How Does The Cherry Orchard End?

I’m a mortal priestess, but a Tartarus death curse is killing me. The only cure is a Golden Apple from Olympus, which blooms once a century to purify a soul. But my soulmate—Zale, son of Poseidon—snatched my apple away. He fed it to my sister, Melora, just to heal a minor magical burn. I abandoned my final treatments at the Temple of Apollo. Instead, I drank a vial of Lethe poison, laced with water from the Styx. It silences all pain. The price? In three days, my soul will turn to ash. No afterlife. No reincarnation. In my final three days on earth, I let everything go. I gave my Healing Temple to Melora. My parents, the high priests, smiled in relief. When Zale drew the Blade of Olympus to sever our soulmate bond, I gladly offered my heart's blood. He stroked my cheek and praised my “generosity.” As if I’d finally learned my lesson. I pushed my son, Philon, toward Melora and told him to call her “Mom.” He cheered and threw himself into her arms, crying out that her lullabies were sweeter. I gave up everything. None of them even noticed I was dying. They just looked at me proudly. "Our Kressa has finally learned her place." But I can't help wondering... when I fade into stardust forever, will they even remember me?

A deep bone-melting groan vibrates from his chest. “I want to see you malyshka.Every inch of you.”  I shiver in anticipation as his fingers trail down my back, lowering the zipper of my dress, the fabric pooling at my waist. My tits come into view as cool air kisses my bare skin. His sharp intake of breath makes my stomach flip.  “Damn,” the word is rough, almost reverent as his large hand cups my left tit, squeezing softly. “They look even better than I had imagined.” His grip tightens slightly.   “A perfect fit for my hands.” ☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎ Serafina had only one dream: to take center stage at the New York Opera. But if wishes were horses, even beggars would have a ride. Thrown into an arranged marriage, She is determined to hate him but soon discovers that there’s a thin line between love and hate. Adriko has no use for love. His focus is power, his goal is revenge.But what do you do when your greatest threat is your most sinful desire? A pawn in the game… A Bride for a truce…

At the year-end company meeting, I was announcing the bonuses when a new employee suddenly raised her hand. "Over at the other company, they handed out two boxes of imported cherries at their annual party," she said, shaking her phone. "And we only get performance bonuses?" The video, maliciously edited, went viral online and hit the trending list the very next day. I had the finance department cancel all the year-end bonus transfers. "If cherries are what really count as a gesture of goodwill," I said, "then this year's year-end benefit will be cherries—fifty boxes per person." When they saw the mountain of cherries piling up before them, the employees who had once joined in mocking me panicked instantly. One by one, they cried and apologized, begging me to reconsider.

BLURB “Unchain me.” I say through gritted teeth as I glare angrily at Dimitri. “You know what I want to hear, Malyshka.” Dimitri growls, leaning into me and effectively invading my personal space. “I will never, ever submit to you, nor will I ever call you master.” I say angrily. I lean farther back in the bed, wishing I could become one with the headboard if only to escape Dimitri's ruthless glare. “Challenge accepted, Malyshka. Never say never.” Dimitri says with a self assured smirk I have a strong desire to wipe off his face. —————————— Finding out that the man she loved and was pregnant for already had a wife was the most devastating thing that happened to the young and soft hearted Anya. With Dimitri's betrayal fresh in her mind, Anya escapes with her unborn child with the help of Dimitri's sworn enemy. With the intention of leaving her past behind and starting a new life, Anya forms an alliance with Dimitri's enemy. But Dimitri kidnaps her and her child and refuses to let them go. He would follow her to hell and back if it meant she would always be by his side. He bulldozes his way back into her life, refusing to let anything keep him away from his Anya. Not even Anya herself. She belongs to him. Always and forever. Checkmate, baby girl.

I was supposed to expose the Bratva monster's scandal, but instead, I became his obsession. I'm Irina, a librarian determined never to marry so I could care for my grandmother, who suffers from dementia—my only relative and my reason for living. He was Miron Pavlov, the blood-stained leader of the Bratva. He entered my life, but I couldn't fix it. He was here to take control, to make me his contract mistress turned legal wife. I tried to resist, but he was relentless, ruthlessly possessive. His hazel eyes undressed me, dragging me into his cruel world, making me question everything. So I ran when I discovered I was pregnant, unwilling to raise my child in his company. But Miron didn't care about the rules of his family, his cartel, his world. He pursued me, he desired me. Would his dark love change me? Or would she choose an ordinary man who would be much better at raising her child?

In Gangnam, Seoul's district known for it's wealth and glamour, a series of mysterious disappearances and brutal murders occurs. The criminal is quickly called by public the 'Cherry Blossom Reaper' because of his choice for young, beautiful women and fact, that the day after the kidnapping, in the place of the disappearance, he leaves a small bouquet made of artificial cherry blossoms, slightly sprinkled with the victim's blood. When the daughter of the well-known fashion house CEO disappear, the case is transferred to Kim Soo Min, a female detective from Seoul's Investigation Departament. But as it turns out, the case is not easy to solve, even for such a talented detective as her. The list of suspects is getting longer and evidence does not clearly indicate any of them. [ IMPORTANT: This story is entirely fictional, just like its characters. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. ]