Mistress Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

At my father-in-law's funeral, my wife's lover took the son-in-law's seat in the family pew, holding his three-year-old daughter, the two of them wearing the family's mourning ribbons. I was left standing off to the side. Vanessa lowered her voice and tried to reason with me. "Dad's funeral matters. You've always known when to be sensible. Making a scene won't do you any good. "Damon gave me my only child. He's earned the right to sit up front as a son-in-law." Then Damon leaned in close enough that only I could hear him. "You've got some nerve. Our wife just humiliated you in front of everyone, and you're still standing here. "After my daughter and I take that seat today, everyone in Crownridge will know me as the Carlisle son-in-law. You won't even register. Let's see how long you last." My mother-in-law had her turn too. "You can't blame anyone but yourself. Ten years married to Vanessa and you never gave her a child." I beckoned to my two five-year-old sons waiting near the back. "Come here. Take your places up front as your grandfather's grandsons and say goodbye to him." They wanted children? Who said I didn't have any?

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."

It's been seven years since our graduation. One day, I drop a message in our five-member group chat. "I got laid off." Not a single reply comes in. It's as if no one in the group has even noticed my message. Ten minutes later, my best friend, Emily Piper, texts the group. "I got promoted! Let's celebrate at our usual spot tonight!" My boyfriend, Julian Dickson, and my two childhood friends, Francis Loomis and Henry Parsons, immediately pop up in the chat. "Congrats, Emmie!" "I'll book the restaurant." "Don't forget to get her favorite strawberry shortcake." I stare at the screen and can't help sending another message. "I just got laid off. Can you guys comfort me a little?" Still, nobody replies. Then, somebody asks, "There are no private rooms available at our usual spot. How about that place by the river?" Julian replies almost immediately, "Sounds good. I'll go get a gift ready." Emily sends a shy emoji. "It's just a small promotion. You guys really don't need to go all out like this." But the three of them are quick to reassure her. "How could we not make a big deal out of something like this?" "You've been working so hard all this time, so of course the five of us have to have a proper celebration!" I stare at that message, my tears blurring the screen. I find myself wondering just when I stopped being part of the group of five. Over the years, whenever Emily works late, they take turns bringing her food. When Emily gets her heart broken, they rush over that same night to drink with her. When Emily's birthday comes around, the three of them remember it better than their own. But when I get promoted, all they say is, "We'll treat you to a meal some other time." Before I leave the group chat, my ex-roommate from college, Rose Wilson, sends me a message. "My new company is looking for a project lead. Would you be interested in joining us?" I glance at the celebratory messages still flooding the group chat before replying, "I'd love to." It's time for the people who've been part of my life for over ten years to make their exit.

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.

Jordan Ford lost a bet, and I was forced to remove my makeup in front of everyone. The whole crowd goaded me on while his friends laughed especially loudly. “Don’t be a buzzkill. Eira already did it. “Come on, Clara! You’re not chickening out, are you?” Three years prior, I had saved Jordan from a car accident. Glass shards cut my face and left a scar that could barely be concealed with makeup. “Go on, remove it.” Through the smoke, his gaze met mine with nothing but casual indifference. I dragged a makeup-removing wipe across my face, again and again, revealing the ugly scar. “It’s just makeup. Quit being so dramatic. “You killed my mother back then. That scar is just a light price to pay for it.”

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."

Early in the morning, I'm doubled over with unbearable stomach pain, so I ask my wife, Mandy Sanchez, to drive me to the hospital. Downstairs, just as I reach for the passenger door, she presses her hand against it, stopping me before I can pull it open. "The passenger seat is Sam's. No one else sits there," she declares. I just stare at her, wondering if I heard her right. I paid 300,000 dollars for this car. And now she's telling me I can't ride shotgun because that seat is reserved for another man? Mandy pulls open the back door and shoves me inside. "What difference does it make where you sit? Your stomach hurts, right? Let me just get you to the hospital." Somehow, the cramping in my gut doesn't feel as sharp anymore. No amount of physical pain can match the ache in my heart. The moment we pull up to the hospital, Mandy gets a call from her childhood best friend, Samuel Carter. She walks away, leaving me behind without a single backward glance. As I watch her go, I suddenly come to my senses.

