เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉาก Scumbag Tragic Love

When Celia Moore was dying of liver failure, I signed the living-donor consent form and gave her my right liver lobe, nearly sixty percent of my liver, to save her. The independent evaluation doctor asked me again and again whether anyone had coerced me. Through the glass, I could see Adrian Grant standing at the end of the hallway. He didn't come in. He just stood there, head bowed, reading the critical-condition update Celia had just sent him. I said, "No. This is my choice." That surgery nearly killed me. But on the eve of the wedding ceremony we were finally supposed to have, Adrian was still at Celia's bedside. He didn't leave once all night. I left my wedding ring, the divorce petition, and my attorney's engagement letter in the car that was supposed to take him to our wedding. Then I walked away without waiting for him to look back. The day I was discharged, I signed every document alone. There was no one beside me. Three years later, I walked into the Grant Architecture firm's tenth-anniversary gala with a new face, on the arm of the one competitor he feared most. Adrian crossed the entire ballroom and seized my wrist in a crushing grip, his eyes rimmed an alarming red. "Elena, you're alive?" I smiled, pulled my hand free, and straightened his crooked tie. "Mr. Grant, please don't touch me. My fiance has a temper when he gets jealous." Leon Hart slid his arm around my waist and raised an eyebrow at Adrian with a polite, wordless challenge. Adrian's hand froze in midair, as if he'd just been slapped in front of everyone. I turned and walked away without looking back.

Althea fought her way back to Argos for Lysandros and helped him reclaim the throne, only to find herself trapped in the enemy kingdom of Thrace, wearing a slave's collar for three full years. Through three years of mortal danger, being dragged behind chariots, and bone-chilling winters, Althea survived on a single conviction: her betrothed, Lysandros, would come to rescue her. But when she finally set foot in the royal city again, what awaited her was not an embrace. It was a heavy golden laurel crown pressed against her brow, the Sacred Flame seal clutched in another woman's hand, and a royal heir growing in that woman's womb. She clung to one last hope: perhaps they had cast her aside only because they believed her dead. Then a chance encounter drove home every word of the truth. The opening that had lured her headlong into the rebel encirclement had been left there deliberately by Lysandros and her foster father. From the very beginning, they had never intended for her to come back alive. Everyone assumed that she, left with nothing, would forgive the king and surrender everything her mother had left behind to the royal court. Althea burned the old covenant and pressed a blood-soaked thunderbolt pattern into a wax tablet. On the night of the Festival of Dionysus, the long-sealed old watergate would open. This time, she would not wait for the king, nor for the gods. She would carve out her own path forward.

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.

My wedding to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Mafia, was only days away. When I got home from my final dress fitting, I found he had made the house over into something painfully romantic. Flowers, candles, stacks of gift boxes... Excited as I was, I could not help wondering why. Today was not a special day. He pulled me into his arms and fed me a mouthful of wine from his own lips, his eyes smiling. "I knew you'd forget the anniversary of the day we got together." My stomach dropped. The anniversary was not today. While he was in the shower, his phone went off. A calendar alert popped up on the screen. "Today is your relationship anniversary." I frowned, opened the calendar, and scrolled back through a few pages. Every date he had marked, I realized, traced back to Camille Ricci, his first love. Her period, her birthday, her lucky days... Twelve months, hundreds of entries, packed so tight there was barely any space left between them. I gripped the phone, and the cold went all the way through me. Dante came out with a towel around his waist, saw me still standing there, and teased me with a grin. "Why are you just standing there? Want me to carry you to bed?" I did not call him on it. I said I needed to go over the wedding schedule, and I left. That night I returned the dress, canceled the wedding, and accepted the offer from the university in New York.

