Maui

After I was diagnosed with infertility, my husband insisted on divorcing me, but Makenna stopped him. She said: "You can't lose out on the wedding gifts you spent to marry her; why not sell her and recoup some of your investment?" So, Makenna sold me off into the mountains, where I endured humiliation and was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had returned to the time before I was trafficked. In this new life, I would no longer tolerate it; instead, I sold Makenna out.

I spent a year hiding my lethal skills behind the stiff polyester uniform of a hotel butler. To the world, I’m just Betsey Madden, a "charity case" scrubbing floors at The Elysium to solve the mystery of my mother’s suspicious death. On the anniversary of her passing, my manager decided to humiliate me by assigning me to the Penthouse to serve Celestino Franklin, a billionaire known as the "Butcher of Wall Street" who supposedly eats staff for breakfast. When I stepped into the suite, I found the pristine white carpet stained with fresh blood and a wounded man lunging at me from the shadows. I didn't scream; I instinctively dropped into a combat stance I hadn't used since my days as a shadow operative in Vienna, pinning the billionaire before he could even blink. I had to choose between letting him bleed out or revealing that I was far more than a girl who folds napkins for minimum wage. I chose to save him, stitching his gunshot wound with a surgical precision that no ordinary servant should ever possess. As he gripped my wrist, the air turned cold. He didn't smell like a typical CEO; he carried the sharp scent of sandalwood and expensive scotch—the exact, intoxicating aroma of the man from the nightmares I’ve had since the night my mother died. "You have good hands," he rasped, his storm-gray eyes seeing right through my pale foundation and fake exhaustion. "You're wasting them on silver polish." I realized then that my cover wasn't just blown; it was the bait that had finally caught the monster I was looking for. I came to this hotel to find a killer, but I never expected my prime suspect to be the man now demanding I become his personal shadow. The hunt for the truth just turned into a deadly dance with a predator who knows exactly who I am, and I’m not leaving until I find out if he’s my savior or my mother's murderer.

For ten years, I was the secret girlfriend of my billionaire boss, Arthur. When my mother needed an emergency $50,000 surgery to save her life, I went to him, believing he would help. He coldly refused, citing "company policy" and sending me to his executive assistant, Deanne. She deliberately delayed the loan application. My mother died. When I confronted him, I found him with Deanne, who was wearing a dress he'd bought for me. He didn't just side with her-he fired me on the spot. He called me a gold digger and a slut in front of the entire office. I later learned Deanne had spent a decade sabotaging my career and withholding my bonuses, ensuring I'd never have the money to be independent. And Arthur had let her. But they underestimated me. As I walked out of that office for the last time, I made a call to the one man who had silently protected me for years. And when he answered, he didn't just offer me the money. He offered me a new life.

My world shattered the moment my husband, Christian, chose the woman who killed our stillborn child over me. He didn't just abandon me in my grief. He threatened to release our intimate videos unless I dropped all charges against her. His cruelty escalated into a living nightmare. He pushed me down the stairs. He forced me to drink a cocktail he knew could kill me. Then, completely blinded by his new lover' s lies, he had me kidnapped and taken to a remote estate. Tied up and gagged, I watched as he took a whip to my back, believing I was just some nameless maid who had wronged his precious new woman. He didn't even recognize his own wife. In that moment, the man I loved was replaced by a monster. As I lay broken and bleeding, I made a vow. I would survive this. I would escape. And I would make him see the truth before I destroyed him completely.

I was the architect of my husband's billion-dollar tech empire, but he repaid me by bringing his mistress to our son's funeral-the very woman whose negligence killed him. To protect her, he had me committed, tortured, and then burned every last memory of our son, systematically erasing our past. Then I discovered he'd secretly divorced me years ago, so I faked my own death and gave the source code to his rival, ready to watch his world burn to the ground.

For ten years, Olivia Hayes was my universe. As an astrophysicist, I understood the vastness of space, but she was my sun, the center of my gravity, for whom I even gave up career opportunities. Our wedding day was meant to be the culmination of our decade-long love. But the day before our wedding, searching for a photo album, I stumbled upon a shoebox filled with letters and recent photos confirming her ongoing affair with Liam, her high school ex. My meticulously built life crumbled, revealing I was nothing more than a "safety net," a "formality." The next day, a ghost at my own wedding, I watched as Liam crashed the ceremony, publicly declared his "love" for Olivia, and then shoved me, breaking my leg. Olivia, instead of rushing to my aid, accused me of making a scene and left with Liam, prioritizing his fake panic attack over my real injury. In the hospital, she ignored my calls, then chastised me for needing her, demanding I give her my grandmother's ring for Liam's "peace of mind." She stole it while I was recovering. She then audaciously invited me to a "getting back on track" family BBQ, a cruel public spectacle where Liam played the happy host. There, she threatened to ruin my reputation if I didn't play along. She chased me to my hotel, attempting a desperate seduction, but when Liam called, her true priority became clear. She rushed to his side again, leaving me heartbroken and alone. Olivia, in a twisted display, held a "makeup wedding" where Liam, not me, was the groom. He shoved me again, breaking my leg a second time, and Olivia, with icy fury, had me thrown out. The security guard, though sympathetic, delivered the final blow: a note from me, leaving her with the words: "I loved you. Goodbye." She eventually found me in Chile, begging, but faced with my calm finality and another woman by my side, her illusion shattered. She spiraled into abandonment, ultimately consumed by her own web of deceit, while I found peace under the clear Chilean stars.