On the night of the Imperial Winter Festival, the fake princess personally lit the Grand Lantern. But as the lantern lit up, an image appeared on its shade, revealing a horrifying scene of me, the real princess, being thrown into a beggar's den and violated by one man after another. The noblewomen blushed with embarrassment and called me depraved by nature. They said anyone who had suffered such a fate should have taken her own life long ago, yet I'd shamelessly continued to live. Some even claimed I was worse than a prostitute behind closed doors, saying countless men had used and ruined me. My brother, the king, kept his eyes fixed on me and ordered his secret guards to watch me in case I tried to hurt Francesca. But the arrogant, spoiled princess I once was had long since disappeared. Faced with their humiliation, I smiled at the noblewomen attending the banquet. "You're right. Someone like me deserves to die." When she realized I wouldn't take the bait, Francesca deliberately dropped and shattered a treasured keepsake left behind by our late mother, then pretended to accidentally step on my dress and tear it. Even with everyone staring at me, I remained as numb and submissive as ever. My brother thought Francesca had gone a little too far. Nevertheless, he gave me an approving look. "Leah, after five years of studying at the Abbey of St. Faith, you've finally learned to be gracious and tolerant of others." His words struck me as laughable. What grace? I'd simply given up on the brother who had humiliated me time and time again.

Three years after my death, Naomi Dudley—the woman I've driven away—finally returns to Avenport. She is still with Bryson Lloyd. She leans into him, looking sweet and submissive. At the story's end, the main couple's sweet romance continues. The only one who meets a miserable end is me, the villain who dares to steal the female lead. They are here to visit her mother's grave, and I happen to be buried just a short distance away. I float beside Naomi, looking at her and Bryson. They really do look like the perfect couple. Once the candle burns down, Naomi finds an excuse to send Bryson away. She walks over to my headstone and stands there in silence for a long time. So long that I assume she is just trying to find the right words to curse me. Instead, tears well up as she smiles and touches my photograph on the stone. "Kenneth, why haven't you visited my dreams?" I suppose it's because I'm not Bryson. My lingering regrets will never reach her dreams.

Jasper Eaton decides to ditch me at the altar just so he can meet up with Wendy Klein, his ex-girlfriend who abandoned him when he almost got crippled five years ago. All the guests are stunned, to say the least. I can only tug at Jasper's hem of his shirt while trying very hard to keep my expression intact. "Can you please stay with me now?" Mixed feelings cross his eyes, but he soon wrenches my hand off him, finger by finger. At the same time, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I must go now. I need to ask Wendy why she was so heartless to me back then." Amid the crowd's shocked gasps and murmurs, Jasper leaves without even looking back. My dad, who has a bad heart, trembles violently out of fury. I can only stare in a shocked daze as he collapses to the floor shortly after. "Dad!" I break down on the spot. Still, I manage to send him to the hospital. There, I slump outside the emergency room. At that moment, my phone buzzes for a short while. Two new text messages have shown up on my screen. The first message comes from Wendy. "I told you that as long as I'm back, Jasper will never choose you. You lost again, Celeste." The second message comes from Jasper. "Give me 30 days. We'll break up for the time being. Once the period is over, I'll definitely love you and you only." My gaze is already hollow at that point. The smile curving on my lips is one of mockery and bitterness. This time, I will never lose ever again.

Shane Floyd and I have been dating for seven years, and my parents keep pressuring us to get married. However, Shane keeps saying the same two words. "Let's wait." My parents think we aren't financially ready, so they prepare a generous wedding gift for us. They even buy us a car and a house. However, Shane still says the same two words. "Let's wait." I have no idea what Shane is waiting for, but I decide to wait with him. At our class reunion, I bring out a cake I have prepared for Shane. "Today's Shane's 30th birthday." My classmates start gossiping at once. "I just remembered something. Shane Floyd and Amelia Wood made a pact that if they were both still unmarried at 30 years old, they'd get together!" Amelia Wood smiles shyly. "His wife is right here. Let's not bring that up." Shane simply glances at me. "We're not married, so she's not my wife. I promised I'd wait for you until you turned 30 years old. I didn't break my promise." My heart lurches as I hold the cake. Now I finally know what Shane has been waiting for. As the crowd teases him, Shane leans in to blow out the candles and make a wish. "Here goes my first wish. I wish Amelia is still single." That's enough. I gently set the cake down without making a scene. As the crowd exchanges awkward glances, I turn and leave with my dignity intact. Downstairs, a cab driver is calling out to passersby. "Miss, do you need a ride? Are you waiting for anyone else?" I open the door and get in the cab. "Let's go. I'm not waiting for anyone."

