Tragic Novels Novels & Stories

I was three months pregnant when our enemies ambushed me on a private drive in Manhattan’s East Side. A bullet punched through the window. Glass buried itself in my shoulder. With the last bit of strength I had, I hit the Moretti family’s encrypted distress signal and called my husband, Adrian Moretti, for help. He didn’t come. Later, I found out he had pulled the Moretti family’s best trauma surgeon and security detail away that night to stay with his old flame, Evelyn Langdon. She had just lost her husband. She was carrying his child. She said a nightmare had left her gasping for air. I lost our baby in the emergency room. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Evelyn’s new post. [Some people don’t need to ask. He’ll still drop everything and come running. Thank you, A. You always know what I need most.] In the photo, Adrian was kneeling by her bed, fastening the ruby necklace around her throat. The same necklace he had promised me for our tenth anniversary. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I called Professor Clark. “Professor, I’ll take the classified seat at the Artemis Northern Institute. Start the Black Ice Protocol. Wipe my public identity as soon as possible.”

I spent five years by Casey Fusco's side, turning him from a beggar in the slums to a mafia Don. On the second day he put on the family ring, his first love came knocking on our door with an ultrasound report. Casey pushed the divorce papers toward me with a sorry look on his face. "She's pregnant. I have to give her the position of Donna." My brethren tried to talk me out of doing something foolish, since I had nearly lost my life while trying to help him climb up the ranks. But contrary to their expectations, all I did was sign the papers calmly without making a fuss. "Congratulations on having your wish come true, Don Fusco."

The hospital suddenly called to inform me that the kidney I had been scheduled to receive had been transferred—by my husband—to his first love. I confronted him. He replied casually, "It's just one kidney. Are you really in such a hurry? Daphne needs it more, so let her have it first. You're not going to die anytime soon anyway!" I stood there holding the medical report proving he had uremia, and in that moment, my three-year marriage felt like a joke. Fine. He was right. I wasn't the one who was sick—so what was I rushing for?

I gave up my dream job because Alex said he needed me to help run Shadow Ridge Pack. For the next five years, he stripped my title, destroyed my projects, and humiliated me in front of everyone—all for an Omega named Madison. He called it "training me to be a proper Luna." The day I lay in bed burning with fever, and he left on "patrol" with her instead, something inside me finally broke. I submitted my Pack Severance application, and he signed it without looking, thinking it was just another approval form. A month later, he showed up at my door on his knees, begging me to come back. I gave him one condition—report Madison's betrayal to the pack council, or lose me forever. His hesitation told me everything I needed to know.

A century ago, the war between humans and beastkin nearly destroyed the world. To restore order, the five major beast clans—Dragon, Tiger, Leopard, Serpent, and Peacock—formed an alliance with humanity. Under the Treaty of Balance, every hundred years, a union between humans and beastkin must occur. The first child born of this union—a half-beast—will inherit the throne and rule over the Human-Beast Alliance. In my past life, I chose Max, the Dragon Clan's heir. Known for his unwavering devotion and noble bloodline, he seemed the perfect mate. I gave birth to the first half-beast child of the generation—a rare white dragon. Our son was named the next ruler, and Max rose to unmatched power. My half-sister, Alice, chose the Tiger Clan—seduced by beauty, blinded by arrogance. Her husband betrayed her, and she was left barren and disgraced. She envied me. Hated me. One night, she drugged me, set our home on fire, and watched as the flames devoured me and my son. But fate was not done with me. When I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day of the choosing ceremony—the moment that would decide our mates, our fates, and the future ruler of the realm. Only this time… Alice had already climbed into Max’s bed. She had been reborn too. But what she didn’t know was this: Max is not the devoted prince she remembers. He is brutal. Possessive. A beast of blood, not love. And this time, I won't make the same mistake.

The entire Silver Moon Pack knew that the Alpha, Wayne Smith, was completely devoted to me. After I casually mentioned that I liked the aurora, he immediately flew me to the Arctic Circle on his private jet. We stayed there for an entire month. I once offhandedly said I wanted to see meteor showers, and he took control of the Frost Moon Pack, the one that controlled the highest peak. He built a palace there just so I could lie down and look up at the entire Milky Way. On the night of the full moon, he swore before the whole pack. "I, Wayne, will have only Nina Shaw as my mate in this lifetime. My love will never waver." In front of all the werewolves, he knelt on one knee to put my shoes on, making it unmistakably clear that I was his one true love. Even when he shifted into his wolf form, he would forgo his pride and allow me to touch his head. But just moments ago, I reached into the pocket of the suit he had changed out of and found an ultrasound report. [Six-week-old pup with a normal heartbeat.] However, as the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack, I wasn't pregnant at all.