The music at the Full Moon feast was deafening. I bent down, fumbling with the strap on my heel. When I looked up, they were already gone. My fated mate, Callum—the feared Alpha of the Red Maple pack—and Freya, my once-best friend. I started to follow. To lift my dress and run. But the space by his side—my space, the Luna's space—was already gone. Their bodies were pressed close. Whispering about pack politics. Things I'd never understand. It was like I wasn't even there. An outsider. I always knew we'd have an arranged marriage. Callum and me. Finding out we were Mates was no surprise. Our wolves were made for each other. A fatal attraction. Until Freya proved herself as a lethal fighter. She used to be the one I told everything to. Now, she was Alpha Callum's sharpest claw. His most trusted Beta. To everyone in the Alliance, they were the Red Maple pack's power couple. They shared the glory, the blood, the battles against rogues. And me? I spent every waking hour in the pack hospital, healing our people, pulling them back from death's door. But to him, I was just a fragile healer who needed protecting. Forever locked out of his world of blood and instinct. Callum loved to run his thumb over the back of my neck, right over the spot he'd only partially marked. The possessive scent made my knees weak. "My sweet Tessa," he'd growl. "You don't need to see the ugliness. Your innocence is what I love." Then he'd turn. And he and Freya would disappear into the smoke and darkness to handle the pack's violent "business." This time, watching them walk away, a bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. I was done. Done chasing a man who would never turn around.

I'd been in a secret relationship with Nathan for six years. He said we couldn't go public because of his career. So we always split the bill, and anniversary gifts never cost more than fifteen dollars. The night before our anniversary, I asked him for the sixth time when he'd come home with me to meet my family. He turned me down again. "Ivy, I just think things are moving a little fast. Marriage is a lifetime commitment, after all." So I went home alone, carrying the expensive cheese and wine he'd bought for my mom. I pushed open the door and found the living room trashed. My stepsister Chloe stood there with a smug grin on her face. "Mrs. Mercer, you owe my family a million dollars. You've been stalling long enough. Time to settle up, don't you think?" Years ago, my father had an affair, and Chloe's mother orchestrated the whole thing. My mom ended up saddled with a mountain of debt, and my father took the easy way out with a divorce. When I said nothing, Chloe scoffed, "What's wrong? Don't want to own up to it? "That's fine. My husband happens to be the best lawyer in the city. He's never lost a case. "This is his first year coming home with me for the holidays. Perfect time to show you what 'pay what you owe' really means." I crouched down to shield my mother, the words of protest dying on my lips. The next second, a familiar figure stepped out from behind Chloe. It was Nathan.

Three days before my wedding with Adam Wayman, his childhood friend, Diana Smith, came up to us. She ignored me and said to Adam as if it were only natural, “Adam, I know you’re about to get married, but I need you to spend five days with me.” Adam took me by the hand and led me away, just like he always had. Right when I thought our wedding would proceed as scheduled, he sent me a message. [Grace, I’m sorry, but let’s postpone our wedding for five days.] Later, he placed his suitcase by the door and pulled me into his arms. “Grace, I’m sorry. I’m the only one who can handle this project. Wait for me to get back, and I’ll make it up to you properly.” I held him tightly and said, “It’s okay. When are you coming back? Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?” Adam gently kissed my forehead and said, “Don’t worry about it. Just get some rest and enjoy being a bride-to-be.” Not long after he left, I saw a notification pop up on his spare phone. He had left it on the couch. The notification was about flight tickets to Marisol Bay. On the tickets, I saw Adam and Diana’s names. That was when I knew it was not a business trip at all. He was going on a vacation with her. I recalled how thrilled he had looked when I said “yes” to his proposal. Oh, well. Rotten fruit got tossed, and so did rotten people. I took out my phone and sent a message to the wedding planner, Felicity Feathers. [Cancel my wedding.]

