Tragic Backstory Examples

My fated Alpha wanted to indulge his mistress Vivian as Luna for a while. So he pretended he'd lost our connection and wouldn't even admit I was his Luna. Walking past the study, I heard Vivian's sickly sweet voice: "Darling, if I'm acting Luna, can you mark me every night too? But... won't Sophia get suspicious? I mean, you two have been mates for five years." "What's she going to do? She can't leave the pack, and she definitely can't leave me," Ethan scoffed. "Sophia? That idiot. I told her I lost the connection, and she actually believed we didn't have a bond anymore. Even if she found out the truth, she'd just quietly hand over the Luna title and go back to being a healer. The only Luna in my heart is you, sweetheart." I stopped in my tracks. I didn't call him out. A sharp pain shot through me as our mate bond weakened. I turned and left. Let them think their little plan was perfect. They'd find out soon enough what a big surprise this "idiot" had in store for them.

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

On Mia Larson’s birthday, her mother, who had been her anchor, passed away. Her husband, Nick Ford, did not celebrate her birthday, nor did he attend her mother’s funeral. Instead, he was at the airport, picking up his one true love.

Alora was called the Ice Princess in school due to her cold and distant personality. She is the youngest daughter of the Smith's, one of the richest family in the country. She was rumored to be the next heiress of the Hoseki Empire, the largest jewelry manufacturing company in Japan, US and Europe. Luke is the richest and the most popular guy in school. He's cheerful, friendly and enjoys being around with people. At the age of 17, he already have his own company making him the youngest CEO of the year. His goal is to build an empire by himself without his father's help. Luke and Alora were not socially close. But unknown to everyone, they were childhood lovers and was already engaged when they were young. But a tragic incident made Alora completely forgot about Luke. What will happen if they were given a second chance? Can this young couple overcome their differences? What will Luke do if he found out he's engage with a person with multiple personality? What's the secret behind Alora's mental illness? "I will love you no matter what. Even if you forget about me, I will keep on loving you because you're the only one for me." - Luke "Forgetting you was the biggest sin I've committed. My mind doesn't remember you but my heart and soul will always be yours. - Alora If you're into mystery-romance this is definitely for you! **Book cover is not mine. Credit to the rightful owner.**

I'm in the Packhouse. Can't believe my mate holds another female werewolf's hand and says she's his true mate. I smile and accept the rogue. Because, I'm reborn with the Moon Goddess's help. To escape last life's tragic end, I'll change. I pick Theodore, the Lycan King's illegitimate son, as my ally. But fate tricks me. He's my true mate. When I'm doubting about trusting the Moon Goddess again for a second chance, my ex-mate shows up. He's in tears, crying about his faults, begging me to return.

My husband finally thinks about me three years after my death. The reason? His childhood sweetheart's leukemia has relapsed, and she needs another bone marrow transplant. He comes to my place, wanting to make me sign a donor agreement. However, he finds that the place has long been vacated. He asks a neighbor about it. "Are you talking about Kristen? She's long dead! I heard it was because someone dragged her away for a bone marrow donation when she was already sick. She died a few days after returning home." My husband refuses to believe that. He thinks my neighbor and I have conspired to lie to him. He says impatiently, "If you see her, tell her I won't pay the medical bills for that child she's been raising if she doesn't come to see me in three days." My neighbor shakes her head when she sees how stubborn my husband is. She mutters, "The poor child has already starved to death, though…"

It was the thirtieth anniversary of my alma mater, and I had been invited back to give a speech. But as I stepped on stage, my husband's illegitimate son rushed toward me, brandishing a knife. His accusations rang through the hall: I was a homewrecker, the woman who had driven his mother to her death. He went even further, kidnapping my daughter and threatening her safety unless I publicly read a letter of confession. I was beaten to within an inch of my life, my body battered and bruised. I demanded my husband come forward and confront the truth. Instead, he turned on me. "I was forced to be with you in the first place!" my husband spat, venom dripping from every word. "You're the real mistress!"

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

My stepbrother hated me. He hated me and my mom for coming into his life, for ruining what he believed was his perfect family. Whenever he saw me, his face would turn cold, and he would tell me how disgusting I was, asking cruelly when I was going to die. In the end, I gave him what he wanted. But then he regretted it. He cried, begging me to come back, saying he never should have broken up with me and never should have treated me so cruelly. But I was already dead. Who was he putting on this show of affection for now?

When I was surrounded by the rogue pack far from our territory, I mind-linked my mate, Alpha Luke, begging for help. He refused me fifteen times—and finally, he blocked the link entirely. In the end, I collapsed from exhaustion and lost consciousness, my wolf howling in despair. When I woke up in the infirmary, Alex, the commander of the Werewolf Tribe, was sitting quietly beside me. He was the one who had received my desperate mind-link. He led his warriors, crushed the rogues, and saved me from the jaws of death. Looking into his worried eyes, I no longer hesitated. I took a deep breath and said with unwavering resolve: “Alex, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll go to the Northern Territory for training. I leave in 2 days.” Ten minutes later, Luke barged into the room with Kristy—his so-called adoptive sister—and our twin pups trailing behind. Before anyone could speak, he kicked the door open and pointed at me, shouting with cold fury: “You staged this stunt just to outshine Kristy? Do you realize how much warrior strength you wasted just to feed your vanity? You are not worthy to be a Luna!” My elder son, Chris, gave me a sharp glance and scoffed: “Where’s the wound, Mom? You look perfectly fine. Did you fake this just to get attention?” My younger son, Collin, stared at me, eyes filled with disappointment. He shook his head slowly and whispered: “Mom, did you lie to us again… just because we care about Kristy more?” Kristy gripped Luke’s hand, her voice trembling with fake innocence and tears falling down her cheeks: “I’m sorry, Christina… I won’t celebrate my birthday again. Please… stop causing trouble for Luke and the twins.” I clenched my fists, restraining my furious wolf, and stopped Alex from standing up for me. I watched the four of them turn and leave without a second glance. Then, I turned to Alex and said, with icy clarity: “This time, I have no hesitation, no regret. I’m leaving. I’ll go with you to the Northern Territory. And I won’t eat my words.”