Goodbye Bittersweet Novels & Stories

My mate, Carter, sent me to a werewolf prison for four years. On the day I was released, he arrived holding the hand of his pregnant mistress. “This is what your parents owe me.” “From today on, you’ll take care of Amelia.” I nodded obediently. She made me pick roses with my bare hands. Made me plant a hundred pots under the scorching sun. Made me scrub my allergic, ulcerated skin with alcohol. And I did everything she asked. Until the day they brought me back to my old home. The house was gone. In its place stretched an endless rose garden. And my only sister— had become nothing but a box of ashes. That was the moment I understood. I survived not to atone. I survived to take revenge.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

“Richard, if Lynn and I were hit by a car at the same time, who would you save first?” I once asked, curled up in his arms, teasing like a spoiled pup. He just scoffed, ruffling my hair. “That kind of situation doesn’t exist.” But when blinding headlights tore through the rain— He didn’t hesitate. He shielded Lynn in his embrace, and I was thrown into the blood-soaked street. Through the agony, I heard my phone buzz. A message from him: [What tantrum are you throwing now? Why didn’t you come to Moonstone today?] While the machines beeped beside me, I caught the sound of his gentle voice drifting from the next room—comforting her. “Don’t be afraid. I just reacted to the person closest to me.” That was the moment I wiped away bloody tears with a smile. Fine, Richard. Then you’ll watch with your own eyes—ten days from now, when I put on a wedding dress, it won’t be for you. It’ll be for your sworn enemy, the Alpha of Bloodmoon. On the eve of the ceremony, a helicopter thundered down onto the estate balcony. He kicked open my door, yanked my wrist with his tie. “Come with me.”

During a gathering with friends, my husband, Kevin Graham, was asked a question by his buddy in Froise. "What are you going to do with your lover, who's two months pregnant with your baby?" Kevin smiled while helping me cut up my steak, and he replied in Froise, "Evie doesn't like children. I'll get Kandi Chutnam to give birth to the baby and send them overseas after that. At least I'll have a child of my own." Tears streamed down my cheek as I ate my steak, and Kevin asked nervously, "What's wrong, Evie?" I wiped away my tears and replied with a smile, "I must've used too much hot sauce." However, there was no hot sauce on the table. I was crying because I understood Froise.

On the day I was supposed to try on wedding dresses with Charles Jaspier, the mafia leader I had loved for seven years, I walked into the boutique carrying a pregnancy test report—my heart full of hope. Instead, I overheard a conversation that shattered everything. "Registering the marriage with Ellis Olsen was a temporary measure," he said calmly to his closest confidant. "My brother died in a shootout. She's carrying the Jaspier family's only heir. Without a legal status, neither she nor the child would survive in this family." "Everyone would bully them." A cigar rested between his fingers. His voice was cold, edged with resignation. "Zoey Qandor can't have a title—but I can give her everything else. My love. My money. This must never reach her ears." I clenched the pregnancy report, my heart turning to ash. With my best friend's help, I created a new identity—one that ensured Charles would never find me again—and disappeared from his world. If he could not give me and my child a complete family, then this love—built on responsibility and lies—was better cut cleanly, once and for all.

It was in our bedroom that I first found out about Nathaniel Foster's affair. My anger got the better of me, and I demanded a divorce right away. Nathaniel broke down into tears and claimed it was a drunken mistake. He went down on his knees, begging for my forgiveness. He cried, "I'll jump off this building if we get a divorce!" I relented, and things went on like this for five years. He was the sweetest, gentlest husband ever since that day. It was as if he was trying to pretend that night never happened, like I'd never noticed his infidelity. Everyone told me Nathaniel could throw his life away for me. Then, his mother's 60th birthday came. She blurted, "Where's your son, Nathaniel? I'd like to see him." That stunned me, but then I thought she'd gotten the date wrong. So, I smiled. "Melanie, the delivery date's in two months." Melanie shot me a calm look. She muttered under her breath, "Ah, so you still don't know about the boy." Something squeezed my heart, and my eyes darted to Nathaniel. Nathaniel put his silverware down. "I have a five-year-old son." He spoke as if he'd just listed out his grocery list for next Tuesday.