Three years after my husband, Lucien Vance, put me on a household spending card linked to his account, he hired Camilla Bennett to manage his money. From then on, every dollar I spent needed her approval. "Nine dollars for a cab? The bus costs one dollar." Denied. "An air conditioner for your mom? She's gone without one for decades. What's changed?" Denied. Lucien watched me fume and said, "Camilla knows what she's doing. She's helping us save money. You know I can't stand gold diggers." Then Lucien's mother, Nora Vance, landed in the ICU with severe pneumonia. She needed a ventilator, antibiotics, and continuous hemofiltration. The bill came to $30,000. Camilla denied it again. My hands shook as I called Lucien 43 times before he finally answered. "Send the money now! Nora has pneumonia. She's going to die without treatment!" He sounded annoyed. "Camilla said it isn't serious. A little cough syrup will clear it up. You're making this up for money? What would your mother say?" Then I heard Camilla's voice in the background. "Lucien, this necklace only cost $25,000. I couldn't pass it up. Let's call it my birthday present!" I opened my mouth, but he hung up before I could speak. As I watched Nora suffer, it hit me. Lucien had gotten one thing very wrong. It wasn't my mother in that hospital bed. It was his.

For seven years I dated my brother's best friend, Kane Walker, in secret, and I planned to propose to him the night he won the championship. I followed the location Kane had shared with me on Life360 to the team's private lounge. Outside the door, I heard a teammate ask him, "Lillian is coming back. What are you going to do about that plus-size stand-in you keep at home?" Kane idly swirled his glass. "She can't control what she eats. Whose fault is that? These days, one look at the rolls of fat all over her body makes me lose my appetite." Someone laughed. "You don't like her? You touch the bracelet she gave you before every game, and no matter how late a road game ends, you still go home. Weren't you the one who fed her until she weighed two hundred pounds because you were afraid somebody would take her?" The next day Kane took me to Lillian's welcome dinner and piled my plate with desserts in front of everyone. For the first time, I pushed his hand away. "I'm not eating that." But when Lillian left with reddened eyes, he rushed after her so recklessly that he knocked into a server and sent an entire tureen of scalding soup spilling over me. I came home with the burns and, for the first time, opened the trophy room he had never let me enter. On the wall, a photo of Lillian looked almost exactly like the slim, pretty girl I had been when I was younger. I took off the ring I had meant to give him and called my brother. "The arranged marriage. I'm saying yes. Set the wedding for a month from now."

When my best friend was being beaten by her ex, I was the one who paid off her treatment, bought her an apartment, and put up the money for her to open a clothing boutique. Six months later, she was pregnant with my fated mate's child. She knelt in front of me and cried. "You've had him for ten years. Just let me have him this once." My mate told me she would be the pack's new Luna. As for me, I could stay on at the company, making money for them and cleaning up their messes. He said it like it was obvious, because for five years I had been the one closing the clients and holding the team together, the one who turned a nearly bankrupt Blackpine Group into the leader of its industry. But a woman like me never allows a single crack in her own relationship, and as for those two, I was going to show them exactly what regret feels like!

On the day of my mother's funeral, I sat outside the chapel, crying so hard I could barely stand. Three days earlier, my father had told me she'd died in a car accident. He said her body was so badly damaged that I shouldn't see it. I wouldn't be able to handle it. I believed him. I put on a black dress and sat beside her casket all night. Ten minutes before the cremation, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up for a hotel livestream. I opened it and froze. My mother was on the screen in an evening gown, smiling as my younger sister, Nina Whitmore, handed her a glass of champagne. My father sat beside her, his eyes red. "From now on, Nina doesn't have to live in Evelyn's shadow or suffer in silence." My brother smiled and dropped a set of keys into Nina's hand. "The condo is yours now. Adrian is inside waiting for you." My whole body went stiff. Adrian Cole had been my fiancé for eight years. He was supposed to be here with me, mourning my mother. The camera shifted, and there he was, standing in the condo doorway and brushing a hand over Nina's hair. I'd sold the little cottage my grandmother, Rose Bennett, had left me just to afford the down payment on that condo. Only last night, Adrian had held me and said, "Once your mom's funeral is over, we'll move in." Now he was holding my sister and telling her something else. "Don't cry. This is our home now." Then I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around. My mother stood in the chapel doorway, still wearing the same evening gown from the livestream. The smile on her face hadn't even fully faded. "Evelyn, I had no other choice. Your sister has loved Adrian since she was little. Adrian already gave you eight years. Can't you let Nina have him now?" I looked at the black-and-white portrait surrounded by flowers. The woman in that photo had such a warm, gentle smile. But the woman standing in front of me had just buried me alive.

