maxinelicious

"Stand there, it's your art", said ante sakin and held my arm then stood up ... I have done nothing because I have no right ... "I'm sorry sir zayn, faith is so lazy, don't worry, faith will do whatever you want", ante smiled at that zayn ... I looked at the one named zayn and I saw that he was also looking at me and smiling at me ... but what I noticed were his eyes looking at my body ... I immediately covered the parts of my body that he was looking at..and begged him with my eyes .... "Don't cover your body sweetie, your body is just perfect for me", he said rudely to me..and smiled too ... I was just terrified because his eyes were full of desire looking at me .... So I immediately went behind ante and hid..I don't want to see that rude man, he's scary ... But instead of ante and trisha helping me, they left in front of the man and Trisha pulled my hair and brought it closer to that zayn .... "Hey don't be artistic you're not beautiful, so get organized", trisha shouted at me and she let me go ... "Please be patient, Faith is a bit shy, but she's strong in bed", ante said fondly to zayn ... I just cried over what I saw and I didn't know what to do .... I felt zayn stand up and hold my arm but only weakly, so I looked at him .. His eyes had no emotion so I got up and adjusted my clothes ... Zayn signaled to his colleague to give the brief case to kila ante which contained the money ... Ante immediately took it and opened it, I saw how bright ante and trisha's eyes were ... "I think we're done here, so we must go now", zayn said without emotion and turned their backs on them ante .. I was taken by one of his bodyguards and put in his car when we arrived here .... I just came because eventually they will also evict me ante ... and maybe it's also right that they sold me ... I just cried because of what they did ...

Mira-belle Silang is an er*tic writer. With regard to writing erotic literature, who would have thought that he has no experience with s **? In her 28 years of existence, she has never been touched, kissed, or been in a relationship. Since she was reared in an orphanage by a nun. How can a woman with no experience in s*x create literature -the ultimate man is obsessed with her work? Meet Amir Kantz, a man with a golden spoon in his mouth who hired a private detective to find out who wrote the er*tic book he's reading so he could get an autograph. after the detective found out the author of the book he immediately give this information to his boss and tell even the personal life of the Author. Amir Kantz was surprised after for what detective was said .He didn't even believe that the author of this er*tic book has an imagination like the contents of the story. Until he think the impossible thing in his mind ,this is how he can get Mira-belle Silang and own it.

