Who Is The Author Of Super Gran?

My grandfather was a thief. He stole my grandmother’s name and her identity. He used them to escape a poor, forgotten corner of the rural West, then ran off with another woman. He became a law professor, standing at podiums and lecturing about justice. She became a famous painter, giving interviews about integrity. My grandmother spent her whole life trapped in that same dying farmland. Everyone called her an old maid. She never stopped waiting for him. Not even on her deathbed. Fifty years later, I clawed my way out of that godforsaken place on the strength of two generations, my grandmother and my mother. I made partner at a top law firm. It was graduation season. I sat in the lead interviewer’s chair. Across from me sat a girl. Polished. Confident. The most outstanding graduate from the best law school in the state. I opened her résumé and flipped through it page by page. Then I stopped at the family information section. I stared at that name for a very long time. I looked up at her and said quietly, “You didn’t get the job.”

I was the secret Hemsworth Deluca never wanted the world to see. To the public, he was Hollywood’s golden boy; to me, he was the husband who hid my plus-sized body in the shadows. While he basked in the limelight. I was his "XXL anchor," the daughter of the man who bought his career—until the night he broke my heart and left me for dead in a rain-slicked wreckage. But I didn't die. I was rebuilt. Quinn Cardiff, the "King of Entertainment" and Hemsworth’s most dangerous rival, pulled me from the flames. He offered me a contract: a fake marriage, a total transformation, and the lead role in the industry’s biggest blockbuster. He turned the "hidden wife" into a goddess, a woman whose every curve now commands the world's attention. Now, I’m back. At the Titan Media Gala, I didn't just walk into the room—I owned it. I watched the scotch slip from Hemsworth’s hand as he realized the woman he discarded is now the Queen he can’t touch. He’s desperate, begging for a second chance, drowning in a regret that tastes like ash. But Quinn isn't the only Alpha who wants to claim me. Anto, the billionaire director with tattoos under his suit and a predatory gaze that promises a different kind of trouble. While Quinn wants to protect me and Hemsworth wants to reclaim me, Anto wants to ruin me in all the right ways. One year. Three powerful men. A world of secrets, betrayal, and a love triangle that’s about to set Hollywood on fire. Hemsworth wants his wife back, but I’m no longer playing a role.

After divorcing my cheating husband, I took my son and moved back to my mother's house. The moment we returned, my mother began to dote on my son without restraint. She would even gossip to the neighbors, saying, "Can you believe that deadweight actually gave birth to a son? Why does she get to? A disgrace who got kicked out by her husband has no right to be a boy's mother!" I knew my son could not grow up in an environment like that, so I made a firm decision to move out and raise him on my own. Years later, he graduated from college and found a job—nothing high-paying, but stable. Given the state of things, I was genuinely happy for him. He suggested going back to have a meal with his grandmother to celebrate. I never expected the two of them to join hands and poison me. As my consciousness faded, I heard their conversation. "I told you. She can't stand seeing you do well. She's elated after hearing you only make a few thousand a month!" "It's fine, Grandma. A feminazi like my mom had it coming. I've always known who's truly been good to me. From now on, I'll only take care of you." My heart turned cold. I had pushed him to study, supported him through college, and taught him to treat others with equality and respect. And this was how he repaid me. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment I had just returned to my mother's house with my son. 'If you're so determined to raise him your way, then fine. You can have him all to yourself. Let's see what kind of man a pick-me grandmother like you will raise.'

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

The wheat has yet to ripen when my Grandma, Julia Simmon, appears to me in a dream. "There will be a plague of locusts in the autumn. Sell off the produce and raise fish to ensure the family has income." I, Vanessa West, convince my parents to harvest the wheat for grain and feed before irrigating the fields to raise fish. Then, a severe drought strikes and the fish die, leaving my family drowning in debt. We're at a loss to know what to do. Then, Grandma appears in my dreams again. "There are gold bars buried under the oak tree on the hill at our old home. Selling them will sort out our debts and leave you with money to spare." After telling my father, Alan West, this, he digs up a whole crate of white powder. The police happen to be staking out the area. They have him arrested, thinking that he means to buy the drugs. For the amount he gets caught with, he faces life imprisonment. My mother, Hannah Smith, is unable to bear the sight of this and faints on the spot. Again, Grandma appears to me in a dream and offers guidance. "Dr. Hank Vance at Central Hospital can cure her. If you don't hurry, she'll be in danger!" Desperate to save my mother, I threaten Dr. Vance with my life, and he agrees to operate on her. Then, my boyfriend gets into a car accident and urgently needs treatment. However, he succumbs to his injuries due to my asking for Dr. Vance. In the meantime, Mom doesn't receive treatment in time. As she is dying, Mom weeps, asking me why I ruined the entire family. Then, she passes away on the operating table. My boyfriend's parents think I am responsible for their son's death, and they stab me 18 times. While being rushed to the emergency room, I see Grandma again. However, she is grinning maliciously as she plunges a knife into my heart, mimicking the stabs I got from real life and giving me a ruptured heart. I died without understanding why Grandma's appearances led to my family's end. I open my eyes and find out that I've returned to the day Grandma told me to sell our crops.

After climbing my way up from nothing to become the richest man in the city, I got used to keeping a low profile. Until one day, I received a call from my granddaughter’s kindergarten. They said she had hit another child in class and told me to come in to settle the matter. But when I arrived, I found my granddaughter covered in injuries. The boy who claimed she had hit him didn’t have a scratch on him. Instead, he spat at me with a smug look on his face. “You old geezer. Your whole outfit isn’t even worth as much as one pair of my sneakers. Take your broke little granddaughter and get out!” I stared at the homeroom teacher in disbelief. She only curled her lip. “Kids say silly things. Besides, what Harvey Harris said isn’t exactly wrong. “His grandfather is the richest man in the city. Our kindergarten is an elite school, after all. Ordinary families like yours should stop coming here just to embarrass yourselves. You’d be better off transferring her somewhere else.” When I heard the boy’s name, I almost laughed. I pulled out my phone and called John Harris, my driver of ten years. “John, stop waiting by the car. Come to the office. “Why? Because the grandson you begged me to help get into this kindergarten just beat up my granddaughter.”