Countdown To Nothingness Novels & Stories

It has been 99 times that Henry and I have filed the application for divorce and then withdrawn it. Each time before finalizing the divorce, Henry always waits for me to humbly beg him to stay married. I turned down the offer to be the chief composer at a famous studio in Vienna because Henry didn't want a long-distance relationship. I deleted all my male friends because Henry didn't want me to be too friendly to them. I stopped wearing red lipstick, composing, and traveling alone, because he said married women should stay at home instead of being impulsive. Only after I finally manage to appease him will he allow me to withdraw the divorce application. After my 100th divorce application, as I was leaving, the deputy clerk asked me curiously: "So, when are you going to withdraw your application this time?" I looked at Henry's cold back in front of me, forced to smile with tears, and told myself in my heart— This time, there will be no withdrawal of the application. After the 30-day cooling-off period, we'll be officially divorced. But why did his love only find its voice when I had already walked away?

I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years. He never told his family about me. But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco! "Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless." But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before. A possessiveness that bordered on resentment. Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her. In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself. "Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?" He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish. In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die. Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.

My wife's childhood friend, a gambling addict she had known since childhood, returned to Dryana. To help him pay off his debts, she stole and sold my medical patent. Before it happened, I confronted her. I tried to stop her. I even threatened to call the police. Amanda Carroll looked at me as if I had disappointed her beyond repair. "Enough, Cedric Lunsford. You're a grown man. Can you stop nitpicking over every little thing? "Don isn't like you. He's in trouble right now. You make that much money. What's wrong with giving him a little? I'm already your wife. Are you seriously going to tell me where my heart is allowed to be?" I gathered the evidence and headed to the police station. Halfway there, my brakes failed. The car slammed into the guardrail. Metal crumpled and glass shattered. I was pinned in the driver's seat, drenched in blood, forcing out my last breath as I called for help. Amanda's voice on the line was flat, almost bored. "Stop yelling. Don can't stand bloody scenes. Don't make him sick. Your insurance payout is enough for him to start over. Consider it the last duty you perform as a husband." At that moment, I understood. Even at the end, she chose his gambling debt. She chose murder and an insurance payout. The vehicle exploded. Nothing remained of me. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day her "childhood sweetheart" returned. This time, I did not stop her from going to the airport. I picked up my phone and called my senior overseas. "I'll sell you the patent. And the position you mentioned, I'm in. See you in three days."

Seven times, I bonded with the same Alpha. And seven times, he tore our bond apart for his childhood flame. The first time, he swore it under the moon. “Astrid, my Luna. From this day forward, my heart and my wolf are yours alone.” But the moment his precious Liana returned, his promises turned to ash. “Can’t you just be patient? You’re making her uncomfortable, making it look like she’s seducing a mated male.” The first time he rejected me, the searing pain of the bond breaking nearly killed my wolf. They sent me to the pack healers, but he never came. Not once. The third time, I swallowed my pride as an Alpha’s daughter. I joined his pack as a nobody, just to be near his scent. By the sixth time, I knew the drill. I packed my bags and walked out of our penthouse without a word. My breakdowns. My compromises. My surrender. All I got for my pain were his clockwork apologies and the same betrayal. Over and over again. Until now. The moment I heard Liana was coming back, I handed him the papers to sever our bond myself. He just set a date for our next bonding ceremony, as if nothing had happened. He has no idea. This time, I’m not just breaking the bond. I’m shattering the heart that beat for him seven times, only to be crushed by his own hands, seven times.

During the holidays, I've worked my ass off just to whip up a feast filled with my wife, Willow Steele's favorite dishes. But soon, my mother-in-law pulls out a paternity test report and announces with a smile that the birth father of my daughter, Naomi Johnson, is actually Willow's childhood sweetheart, Luther Lloyd. Everyone bursts into laughter before saying teasingly that "no wonder Naomi looks so much like Luther". Willow's father even pats Luther on the shoulder while looking at him as though the latter were a part of the family. What stings my heart the most is that Willow is laughing so hard that she can barely stand up straight. So, that leaves her clinging to Luther while she taps Naomi on the forehead with a finger. "Go on, call Mr. Lloyd 'daddy.' He's your real dad, after all." Naomi, who has always kept me at an arm's length, rushes into Luther's arms without hesitation and starts calling him "daddy" sweetly. I fall silent for a moment as I watch everything unfold. Then, I draw to my feet and look at Willow. "Let's get a divorce." But Willow just chuckles icily in return. "Must you go that far? My mom was just joking around." When I'm about to leave, Willow turns to tell the others, "He's just being ridiculous. Once I give him the cold shoulder for a few days, he'll still beg me to return to his side pathetically." But what Willow doesn't know is that I've chosen to endure everything she's hurled at me out of love in the past. Now, I want nothing more than to leave her permanently.