The surroundings are noisy as I make my way home, umbrella in hand, I hurry to shore up the potholed road as the children run. The rain is getting stronger but the people here don't care about the approaching typhoon. They continue to rush down the road. Most of the ones I see are gambling on one side, on the other side drinking while singing. In other words, it's like a fiesta here where I live. I closed the umbrella before going home. But what appeared to me again was the mother holding a card. They gamble here inside the house with gossips like him, I put the umbrella behind the door. I haven't even gotten far from my mother calling my name. "Natasha!" I looked at my mother who was in the living room, I heard the heavy rain while waiting for what she had to say. "Yes?" "Come here!" I sighed and approached the mother, when I was at her side she easily extended her palm. "Give me money!" "Yes?" ”Are you deaf now, Natasha? Aren't you now getting paid at the bakery!” "Yes mother, but I will sell this medicine to father.." "I'll buy it, mine!" I didn't want to hand the money to my mother, she was dealt a card and I knew that my hard work could only be lost in two weeks. "Don't worry, I'll buy it from outside.." he gave me a bad look, at this time I knew there was nothing I could do. ”Are you bossing me around this house, Natasha!” "N-not like that, mother.." "Then give him your money!" I felt bad when I snatched more than three thousand from my old bag. I cried when I handed it to mom as I felt hunger in my stomach. "Is this all?" "O-opo.." my voice screamed. "Oh, he is! There are vegetables in the kitchen, cook them and feed them to your father first!" My body is heavy when I turn my back on my mother, in this house I am the first born. It's not just the firstborn, the cook, the laundress and the cleanliness of the surroundings. At the age of seventeen, the word social did not resonate with me. I scratch not for myself, but also for my family that I don't know if they consider me family. "Sister!" the youngest girl came up to me, smiling. ”Did you buy me slippers?” I nodded at this, smiling slightly. ”Yes, it is on the side of the door. Just take it..” "Yes!" he happily ran out, I headed to the table where the wrapped mixed vegetables were. After a while, my youngest brother screamed again, he entered the kitchen. "Sister, this is not what I want!" twelve year old chloe grumbled. I was only able to buy a simple slipper because I only fit it in my closet earlier, I couldn't buy the expensive sandals he wanted for his studies. "Next time sister will buy what you want, hm?" "I do not want!" he threw a pair of slippers on the floor. "That's yours, your promise is useless!" he turned and stared at me, my throat was closing as he slowly looked at the slippers that had been bought. If they are they can afford to waste money on such things, but I am. I almost looked for and chased the money just to give and make them happy. But I didn't hear even the slightest thanks. I let out a heavy breath, picked up the slipper and set it aside. Before I could start, mother entered the kitchen. "What a shame you are acting, Natasha!" from the tone of his voice I knew he lost the gamble, I prayed that he didn't regret the money I gave him earlier. "You only gave me three thousand, isn't your salary around four thousand!" "I'm budgeting because that's the money I have left over.." "Ah then, you have a budget while we are here without money?!" "I have already given you the salary, father's medicine is only one thousand.." "How about a thousand, I'll buy a month's worth of his medicine. How can I pay for the electricity if you don't give it enough!” ”I broke it last week, didn't I? The electricity has been paid..” He slammed the table in front of me. ”I bought a lot with that money, I haven't paid yet!” I closed my eyes because of the problems he throws at me, I'm not the first born, I should take everything. He won't even help me with the expenses, he'd rather lose it in gambling. "Your money is mine!" "Mother.." ”You will not give it!” tightly holding my arm, his long nails digging into it as he glared at me. "They feed you there at work, don't they!" "P-per in--" "Said mine!" He forced me to grope, but because I moved away I didn't accidentally push the mother. "Ouch!" he sat down on the floor, grimacing as he held his hips. He looked up at me, his gaze evil. ”Are you fighting me now?!” he stood up. "N-no mom, I-I didn't mean it.." "You're useless!" he pulled my hair, I almost cried as he dragged me out of the house. That's when the father came out, struggling to move the wheel of his wheelchair while calling the mother's name. "Helda!" I heard my father's voice from outside, but my mother was angry with me and pushed me down outside our shack. "Get out of here, don't come back until you have money!" Tears flowed from my eyes, before I could stand up, mother marched into the

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him. It was all a lie. No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way. But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret. Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again.

My stepmother’s bodyguards were seconds away from dragging me back to a life that was essentially a prison cell wrapped in silk. I couldn't even scream for help because the words always died in my throat—a clinical condition called selective mutism that felt like drowning on dry land. I had just discovered the sickening truth: my father was planning to sell me to a sleazy investor named Sterling to cover his company’s bankruptcy. They were going to drug me, ship me off to a private island, and strip away the only thing I had left—my late mother’s multimillion-dollar art trust. When I arrived at the manor, my stepmother Lydia handed me a glass of wine laced with bitter sedatives, her smile sharp as a razor. "Drink up, darling. It’ll make the transition to Mr. Sterling much easier." My stepsister Harper stood in the corner, wearing a dress bought with my mother’s stolen money, mocking my inability to speak. My father didn't even look me in the eye as he calculated my price tag, treating his own daughter like a piece of damaged, mute inventory. They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't hear them laughing about the "accident" that killed my mother or how they planned to burn her final restoration work. They assumed my silence was a sign of surrender, a white flag waved by a broken girl who would never fight back. How could the people who were supposed to be my family treat me like a commodity to be traded? Did they really think my silence meant I was weak, or that I didn't know every dirty secret they were hiding in their ledgers? I didn't drink the wine. Instead, I burst into the VIP suite of Carlisle Pierce, the most cold-blooded billionaire in New York, and slammed a crumpled napkin on his table with a desperate, last-second gambit. "MARRY ME. NOW. $1 MILLION."

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency. I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist. The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed. He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset. "I'm going to make him wish he had never been born." After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground.

I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing. During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me. I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst. She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side. "Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house." I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip. My heart went completely dead. So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate. I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table. "I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."