I saved my husband, Raffaello, the Don of the mafia, from the hands of a rival family. In return, he forced me to kneel before his childhood sweetheart, Sofia, and bark like a dog just to cheer her up. Our son, Lorenzo, wandered into the family's chemical plant out of childish curiosity, so I dragged him out with my own hands. Only for him to look me in the eye and said that I wasn't worthy of being his mother. What my husband didn't know was that when the assassins came for him, I had deliberately drew them away, letting them capture me instead. They had injected a virus into body, which burned my throat and destroyed my voice forever. What my son didn't know either was that inside the chemical plant where I rescued him, I had inhaled an overwhelming amount of toxic powder, which later caused me to have severe asthma. That night, when my asthma flared up and my lungs began to fail, I used what little strength I had left to call my husband. He impatiently rebuked me, "Grace, stop bothering me for once. A person who is really dying wouldn't make such a scene. Don't think that I don't know that you're just jealous, trying to compete with Sofia for my attention." I collapsed into the snow, greedily gasping for the final breath of air. Then, everything went still. Later, Raffaello, who never loved me lost his mind. He injected the same virus over and over again into his body, just to feel the pain I once endured. Lorenzo, who refused to acknowledge me, attempted suicide repeatedly, begging fate to trade his life for mine. But, sadly, by then, I no longer loved them.

After nursing the baby, I closed my eyes to rest for a moment. The nanny, thinking I was asleep, brazenly clung to my husband, cooing, "Harlan, if your wife finds out that the son she gave birth to was swapped out long ago and that the baby in her arms is actually ours, do you think she’d be furious?” “You’re so smart. Swapping the babies at the hospital was brilliant. Once our daughter inherits her fortune, we’ll kick her out of the house in no time!” I pretended not to hear their conversation. I continued to raise my daughter with utmost care and devotion. When she returned from her studies, I immediately transferred all my shares to her, supporting her to become the youngest heir of the company. At the handover celebration, the nanny dressed even more extravagantly than I did. She boldly grabbed my daughter and declared, “I am Yasmine’s real mother! You’ve kept her from me all these years, but now it’s time that the truth is revealed!” My husband handed me the divorce papers with a smug look. “For Yasmine’s sake, let’s part ways amicably.” My daughter folded her arms and glared at me. “Since you raised me for so many years, I’ll visit you in the nursing home once a year.” Watching their victorious smiles, I lowered my eyes. “As you wish.” I hope you’re ready to handle the kind of wealth that shatters the heavens!

The impostor took his own life the day I married Cathy Jones. By the second year of our marriage, we had turned against each other completely because of him. She despised me because my return had driven Zac Lowe to his death. And I despised her for longing after the man who had stolen my name for twenty years. For a decade, we hurled the cruelest words and wished death upon each other until the earthquake came. She shielded me under her body and used her back to bear the weight of the collapsing beam to keep me alive. The ceiling fell. Blood and debris blurred together. As her life slipped away, she whispered in my ear, “If I had known he would die, I would have never brought you home. “If there’s another life, your only family should be me.” In the end, I still died in the aftershock. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day she first took me to meet my biological parents. But she suddenly changed her mind. “Harry, I was wrong! You’re not the son the Lowe family lost twenty years ago.”

My father-in-law was clinging to life after a car accident. The only way he'd survive is if I—a top surgeon—operated on him myself. I'd just changed into my scrubs when my wife, Clara Stevens, rushed in and grabbed my arm. "You're not going anywhere. The priority is protecting Rick's face. Not a single scar, you hear me?" I pulled away. "Dad has minutes left. If we miss the window, he's gone." Clara didn't even flinch. "That worthless country bumpkin father of yours was born a burden. If he dies, he dies—at least we won't have to take care of him anymore. But if Rick's face gets ruined, I swear you'll pay." Her first love, Rick Ford, tugged her sleeve with a fake whimper. "Clara, your husband seems pretty upset. You think he's stalling on purpose? Trying to hurt me?" I was so angry, I just laughed. So that was the case. All along, Clara thought the one dying… was my father.