Three weeks after Mark informed me his "ideal woman" Sarah was moving in, forcing me out, I returned to our house for one thing: the divorce papers his lawyer drafted. As I fumbled for keys I no longer had, heavy, uneven footsteps sounded behind me, a low, slurred muttering growing closer. I pounded on the door, screaming for Mark and our son, Ethan, but through the peephole, Ethan' s shadow moved, then his voice came, muffled and cold: "Go away. You're scaring Sarah." My blood ran cold as my own son chose a stranger' s comfort over my safety, a drunken attacker' s hand clamped down on my shoulder. I screamed, fought, and tumbled onto the lawn, only to hear Ethan tell Mark on the phone, "Mom is making a scene… she's scaring Sarah!" Mark rushed past me, shivering and disheveled, to comfort Sarah, who stood draped in my robe, her face buried in Ethan' s shoulder. He then rounded on me, disgusted: "Look at you, Ava. Making a scene in the middle of the night. You woke Sarah up. She was terrified." They stood united, demanding I apologize to the woman who replaced me, for the crime of being assaulted on my own doorstep, as I realized my phone was dead, useless to call for help. When Sarah offered me peanut butter cookies, knowing about my life-threatening allergy, and Mark merely stared, impatient, without a flicker of recognition, the quiet truth dawned: he didn't remember, or worse, he didn't care. The man who once promised to always be my protector was gone, replaced by a cold stranger, eager for me to sign away our life so he could care for his new love. In that moment of profound betrayal, something shifted inside me. I signed the papers, then looked at Ethan: "I'm going to need to make a statement to the police. I'll need to use your phone." No longer fighting for a husband who despised me or a son who saw me as an inconvenience, I spoke to the police, then blocked Mark and Ethan' s numbers, cutting the last ties.

I clutched the heavy trophy, validation for placing first at the International "Le Cordon Bleu" Grand Prix, a win that felt like the culmination of a lifelong dream. It was our fifth anniversary, and I couldn't wait to surprise Olivia with both the trophy and the Sterling Corporation contract-a multi-million dollar deal that would secure our future. But when I pushed through the restaurant doors, the festive buzz hit me first, then the sight of Olivia on a makeshift stage, her hand intertwined with Mark' s, my long-time mentor. Her amplified voice cut through the air: "…and I owe it all to one person… Mark!" The roar of applause, then Mark's lips on hers, a full, lingering kiss, right there in front of everyone. My world tilted. When Olivia finally noticed me, her smile faltered for a mere second, replaced by a cool annoyance. "Ethan," she flatly stated, "You' re back. This isn' t a good time." Mark smirked, wearing my head chef' s jacket, confirming my deepest fears. The contract I' d just secured was scoffed at, called "naive." How could she? The woman I loved, the partner I built everything with, dismissed me as "incompetent," her betrayal a physical blow. The humiliation burned, a hot, sharp thing in my throat. I stood there, reeling, the echoes of their mocking laughter ringing in my ears. But that was the moment everything changed. The pristine pages of the Sterling contract tore with a satisfying rip as I shredded it into pieces, letting them flutter to her feet like fallen snow. I walked out of that restaurant, turning my back on five years of my life, picking up the phone to call the one man who could help me reclaim my future: my father.

The cold steel of a knife slid between my ribs, and the last thing I remember was the shock on my best friend Wendy' s face – not that I was dying, but that she needed the perfect angle for her livestream. She narrated my demise, blaming me for trying to sleep with a trucker, her voice sickly excited as notifications pinged with hateful comments like "Serves her right" and "Stupid slut." I died on the dirty floor of a truck cabin, my blood pooling around me, smeared as a whore, utterly betrayed by the person I trusted most. My last breath was a gasp of disbelief, wondering how I could have been so blind to her jealousy and malice. Then, I gasped again, only this time the air was clean, not thick with diesel and blood, and I was back in my law firm's breakroom, staring at a saccharine-smiling Wendy, who was about to propose the very trip that led to my murder.

