Mistress Tragic Love 단편 소설 & 소설

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.]

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?

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.

When I'm paying the heating bill, I find out that my wife, Violet Jensen, has two accounts under her name. The first account belongs to our home. The second account goes to a unit in a high-end private residential area. The remark on the account shows two words that say "love nest". Love nest. I don't know who on earth Violet is sharing that nest with, but I know where that address is. After all, that's the apartment I bought at full price before my marriage.

Everyone in Harbor City knew I had a wife whom everyone envied. Not only was she a wealthy heiress, but a celebrated lawyer, untouchable and elegant. However, in private, she was a delicate, devoted wife. I had planned to tell her the truth on our wedding anniversary—that I was the heir to one of Jinmist City's most powerful families—and take her home. However, on her birthday, I walked in on her being pinned to a car and forcefully kissed by her new assistant, with pieces of her torn clothing scattered everywhere. I lost control. The assistant ended up in the ICU, and I ended up in court. To my shock, my wife turned on me in court, falsely accusing me of malicious assault, while saying nothing about the assistant’s attempt. I was sentenced to three years in prison. In the visitation room, I demanded answers, but she remained calm. “You’re my husband. Even if you go to prison, I still love you.” “But Daniel is different. He comes from a poor family. If he’s charged with attempted assault, his life would be ruined forever.” At that moment, my hope shattered. Fine. If she didn’t want the title of wife to the Millers' heir, I’d just have to take it back.

Five years into our marriage, my mafia Don husband finally offered to throw me the wedding ceremony we never had. Before I could even feel a ounce of joy, our four-year-old son, Leo, was already glued to his father, Sean, eagerly discussing every detail of the wedding. "Daddy, I want to be the ring bearer! And we have to let Aunt Celine wear the prettiest dress to be the maid of honor!" "The wedding dessert has to be Aunt Celine's favorite cherry pie." My husband agreed to every single request. Then, he picked up his phone and called the "Aunt Celine" our son spoke of—his childhood sweetheart. He carefully asked about her other preferences. They looked like the real family of three, finalizing the wedding's time, location, and even the style of the wedding dress. After being left out in the cold for three hours, I finally couldn't hold back and questioned them: "I'm the bride. This is my wedding! Why are all the arrangements catering to someone else's preferences?" But Sean just furrowed his brows impatiently, his tone laced with reprimand. "Why are you so ungrateful? If Celine hadn't rushed you to the hospital back then, you and the kid would be dead." "It's just a wedding. Do you really have to be this petty? As long as you're the bride in the end, what does it matter?" Looking at our son beside him, who nodded in total agreement, I suddenly lost all strength to argue. So, in their eyes, I owed Celine a life debt for the rest of my days. If that was the case, then I would just hand over my husband and son as repayment.

I'm in a secret marriage with Jessica Justice, a female CEO, for eight years. In order to please Cole Miller, Jessica has almost gotten divorced with me 99 times so far. The first time she brings up divorce, it's because my socks' colors are mismatched. The second time she does, she claims that the way I mop the floor is too ugly. … The reason of the 98th divorce is that I step through the doorway with my left foot first. Every time divorce is brought up, I'll always beg Jessica to not go through with it in an extremely lowly and humble manner. After that, I'll accept her condition to get back with me, which is always a punishment. Apparently, my pain and suffering is the only thing that can make Cole smile. The punishments range from washing Cole's feet to eating 100 slices of mango—which I'm very allergic to—and getting sent to the ICU as a result. This time, since Cole is in a bad mood, Jessica decides to go with a thrilling punishment. "As long as you can climb up a tower of 6500 feet without wearing a safety line, I will never bring up divorce in front of you ever again." All color has been drained from my face. Still, I nod while gritting my teeth together. But the next day, Jessica brings up divorce to me for the 100th time. The reason is that Cole has climbed 6499 feet just to please her. But apparently I've climbed an extra foot, so I end up stealing his thunder. This time, I no longer plead to her to stay. Instead, I tell my grandpa that I agree to inherit my family's assets that are worth ten billion dollars. Heck, the number of socialites who yearn to marry me can line up to the moon and back.

