charmaineglorymae

|COMPLETED| Highest rank #15 in Fantasy. It was not too long when she was declared as the new member of the Elites. Marami siyang kailangan matutunan para makahabol sa Elites. But this time another mystery will prevail. She will know about the prophecy who will save the entire race of the universe. A new adventure will experience and a secret will be uncovered as they seek to uncover the myth. Book 2 na pi ito ng Universe of Four Gods, kung hindi niyo pa po nababasa ang ika-una please, basahin niyo po muna bago ito. Thank You!

|COMPLETED| Highest rank # 11 in Fantasy. The truth was prevailed. She's not her father's daughter. Pero mas lalong magpapagulo sa lahat ang sitwasyon ng Elite ang pagdating ng bagong myembro. How would Snow keep on things she treasured for long time. And how will she face the final battle who was thousand of years started? Kung hindi mo pa nababasa ang book 1 and 2 please pakibasa po muna. Malilito lang po kayo dahil continuation na po ito. Started: August 2017

This is the final installment of the Universe Series. All hell broke loose when Clad was fallen into the depths of despair as his heart was broken by the truth. Snow was shouldering the biggest responsibility that was turned on her. The war between the good and evil. The war between both Gods. Which will prevail? The Good or the Bad? The story is Taglish.

Her name is Snow. Her life is Almost like a fairytale. Though the only difference is, she is no princess, she has no castle. But she has a ruthless evil stepmother and two evil stepsister who always mistreat her. Snow doesn't have any idea who was her mother since she was forbid to know her past. But what if one day, she will discover something unbelievable that will make her life change forever? Is she going to embrace the change? Or live her miserable life forever? This is a new story still fantasy with MAGIC with a touch of Cinderella life story, though I said snow white dahil sobrang ganda ni Snow! chos! Pero syempre, sino ba ang may ayaw ng sobrang gandang bida diba? fufufufufu, sana tangkilin niyo ang bagong serye ko since it will the story will revolve with kakemehan at kakiligan hahaha. yan lang po. Caio!

Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart.

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

My fiancé, tech CEO Cohen Burgess, took me to the city's most exclusive restaurant for our three-year anniversary. Then his high school sweetheart, Kiera, reappeared, claiming amnesia. To help her "recover," Cohen started a viral "100 Dates Challenge" with her, turning their reunion into a national spectacle. I became the villain in their love story. When I objected, Cohen locked me in a wine cellar, knowing my severe claustrophobia. He let Kiera wear my deceased mother's priceless dress, and when she deliberately tore it, he tossed his credit card at me and told me to buy a new one. I finally decided to leave, only to overhear his true plan: he would marry me for my family's status, but keep Kiera as his mistress. I was never his love; I was a beautiful, high-class tool for his ambition. The final act came when Kiera set my room on fire and framed me. Cohen screamed I was a psycho and left me to burn. As the roof collapsed, a stranger kicked down the door. He carried me from the inferno and said, "I'm Case Browning. Your husband."

I woke up after five years in a coma, a miracle, the doctors said. The last thing I remembered was pushing my husband, Derek, out of the way of an oncoming truck. I saved him. But a week later, at the county clerk's office, I discovered a death certificate filed two years ago. My parents' names were on it. And then, Derek's signature. My husband, the man I saved, had declared me dead. Shock turned to a hollow numbness. I returned to our home, only to find Anjelica Hardin, the woman who caused the crash, living there. She kissed Derek, casually, familiarly. My son, Errol, called her "Mommy." My parents, Alva and Glyn, defended her, saying she was "one of the family now." They wanted me to forgive, to forget, to understand. They wanted me to share my husband, my son, my life, with the woman who had stolen it all. My own son, the child I had carried and loved, screamed, "I want her to go away! Go away! That's my mommy!" pointing at Anjelica. I was an outsider, a ghost haunting their happy new life. My awakening wasn't a miracle; it was an inconvenience. I had lost everything: my husband, my child, my parents, my very identity. But then, a call from Zurich. A new identity. A new life. Catherine Anderson was dead. And I would live only for myself.