On the day of our graduation photo, the class started sorting everyone into groups. I'd barely taken my place beside my boyfriend, Evan Brooks, when someone started shouting. "Put Claire next to Evan!" "Right? Claire's the prettiest girl on campus. She belongs beside the campus heartthrob!" Before I could react, my childhood friend Liam took my arm and gently traded our positions. "Nina, switch with Claire. "It's only a graduation photo. Don't be petty." Evan smiled and didn't refuse. He only stepped half a step aside, opening a space for Claire. I froze where I stood and touched the barrette in my hair without thinking. It was the first gift he'd ever given me. I'd stood in front of the mirror for ages getting it right, because I wanted one proper photograph with him. Right before the shutter, Evan called to me. "Nina." My heart lurched. The next second, he reached up and took the barrette out of my hair. "Claire's hair is a mess. Let her borrow this." The teasing started up again. Claire lowered her head and smiled. Evan didn't explain. The photographer called out. "All right—happy graduation!" When everyone shouted it together, I was standing at the very edge. At that moment, I finally understood that I had never belonged there. Since I had no place in your graduation photograph, you would have no place in my future.

While I was playing house with my daughter, she held up a doll and said it was Papa, then pointed to a robot and said it was Mommy. "Then who am I?" I asked her. Her eyes lit up, then she clapped her hands and laughed. "You're the other man!" I froze where I stood. "Who taught you that?" My expression frightened her, but she pouted, unconvinced. "Godpa said so! He said the other man is the one nobody loves. He said he feels sorry for you, and he made me promise not to tell you." The moment she finished speaking, a message came in from my wife. [Honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't get the bonus, so I can't take you out for Valentine's like I promised. I've let you down again.] I stared at the message and did not question my daughter about it. That night, when I left for my part-time job, my best friend Calvin Reddick came to pick her up again. I asked the restaurant owner for the night off, took the last 200 dollars I had, and hailed a cab to follow him. His car finally stopped in front of a mansion. From the back seat of the cab, I watched my wife, who was supposed to be out working as a designated driver, walk out arm in arm with another man. My daughter ran happily into his arms, calling him Papa over and over, while Calvin stood by and smiled at the scene. The three of them went inside, talking and laughing. Tears slowly blurred my vision. For years, I had been working from dawn until late at night, washing dishes and hauling stock in a restaurant kitchen to help my wife pay off her debts. My hands were covered in calluses. As it turned out, she had never gone bankrupt at all, and she had even built a luxurious home with another man. Even my best friend had known, and he had been covering for them all along.

On the last day before my study-abroad application closed, I was about to give up my full scholarship offer. Then, out of nowhere, I got a call from my future self. "Don't give it up. Click confirm enrollment. Right now." "Harley locked in his own graduate placement three months ago. The only reason he wants you to stay is that Katy needs you to finish her senior thesis for her, and he needs your money every month to live on. "Two weeks after you turn down that offer, the two of them go public with their relationship. "That so-called best friend of yours, Katy? She already betrayed you. She's been sleeping with him." I froze, my finger hovering over the mouse. The voice kept going, speaking faster and faster. "Listen carefully. Once you confirm the offer, take the twenty thousand dollars left in your account and put every cent into the Eklund Growth Fund. It goes public next March. It'll grow eightfold within the year. "Once you're abroad, apply to your advisor's AI lab before your first semester ends. That project gets acquired by Coogle two years from now, and as a core team member, you'll get a share of the payout. "Twenty-two-year-old me, I'm begging you. Stop wasting yourself on people who don't deserve it." The voice cut off. I took a deep breath and moved the cursor to "Confirm Enrollment." The instant I clicked, my mind was made up. I wasn't going to bury my own future for anyone who wasn't worth it.

