What if you were forced to grow up faster than you ever imagined? Would you be able to survive it? This is Life Pal follows 18-year-old Jordan as she faces life's hardest events-family secrets, heartbreak, and the weight of responsibility.
What if you were forced to grow up faster than you ever imagined? Would you be able to survive it? This is Life Pal follows 18-year-old Jordan as she faces life's hardest events-family secrets, heartbreak, and the weight of responsibility.
It had never been this quiet in the past few years. Well, not continuously quiet-just in moments. Let me remember: yes, it had been quiet when she finished elementary school, and again after her first four years of high school. Those were milestones, moments of calm before the next storm of life swept her forward. Now, after a long stretch of uncertainty, the quiet was back. But this time, it felt different. Heavier.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock. The results of her final exams were due today. Those results would determine everything-whether she'd get into Evergreen University, whether she'd fulfill her parents' dreams for her, whether she'd finally step into the future she'd been working toward.
She hadn't slept well. How could she? All night, her thoughts had spiraled. What if I didn't do well enough? What if I let everyone down? What if I'm not ready for this? The questions looped endlessly, keeping her awake long after Beth and Benji had drifted off to sleep in their rooms down the hall. Even now, in the early morning light, the weight of those "what ifs" pressed down on her chest.
She glanced at her desk, where her laptop sat closed, waiting to deliver the news. Took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Today was the day. The quiet wouldn't last much longer.
A knock on the door. Sharp and impatient.
"Jordan, will you stay there forever?" her mom called from the other side.
Jordan sighed, dragging herself off the bed. "Good morning, Mom."
"We need your student ID number, Jordan," her mom said, her voice clipped.
"My number? I thought you guys had it," Jordan replied, leaning against the door.
"Oh, yes, darling, we had it. You gave it to us, right? I must be crazy to ask for it now, right, darling?" Her mom's tone was laced with sarcasm.
Jordan rolled her eyes but stayed silent.
The doorknob rattled. "Open this door, Jordan. I don't have all day. I need your student ID number now," her mom said, her voice firm and no-nonsense.
"What if I lost it, Mom? I can't seem to find it anywhere," Jordan said, playing for time.
Her mom breathed sharply. "Jordan, you're testing my patience. Open this door now."
Jordan scratched her brow, hesitating. She didn't want to get on her mom's bad side, especially not that morning. Reluctantly, she unlocked the door.
"Mom," she flashed a smile-the kind you'd recognize instantly, sweet but slightly mischievous.
Her mom mirrored the smile, though hers was tighter, more strained. "You finally opened the door, darling. That's nice of you." She barged inside, her eyes scanning the room. "Now, where is it?"
Jordan kept the smile plastered on her face.
"Don't give me that smile, darling. I'm not liking it," her mom said, though the corners of her own lips twitched. Like mother like daughter.
"There's this wise saying, Mom," Jordan said, still smiling. "As thou wouldst that men should do to thee, do ye also to them likewise."
Her mom's smile faded, replaced by a stern expression. Jordan looked down, unable to meet her mom's gaze.
"Miss Jordan Carter," her mom said, stepping closer. "By the time I'm back, make sure you've put your act together. If not..."
She turned to leave, but Jordan couldn't resist. "If not?"
Her mom paused, glancing over her shoulder with a look that could freeze water.
"I understand, Mom," Jordan said quickly, her voice small.
"Good."
Jordan let out a huge sigh as her mom left the room. Mom can be scary sometimes. I wish she were more like Dad.
She walked to the window, watching as her mom climbed into a waiting taxi. The car pulled away, and Jordan finally felt like she could breathe again. She made her bed, fixed her hair, and changed into a pair of jeans.
Why haven't I heard these brats yet? she wondered, glancing toward the door. Guess they're-
The sound of shattering glass cut through the silence.
"Benji, I told you to get your own glass. Now look at what you've done!" Beth's voice rang out, sharp and accusatory.
Benji stood amidst the shards of glass, his arms crossed defiantly. "What have I done? It's all your doing! I saw the glass first."
Beth rolled her eyes. "Just so you know, I held it first, not you. Actions are better than observations."
"That's unfair! You're even saying it wrong," Benji protested, his face scrunching up in frustration.
Beth stepped closer, towering over him with a smirk. "Then tell me how it should be."
"Actions are better than words," Benji said, enunciating each word as if speaking to a toddler.
Beth laughed, ruffling his hair. "Little brother, I'm sorry, but I'm such a genius that now I'm making my own words."
"Genius? You call that genius? Genius, my foot, Beth!" Benji shouted, his voice cracking slightly.
Beth's smirk widened. "You mole, you'd better show some respect. I'm years older than you."
"Mole? How dare you call me-"
"A mole?" Beth interrupted, her tone dripping with mockery. "You look like one, that's why. Didn't Mom tell you?"
Oh, it had never even once crossed their Mom's mind.
Benji's face turned red, and he breathed heavily, trying to hold back tears. "Shut up, Beth! I look like Daddy!"