My company, Innovate, was my life' s work, built from the ground up with my boyfriend, Caleb, over ten years. We were college sweethearts, a golden couple, and our biggest deal, a $50 million contract with Apex Ventures, was finally closing. Then, a sudden wave of nausea hit me, and I fainted, only to wake up in a hospital. When I returned to the office, my keycard was denied, my access revoked, and my photo, defaced with an "X," was in the trash. Krystal Schroeder, a young intern Caleb had hired, was sitting at my desk, acting like the new Chief of Operations. She announced loudly that "non-essential personnel" were to stay clear, looking directly at me. Caleb, the man who had promised me the world, stood by, his face cold and indifferent. He dismissed my pregnancy, calling it a distraction, and put me on mandatory leave. I saw a tube of Krystal' s bright red lipstick on Caleb' s desk, the same shade I' d seen on his collar. The pieces clicked: the late nights, the "business dinners," his sudden obsession with his phone-it was all a lie. They had been planning this for months. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a stranger. But I wouldn' t let them take everything. I told Caleb I was leaving, but not without my full share of the company, valued at the post-Apex funding price. I also reminded him that the core algorithm, the one Apex was investing in, was patented in my name alone. I walked out, pulling out my phone to call the one person I never thought I would: Easton Jensen, my fiercest rival.

The last thing I remember is my fiancé, Ethan, swerving the car. I woke up in a hospital, my head throbbing, to the sound of his voice in the hallway. He was telling his doctor friend to harvest my kidney for his other woman, Chloe. Since I was in a coma, he said, my consent wasn't necessary. When I woke up, my kidney was gone. Ethan claimed it ruptured in the crash. A lie. He then forced me to become Chloe's personal blood bank, donating twice when she needed transfusions. He framed me for sending her death threats, having me paraded out of my apartment in handcuffs for the media. At a charity gala, Chloe whispered that the "herbal supplements" she gave me years ago were to cause my miscarriage. Then she threw herself down a short flight of stairs and screamed that I pushed her. Ethan didn't even ask. He just looked at me with pure hatred and accused me of attacking a pregnant woman. That was the moment the last bit of love I had for him died. I fumbled for my phone and called his biggest rival, Noah Hayes. "Are you still looking for a COO who knows all of Ethan's secrets?" I asked, my voice shaking. "And perhaps... a wife?"

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear.

I' d finally done it. My resignation letter officially landed on Mr. Henderson' s expensive mahogany desk, putting a ruthless period on years of being Ethan Cole' s secret convenience. But freedom was fleeting. Isabella, his fiancée and my tormentor, summoned me to Ethan' s TriBeCa penthouse, wielding an old, whimsical sketch of mine like a weapon, then slapped me clean across the face. Ethan arrived, and instead of defending me, he smoothed Isabella' s perfect, glistening fake tears, dismissing me as someone who "meant nothing" -just "a release." Emboldened, Isabella snatched my portfolio, spilling my architectural dreams-designs for community centers-and pouring red wine directly onto them, staining my future crimson. Ethan then tossed a wad of cash at my feet, his voice flat: "For the dry cleaning. Now get out." I stumbled out into the New York downpour, each raindrop a tiny hammer pounding home the gut-wrenching humiliation of being so utterly worthless to the man I' d loved. How could he, the center of my naive world, watch as my dignity and dreams were drowned in wine, then casually toss money as if I were a broken possession? But in that deepest moment of despair, something snapped. I was done being their discarded convenience, their emotional punching bag; I would disappear and rebuild a life where my peace wasn' t for sale, no matter what it took.

After two years of brutal IVF treatments, I finally held a positive pregnancy test in my hand. I was the brains behind our billion-dollar tech company, and this baby was meant to be my greatest joint venture with my husband, Harden. Then an anonymous text arrived. It was a video of Harden kissing an Instagram model, his hand high on her thigh. A second text followed: a bank statement showing he'd stolen millions from our company to pay for her. I decided to go to the company gala and use my pregnancy to save us. But his mistress, Celine, showed up first, also claiming to be pregnant. In front of everyone, my mother-in-law embraced her, calling her the true mother of the next heir. She gave Celine the family necklace she had refused to let me wear on my own wedding day. Later, Celine shoved me. I fell, and a searing pain shot through my abdomen. I was bleeding on the ground, losing our miracle baby. I begged Harden for help. He glanced at me, annoyed. "Stop being so dramatic," he said, before turning his back to comfort his mistress. But as my world went dark, another man ran to my side. My biggest rival, Atticus Rios. He was the one who scooped me into his arms and raced me to the hospital. When I woke up, the baby gone and my world in ashes, he was still there. He looked at me and made an offer. An alliance. A chance to take everything from the men who wronged us and burn their empires to the ground.