Tragic Story Ideas

Alexander's mistress was pregnant. He turned his back on me without a shred of hesitation, canceled our marking ceremony, and brought her home instead. As he passed by, he didn't even look at me. He just left a brief order hanging in the air. "She's weak. You know medicine. From now on, you'll handle her meals." When he reached the first floor, he paused again. "She's pregnant. She can't be frightened, and she needs me to sleep beside her." His voice was flat, devoid of any feeling for me. "There are plenty of empty rooms. Move out of mine." I packed my things quietly, without a word, and walked out of the estate. The butler tried to stop me, but Alexander's voice cut through the hall, cold and final. "Let her go. Once she cools off, she'll come crawling back on her own." His men, watching the scene unfold, exchanged amused glances. They even placed bets right in front of me—how many minutes before I'd regret leaving and come running back. But none of them knew the truth. The Alpha King my parents had chosen for me had already sent a car to wait for me outside the gate. This time, I wasn't coming back.

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

Victor and I were nothing more than a pair of sworn enemies married inside the camp. He hated me for handing over my frail sister to the research institute, all so they could extract the antiviral serum from her blood. And I hated him for never seeing anyone but her, even in the apocalypse, when she could barely lift a metal rod. For the ten years of the apocalypse, the words we said to each other most often were, "Die a miserable death." … However, when the zombie horde finally broke through the last line of defense, he chained me to the modified mech truck and went out alone to face it. "Live…" I watched as the tide of corpses swallowed him whole, the crack of breaking bones mixing with the sound of flesh being torn apart. On the edge of death, he pulled out my sister's faded photo and placed it over the one clean spot on his chest. "This life is yours. But if there's a next one, don't go near her again." … That night, when I returned, I blew up the camp. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the zombie king. His razor-sharp claws closed around my throat, and I smiled as I took hold of his hand. "Let's make a deal. Give humans five more years, and I'll willingly be your queen." Last time, he gave his life to save me. This time, I'll be the monster—so they can all get what they want.

Everyone in New York knew that Don Lorenzo Capone loved his wife dearly. At the height of our love, he shielded me from a bullet that went straight through his chest. The hospital issued eleven critical condition notices. I cried myself hoarse at the door of the emergency room. "Lorenzo, don't you dare die on me, or I'll instantly find a pretty boy to marry and have children with!" He survived the ordeal, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to marry me. After the marriage, he ruled over New York's largest underground empire with an iron fist, but never allowed any woman to get close to him. On our third wedding anniversary, I went to his private dock to give him a surprise. There, I saw him holding a pair of twins, teaching them how to shoot. The man who could kill without batting an eye was looking at the children with eyes full of affection. The children's mother was Elena Tribbiani, the daughter of an arms dealer who was his equal. "Lorenzo, what if Vivian finds out?" Lorenzo dismissed it casually. "A fragile porcelain doll like her is only fit to be displayed in a glass case. Only a she-wolf like you is worthy of bearing my family's cubs." It turned out, what I thought was true love was merely a carefully-woven lie. I did not confront him. Instead, I sent a text message to an FBI special agent. "Agent Smith, I have a list of the arms deal you’re investigating."

Three years back, a crash wrecked Rhea's hearing—and the future she'd built her life around. At her lowest point, Eddie stayed by her side like a hero, pulling her out of the shadows. But the second she got her hearing back and thought she could finally tell him... she heard the truth: he'd planned the whole thing. For his beloved. So she could win. Yeah, he was already engaged. To that girl. Rhea didn't cry. Didn't scream. Just picked up her phone. "Grandpa, I'm ready. I'm taking back the Cliburn name. And I'm entering the international piano competition as your heir."

At nine months pregnant, I suffered an unexpected miscarriage. My husband, Graham Pearson, fought back his own grief as he comforted me. He would whisper to me every day, trying to soothe my shattered heart, "Whitney, we will have children again someday. Our little angel was here for a while, and next time, we'll make sure we hold onto them..." Under Graham's careful care, I slowly began to pull myself out of the numb fog I'd been trapped in. But then, a month later, I overheard him talking to one of his friends. "If Whitney finds out the baby didn't actually die and that you've let Cassidy raise him, don't you think she'll flip out? You've worked so hard to get where you are; you can't let this mess it all up." Graham casually flicked his cigarette, his voice almost detached as he waved a hand dismissively. "Cassidy can't have kids, but she loves children. If this baby brings her joy, it's a blessing for the child, too. "I might never get the chance to be with Cassidy, but letting her raise my son, in some way, feels like a kind of fulfillment..." The truth hit me like a frozen wave, paralyzing me in place. It turned out this whole ordeal had been part of Graham's plan from the start.

"Here's 1 million dollars. Take it, leave the Star Moon Pack, and go somewhere my son will never find you." My boyfriend's mother looked at me with scorn as she handed over a check. If this had happened in the past, I would have told her that I loved her son—not because he was an Alpha, not for the title of Luna, and certainly not for his family's vast fortune. I loved him because of the deep bond we shared. I was carrying his pup. We were supposed to become mates and build a happy life together. But now, he was about to hold a bonding ceremony with another woman. He was planning to mark her and let her bear his pup. He said it was all just to appease the Pack's elders and his parents. What they didn't know was that as the daughter of the Alpha of the Golden River Pack, I'd never need a bond to gain status, power, or wealth. So now that he'd chosen someone else, the only thing left for me to do was to walk away with dignity.

Our wedding anniversary also happens to be our son's birthday. A month in advance, I carefully plan a family trip for the three of us—me, my husband, and our son. But right before we're supposed to leave, both of them suddenly disappear on me. I'm left standing alone in the pouring rain, dialing their numbers. On the other end, my son's young voice comes through, sounding cold and impatient. "Dad's having dinner with Ms. Moore. We don't want to go anymore." The call ends, and I'm blocked. Later that night, they intentionally lock me out of the house. I'm left standing in the freezing cold all night long. Soaked from the rain, I come down with a high fever and develop pneumonia. Meanwhile, my husband and son are off vacationing with Sophia Moore, smiling for a happy family photo with just the three of them. And in that moment, I know this marriage has truly come to an end.

At my engagement party, a female dog was sitting on my fiancee’s seat. Her guy best friend, Ryan Anderson, was holding the leash. “Bro, don’t take it personally. Your fiancee drank too much the night before at her bachelorette party, that’s why I’m letting her sleep in for a bit longer.” Everyone looked at me mockingly as they laughed. I felt as though someone had slapped me. All the guests had arrived, but Lily Smith showed up late. “It’s our engagement party today. Are you asking me to marry a dog?” I asked as I suppressed my anger. Lily grabbed Ryan’s sleeve and glared at me impatiently. “What are you talking about? Ryan saw that I was too tired, so he let me rest for a bit longer. Are you seriously offended? “As my fiance, you should be more understanding, like him!” It felt ridiculous and wrong to me. My heart sank as I stood up. “Fine, since he treats you so well, you should marry him then!”

A fortune-teller once told me that my husband would betray me in the seventh year of our marriage. Looking at Mario Brasco—his eyes filled with nothing but me—I couldn't help but scoff at the fortune-teller's words. Everyone knew Mario loved me enough to give up everything. When I caught a simple cold, he abandoned a multimillion-dollar mafia deal and flew home just to be by my side. When I was kidnapped, he took three bullets rescuing me, yet never once thought of giving up. When my sister confessed her love to him, desperate enough to end her own life, he turned her down without hesitation and forced my father to send her overseas. But on the seventh anniversary of our marriage, I received an unexpected email from an unknown sender. After reading it, I asked Mario for a divorce.