He really did look like his dad-dark brown eyes that always seemed full of curiosity, and messy, dark hair that never quite stayed in place. His face had the same strong jaw, even if it wasn't as sharp as his dad's yet, and sometimes when he looked in the mirror, he could see the grown-up version of himself. He was still too young to understand everything about his dad, but he could see little pieces of him in the way he smiled or the way he walked, like a preview of who he might grow up to be.
Beth burst into laughter. "A mole thinks he looks like Daddy."
Benji's lip quivered, and he wiped at his eyes. "Big sis..."
"Go on, mole. Call your big sis," Beth teased, clearly enjoying herself.
"Yes, I will! Big sis is always nice to me, unlike you," Benji said, his voice trembling as he wiped his tears. "And if I'm a mole, you are-"
"I'm what?" Beth challenged, leaning in closer.
"You are-"
"I'm what? Say it if you dare."
Benji hesitated, then muttered, "You are my sister."
"Bravo," Jordan said, stepping into the room with a slow clap. "You did great, Benji."
Benji's face lit up, and he ran to Jordan, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.
"It's always nice to treat others in a good way, even though they don't," she said. "For not calling your sister names, I award you a candy."
Benji's eyes sparkled. " Thanks Jordan."
Beth tried to storm away.
"Stop there Beth, we need to talk."
Beth froze mid-step, her shoulders tense. She turned slowly, her face a mix of defiance and guilt. "What's there to talk about? He's the one who started it," she muttered, crossing her arms.
Jordan raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but firm. "Beth, you know better than to call your brother names. It doesn't matter who started it. What matters is how you choose to respond."
Beth rolled her eyes but didn't argue further. She shuffled her feet, avoiding Jordan's gaze. Benji, still clutching his candy, peeked out from behind Jordan. "I'm sorry, Beth," he said softly. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
Beth's expression softened, though she tried to hide it. "Whatever," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its earlier edge. She glanced at Benji, then at Jordan, before sighing. "Fine. I'm sorry too, okay?"
"That's more like it," said Jordan. "How about we all go inside and share that candy? I think there's enough for everyone."
Benji's face lit up. "Really? Can we, Beth?"
Beth hesitated, then shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I guess. But only if I get the biggest piece."
"Hey, no fair!" Benji protested, but he was grinning now too.
These two were a handful, sure, but they were her handful. Her little siblings. The ones who broke her things, ate her snacks, and somehow always managed to drag her into their silly arguments. But they were also the ones who made her laugh when she was stressed, who hugged her tightly when she was sad, and who looked up to her like she hung the moon.
COALESCENCE OF THE FIVE SERIES BOOK ONE: THE 5-TIME REJECTED GAMMA & THE LYCAN KING BOOK TWO: THE ROGUES WHO WENT ROGUE BOOK THREE: THE INDOMITABLE HUNTRESS & THE HARDENED DUKE *** BOOK ONE: After being rejected by 5 mates, Gamma Lucianne pleaded with the Moon Goddess to spare her from any further mate-bonds. To her dismay, she is being bonded for the sixth time. What's worse is that her sixth-chance mate is the most powerful creature ruling over all werewolves and Lycans - the Lycan King himself. She is certain, dead certain, that a rejection would come sooner or later, though she hopes for it to be sooner. King Alexandar was ecstatic to meet his bonded mate, and couldn't thank their Goddess enough for gifting him someone so perfect. However, he soon realizes that this gift is reluctant to accept him, and more than willing to sever their bond. He tries to connect with her but she seems so far away. He is desperate to get intimate with her but she seems reluctant to open up to him. He tries to tell her that he is willing to commit to her for the rest of his life but she doesn't seem to believe him. He is pleading for a chance: a chance to get to know her; a chance to show her that he's different; and a chance to love her. But when not-so-subtle crushes, jealous suitors, self-entitled Queen-wannabes, an old flame, a silent protector and a past wedding engagement threaten to jeopardize their relationship, will Lucianne and Xandar still choose to be together? Is their love strong enough to overcome everything and everyone? Or will Lucianne resort to enduring a sixth rejection from the one person she thought she could entrust her heart with?
The day my husband, a Mafia Underboss, told me I was genetically unfit to carry his heir, he brought home my replacement—a surrogate with my eyes and a working womb. He called her a "vessel" but paraded her as his mistress, abandoning me while I bled on the floor at a party to protect her and planning their secret future in the villa he once promised me. But in our world, wives don't just walk away—they disappear, and I decided to orchestrate my own vanishing act, leaving him to the ruin he so carefully built for himself.
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."
On the day of their wedding anniversary, Joshua's mistress drugged Alicia, and she ended up in a stranger's bed. In one night, Alicia lost her innocence, while Joshua's mistress carried his child in her womb. Heartbroken and humiliated, Alicia demanded a divorce, but Joshua saw it as yet another tantrum. When they finally parted ways, she went on to become a renowned artist, sought out and admired by everyone. Consumed by regret, Joshua darkened her doorstep in hopes of reconciliation, only to find her in the arms of a powerful tycoon. "Say hello to your sister-in-law."
My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child. Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby. To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner. They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his. The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused. But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.
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