Tragic Story

I loved Alpha Lucien Grey with all my heart. From the moment I first saw him, I was drawn to him. However, I always knew the one Lucien loved was someone else. Her name was Summer White. I thought I’d be like one of those tragic side characters in romance stories—forever on the sidelines, watching the man I loved build a life with another woman. However, everything changed three years ago when Summer ran away on the night of the marking ceremony, saying she wasn’t ready to be claimed. Lucien had to make a decision and announced he would find a new partner. So, I stepped forward. Wearing a dress that didn’t quite fit, my hands trembling, I stood in for Summer. That day, Lucien and I formed a bond as mates. For the past three years, Lucien had treated me with warmth and kindness. He was gentle and thoughtful. He took care of me in every way. However, just over a month ago, Summer came back to our pack. On the night of our anniversary, she got drunk and called Lucien in tears, sobbing that she regretted everything. Lucien’s hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped his phone, but he didn’t hang up. He just stood there, torn. When his eyes met mine, full of confusion and pain, I took his hand—still trembling—and said softly, “Go to her.” The moment he left, I filed the mate-bond termination papers at City Hall, requesting to break the bond. After all, these years of stolen happiness were never really mine to keep. It was time for me to leave, too.

My boyfriend is a forensic doctor. I've been abducted and tied to a bomb—there's only ten minutes to detonation. The abductors force me to call my boyfriend, but all I get is a scolding. "What the hell do you want, Michelle? What are you playing at, using your life as an excuse just because you're jealous? "Vi's cat has already been stuck in a tree for three days. She loves it like it's her life! If you delay me from saving it, you'll be a murderer!" I hear a coquettish voice ring out on the other end of the line. "Thank you for this, Kev. You're amazing!" I recognize that voice—it belongs to my boyfriend's childhood friend. I text my boyfriend when the bomb is about to explode. "Farewell forever. I pray we won't meet each other again in another life."

The housekeeper deliberately reveals her busty chest when I'm out of the house. She says coquettishly to my husband, "Oh, my. This is an accident, Mr. Houston …" My husband looks like he's focusing on his drink, but he keeps sneaking looks at her. I see all of this from the housekeeper's livestream.

Ever since when he was young, Alexander would get glimpse of his past life. Every night he would get to see what his past life was. Sometimes in a form of dreams and sometimes in a form of nightmare. He would dream about a life he shared with his mate in his past life. He would dream about his tragic death . What will happen when he will meet that same omega in this life too? Will he be able to change their love story from tragic ending to happy ending?

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

Is there anything more tragic than having a crush on your boss? Being secretly In love with an Alpha that still engages in sexism. It would be a bitter secret love that was going to end in vain? It would be unrequited love? Or it would turn into an unexpected love story?

My parents died when I was ten, and I became an orphan. Darius Rossi, a mafia don, found me and took me out of the beggars' den. He wrapped me in designer clothes and raised me like a prized possession. Everyone said I would grow up to be his wife, that I was the treasure he kept close to his heart. Then came my birthday party. After a night of wild passion, he handed me a photo of his rival, Valerio Warren. He said, "Monica Arden, I've taken care of you for ten years. Now it's time for you to repay me. I'm arranging a marriage alliance with the Costa family. This is the guy Gina Costa has been crushing on, and I need you to seduce him and create an opening for me. I want her to marry me willingly." That was when I finally understood that I was never his treasure. I was just the most disposable piece on his chessboard. I followed his orders and pursued Valerio, doing exactly as he commanded. Yet, on the wedding day, Darius lost his mind when Valerio slipped the diamond ring onto my finger.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

นิยายเซ็ต มาเฟียบ้านปีกซ้าย “ ไคเดน ” ชื่อนี้ที่มามาพร้อมกับภาพของมาเฟียหนุ่มรูปหล่อ และเจ้าชู้เสน่ห์แพรวพราว แต่แฝงไปด้วยความน่ากลัวและความนิ่งเมื่อเขาอยู่ต่อหน้าคนที่ไม่ถูกใจ “ เด็กคนนี้ไม่ใช่ลูกผม ผมมีเมียที่ไหนแม่” “ ไม่ใช่ลูกมึงเลยสิ หน้าตาถอดแบบมึงมาเป๊ะ ไปทำผู้หญิงท้องตอนไหนมา” หรรษาที่ยืนกอดอกพร้อมกับไคเดน เบื้องหน้ามีเด็กหญิงน่าตาจิ้มลิ้มยืนอยู่ “ ผมไม่รู้แม่” “ มันน่าฟาดให้หัวแตกเลยดีมั้ย!!!” “เฮ้ยๆ อย่านะแม่ ผมไม่รู้จริงๆ คู่นอนผมมีเป็น 10 เป็น 100 ป้องกันทุกรอบ” “ ถุงยางอนามัยมันเสื่อมคุณภาพหรือไง ป้องกันยังไงมีเด็กหน้าตาเหมือนมึงอย่างกับย้อนเวลามายืนอยู่ตรงนี้เนี่ย!!” เสียงของหรรษาผู้เป็นแม่เอ่ยขึ้น “ ก็ผมไม่รู้จริงๆแม่” “ มึงไปหาคำตอบมา ไม่งั้นแม่จะฟาดที่หัวแตกเลย!!”

“เขต ปล่อยเนียร์นะ เจ็บ!!” “นี่ไง อาณาเขตที่เธออยากได้นักหนา!! นี่ไงซาเนียร์!!!” “เนียร์ ไม่ได้…ฮึก! ปล่อยนะ!!” “วันนั้นเธอเสนอตัวมาให้ฉันเอาถึงห้อง!! ยังบอกว่าไม่ใช่หรือไง!!!” เพียะ!!!!! ฝามือเล็กๆของซาเนียร์ฟาดลงบนหน้าหล่อๆของอาณาเขตเต็มแรง “เขตเคยฟังเนียร์มั้ยว่าเกิดอะไรขึ้น ฮึก!” “คงเกิด!! เกิดอยากได้ฉันจนตัวสั่นไง!” “ว่าไงนะ” “เธอจำไว้ ว่าเธอกล้าทำฉันเจ็บ เธอต้องเจ็บกว่าฉันเป็นร้อยเท่า!” “……” ชายหนุ่มเดินออกจากคอนโดของหญิงสาวไปด้วยความโมโห เขาเจ็บเจียนตายสาเหตุมาจากผู้หญิงคนนี้ เพราะเธอ ความรักของเขาต้องพังลงจนไม่เหลือชิ้นดี