Seraphina Hayes went from a billionaire heiress to a desperate daughter overnight. To pay for her dying father's surgery, she stood in the freezing rain to beg her ex-boyfriend, Liam, for help. Instead of helping, Liam threw a check into a muddy puddle to humiliate her. Left with no way out, Seraphina was forced to sign a brutal marriage contract with Julian Sterling—a ruthless billionaire who also happened to be Liam's uncle. But her new husband treated her like a bought possession. At Liam's grand engagement party, Julian forced Seraphina to wear a scandalous diamond necklace and enter alone. Then, he walked in with his famous ex-girlfriend on his arm. The entire ballroom mocked Seraphina as a discarded clown. Liam pulled her onto the dance floor, grinning as he whispered in her ear. "When he's done with you, you can always come crawling back to me to be my mistress." She stood surrounded by cruel laughter, her pride shattered. Why did Julian spend hundreds of millions to save her family, only to publicly execute her dignity? Was she just a cheap prop for his twisted games? But they underestimated her. Seraphina didn't break down. She leaned in, her voice like ice. "You're just the piece of gum I scraped off my shoe this morning. Disgusting, and easily forgotten." Leaving Liam pale and stumbling, she walked out of the ballroom like an untouchable queen, unaware that her ruthless husband was watching from the balcony, a dangerous spark of genuine interest finally lighting up his eyes.

On our third anniversary, I stood outside a luxury restaurant, holding a limited-edition watch for my husband, Liam. Through the window, I saw him intimately wiping cream from the lips of his first love, Clara. Just as I realized the diamond bracelet on her wrist was the one he lied about, a violent cramp ripped through my eight-month pregnant belly, and blood soaked my dress. "Liam... I'm bleeding," I gasped into the phone in agony. "I'm not falling for these games," he coldly replied, hanging up as Clara laughed in the background. I almost died on the operating table during an emergency C-section, spending my first night as a mother completely alone. While my premature daughter fought for her life in the NICU, Liam was busy sleeping with Clara, eventually bringing her to my home to wear my bathrobe and drink from my glass. When my best friend confronted him, he confidently claimed I was just throwing a tantrum on a Caribbean vacation. He couldn't even recognize me when we crossed paths right in the hospital hallway. The man I loved was dead to me. He later called, demanding I come home to play the perfect pregnant wife for an important family dinner. I didn't cry, and I didn't ask for a simple divorce. Instead, I strapped on a hyper-realistic silicone pregnant belly and smiled. If they wanted the devoted, pregnant Sterling wife, I would give them the performance of a lifetime before burning their world to the ground.

Five years ago, Sienna made the most devastating mistake of her life: falling in love with Nikolai. What for the naive young assistant was an unforgettable week of passion was nothing more than a fleeting distraction for the cold-hearted Russian tycoon before he returned to Moscow. When Sienna discovered she was pregnant, she tried to reach out to him, only to be met with cold indifference. Alone and heartbroken, Sienna vanished to protect her daughter. Now, Nikolai was colder and more lethal than ever. But his frosty exterior began to crack when he crossed paths with a four-year-old girl in a restaurant, a girl with the same defiant gaze and unmistakable ice-blue eyes as his own. Convinced that Sienna hid his heir on purpose, Nikolai unleashed his fury. He issued her an unforgiving ultimatum: either she moved into his mansion under his rules, or he'd take the child away from her forever. He believed he'd trapped a compliant captive, but he was about to discover that the tender-hearted assistant he abandoned had become a fierce mother willing to do whatever it took for her child.

For seven years, I played the perfect fiancée and glorified personal assistant to Donavon Bray, the star forward of the New York Dynamos. But at a glittering charity gala, I overheard a conversation in the shadows of the terrace that shattered my world. "Getting engaged to Cordia was just a habit, a responsibility. Jocelynn is the one I've always wanted." Overnight, the media crowned Donavon and his newly returned childhood friend the golden couple. He paraded her around town, treating her with a chivalry and tenderness he never once showed me. He even publicly fired my loyal assistant, sneering to the entire front office that they needed "real professionals" like Jocelynn, not someone who just fetches coffee. My own best friend took to social media to side with them, mocking me as the "wrong time" in his epic romance. To Donavon, I was just a lucky "Puck Bunny," a clueless prop meant to stroke his ego and manage his schedule. He had no idea I was two months away from finishing my master's thesis in predictive data modeling at MIT. So, I took off my diamond ring, blocked his number, and quietly signed a contract to become the Chief Data Analyst for his team's biggest corporate rival. As I prepared to dismantle his multi-million dollar contract with my own algorithms, I was ready to show him exactly what a glorified assistant could do.