I stood on the manicured lawn of a Newport mansion, celebrating my fourth anniversary with my wife, Sabrina, convinced of our love despite her family' s snobbery. Then I heard her mother' s voice, clear as a bell, speaking of Sabrina marrying her ex-boyfriend, Ryan. Her brother, James, sneered that our marriage was "just a front," and Sabrina' s small, demure smile confirmed the horrific truth. My world shattered as Sabrina looked me in the eye, not with regret, but with cold irritation, telling me I didn' t belong and was embarrassing her. "You' re pathetic," James spat, laughing when I calmly stated I owned the very mansion we stood in, the anonymous investor "E.L." they all sought. Sabrina' s fury flashed as she accused me of ridiculous lies, her mother claiming I was jeopardizing a major deal, all while they planned to marry her off to Ryan. The humiliation was suffocating when Ryan shoved me, condescendingly telling me to "stick around" and learn. Tears welled in Sabrina' s eyes, not for me, but for herself, as she whispered she had truly been "saving herself for Ryan." How could she say she loved me just last night, only to betray me like this? Fine. They wanted a show, I' d give them one – a reveal that would obliterate their entire world.

My husband Michael was back, or so he said, but our home was a stage for a hollow play, thick with things he refused to acknowledge. Months ago, I found a secret folder on his laptop: "Sanctuary." Inside, years of emails and poems to his graduate student, Olivia, called her his "kindred spirit," labeling our life together "mundane." I'd also found them at a restaurant. When I confronted them, Olivia dramatically faked an injury, and Michael's sycophant colleague violently shoved me, cracking my head against the wall. Michael, the man I'd helped build, rushed only to Olivia's side while I bled. He later spun it, calling me "melodramatic," and his family blamed me for his affair, demanding I apologize to the mistress. The audacity choked me. This wasn't merely betrayal; it was a complete dismantling of our history, casting me as the villain. Something inside me snapped, not with a bang, but with a cold, quiet click. I took the most damning emails from "Sanctuary"-where he belittled me and confessed his "true love" for her-and anonymously sent them to the university, igniting a war Michael never saw coming.

"Please don't do this. You will regret it." He cried loudly as I threw him on the bed and hovered above him. He was struggling to free himself from my cage but couldn't as his legs and hands were tied to the ropes. "This beauty is under me; I would love to ruin it." I caressed his cheek with my knuckles and then travelled my fingers to his neck and then to his collarbone. I held his shirt and pulled it with such force that it got torn, and his naked chest was visible to me. I smirked at my sight and attacked his collarbone. "Ahhhh..." He screamed and then cried, "Please leave me." I was biting and licking his collarbone, and he was crying continuously and trying to stop me by moving himself. "Slap". I got irritated, and slapped him, and said angrily, "If you spoil my mood, then someone else will suffer the punishment for your mistake." Hearing me, his eyes widened. He turned his head to one side and pursed his lips to stop his crying sound. I chuckled at my win and then leaned against his chest. ************************************** Alex Kelly (AK) is the smoking hot CEO of a very big company who is ruthless and heartless. He is also a mafia king who has no emotion left in his heart, and very few people know about it as no one has seen him as a mafia boss. He is known by his name, Mafia King AK. He is a devil in human form. He has only one aim in life: revenge by killing the man and his family who killed his parents. He doesn't believe in love; for him, love makes humans weak. Steve Martin is a doctor and works as a general surgeon in the biggest hospital in the city. He is sweet, kind, and full of positive vibes. He has never dated anyone, first because of his studies and now because of his job. He hates the mafia because of his past and never wants to encounter them in life. He left his family and lived his life by himself. But what will happen when he catches the eye of the mafia? What will happen when the mafia wants him at any cost? And when will his past stand with a sword at his throat? Will he be able to survive the upcoming danger and find his love?

Blaze Arden Vaughn is an heir of a huge empire, an ace student of medical faculty, very handsome, sweet and nice. His name signifies fire but his heart is as cold as ice. Ace Daxton Anderson is a known 'one night stand' guy and a bi. A gang leader who won't back down from a gang fight and is not afraid to be bruised just to prove his point. They are both in the same university but they have their own territory and never knew each other's existence. Until the day that the Ice Prince fixed his cold gaze on the very hot gang leader on the field. "You want me that bad...that your eyes are screaming it out loud..." Blaze announced with his challenging tone and a calm smile, making Ace's jaw clenched while their gazes locked. "I can smell your desire even from afar..." Blaze continued with a very subtle smirk, making Ace grit his teeth. "Who would not...you are Blaze Arden Vaughn...the epitome of perfection...everybody's dream guy" Ace sarcastically responded, a smirk grazed his lips. His jaw clenching in annoyance not with Blaze but with himself. "So Ace Anderson, want to try, a Blaze Arden Vaughn for tonight?" Blaze smirked as he casually ask, making the grim face of the gang leader looked stunned and dumbfounded. A one night stand offered by the cold and distant Blaze Arden Vaughn, just one night of pleasure… one night of curiosity.

