Tragic Synonym

After they pulled me out of the surf, my fiancé, Milo Schneider, looked wrecked—eyes red, breathing all over the place. On impulse, I decided to mess with him. "I think I lost my memory. Where am I?" I kept my face blank. He froze for a second, then shoved his brother, Sean Schneider, toward me. "Sean, take your fiancée to the hospital—now." Yeah. That smile on my face? Gone. Sean pulled me into his arms. "Abigail, I'm your fiancé. Did you forget?"

On my birthday, my husband of five years accompanied his childhood sweetheart to celebrate her dog's birthday. Avery Simpson published a loving post: [The happiest baby in the world. Mom and Dad will be with you. I hope you're always happy.] Seeing the words "Mom and Dad", I commented a question mark with confusion. The next moment, I found myself blocked. Charles Logan called me and lashed out at me. "Why do you always have to mess things up at the worse possible time? You're worse than a dog. How despicable!" Shortly after, Avery changed her profile picture to one of her and Charles, hands intertwined. When I saw the obvious provocation, I didn't get angry like before. That's because I had already made up my mind to get a divorce.

Ten years ago, the Harrington family went through a home invasion. My mother, a maid, shielded Liam with her life. Holding my hands tight, Liam promised, "Andrea, don't worry. I'll protect you forever." I believed him. Our bond grew naturally, and we had a beautiful daughter together. Then, she was diagnosed with leukemia. In her last days, all she wanted was to spend one birthday with her dad. I called him, desperate to make it happen. "Millie doesn't have much time left. All she wants is one birthday with you. Can you come?" His voice on the other end went icy. "Really? This your latest stunt? Using your dead mom wasn't enough, now it's our daughter for pity? Disgusting." I tried to deny it, but he cut me off. "Don't mess with her head. Learn from Vivian—she's got a real heart." That night, our daughter passed away. Later, Vivian posted on social media: [Finally taking that couples' trip someone promised me!] I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just texted Liam: [We're done.]

When my husband, Drake Connor, posted a photo of me on social media, this random woman mistook me for his mistress. She confronted me in the street, a baby in her arms and a crowd of relatives and friends in tow, ready to teach me a lesson. "You shameless tramp! How dare you seduce my husband! "I’ll beat you to death, you disgusting woman!" The crowd beat me, smashed my car, and ripped my clothes. I left that encounter bruised and battered, suffering a concussion and a fractured arm. In the end, I called the police and demanded justice. I had a divorce agreement drawn up and threw it in Drake's face. "If it weren’t for me, you’d be begging in the streets! And now you dare to hide a woman and child from me? "Get out! Don’t expect a penny from me!"

At the Luna Ceremony, my mate—Alpha Ares Grant—appears at the altar with his lover in his arms. He disdainfully throws the Snow Wolf hide, which has been enshrined on the altar, onto the muddy ground. It's something my mother left for me before she died, and it's also a sacred relic passed down through generations of the Moonriver pack. Legend says that if one's mate personally drapes this wolf hide over their shoulders, they will live in harmony and be granted a blessed future. For three years, this is the moment I had been waiting for. The next moment, he turns and places the Luna's Crown on Arthene Smith's head. "I swear on the Moon Goddess that Estella is impure, disloyal, and a fraud. I refuse to accept such a filthy she-wolf as my mate. From now on, my Luna is the pure Arthene, and nothing else," he says. I stare at the scene before me in disbelief and sorrow. "Ares, I'm your fated mate, your one and only Luna—" A heavy slap lands fiercely on my face. Ares strikes me down from the altar. The moment I tumble down the steps, I hear his cold, bone-chilling voice say, "You think a whore like you is worthy of being the Luna?"

The day before Chris Carter and I were supposed to get engaged, my parents sent me to prison. Three years later, when I was finally released, Chris was the only one who came to pick me up. I knew he despised me. I trembled, keeping my head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But he blocked my path, frowning. “Emily York? You stink.” He pinched his nose and told me to get in the car. I fell to my knees, desperately begging him not to take me home. If he did, I would die. He looked at me with chilling indifference and said, “Then go ahead and die.” I agreed. But later, he cried and begged me to stay alive.

When my boyfriend, Sebastian Passini, comes to me in tears, claiming his famiglia has been crippled and backed into a corner, I put everything my famiglia has at stake to pave the way for him. I withstand immense pressure from my famiglia, divert four million dollars, deploy our most elite soldati, and even fall out with my Madre, all to protect him. Yet, on the eve of his "counterattack," I stumble upon his true colors in my famiglia's underground chamber. Angelina Aureli chuckles beside him. "To swallow the Valerini famiglia whole, you put on a fine performance. Are you really going to sit back and watch Isabella hand over her famiglia's foundation to you?" Sebastian sneers, "Why else would I call her a fool? Her trust—and the Valerinis' resources—are nothing but stepping stones for me to rise to the top. Once I have everything in my hands, she and that old hag are dead!" I fish out my phone and revoke the final tranche of resources I had reserved for Sebastian. I should have known from the very beginning. He and I have never been on the same path. He wants plunder and destruction, and I'll make him pay for his greed in blood.

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

The medical laboratory explodes one day, and Celia Lumley and I are stuck in the fire together. My boyfriend, Xaiden Seager, gives up on me and chooses to save her first. I don't stop or beg him—I allow him to leave me in the fire. In my past life, I used my identity as the dean's daughter and the threat of Xaiden's future to force him to save me. Celia died in the fire. Later, he took over my family's inheritance and locked me in the laboratory. I was almost due for labor, but he still set a fire and burned me and our child to death. When I begged him to let me go, he laughed cruelly and said, "If not for you threatening me with your family, Celia would never have died such a horrible death! I'll make you suffer the pain she did in a hundredfold, Winifred Zalmer!" When I open my eyes again, I discover that I'm back to the day Celia and I get caught in that fire.

On the night of my 30th birthday, I waited until the early hours of the morning, but my husband, Theodore Hawk never showed up. Instead, I came across an Instagram post from his childhood sweetheart, Emily Gallagher. [What romantic is not the starry night, it is having you by my side.] In the picture, she was wearing a delicate, sky-blue camisole that revealed just enough to charm and seduce. A man stood close behind her, his hand firmly gripping her waist. The scene was set in the seaside villa that Theodore had gifted her, their figures intimately entwined under the soft glow of the night. Someone had commented beneath the post: [I can’t stand you two being this lovey-dovey all the time! Just get married already!] Emily had responded with a shy-face emoji. I had just liked the post when Theodore, who I had failed to reach all night, blew up my phone with calls. "Are you out of your mind, Camilla? Emi and I grew up together! If we wanted to be together, we would’ve done so long ago! Why are you being so petty?" Looking at how Theodore gently held her in his arms, comforting her, I realized something. Letting go of someone you’ve loved for seven years... can take only a moment.