Half an hour before I was to seal a blood bond, my vampire fiance's steward stopped me outside my own bedchamber. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but your key doesn't fit this lock." His words made my stomach drop. "That's impossible. Crowley Ashbourne handed it to me himself." "According to our records, the bedchamber is currently occupied by Lady Elsa Ashbourne, Lord Crowley's adopted sister. She set a ward over it, and only Lord Crowley's blood seal can open the door." My lady's maid, Marta Bell, went white at the steward's answer. The bonding gown, the moonstone ring, every single thing the ceremony required, all of it was still inside that room. In half an hour, vampire nobles from every territory would be seated in the great hall. And I, the bride, could not even get to my own ceremonial dress. I sent Crowley a blood message at once. He came quickly, but his gaze went first to the closed door. Only after he had sensed that Elsa's aura was steady did he turn to me. "Elsa has spent every day helping us prepare this ceremony. She has only just managed to lie down. Go and get ready in my room. Don't wake her." I looked straight at him as he blocked the doorway. "Crowley, everything we need for the bond is in that room!" "What's the rush? When she wakes up, I'll get everything for you." I didn't argue with him any further. I looked at the clock on the wall and gave him an ultimatum. "You have three more minutes to open this door. Otherwise, there will be no blood bond."

The tenth time my parents flew more than six thousand miles to meet their future son-in-law, Nathaniel Prescott refused to show up. He ignored my calls and never replied to any messages. After God knew how many cups of coffee, I received an update from my best friend, Isla Monroe. Eight photos of snowy scenery surrounded a picture of two intertwined hands. The caption read: “Check-in number ten. He's perfect in every way.” My fingers curled into tight fists. It took twenty-seven calls before Nathaniel finally answered. “Where are you?” Howling wind rushed through the phone, followed by his distracted voice. “Out. What’s up?” “What’s up? This is the tenth time! My parents flew all this way just to see you, yet you—” There was a brief silence. Then, with barely concealed impatience, he said, “Enough. Isla and I are having a great time at Mount Rainier. I lost track of time. “Just ask your parents to stay another three days. I’ll come see them after I’ve had my fill of the trip.” Before I could even question him, the call ended. I stared at my reflection on the dark phone screen, my lips trembling. Then I smiled and looked at my parents. “If he’s not coming, let’s meet someone else.”

Gavin Fletcher’s twin side chicks had caused trouble yet again. Having gone three months without contacting me, his very first call was to demand I clean up their mess. I agreed calmly. First, I spent the freezing winter night searching through a man-made lake to recover the necklace belonging to our partner’s wife, Mrs. Sinclair—a piece Stella Wright had thrown away in a fit of rage. Next, I took the fall for the video of Luna Wright stripping drunk at a private club, calling a press conference to issue a public apology. That same night, the hashtag #Oakhaven’sMostPatheticTrophyWife was trending like crazy. I swiped the notification away without giving it a second glance. In my past life, I had made a frantic, desperate scene over these two lovers of his, only to ask for a divorce in heart-wrenching despair in the end. Gavin hadn’t bothered to keep me. Instead he used every resource at his disposal to ensure I walked away without a penny. The ink was barely dry on my divorce certificate when I received my son’s diagnosis: terminal brain cancer. Staring at the astronomical figure in the medical expense column, I cast aside every ounce of dignity, begging on my knees before Gavin while sobbing my eyes out. Yet he simply sat there with the twins wrapped in his arms, ordering the butler to throw me out of his mansion. “Using your son’s life for reconciliation—the Fletcher name can’t have any tie to such a snake of a woman!” In the end, I could only watch helplessly as my son drew his final breath in my arms. Now reborn and given another chance, I would do anything to save my son’s life.