I traveled over a thousand eight hundred miles to find my wife. She was a professor at Harbor University. As soon as I arrived, I received a call. “Hi, Mr. Jaques. We’re just following up on the stroller your wife custom-ordered from us. Have you been happy with it? If so, would you mind leaving us a quick positive review?” I was stunned. We had lived apart for years and did not have a child together. Still, I remained calm and double-checked. “Are you sure I’m the one who ordered that stroller?” “Yes, sir, I can confirm that. Our system requires ID verification from both parents for all custom stroller orders. The mother on file is Shiloh Zoeller. Mr. Jaques, you are listed as the child’s father.” The customer service agent sent me a screenshot of the child’s information as proof. It indeed showed that I had a child around one month old. The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I went to the address listed on the order. Downstairs, a young man was chatting with a group of people. “As of today, I’m no longer your classmate. I’m now the professor’s husband!” A male classmate laughed and teased him. “What a show off. But come on, the kid’s already a month old. When are you and Ms. Zoeller finally tying the knot? We’re still waiting to toast you!” Just then, a very familiar female voice spoke. “What’s taking you so long? Get up here. Our little boy is getting impatient.” I followed the sound of the voice and saw Shiloh holding a swaddled baby. She leaned against that man’s chest as if she had done it countless times.

Ever since the couples' account Sean Deaver and I run together has gone viral, my biggest dread has been filming our daily videos. On camera, Sean and my best friend, Jodie Steele, act like the perfect couple. They're always over each other, while I'm not even allowed to show so much as a hand. In the first year, Sean wipes the cream from the corner of Jodie's mouth, then pops his finger straight into his mouth. When I confront him, he simply pinches my cheek and flashes me an indulgent smile. "Aw, someone's jealous," he coos. "It's all for the cameras, babe. Don't make a big deal out of nothing." The following year, Sean takes on a challenge to sneak ten kisses on his girlfriend while they eat without getting caught. When I question him about it, he answers so smoothly that it's as though he's rehearsed his excuse in advance. "Babe, this challenge is huge right now. It'll bring tons of traffic to our account." This year, they've promised to finally set the record straight. But just as we are about to put an end to the charade, they sign on for a dating reality show. When the host eggs them on to kiss, Sean leans down in front of everyone and plants a very real kiss on Jodie's lips. Afterward, they come to comfort me. "Sasha, it was all ed. Don't let it get to you." I've always believed that getting married would finally put an end to this suffocating life. But Sean hesitated. "The show's getting great numbers now," he says, holding up his phone. "The producers want us to ride the hype and stage a fake wedding over the next few days. It'll make our account even bigger." I look at the countdown I've been keeping track of. It was day 1,825. I nod in silence, and Sean reaches out to ruffle my hair. "I knew you'd understand. Once filming wraps, I'll marry you for real. I promise." "Forget it," I say, simply brushing his hand away. "Sean, I'm done with you."

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

My CEO boyfriend promises that he'll only complete 99 wishes with his first love—she's lost her memory after being injured. However, I see them curling up in each other's arms when the wishes are completed. Later, I stop pestering him about him caring for his first love. All I ask from him is an anklet for a baby—I want it as a remembrance of our child's birth, which is happening soon. His gaze softens at the mention of the child. "Once I'm done with this, I'll accompany you shopping so we can pick out things for the baby." I nod compliantly. I don't tell him it's already been a week since I asked a lawyer to draft a breakup agreement. In fact, we're already broken up.

Joseph Crosby is a perfectionist. He never makes a plan without a backup. If anything goes wrong with Plan A, even something minor, he immediately switches to Plan B. The day he plans to propose, I have a sudden allergic reaction. I end up in the hospital on an IV. Joseph goes through with the proposal anyway. He slips the ring onto my twin sister Madelyn Swanson's finger instead. Then, on the day of our wedding photo shoot, my morning sickness is so bad I can't even get out of bed. So Joseph has Madelyn stand in for me, using every pose and setting I'd spent so much time choosing. I've fought with him about it more times than I can count, but Joseph always gives me the same answer. "You're the one who keeps getting sick and missing our plans. Madelyn's just trying to help you. Besides, you two look exactly alike. No one else can even tell you apart." Right before the wedding, I try on my wedding dress and put on the diamond ring. Neither fits. Somehow, both are one size too small. The bridal consultant looks uncomfortable as she explains, "Mr. Crosby asked us to alter the gown to your sister's measurements." Suddenly, the whole thing feels pointless. The ring doesn't fit. The dress doesn't fit. And Joseph can replace me with Madelyn at a moment's notice. I don't want any of it anymore.

The impoverished student I had sponsored, Jacob Murphy, had accumulated a massive gambling debt. When the debt collectors had kicked the door open, my childhood sweetheart, Renee Austin, had shoved me forward instead. Her voice was cold and distant. “He’s Jacob Murphy. Take him away.” In the darkness of an underground casino, they tore out my fingernails, then smashed my ribs one by one with an iron rod. When the searing pain arrived, I groveled on the floor like a dog. I was weeping and screaming, without a shred of dignity. Then, they “mercifully” gave me one chance to call for help. Clinging to the last sliver of hope, I called Renee. Her voice on the other end sounded very cruel. “If you hadn’t set him up, how would Jacob have ended up buried in gambling debt? Even if you die at their hands, you deserve it.” The dial tone after she hung up became the last sound in my world. Later, I really did die, just as she had said. However, there was not the slightest trace of a smile on Renee’s face. It was as if she had gone mad. Her eyes were bloodshot as she searched every underground gambling den in the city. ‘Renee, why were you crying for me?’ I wondered.

