as she promises she'll be right over. When she hangs up, that familiar apologetic look is already on her face. "Honey, it isn't easy for Ryan to raise Cynthia all on his own. I'll just go check on them, give Cynthia a bath, and come straight back. I'll definitely make it back before lunch so I can eat with you and your parents." She isn't asking. She's telling me. I look at her, my heart sinking. Six years of marriage, and it's the exact same thing every single year. Ryan always plays this game, and Joanna always goes along with it. As I watch her walk away without looking back, Charlie tugs at the hem of my shirt and looks up at me. "Daddy, is Mommy going to Uncle Ryan's house again? But she promised she'd build Legos with us." I crouch down, smooth his hair, and suppress the anger rising in my chest. "Be a good boy, Charlie. Let's head up first. We don't want to keep Grandma and Grandpa waiting." Six years of marriage, and I've spent five of those years waiting for her to come with me to my parents' place. Charlie is five years old, and he's spent his whole life waiting for her to sit down and build Legos with him. This year, I'm done waiting. I'm not going to make Charlie wait anymore, either.

Introduction Even when Victor Ravelli, the Don, picked out a gift for me, he bought two and let my sister Diana choose first. One was a black diamond signet ring he'd paid a fortune for at an auction in Russia. The other was an obsidian brooch that came free with the diamond. It didn't go with my wedding dress at all. For once, I spoke up, pointing to the black diamond ring before Diana could claim it. "This time, can I choose first?" Victor twisted the family's bone ring around his thumb and ruffled my hair. "Diana's always been competitive. If she can't have her first choice, she doesn't want anything at all. You're just filling in for her. What you wear doesn't matter." I fell silent, staring at the brooch as a hollow feeling settled in my chest. I'd spent ten years with Victor in this war-torn territory, but to him, I'd always be Diana's replacement. Whenever someone tried to assassinate a member of the Ravelli family, Victor would send Diana straight to the safest underground bunker. Then he would shove a fully loaded Beretta into my hand. "Cover me out here. If you make it back alive, I'll reward you." At Mafia council meetings, he let Diana choose her seat first too. Diana took the second-in-command's seat beside him, a sign of absolute trust. Then Victor pointed me to a seat at the far end of the council table. "The one in the back is a little far, but it doesn't matter where you sit." When we won a territory war, he let her pick her district first too. She claimed the lucrative West District, where she could rake in the profits without getting her hands dirty. Then Victor put me in charge of the North District, where gunfights could erupt at any moment. "The North District's rough, but you're a good shot. You're perfect for it." Later, the same thing happened with our marriage. He loved Diana, but she chose power and the position of family heir. Devastated, Victor fastened a necklace bearing the family insignia around my neck instead. He worshipped Diana. I was nothing more than a tool to him. I looked at the obsidian brooch and pushed it away. "She can have both. I'm done choosing." It was time to tear up the marriage contract too.

The night before my due date, a pack of rogues kidnapped my Alpha mate, Louis Ross. To save him, I traded myself. The rogues swarm with excitement when they had me, tearing off my clothes and growling filthy words into my ears. Ripping open my belly, they tore my pup to pieces. I reach out to Louis through our mind-link, only for him not to answer. … When it was over, he held me in his arms, crying as he vowed to slaughter every last rogue for what they had done to me and our pup. I heard his Betta chatting with him before I lost consciousness. "Mr. Ross, you looked so impressive. I would have been fooled if I hadn't known it was all an act. Don't you think you're going too far by letting a pack of rogues violate your Luna just so you could marry Ms. Amanda? She was carrying your pup..." "Only Amanda will be my Luna. I had to ruin Jody's reputation to justify stripping her of that title. The pup? I never intended to let it be born." My wolf let out a cry so raw it felt like the sky shattered. The mate whom I loved and protected with everything? He loved my stepsister, Amanda Singleton. Even our pup was nothing more than a sacrifice for her.

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."