Our bodies tangled in the car. My husband moved inside me, lips claiming my chest, when the sudden ring of a phone ripped me out of our intoxicating haze. Gabriel answered without hesitation. It was one of his closest friends from the medical world, speaking in German. “Don,” the voice said casually, “your mistress is two months pregnant. What are you going to do?” Gabriel didn’t pause. His tone was calm. “Grace can’t have children,” he replied. “I’ll let her carry the baby to term, then adopt it as my own. That secures the heir. This stays between us.” Something inside me froze. The one thing he had forgotten— I majored in German. And he learned it just to win me. I didn’t scream. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I smiled, stayed quiet, and kept playing the perfect wife. Later, I slipped the divorce papers into a real estate contract and watched him sign without reading. Then I quietly registered a new identity. For the next three days, his absence—and her taunting messages—erased the last illusions I had about love. When my new identity finally went live, I walked away without looking back. Carrying his child. And disappearing from his world forever.

Seven years ago, I signed a mate contract as Luna. For my mother’s dying wish and for the Pack’s stability, I personally pushed a man with nothing to his name onto the Alpha throne. I held the Pack together for him, expanded our businesses, and handled the filthy negotiations and the deals no one wanted to see in the light. Everyone said— I was calm, I was formidable, I was qualified. Just… not much like a “gentle mate.” Until that day. I stood in the bedroom and watched my Alpha husband lay his hand over my paralyzed stepsister’s slightly rounded belly. They told me it was for the greater good of the Pack. That child would be registered under my name. He would call me Mother. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just waited for the seven-year term to hit its end and activated the trust clause my mother left behind. Accounts frozen. Capital withdrawn. The wolf empire I built with my own hands collapsed overnight. By the time he knelt in the ruins and finally understood what he’d lost— I had already taken back my mother’s last name, dissolved the mate bond, and stepped onto a new territory.

Rain was my mate's childhood sweetheart. When she found out I'd been exposed to wolfsbane as a child, she slipped a trace amount into my mushroom soup. The moment I swallowed it, a searing pain ripped through my chest. My powers drained away. My wolf howled inside me, thrashing in agony. Panicked, I grabbed my flask — years ago, my father had collected sacred spring water that could neutralize wolfsbane, just in case. But she had swapped that too. The flask was full of the same poisoned soup. The blood drained from my face. Every ounce of strength left my body. I collapsed, clinging to the leg of my mate, Liam. "Please — I've been poisoned. Wolfsbane. You have to help me — " Liam hesitated. But Rain crossed her arms and laughed. "Liam, your fiancée really is quite the actress. It's just mushroom soup. I've been a healer for years, and I've never seen anyone get poisoned from soup." The other werewolves piled on. "Cut the act! Nobody gets poisoned from mushroom soup." "She's just jealous that Rain became a healer. She wants to ruin the celebration." Liam's face went cold again. "Rain's a healer. If there was anything wrong with the soup, she'd know. You'll be fine." I stopped begging. I spent the last shred of my energy reaching through the mind-link to my father — Alpha Hale of the Granite Pack.

On the day I return to the pack once again, my future mate, Kellan Cohen, throws a fancy banquet for me. My younger sister, Lia Smith, asks me loudly while holding a champagne flute, "Ella, I heard that you were exiled to the wilderness where the lowly inbreds roamed instead of patrolling the borders. Is that true?" Everyone gasps in surprise upon hearing Lia's question. Kellan shoots Lia a glare immediately. If this were to happen a year ago, I would've taught Lia a lesson right there and then. But instead of getting mad at her, I even take off the bracelet, which is a family heirloom, and put it onto her wrist just to thank her for showing her "concern" toward me. Not only that, but I also bring up the fact that I want Lia to replace me as a candidate to host the next day's offering ceremony with Kellan. Mom is happy to see me behaving like this. As she pats me on the head, she says, "It seems that Ella finally has learned how to play nice." But Kellan just stares at me with mixed emotions swirling in his eyes. "Didn't you claim that you'd rather die than hand over the position to Lia?" I just sigh quietly on the inside. He's right, but the truth is, I'm about to die.