There's a saying that circulates within our circle. "Eric Tuttle catches adultery twice as fast as Joanna Lockwood commits it." Whenever anyone's wife cheats, I get dragged out as the undisputed role model. Behind my back, though, they joke, "Eric is nothing but a jealous brute. No husband from a wealthy family has ever fallen this low." But what shocks the entire elite circle this time is that when the paparazzi shove Joanna's intimate photos from her affair right in my face, I just laugh it off. Even Joanna herself pulls up her pants and rushes back at the first moment. She looks at me with confusion, but I just shrug and say, "I'm tired." Joanna's tears turn to laughter. Then, she touches up her makeup smugly. "Eric, are you admitting defeat this time?" she asks. My gaze falls on the scattered explicit photos, then I reply calmly, "Yeah." Because this time, she's fallen for my bone marrow donor, Marcus Kern.

After waiting 17 long years, Huntley Gray finally offers to meet my mother to discuss us getting married. Mom and I sit in a private room in the restaurant, waiting for three hours, but he never shows up. As we leave Room 301, I come face-to-face with him at the door to Room 302. His hand is still wrapped around the waist of a woman holding a freshly minted marriage certificate. I know her. Her name is Quinn Pallard, also known as the delinquent who bullied me all through high school. A crowd surrounds them, laughing and teasing. "So you angst-filled couple finally got your happily ever after!" The woman who said that and is carrying Quinn's purse is my childhood best friend—the same friend who took a slap to the face in high school just to protect me. "Getting 14,000 dollars in wedding gifts just because you two have been dating for 14 long years? Man, you really know how to get the most bang for your buck!" The one patting Huntley on the shoulder and teasing him is his childhood best friend—the same man who swore to me that if Huntley married anyone other than me, none of the guys in their friend circle would show up. "Getting a marriage license isn't enough. You still need an actual wedding. When the time comes, we'll just keep it from Ainsley like we've been doing." The ones giving him this solemn reminder are Huntley's parents—the same parents who called me two days ago, urging me to get Huntley to walk down the aisle with me. My vision blurs. Their figures seem to overlap, then pull apart again. It turns out that out of the 17 years I've spent waiting for Huntley, he's spent 14 of them loving my high school bully. And everyone knows. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark, like a complete and utter fool.

I am a law student, and I save Andon Garner from a terrible car accident. The Garners see me as his lifesaver, so they tell me to marry him. Ten years into our marriage, my heart condition flares up. However, my husband, Andon, pours out the medicine that can save my life. He scoffs as he watches me struggle in pain and says coldly, "Elise Fulton, go and keep Sasha company." When I wake up again, it is the day of the car accident once more. Andon lies in a puddle of blood, and near him, his first love, Sasha Wilson, cries hysterically.

Someone introduces me to Ivy Bennett, my secret girlfriend of five years, at a college reunion. "Hey, Dr. Bennett, Eli is a researcher in your department, too. Why don't you two give it a try?" I walk toward Ivy, hoping to take this opportunity to finally make our relationship public. But Ivy takes a step back and points toward her childhood sweetheart, Matthew Reed, who has just returned from abroad. "That's alright. I already have someone I like." To avoid suspicion, Ivy adopts a distant, detached expression and says, "If you have marriage in mind, there's someone I can introduce you to. I think you'd make a good match." I look at the ten feet of distance she keeps between us and laugh dryly. For five years, Ivy has always appeared to be single, and she has always kept her distance from me. I've waited five years for her to acknowledge our relationship publicly. This time, I'm done waiting. "Oh yeah? Well, introduce me to her, then."

The day the cheer squad roster for the City Soccer League was announced, my name was not on it. I froze for a moment. Just as I was about to ask what had happened, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my boyfriend, Derek Lawson, and one of his teammates. "I asked the coordinator to give Lily's spot to Anna. She's a young woman trying to make it on her own out here. I couldn't help feeling bad for her." His teammate sounded concerned. "But Lily's your girlfriend. Aren't you worried she'll find out and make a scene?" "She won't," Derek said without hesitation. "She knows making a fuss won't change anything. Besides, Anna is from my hometown. It was only right that I helped her." My heart clenched instantly. His words made my entire body tremble. So in Derek's eyes, a girl from his hometown mattered more than his own girlfriend. If that was the case, then I did not need this boyfriend anymore.