Tragic Ending Novels & Stories

The day the Porter family went bankrupt, my elder sister, who had been engaged to Calvin Porter, claimed she was in love with someone else and cut ties with him without a second thought. I was the one who stepped forward to take her place, becoming the laughingstock of our social circle. I smoothed away all the hardness in him, tried to shape myself into the woman he liked, and swallowed countless moments of bitterness, hoping only to warm his distant heart. Until our wedding day. A car accident happened, and Calvin's first instinct was to shield my sister with his whole body. "Rebecca, don't be scared. Where are you hurt? We'll get you to the hospital right away!" He carried her into the ambulance without so much as glancing back at me. I looked down at the iron rod piercing my chest and felt warm blood gush out. It was only then I understood. He was not indifferent by nature, he was simply indifferent to me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Calvin came to our house carrying the engagement gift.

When Alexander Smith stands in front of me and says he's going to marry someone else, that's when I realize he's been reborn too. I remember our 20 years of love in our past life. A plane crash. And then, rebirth. "This is to save Sophia," he says. "In our past life, she was sold to a Vostmark oligarch after her father's political scandal. Not long after, she took her own life due to abuse. I can't let that tragedy happen again, so I need to get engaged to her." As he speaks, he hands me an orange prescription bottle. "If you take this, you'll forget me for a little while. You won't feel the pain. It's just seven days. Once her father's scandal blows over, you'll stop the medication and your memory will return. Then I'll end the engagement and officially propose to you." I stare at the bottle, knowing it's a lie. Not the part about Sophia's suicide. The lie is about the drug. He thinks it only causes temporary memory loss. But I know better. The suppressant causes permanent damage to emotional memory. The seven-day countdown isn't the time it takes for my memories to return. It's the time it takes for my love for him to die.

Three days ago, Damon Ashford marked me. The night he became Alpha, he sank his fangs into my neck under the moonlight. When his wolf blood mixed with mine, my wolf soul trembled violently. I thought the bond was taking root. I was too excited, too happy to tell the difference between real blood transfer and the simple sting of broken skin. This morning I went to City Hall without telling him. I wanted to pick up our certificate and frame it for our bedroom wall. I wanted to surprise him. The clerk checked the system, then looked up at me. "Whitmore, the mark on your neck is fake. There is no trace of wolf blood exchange." "Also, Ashford completed a formal registration with a woman named Clara Wellick two weeks ago." Under wolf law, a mark must be registered within seven days or it becomes invalid. I came to register, only to find I was never registered at all. I took off the scarf covering my neck and dropped it into the trash can outside City Hall. Standing on the steps, I sent my brother a message. Marcus, I’ll go with you for the closed medical research.

Alice Long and I were caught in the crossfire. When my boyfriend—a combat medic responsible for saving the wounded—came to our rescue, he pushed me aside. Gently cradling Alice, the girl I had shielded, he shot me a cold glance and said, "Crystal, I'm deeply disappointed in you. She needs immediate care to avoid infection!" What about me? Was I meant to die instead? When my flag-draped coffin arrived home, he had the nerve to weep openly at my memorial. This once-renowned combat medic, celebrated around the globe, never set foot outside his room again.

At eight months pregnant, I was in a car accident and delivered a stillborn child. My husband, who had always been so gentle, turned on me. He called me useless. He said I couldn't even protect our baby. He forced me into a divorce and, without looking back, rushed into a hasty marriage with his long-lost first love. Just as despair threatened to swallow me whole, Grayson Brooke—my childhood friend who had been overseas for years—returned. He confessed his feelings and promised to cherish me for the rest of my life. But in the third year of our marriage, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his closest friend that turned my blood to ice. "That car accident you staged—just to get the cord blood—killing Lydia's innocent baby in the process… it was too cruel, even for you." "It was a necessary evil. Only her child's cord blood could save Kayla." "But Lydia had just one month left. Kayla could have held on a little longer—" Grayson cut him off, his voice sharp and absolute. "If there was a way, why would we wait? I couldn't stand by and let Kayla suffer for one second more."

