Ghoster Définition : Est-Ce Une Forme De Manipulation ?

They call me 'Ghost.' The king of mercenaries, feared across the entire black market. But for Madeline, the Godmother of the Chicago Mafia, I walked away from it all. She wanted me by her side, so I became a normal man. We were married for five years. The entire underworld knew she loved me more than life itself. She even had my dagger tattooed next to her family's crest—a permanent mark of loyalty. Until I got the photo from her lover. The bartender was naked, his chest covered in red scratches from her nails. Madeline’s hand, with its red polish, was still on his waist. He’d drawn his name right next to my dagger on her skin. And my wife had let him. "Madeline says I'm the only one who can make her feel like a woman. You can't satisfy her anymore. It's time to make way for a younger man." I didn't reply. I just made a call. "Hello. I need a new identity. And a plane ticket."

It started with one scandalous kiss caught on camera. She expected damage control not to be declared the girlfriend of the billionaire who ruined her life. He’s cold, calculating, and her ex’s powerful cousin. They agree to fake it for four months for money, for revenge, for survival. She became the fake girlfriend of the billionaire who ruined her life He’s ruthless. She’s vengeful. Four months. One deal. No feelings. But soon, the lies cut deep… and neither of them can tell if the obsession is still pretend. Amira Santis, a sharp-tongued investigative journalist, ruins billionaire Montez De Vitalio’s company with one exposé. In return, he blacklists her. Her career is over. But after an odd encounter when photos of Montez sharing a kiss with her in a hotel gets out, he has no option but to announce her as his lover to the public. Now with them both in a compromising situation, Amira takes his offer to pretend to be his girlfriend in the eyes of the public for a period of four months in exchange that he pays her and gets back at her cheating ex, who also happened to be his cousin but Amira is not the same girl he once destroyed. She has secrets of her own. And Montez? He didn’t plan on falling for the one woman who swore to ruin him. Their lies ignite an obsession neither can control, and soon, love and war become indistinguishable.

⚠️🌶️WARNING!: Rule #1: Don’t fall for your fake boyfriend. Rule #2: Especially when he’s sworn to destroy you.🌶️⚠️ I ruined Zane Ashford’s career with four seconds of footage and a source I trusted too fast. I’m his redemption arc, his PR save, his fake girlfriend for a reality show that could restore everything I took from him. The deal was six weeks of convincing performances. No feelings. No complications. That was the plan. But the reality? His hands on my throat while he kisses me breathless. His body pinning mine against walls when no one’s looking. His whispered confessions in the dark that sound nothing like hate. “It’s all part of the act.”Then why are you shaking?”“So are you.” We were supposed to be acting. But somewhere between the fake kisses and the real one, between the person he pretends to be and the one I keep finding in the dark—I stopped remembering which one is the lie. He still hadn’t forgiven me. And I’m not still sure I deserve it. But hatred never tasted this good.

When there is another version of you which is unapologetically evil and you can't fight it out of sight, you can only be replaced

When Elowen learned that she had been switched at birth, that her life as a princess was nothing more than a mistake, she quietly accepted her fate. She accepted being treated as an error. Accepted being hurt so deeply that even crying had to be done in secret. She believed she would fade away like this — silently, unnoticed, forgotten. Until one day — when despair pushed her to the edge — she felt a faint chill, as if someone were standing behind her, protecting her without a word. From that moment on, Elowen knew she was no longer alone. — Adrian survived a horrific car accident. His body lay motionless in a hospital bed, while his soul became bound to a wounded girl he had never known. He couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t shield her from harm. Yet when she was starved, warm food appeared in her drawer. When she was bullied, her tormentors met with inexplicable accidents. When she curled up crying in the dead of night, an invisible hand gently rested on her forehead—so tender it hurt. Adrian was there. Quieter than any living person. He witnessed every wound, remembered every tear, every trembling breath she tried to suppress. Affection grew in silence—slowly, carefully—as if one careless step closer would cause the girl to shatter. One was alive, yet denied a life. One was dead, yet still learning how to protect someone. Some forms of protection need no light. Some kinds of love cannot be touched. — Then one day, Elowen spoke seriously to her “Ms. Ghost”: Elowen: “Ms. Ghost, if you’re lonely…” “Maybe you could bond with a male ghost.” “I’d give you my blessing.” Adrian: … Then the “Ms. Ghost” coldly placed a hand on her forehead. Adrian: “Call me Mr. Ghost.”

When we get too much involved in the act of pretending, we lose the idea of knowing the pretense of others. Isn't that how it works? We don't know the acts we do thinking good for the others even to the extent of hurting them to save them from major hurt will cause them to go through much more than we can think of. Sometimes it is not too late to correct the pretenses but sometimes it is late to amend them. Let's see whether it is too late or just in time.