The day before Thanksgiving, I walked into a bakery and found Talia Rademacher, the wife I'd been secretly married to for seven years. She wore a dress that looked completely out of place in the shop, and she was patiently helping the owner arrange the shelves. The owner, Bastien Delorme, greeted me warmly and asked what I needed. When he noticed me watching Talia, he smiled and introduced her. "That's my girlfriend. She got off work early today and came to help out." I remembered the text Talia had sent me half an hour earlier: [Working late tonight. Won't be home for dinner.] I looked down, smiled humorlessly, and said nothing. Sensing something was off, Talia looked up. Panic flickered in her eyes the moment she saw me, but she recovered almost at once. "Hello. What can I get for you?" she asked politely. She played the part well, as if I were just another customer. I played along. "I'm here to pick up my order." Bastien pulled it up right away. "Mr. Ashcombe, you ordered our Thanksgiving pie box for two." He grinned. "Spending the holiday with your wife? You two must be really close." I looked at the box on the counter. A couples' theme. Then I glanced at Talia, standing so close beside him that they looked like they belonged together, and the irony hit me. "No. My wife and I are about to get divorced."

When my friend, Winnie Stuart, gets fed up with her family urging her to find a boyfriend, she offers me 500 dollars, saying, "Let me rent your boyfriend for a day. I just need him to be my plus-one for a wedding, and I'll return him to you right after the ceremony." My boyfriend, Chase Harrington, accepts the money and takes off the couple ring on his finger. "I need to be professional and make sure my client's cover isn't blown." Winnie and I used to share a room in college. She's been a mutual friend of Chase and me for seven years now. At 10:00 pm, Chase comes home earlier than scheduled and puts his ring back on. He also transfers 500 dollars to me. "Time for the post-rental inspection," he says as he kisses me. "Returned in perfect condition, right?" Since then, Winnie has started making a habit of renting him. She hires him to accompany her to her client meetings, move her furniture for her, and attend her company's annual dinner with her. Even when she gets drunk late at night, she summons him. Each time Chase comes home, he'll transfer the money to me with a smile. "Isn't it great that we're earning some extra cash? She's just renting my presence as a service anyway. It's not like she's renting my heart." On my birthday, I wait at the restaurant I booked. Even when it's closing time, Chase is still a no-show. When I call him, I hear Winnie's voice coming through the speaker instead. "Sorry, babe. I've rented him for the entire day today." "When does the rental period end?" I ask. "At midnight." Chase's lazy drawl rings out. "There are still 20 minutes left. I need to show proper work ethic." The next day, my mother says, "Why don't you bring Chase over for a meal this weekend? Your dad says he's got a good bottle of wine ready." At that very moment, Winnie uploads a new Instagram post. It's a video of Chase sitting on a couch in her living room, peeling an orange for her mother. The caption reads, "Yet another successful rental service. My parents are very satisfied." Instead of confronting either one of them, I start returning all the "rental earnings" Chase has ever transferred to me. I add a remark. "I won't be accepting any returns this time."

Five years ago, I was thrilled to tell my Alpha husband, Lucas Blackwood, that I was pregnant. But he looked at me with guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Serena. Your bloodline is too weak," he said, stroking the mate mark on my neck, his voice shaking. "Carrying this pup would drain the life right out of you. To keep you safe, we can't keep it." For his sake, I swallowed my heartbreak and drank the witch's potion to end the pregnancy. But five years later, at the pack's most sacred ceremony, the Red Moon Festival, I watched him lead a delicate Omega and a five-year-old pup up onto the stage. He gently fastened the Moonglow necklace around that Omega's neck. It had been handed down from Luna to Luna for generations. Then he announced to the whole pack, "This is my fated mate, Chloe Hart, and our son, Leo, who carries the purest Alpha blood." I stood in a dark corner below the altar, touching the mate mark on my neck as it began to ache. The shock left me numb. So it isn't that my bloodline is too weak to carry a pup. It's that he needs to drain my life force to feed his true love and his secret son.

A kidnapper's gun was pressed to Lena's temple and mine, the whole scene streaming live online. "Nolan," the kidnapper said, "your wife, Donna, or your first love. Only one of them walks away alive. Choose." On the other side of the screen, my husband, Don Nolan Winston, head of the Winston family, did not hesitate for even a second. "Let Lena go. As for that woman, do whatever you want with her." I looked into the camera and laughed until tears ran down my face. For seven years, I had stood by him as he rose from the Winston family's illegitimate son to the first Don of the Italvia mafia. I had taken knives for him, drunk with him, even lost a child along the way. So in the end, in his eyes, I had been nothing more than a pawn he could discard at any moment. "Did you hear that?" the kidnapper sneered at me. I turned and ran toward the cliff. Facing the camera, I spoke my final words. "Nolan, I'm giving this life back to you. We're even now."

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.]