Before I turned eighteen, I was the adored principessa of the Moretti family. That all changed on my eighteenth birthday, when my father brought home an orphan girl named Carina. "She needs a home," my father said. "You will look after her, like a sister." From that moment on, nothing was the same. My brother, who once doted on me, became cold and distant. And my fiancé... his love for me seemed to halve overnight. The family praised Carina for being gentle and obedient, calling her a far better daughter than me, their own flesh and blood. After being cast aside for Carina one too many times, I finally broke and grabbed my father's sleeve. "Does blood mean nothing at all?" My father's fury ignited. He sheltered a tear-stricken Carina behind him, and in front of every member of the family, he struck me across the face. "You selfish waste. I wish I'd never had you." "You bring shame to this family," my brother Marco's voice was as cold as a blade. "Get out." And my fiancé, Vincent, looked at me with disappointment,"If only it had been Carina I was engaged to from the start." They thought I would grovel at their feet, like I always did. But I said nothing, just walked to the family safe, removed the official documents, and drew a single line through my name. I took the engagement ring from my finger and placed it on the table. I gave Carina everything they felt I didn't deserve. After all, I only had a few days left to live. But they had no idea then that amid the ruins of the Moretti family, they would one day kneel in the rain and plead for my return.

I was selling some furniture that was collecting dust on a used-goods site when a girl messaged me about discounts. "Can I get it for a bit cheaper? I'm still in college, and I moved out of my dorm because I got into a fight with my roomies. My boyfriend found me a new place. He's rich and said he'd marry me after I graduate, but I don't want to burden him so much. Please, just twenty dollars off? I can pick it up myself!" I was reminded of my college days with Jonathan Mueller. We used to take shared bike rides for two hours just to save five dollars. I was only an ordinary employee now, but I still had more spare cash than a college student. My kindness took over, and I agreed to the discount. That night, two figures appeared at the entrance of my neighborhood. The girl looked proud of herself. "I spent less than a hundred and got a barely-used washing machine! Brilliant, right?" The man looked at her with unmistakable affection in his eyes. "Yes, darling. You're the best. But I'm making money for you. You don't have to save for me. I'm the CEO of Mueller Group. I can support you. Don't haggle next time." The man raised his head, still smiling. When our eyes met, I froze. That man was Jonathan Mueller—the same man who had told me he was on a three-month business trip to earn three times the travel expenses..

In the tenth year of my marriage to a genius pianist, I came down with a strange illness. A month ago, my husband missed my birthday party to care for his ailing sister-in-law. Night after night, I had waited for him to return home. But that night I forgot to wait at all and went to bed early. Half a month ago, he attended an important performance with his sister-in-law. I had always been petty and prone to jealousy, yet this time I didn't get angry. I simply went home in silence. Three days ago, I fell seriously ill with a burning fever. My husband rushed back from out of town in a panic—but only to tend to his sister-in-law, whose hand had been scalded. When we ran into each other at the hospital, I was strangely calm. I, who used to be fiercely jealous, felt nothing at all. I forgot the promise we had made to grow old together. I even forgot how he once fretted over me for days when I'd scraped a bit of skin. It wasn't until he said he wanted to bring his sister-in-law home and take care of her for the rest of his life that I—my memories riddled with holes—summoned the system at last. "I want to go home."

For five years, I was Carlos’s dirty little secret. In the light of day, I was his executive assistant, handling his legitimate businesses while he treated me with cold, professional detachment. In the shadows, I was the woman he claimed to love more than life itself, the one who warmed his bed while he whispered promises against my skin. That was until I found out I was pregnant. I was ready to tell him, to finally ask for a life in the light. But then, I discovered Carlos had purchased a secluded estate in the suburbs—a fortress meant for a wife. I followed him there, heart in my throat, only to watch through the window as his hand slid beneath a woman’s silk lingerie, his eyes burning with a raw desire I thought belonged only to me. "Sophie," he groaned, his voice rough with emotion. "I stayed unmarried all these years for one reason. I was waiting for you to come back to the States. Marry me." The sounds of their pleasure echoed from the room. The shock was a physical blow; my body revolted, and the stress induced a miscarriage right there in the cold. When I woke up in the hospital, empty and broken, I made a call I had been avoiding for years. I accepted the arranged marriage my family had set up for me—a political alliance with a rival syndicate. The next morning,I would vanish from Carlos’s life forever.

I had just suffered a miscarriage. With trembling fingers, I called my husband, only to hear the sounds of a rowdy party on the other end. "Don, this was supposed to be your anniversary gift for your wife," a voice teased amidst the cheers. "Giving it to Miss Lena instead—aren't you afraid your lady will throw a fit?" Vincent's voice was deep and dismissive. "Lena's brother died saving my life. I owe her. As for Isabella... she's gentle. She'll understand." He paused, his tone turning colder. "Besides, she came to me with those scandalous rumors surrounding her past. The resources the Corleone family has given her over the years are more than enough to compensate for these little grievances." As blood stained the hem of my skirt, I silently pressed the end-call button. Tears fell uncontrollably. He doesn't know yet—the baby is gone, and I am finally done with him.