Once again, Theodore Shaw was glued to his phone. Without thinking, he popped a whole grape into our six-month-old son's mouth. The next second, our baby's face turned bright red as he choked, his tiny arms and legs flailing frantically. Theodore did not even look up from his phone. His apology was careless and dismissive. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention." Ever since his first love had added him back as a contact, those words had become his favorite refrain. Panicking, I patted our son's back over and over, tears streaming down my face. At last, he managed to cough up the grape. Theodore glanced at the resentment on my face, then returned his attention to the screen. "I have to get Vivi tickets to the concert she's been waiting months for. They'll sell out if I'm even a second slower." It was not an explanation. He was simply warning me not to make a scene and cost him the tickets. I held our sobbing, trembling baby in my arms, my back drenched in cold sweat. At that moment, I no longer wanted any part of the happy family everyone else believed we had.

I had always been competitive. If I played a game, I had to win. So when someone suggested a No-Looking-Back Challenge on the yacht, everyone laughed and said I had this one in the bag. The rules were simple: stand still and don't look back. The second you turned around, you lost. My boyfriend, Keith Sterling, and my close friend, Anna Foster, stood behind me while my brother, Julian Quinn, tried to trick me into turning around. The game had barely started when Julian called out, "Natalie, Keith's holding Anna's hand." I didn't even blink. He laughed. "Still not looking? They're hugging now." I stayed right where I was. Then his voice suddenly went flat. "Natalie... they're kissing." I knew it had to be another trick. But I turned around anyway. And there they were. Keith was leaning down, Anna's face tilted up toward his. They were really kissing. My mind went blank. I walked straight over and slapped Keith across the face. Anna's eyes reddened instantly. Keith stayed silent for a long moment. Julian was the first to break the silence. "Natalie, they just got carried away." Then he added awkwardly, "We thought you'd never turn around. You hate losing. Who knew you actually would?" That was when Anna finally spoke. "Natalie, I don't want to hide this from you anymore. Keith chased me for four years in college. "We just... didn't want to have any regrets about those four years." I had always known Keith had spent four years chasing some girl in college. I'd watched him get drunk over her. I'd even sat beside him and called her an idiot for not realizing what a catch he was. What I never knew was that the girl was my close friend Anna. Everyone else knew. I was the only one they'd kept in the dark.

The Price of Failing a Bond On the second day of Alpha Andy’s “Routine Patrol and Pack Bond” with his junior assistant, Scarlett, I completed all my administrative handovers within the pack and went to the High Elder to process my Pack Withdrawal. In less than ten minutes, my phone vibrated with a notification: Alpha Andy had “APPROVED” my departure. “Looks like she is leaving.” “Do you think Alpha Andy wanted to get rid of her from her position?” “I don’t know. It looks like Alpha Andy is good enough to her. She is the one complaining. Maybe she’s self-aware enough to leave.” “She is always making a fuss out of a molehill. Who knows if she is the spy another pack!” “Yeah, a future Luna from another pack only brings frustration to our pack. It’s better for her to leave early. Not only from her position, but from our pack.” “I agree. How could she be in that high position but for Alpha Andy. If she is on herself, she won’t survive a day outside.” “Why are we low-level wolves worrying about her? She’s Alpha Andy’s future fated mate. I dare say she gets a lot of gold coins from him, so she’ll live an adequate life.” “Who knows?” While I packed up my personal belongings, my pack-mates hurled sarcastic remarks, watching my embarrassment with glee. Laugh as you like, but soon we won’t be pack-mates any more. I was used to it. I, Lynda Roskruhe, was from another pack. My grandfather and Andy’s grandfather became friends due to a joint fight against the common enemy. When Andy and I grew up, we fell in love with each other. He persuaded me to live with him. So I moved here and helped him with the pack business. We had a very happy time. Then everything changed after Scarlett became his assistant. From the very beginning, Scarlett and I didn’t get along. My fiancé, Andy? To everyone’s great surprise, he always took Scarlett’s side just like the other pack members. He said she was young and innocent, and that I should help her to be familiar with the work. Initially, the pack

