"Sometimes in tragedy we find our life's true purpose." Sometimes tragedy do define true love. "There were some tragedies that never should have happened but did." Dedicated to those that fell a victim to tragic love.
"Sometimes in tragedy we find our life's true purpose." Sometimes tragedy do define true love. "There were some tragedies that never should have happened but did." Dedicated to those that fell a victim to tragic love.
I stood on the balcony of my house holding her picture with her blood stain still on it. My wife Stephanie was playing with our daughter Amoy downstairs. I was watching them from the balcony not until I brought out the picture and the past filled my mind making no room for the present.
I looked at her picture and it all began to reoccur in my mind again. The blood stain on the picture made me shed soft tears.
"She never deserved to die." I would always say. My mind flashed back as I gazed at her smiling visage in the picture; I could remember everything. It all happened 20 years ago but it was still like 20 days ago to me. I was 17 years old when it all happened, I was still a very young boy then but I actually became a man during those periods.
I flashed my mind back to the events of yesterday, the time I stood on the altar with my wife, Stephanie. I flashed it back again to the day I woke up in a hospital recovery room in Santiago de Cuba with no sound heard except the one from the beeping monitor and the rotating ceiling fan. I flashed it back to the incident that led me to the hospital and I stopped on the day it all started.
It was on Sunday, 2nd day of May 1999. I was a young boy then. A young boy of about four and a half feet tall. I had a baby face and I was blessed (I guess that what some will call it) with a gap teeth that always made me pretty whenever I opened it. Most people called me prince charming and some ladies thought I was gorgeous.
That Sunday, I appeared in a suit matched with a tie. I looked so handsome and innocent. You could say I was a responsible child judging by my outfit but believe me, I wasn't like how I appeared that Sunday. I wasn't in my real form that Sunday; you can call it a cover up or a disguise but I was up to something that Sunday, something that led to my transformation, something that changed my whole life.
I was a boy who followed bad gangs. I was a boy who stole from his father. I was a boy who never greeted his elders but preferred insulting them. I was a headache to my parents. You could call me a spoilt brat then but it wasn't a new name to me especially in my school. In all those bad behaviors of mine, there was one which I could call the worst of it all now, I was a misogynist.
To me then, all women were a mistake except for my close relations even though I valued them a little lesser especially my granny but for my mom, I think she is a special woman unique from others. As I was saying, I was a boy who thought of marriage as a sin and boyfriend and girlfriend act as an act of stupidity performed by most of the youths. I was a boy who thought of women like pests and worms. I was a boy whom you will find unbelievable. I am PETER CHIBUIKE JOSHUA.
She was born into wealth, bred for perfection, and promised to a man she never loved. But hours before her engagement, Serena Vales vanished, chasing a name hidden in a sealed envelope: Richard Calhoun. In Detroit, she uncovered her mother's greatest secret, that Richard, not Simon Vales, is her real father. But across the ocean, another truth awaits, one Richard buried long ago, a truth powerful enough to shake the future of the automotive world. And the last man she expected to follow her? Alexander Ford. Billionaire. Heir. Liar. And the only man who ever made her heart race and her world burn. Now the empire is crumbling. The past is catching fire. And love might just be the deadliest secret of them all. "If you run, they'll find you. If you stay, they'll destroy you. So tell me, Serena... who do you trust?" Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."
Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.
Everyone whispered about how Alexander's aunt had forced him into marrying Freya. When the old woman passed and his former love drifted back into town, people watched closely and expected Freya to be brushed aside. Freya shrugged. "Truth be told, I am eager for that day to come." They mocked her for it. Yet everything flipped when Alexander posted something that spread like wildfire. "For everyone asking, I am not ending this marriage. Not now, not ever." Freya stared at the screen, puzzled. What was he trying to pull now?
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"
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