Tragic Stories

“Sigurado ka na gusto mo palitan ang pangalan mo, Ms. Anderson? Kakailanganin mo palitan ang degree certificate mo, documentation, at passport sa oras na gawin mo ito.” Tumango si Noelle Anderson. “Sigurado ako.” Sinubukan siyang kumbinsihin ng empleyado. “Hassle para sa mga matatanda na palitan ang pangalan nila, at maganda naman ang kasalukuyan mo na pangalan. Sigurado ka ba na ayaw mo itong pag-isipan?” “Hindi, napag-isipan ko na ito.” Pinirmahan niya ang form. “Pasensiya na sa abala.” “Sige, kung ganoon. Ang pangalan na ipapalit mo… ay Aria Byrd, tama?” “Oo.” Aria Byrd–ibig sabihin paglipad sa kalayaan.

I died just before my husband Drake's wedding to his mate. Ten days before my death, Drake's former mate returned. Drake abandoned me to spend the night with his mate even though I was attacked by rogues and was severely injured. He came back directly the next day, not to see me but to give me the news. “I want to sever the mate bond with you.” “I’ve been poisoned by wolfsbane.” “You’re lying again. Regardless, I must reject you today.” He didn’t know that his rejection would hasten my death. I thought that after this stumbling block—me—was gone, he could finally live happily with his mate. But to my surprise, he abandoned his bride at the wedding and ran to my gravestone, weeping. “Lyra, you are my wife. I forbid you to die!”

Six months after our divorce, my ex-wife, Shanon Reich went viral with her new influencer boyfriend, Tobias Hunt, gaining over ten million followers. One day, by sheer accident, I scrolled into their livestream and saw my three-year-old daughter, Ginny Herbert, trapped inside a car. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her little face was flushed, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She looked utterly helpless. Shanon didn't smash the window, nor did she call the police. Instead, she laughed brightly at the camera. "Thank you to our top fan for the moneybag gift!" Then she grinned and said, "Send another moneybag! I'll smash the window once I get it, okay?" I lost my mind. I raced over like a madman and wrenched the car keys out of her hand. "Leomund Herbert! Are you insane?" she screamed. "Do you know how much this stream is worth? It's just a little heat! She's not going to die!" I held my daughter in my arms. Her tiny body was limp, and she was barely conscious. With reddened eyes, I pointed at her and shouted, "Shanon Reich! You will pay for this!"

During the full-moon raid carried out by the Bloodmoon Pack, my squad accidentally strayed into a swamp thick with deadly silver mist. I had prepared for this. I always carried a moonstone that could protect against silver poisoning. But when I opened my leather pouch, all my fingers touched was a wishing doll woven from dried grass. I was about to reach out to the Elder Council through the mind link. That was when my Alpha mate, Jack Fraley, suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Easy, sweetheart. Don't be impulsive. I gave your moonstone to Lily. She's a fragile Omega. She needs protection more than you do." I clenched the straw doll, fury burning so hot that it nearly scorched away my reason. "Are you kidding me? Wearing this junk is no different from standing naked in the silver mist!" He frowned, completely unashamed. "Rowena North, you're my Luna. Protecting Omegas is your responsibility. Stop throwing a tantrum." I let out a cold laugh. "I'm a Luna, not a saint with no boundaries. And that moonstone was my mother's keepsake." After that, I didn't argue with him anymore. I severed our mind link without hesitation. Then, I turned to the Beta beside me and gave a clear order. "Contact the Elder Council immediately. I formally invoke mate bond severance. Effective now, every pack territory and alliance bound to my name is frozen."

