Tragic Lovers Novels & Stories

At the annual company party, my boyfriend of three years openly flirted with the beautiful new secretary right in front of everyone. Without hesitation, I kicked him and his family out of my house where they had been freeloading for all this time. Humiliated and angry, he lashed out: "Sarah, this is all because you can't even get pregnant! Three years together and not a single child. If you just accept Amy in our relationship, you can still be the lady of this house!" Later on, his company was investigated for fraud. He ended up in prison, and to top it all off, it turned out the child wasn't even his to begin with.

My family home accidentally catches on fire, and my father risks his life to save my sister. He ends up with severe burns and urgently needs a blood transfusion to save his life. I'm not in the vicinity, so I ask my fiancé to help. He tells me the hospital doesn't have enough blood stored and mobilizes the city's blood banks—he does it to save my sister, who only has minor burns. Leonard Gallagher shows up when I'm at my most desperate. He takes 600ml of my blood and rushes back to my hometown. Meanwhile, I pass out by the roadside due to severe blood loss. When I wake up, Leonard tells me my father has died due to significant blood loss. I'm disfigured after knocking my head on a sharp rock. He holds my bandaged face tenderly and tells me he'll use his life to make it up to me. After three years of marriage, I'm six months pregnant when I lose consciousness and need to be rescued. That's when I overhear Leonard's conversation with a doctor. "It's been three years. Can we do the skin grafting procedure again? Zoe needs it for her cosmetic surgery." "Mrs. Gallagher has recovered very well, so it's okay to proceed with the procedure. However, even if she's Ms. Lore's sister, there's still a chance of rejection." "Her blood already flows in Zoe's veins—what does the skin matter? It's already the second time, anyway." It turns out the help I've given on the brink of death only leads to Zoe Lore's enhanced beauty. To Leonard, I'm nothing but a source of flesh and blood for Zoe. I'm tired. I think it's time to be reunited with my father.

"Lucian, who is she?!" "She is a surrogate?! She is carrying my child." "What?! Surrogate?!" “Yes，Astra will be living with us from now on!” ...... My husband, Lucian, the Alpha of the Crystal Blood Moon pack, urgently needs an heir. I have a wonderful marriage, but my only regret is that the Moon Goddess still hasn't blessed me with a child after five years of being together. But I haven't given up hope yet! Today is Lucian's birthday. I've baked a cake and bought a sexy lingerie. We are going to have a passionate night, and maybe tonight, I'll finally conceive! Knowing he could be here soon, I lit the room with scented candles, and there, the doorbell chimes. Excited, I rush to open it, only to find Lucian standing there with a pregnant woman.  

Remi Sloan had been married to the top scion of the elite circle for five years. To outsiders, their marriage looked like a fairy tale. Everyone said he adored her—that he would even give his life for her if she asked. However, because she could not get pregnant, a few hints from her in-laws became outright demands. The man who had held her hands and promised to protect her for the rest of her life on their wedding day cried in front of her. “Be good… I can’t hold on anymore.” So this was how short a man’s promise could be, because less than two months later, she saw him supporting a pregnant woman in the hospital's obstetrics department, his movements gentle.

On our third wedding anniversary, I received a cake from my husband. It had the names Clarisse Burke and Antonio Carey written on it, along with Happy Third Anniversary. But I felt like I'd been plunged into ice. That wasn't my name. Clarisse was his secretary. Sure enough, I saw my cake in Clarisse Burke's latest post, labeled Iva Grant and Antonio Carey. [Three years, and someone's already treating me like his wife.] Below, there was a comment. [Delete that post! The cakes got mixed up. Don't let Iva find out.] That was when I realized he had planned every romantic surprise in pairs. Holding my phone, I laughed at his pathetic attempt to cover it up. But I was done. I started planning my exit.

My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her. Now, I finally found one. Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again." Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation. I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see. Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't. "Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…" I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried… While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media. "Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!" The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle. As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart. By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…

On the Goldman heir's wedding day, I take a small bite out of a piece of cake because I am hungry from waiting too long at the ceremony. But my fiancee, Sheryl Wilson, slaps me in the face immediately. "You really are shameless! How could you eat in an occasion like this?" Dazed from the slap, I look at the other guests, who are staring at us at the moment. Having tasted copper in my mouth, I turn on my heel and approach the heir with a plate in my hands. "The cake's pretty delicious. Do you want a slice?" Sheryl started to panic. She's about to drag me away when the groom of the wedding takes a small bite out of the same slice. He remarks coolly, "It really is tasty. I'll have my men prepare 100 slices of cake for the woman who slapped you just now."

Before I was wheeled into surgery, the nurse kept urging me to call a family member. At last, a delivery runner rushed into my ward, out of breath. "Hello, Ms. Wexler. Mr. Adrian Prescott placed an order for me to accompany you through surgery in Ward 907." My phone buzzed twice with a new notification. I lowered my head and saw Sophie Lane's latest post. "Caught a cold and sounded a little stuffy, and Mr. Prescott noticed right away. He insisted on taking me to the doctor and even made ginger tea for me. So spicy, but so sweet." The picture showed a tall, lean man with his shirt sleeves rolled up, pouring ginger tea from a saucepan into a thermos. His eyes were focused and gentle. I stared at the photo in a daze. I had been hospitalized for five days. My husband of five years, Adrian Prescott, had never visited once. He said he was busy with work. But once again, I saw him in Sophie Lane's social media post. That careful, gentle Adrian Prescott, the man who knew exactly how to love someone. Before I was pushed into the operating room, I submitted my resignation and made one phone call. "Mr. Powell, please print the divorce agreement."

"Are you sure you want to do this? If you go through it, you’ll no longer be Luna and might become a rogue." "I'm sure." I removed our wedding ring, which he slipped into my fingers three years back on the desk as payment. "Alright, when your werewolf Valentine’s Day arrives, I’ll help you break the mate bond with Alpha Owen." The witch used a dagger to cut my palm and let the blood pour into a test tube. Ten days later, I endured the unbearable pain of severing the mate bond. I changed the surname I had followed for three years, obtained a new identity, and drove away from the Starry Pack in a second-hand car bought from the black market. Owen, you will never find me again. You should have known it would end like this from the day you betrayed me. One month later, a question exploded on social media, spiraling out of control. #Where did Luna Kya go?#

My husband, Ethan Parker, brought our daughter on a trip to the countryside with his first love, Mandy Sanchez. Halfway through, he abandoned our little girl and left with Mandy. When our daughter was surrounded by wolves, I could not reach him. By the time I arrived, the car was empty—the only thing left behind was a bloodstained piece of pumpkin pie. As I was dealing with my grief, Ethan finally answered his phone. "We're celebrating Thanksgiving. Why are you ruining the mood?" I internally scoffed at that man's audacity. Well, happy holidays indeed! Let me deliver a bloody pumpkin pie for you to really get into the spirit.