I am Alpha Asher's fated mate. His Luna, blessed by the Moon Goddess. But when I started bleeding out, our pup's life hanging by a thread, Asher was at a party for her son—Seraphina's son—celebrating his first shift. I cried out to him through our mind-link, begging for help. He just sounded annoyed. "Bleeding? How long are you going to keep up this act? Last time it was a headache that turned out to be nothing. Now it's bleeding. Aurora, enough is enough. I'm at Leo's first shift party. This is a huge day for him. I can't just leave." Then I heard Seraphina's child call him "Daddy," and Asher's voice, so full of love, answer him. Before I could say anything else, he ruthlessly severed the link. Three hours later, the doctors declared my pup dead. I sent Asher the wolfstone that held our pup's shattered soul, then went to the pack elders alone. "Asher has betrayed me. I demand the severing of our mate bond."

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband Don had booked me a termination surgery instead of a postpartum care package. I thought he had placed the wrong order and was about to tease him, but Vincenzo spoke flatly. "I didn't book it wrong. I need to come clean with you about something." "I've been keeping another woman. She's a good girl. She doesn't want a title or to take your place as Donna." "But she got pregnant recently. I've already made her suffer enough. I can't let her child suffer too. I have to give the child the Moretti family name." I froze on the exam table, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "Then why did you abort my child?" He wiped the ultrasound gel off my belly and smiled. "I just want you to adopt Giuliana's child. I'm having yours terminated because I'm afraid you'll play favorites and treat her kid differently." He handed me the consent form, calm and composed. "I promise you will always be Donna. No one will ever take your place." I gave him a long, hard look, then was wheeled into the operating room. "Never mind." "Vincenzo Moretti, you're going to regret this every single day for the rest of your life." He didn't know it, but I was the only woman in the world who could ever give him a child.

When I first caught Miles cheating on me, I pinned him down at the entrance whenever he came home every day. I would pull down his pants and spray high-concentration alcohol all over his nether regions. He always went along with it with teary eyes because he knew he had been in the wrong. He would only look at me with a pitiful gaze and coax me to stop. One day, he came home two hours late. I became mad when I smelled the perfume on him. I started taking off his belt forcefully and yelled, “Last time, when you had your fun with one woman, you came home half an hour late. “Now you’re two hours late. Talk! Did you sleep with four?” Even though he apologized to me for the twenty-ninth time, I pushed him away repeatedly. He finally raised his hand to show me the IV mark on the back of it. He snapped and screamed at me, “Enough! I was dying with a high fever, yet you haven’t even asked how I’m doing. You just fly off the handle every single day. When are you going to stop? “Fine, I got drunk and slept with someone once. Big deal. You’re not so innocent yourself. “It’s no wonder you got dragged into an alley at sixteen, stripped, and assaulted. Jenna, you’re a paranoid wreck. You may have even deserved it.” The spray bottle shattered at my feet, and the smell of alcohol caught in my throat. I was speechless. I felt exhausted when I saw his disgusted expression. I did not want this broken relationship any longer.

I'm sold into the underground and turned into an anthropodermic fan, suffering endless days of humiliation. It isn't until my spine shatters from a hammered nail that my brother—Daxon Smyth—and my fiance—Joshua Moore—finally arrive. The two men who've doted on me for 20 years swear to make the guilty pay in blood. And I think my salvation has come. But when I overhear their words, I realize the truth—every torment I've suffered is of their doing, all to make me behave and stop me from competing with the true heiress they've found. When another man carries me away from that place, they lose their minds and scour through all ends of the world, trying to find me.

To save money for a house, I had been living a frugal life with my boyfriend, Desmond Wood. When Desmond received a twenty-thousand-dollar bonus, he bought me a branded bag. I was delighted, but I felt that he did not need to spend so much on me. Hence, I brought the receipt and the bag to the shop for a refund. The shopkeeper told me that my bag was fake. However, the receipt was real.