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

Grote Mendoza, the Alpha of the Valkyrie pack, has an extremely strong libido. Whenever he sees my body, he can't seem to control himself at all. He's very rough with me in bed, resulting in me fainting every time we sleep with each other. "Honey, can you endure this for me one more time?" It's been seven years. This is my 99th time enduring the torturous session with Grote. Because of that, my private part suffers from severe ulceration and infection. I thought Grote loves me, but it turns out that he's just a wolf who suffers from weird fetishes. I thought he'll slowly learn how to be gentle with me for my sake. But when I watch all 99 tapes that he and his mistress, Christine Henson, have recorded of themselves going at it, I finally realize that his gentle side is never meant for me at all. Grote blames me for not being able to be with pup thanks to my private part's condition. He allows Christine to abuse and humiliate me however she wants. In fact, he even beds her before my eyes. He refuses to believe that I will ditch him. All he does is beg me relentlessly for my forgiveness and promise me that I'll be his only Luna. Apparently, having a mistress spices up his bedroom life for him. But Grote repeatedly allows Christine to humiliate me. She forces me to become her slave and keep serving her until she gives birth to her pup. I've been enduring Grote's actions for seven years. All I get is pain and abuse that keeps worsening in return. I don't want to endure the humiliation anymore, even if it means dying right here, right now. I jump into the sea without hesitation, allowing the ice-cold water to swallow me whole. I'm willing to do anything just to escape from Grote's suffocating love that's packaged as abuse… After I die in the sea, Grote completely loses control of himself and keeps looking for me everywhere he goes.

On our sixth wedding anniversary, I felt a seam split open in my skull. Not from pain, but from truth. “Ethan, that new assistant… how does she taste?” Marcus’s thought, slick as oil. Ethan's reply slithered through my veins: "Young. Tender. Like summer berries." His lips shaped a lie. His hand shielded me from the crowd, even as his fingers pressed a blood-red cocktail into my palm. "Don't let Lena find out,"he thought, the words clear as speech. "I’d in a big trouble." Laughter swirled. Champagne clinked.their mind. Nobody knew I could hear every thought ,the ability to read minds awakened in me last night. . Nobody knew I had already known about his betrayal long ago. There were no tears, no screams I just replied “yes” to Professor Johnson’s encrypted call-the path I should have chosen six years ago. In three days, I would vanish. Not running from him. Running back to who I was at twenty—the rising star of virus research.

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

I hated my husband most in the moment he died for me, swallowed by the flames. Right before he took his last breath, he tore our marriage certificate in half, his eyes burning red. "If there's another life," he said, "I'd rather we never met." My whole body went rigid. Only then did I understand—he blamed me. Ten years ago, his childhood sweetheart and her family had been exiled. She had begged him for help. But that day, he'd gone with me on a trip and missed the chance to save her. And for ten long years, he held that grudge against me. After my husband's death, the world turned on me. Even my in-laws, who had always cared for me, looked at me with pure disgust. "If not for you, Russ wouldn't be dead. We wish you'd never been born!" I couldn't bear it anymore. I ended my life. I never expected that when I opened my eyes again, I would be back on the day Russ Williams came to propose. This time, I would do exactly as he wished. I would give everyone what they wanted.

Everyone in Palermo knew Alessandro De Luca had a reputation. He was the Boss of the De Luca family, one of the oldest bloodlines in Sicily — a name tied to the port, the courts, and half the construction contracts in Palermo. Wealth, power, discipline—those things were expected. Romance was not. He didn’t chase women, and he never went back to the same one twice. Until me. When we broke up after a brutal argument, he did something no De Luca had done in generations—he stood outside the gates of the Moretti estate, my family home, for an entire day and night. I watched from behind the curtains and never opened the door. The next day, he came inside the estate kitchen himself. Alessandro De Luca, who grew up surrounded by servants, tried to cook my favorite seafood pasta with his own hands. He burned the sauce. I threw it away without tasting it. On the third day, he found the necklace my grandmother had left me—something my uncle had sold years ago—and bought it back, paying far more than it was worth, just to return it to me. At a formal family dinner, in front of elders and allies, he made it clear: No more women. Only me. It took him a year to win me back. That summer, fireworks lit up the Palermo coastline as he announced our engagement. I believed he had chosen me. Until the night of a private gathering at an old harbor estate. A young woman was being pulled forward in the middle of the courtyard, her dress torn at the shoulder, tears running down her face. Alessandro went still. Then he stood up. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t explain. He just walked toward her. And something inside me went cold. I rested my hand over my abdomen. There was something I hadn’t told him yet. He broke his word that night. So I broke mine.