After I was diagnosed with infertility, my husband insisted on divorcing me, but Makenna stopped him. She said: "You can't lose out on the wedding gifts you spent to marry her; why not sell her and recoup some of your investment?" So, Makenna sold me off into the mountains, where I endured humiliation and was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had returned to the time before I was trafficked. In this new life, I would no longer tolerate it; instead, I sold Makenna out.

Watching Angela walk off through the club, Adam couldn't help but notice what a fantastic ass she had. Not just curvy, but the kind of J-Lo bubble butt a man wanted to cup with his hands. The kind of cheeks a man could get a solid grip on as he pounded into her. Shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat, he turned his attention back to his friends to find they were all staring at him. "What?" "What was with the power play man?" Rick asked, looking at Adam a little askance. "You don't usually pull tricks like that. I would have expected it from Chris but not from you." "Hey," said Chris. "I was perfectly polite to the lady." Rick rolled his eyes. "Mostly." All three of them looked at Adam, even Andrew who normally didn't get involved in the interrogate-your-friends sessions. Since he didn’t like to talk about his own issues, he rarely got involved in trying to talk about others’. The fact that Adam's actions had aroused even Andrew's curiosity meant he'd been less subtle than he’d thought.

Sebastian Miller a well known boy in his university, some nickname him a "comic handsome guy" because of his talent that everyone want to have, a good singer, dancing, arts, even in sports, captain in basketball at highschool and he's now a 3rd year college student. Some even says that 'he's probably out of this world' or 'a comic did really exist and Sebastian proved it' but what happen if he encounter a werewolf and a vampire at the same time? not just meet but these two fall in love with him. who would he pick a werewolf Ethan 'Uno' Ferrer? or a vampire Aziel Ezra?, Sebastian Miller life is an indeed comic.

Jimmy Stevenson is trapped in a strange club created by his friends, they will gather every Friday after returning from college to discuss paranormal stories. To be honest, he prefers to practice soccer instead of doing this. But his heart immediately stopped pounding when he offered to summon Bloody Mary, while what appeared was a figure who took his heart instantly. From there, Jimmy who is called "The no-nonsense man", begins to try to attract the spirit's attention and is rejected time and time again with scenarios that are sometimes very stupid and sometimes too scary, sometimes disgusting. But what he realized was that by summoning the spirit, his soul was sucked out and it shortened his lifespan. Fighting the approaching death and his love for the non-human being, he must find a way or a hole so Jimmy can get both; his age and the spirit he loves. This is his journey of love.

The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, David, was in an accident. At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife. When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?" He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry. It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure. I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper." Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her. "She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed. He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle." My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed. "Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe. Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone. My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break." My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away. A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do. When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"

Francis Beaumont: Dramatist by Charles Mills Gayley

Avalynn Grimaldi and Nicole Bonavich didn't realised that they were about to be married off because of their parents promise to each other. Since both family doesn't have male heir, their first born were force to sign the marriage contract their parents had set up for them. How can two person that hated each other to the core be joint in a holy matrimony? Will they do something to break free from the contract they were tricked to sign? Read to find out.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 Excerpt: ...loss of humanity. Henceforth she must deal with realities, leaving him to his painted mummery.... She could understand his frenzy, his fury, his despair. \"That will do, Charles,\" she said very quietly. \"I will see what can be done about Mr. Clott, and whatever happens I will see that you are not harmed.... If you like, you can dine with Verschoyle and me tonight. You can come home with me now, while I dress. I am to meet him at the Carlton and then we are going on to the Opera.\" \"Does Verschoyle know?\" \"He knows that you are you and that I am I---that is all he cares about.... He is a good man. If people must have too much money, he is the right man to have it. He would never let a man down for want of money--if the man was worth it.\" \"Ah!\" said Charles, reassured. This was like the old Clara speaking, but with more assurance, a more certain knowledge and less bewildering intuition and guess-work. A Few weeks later, with Verschoyle and a poor relation of his, a Miss Vibart Withers, for chaperone, Clara left London in a 60 h.p. Fiat, which voraciously ate up the Bath Road at the rate of a mile every minute and a half.... It was good to be out of the thick heat of London, invaded by foreigners and provincials and turned into a city of pleasure and summer-frocks, so that its normal life was submerged, its character hidden. The town became as lazy and drowsy a spectacle as a field of poppies over which danced gay and brilliant butterflies. Very sweet was it then to turn away from it, and all that was happening in it, to the sweet air and to fly along between green fields and orchards, through little towns, at intervals to cross the Thames and to feel that with each crossing London lay so much farther away. Henle...