I saw an advertisement on a secondhand marketplace app that someone was giving away an unused stroller for free, pickup only. The address was in a wealthy neighborhood across town. I secured my daughter against my chest in a baby carrier, spent two hours changing buses, then walked for another half an hour under the scorching sun before finally reaching the small mansion. I was drenched in sweat, and my daughter was so hot she started wailing. The seller was a woman about my age, with the refined air of someone who had been pampered her whole life. She studied my miserable state, her voice laced with both disdain and pity. "You came all the way from Eastside? And you're planning to push the stroller all the way back like this? My driver's going to take my husband to the office. He can drop you off on the way. Consider it one last good deed on my part." I thanked her profusely. I had just opened the car door when the man in the back seat stepped out to avoid any awkwardness. "I'll sit up front." I felt a little embarrassed, but the instant I saw his face, I froze. It was my husband, Calvin Gomez, the man who left early and came home late every day and had not come home for the holidays in three straight years because he claimed he was working for triple pay.

My best friend, Jolyn Jones, called me while I was at work. "Help! S-Someone's about to v-violate me! Petra, please help me!" Panic shot through me. I immediately dropped a crucial project and called the police. Then, with an officer close beside me, I raced to the address Jolyn had sent, nearly tripping over my own feet along the way. Suddenly, two loud pops erupted behind us, and confetti rained down. Jolyn jumped out from around the corner with my boyfriend, Will Curry. "Surprise! That's the hundredth time we've managed to prank you, P!" I stared at them in disbelief. "What the hell? You thought sexual violence was appropriate material for a prank?!" The officer looked equally furious. "How dare you waste police time with something like this? You can be charged for making a false report! You're both coming to the station!" A lot happened after that. By the time we were finally released from the station, dusk had already fallen. "You planned this, didn't you? You wanted Jolyn and me to have a criminal record!" Will thundered. "How could you? It was just a joke! You're such a prick!" Rage surged through me. "Excuse me for thinking my best friend was in serious danger and calling the police!" I shot back. "I had to cancel a meeting with a client I'd spent three months negotiating with. Now that contract is gone!" "Shouldn't you be happy it was all just a joke?!" Jolyn sobbed. "Or did you wish I'd actually been violated like you were?!" Whatever reply I might have made died in my throat. My limbs went numb. Will wrapped an arm around Jolyn's waist. "Petra's so damaged that she's started wishing the worst on everyone else! It's best to ignore her when she's in one of these moods." I watched them walk away before sinking to the ground. My strength deserted me as my heart sank. Then a message from HR appeared on my phone. I'd been fired for canceling the meeting. Maybe that was for the best. The only reason I'd stayed in this city and worked at this company was so I could remain close to my best friend and boyfriend. But now, I didn't want any of it anymore.

I am an AI holographic image creator. After creating a holographic image of a deceased son for a grieving parent who has lost his only child, I gain a modest following online. Every day, people message me privately, asking me to create holographic images and videos of their deceased loved ones. Occasionally, I pick out a few requests and help them fulfill their wishes. One day, as I browse through my messages, a profile picture catches my attention. "Can you create a holographic image of my late girlfriend in a wedding dress? Her dying wish was to marry me, and I promised her I would give her a grand wedding." I stare at the profile picture, feeling a little light-headed. It is a small black mongrel with a white-tipped tail, exactly like the dog my fiancé, Holden Sinclair, has had for ten years. I reply, "Do you have any photos of her?" The sender seems to have been waiting for my reply and responds almost immediately. "No, but I have a friend who looks a lot like my girlfriend. You can use her appearance and figure to recreate my late girlfriend." Then he sends me a photo. My phone suddenly feels like it weighs a ton, and I can barely hold on to it. It's a photo of me.