Pervert Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

On my birthday, my wife, Selena Zane, slices off my ear. She does it just because her first love, Yale Sullivan, makes some nonsense. I scream and beg her to stop, but she ties me up and lets Yale dump leeches straight into my open wound. "Don't worry," she says casually. "He's a freak who can't feel pain. You can do whatever you want with him." Eventually, I go into shock and die from the excruciating pain. Only then does she regret what she has done. Consumed by remorse, she tortures Yale to death, believing it is the only way to make up for my death.

My husband doesn't touch me on our wedding night. He claims he's too tired and asks me to wait. Then, he sneaks into the basement in the wee hours of each night. Whenever he returns, he needs to shower to wash away an indescribable smell. I ask him what he does down there, and he tells me he works out. Why would anyone work out in the middle of the night? I can't take it anymore. One night, I decide to sneak into the basement to see what's going on down there. He chases after me and grabs my pajamas, roaring, "Come back up here! I'll divorce you if you step foot down there!"

The day before our wedding, my fiancé invites our family onto a cruise ship. He says he wants to test the authenticity of my feelings for him. He shoves my mother off the ship when the waves are at their choppiest. Then, he jumps into the water, too. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I panic, not knowing what to do. My mother had already choked on a lot of water, but she pushed me away weakly. She cried, "Save Adrian first! He can't swim!" However, after I drag Adrian Lawson onto land and go back for my mother, I find that she's already stopped breathing. Adrian watches me cry, his expression frosty. "Drop the act. Your mother was a swimmer when she was younger—how can she be dead? I can't believe you didn't save me first. "Vi is right—you don't love me enough. Our wedding is postponed. It'll happen only after you've reflected on your mistakes and I've received an apology from you and your mother." After that, he leaves while holding Vivian Sinclair's hand. He doesn't know that my mother can no longer swim after a major illness a few years back. He's shoved her to her death.

I, Cassandra Channing, don't stop my fiance, Hades Emerson, from rushing into the flames to save his non-biological niece, Olivia Emerson, this time. Instead, I watch as the fire swallows him whole. In my past life, a fire broke out at the hotel on our wedding day. Hades and I escaped in time, but Olivia was trapped inside. Seeing the flames grow bigger, I did everything I could to stop him from charging in to save her. When the fire was finally extinguished, Olivia was dead. Hades claimed he didn't blame me for the incident, and purchased diving tickets for me and our son on our third wedding anniversary. When we were 300 feet below sea level, he ripped out our oxygen tank and snarled, "You're the reason I couldn't save Olivia back then. Now, a life for a life." Crying, I begged him to understand that our son is innocent, but he swam away without looking back. In the end, my son and I suffocated to death. After dying, I learned that Hades had always been in love with Olivia. He hated me for stopping him from saving her. He blamed me for causing him to lose the love of his life. I am back on the day of the fire when I open my eyes again.

Three years ago, Samantha Jade and her parents were trapped in a raging fire. She watched with her own eyes as the flames devoured her mother and father. At the critical moment, it was Connor Parker who charged in and saved her. She fell hopelessly in love with him. For the following three years, she drowned in the tenderness he wove so carefully around her. But later, Samantha discovered the truth: that fire three years ago—Connor had set it. He had approached her on purpose, loved her on purpose, all to avenge his first love. Every bit of love, every gentle word, every beautiful moment between them—none of it was real. It had all been a lie. Since he hated her that much, Samantha decided to play along. Amid Connor's revenge, she faked her death. But when he saw the charred body—believing it was hers—Connor lost his mind.

Three years after I landed on the wanted list, all 88 pieces of my dismembered corpse were thrown in front of the police station. After the forensics team put my body together, they identified my body as Julian Colt, the fiancé of the Organized Crime Department, Captain Kyra Schneider. Everyone, from elders in their eighties to young children, wanted me to see justice because not only had I betrayed Kyra and her team, but I had also publicly joined the criminal organization and become the lover of its leader. I was fired from the police force and hated by my loved ones. Kyra hated me the most, and she used the most cruel method of retrieving my memories to be broadcast to the world. On judgment day, the city square was filled with spectators, but when my memories were retrieved, along with the huge word 'innocent' splashed on it, everyone went crazy. "Traitor! A man like him should have been executed." "The evidence clearly points to his guilt. How is he innocent? Everyone knows how he helped the criminal organization to kill numerous police officers!" "Don't be tricked by him! He must have altered those memories!"

Emma, the fake heiress, and I were sold into an underground BDSM club. When my parents, the richest couple in the country, and my husband, Leo DeLuca, the feared Don of the DeLuca crime family, finally found us, I was bound with duct tape and covered in wounds. Emma lay beside me, heavily pregnant and unconscious. Three months later, doctors confirmed that her baby had died in the womb. She was the adopted daughter my parents had cherished for twenty years, and the girl my husband had never gotten over. My parents and husband went half mad, offering a nationwide one-hundred-million-dollar bounty for any lead on the person responsible. I was the only one who might have seen the culprit's face, and I said nothing. My father locked me in the basement for seven full days without food or water, but I still refused to identify the person responsible. At my weakest, my enraged husband dragged me before a memory tribunal. "Your sister is still unconscious, and you are protecting the person who did this because you are jealous of her! The thought that I share a bed with someone as poisonous as you makes me sick!" My father, Victor Valenti, watched from a distance, his face hard with disappointment. "I regret ever going through hell to bring you home from the slums! Why couldn't you have died instead of Emma's baby! Today I'll use the Valenti family's own interrogation device, the memory extractor, and neither you nor the person behind this will have anywhere left to hide!" But when my real memories appeared on the huge screen, my husband completely lost his mind. My parents hung their heads and knelt before me, wrecked.

The moment the acid hit my skin, I heard my own flesh sizzle. In the last moments before my consciousness faded, my trembling fingers managed to dial my brother, the new Don of the Steele family. To my relief, Farrow finally answered. The sounds of expensive jazz and clinking glasses bled through the receiver. His voice was cold as ice. "What is it this time, Grace?" "Farrow... help me..." He cut me off before I could finish. "Listen, Betty's book launch is tomorrow night. If you dare cause a scene or embarrass the Family, I'll disown you. I'll ship you off to a convent in Sicily." The line went dead. A moment later, a second splash of acid hit my face, and the searing agony consumed me. My eyes were gone, leaving nothing but hollow, bloody sockets. You don't need to exile me, Farrow. I'm already gone. Forever.