How Does Little Women End?

"Don't you for a second believe that we are ever letting you go, sweetheart". He muttered against her ear, his husky voice sending jolt through her body. His tongue suddenly flicked out to lick her ear lobe. She didn't even understand why was this happening to her. "You are stuck between us, Vanessa." another voice muttered out as he trailed his lips down her chest, his breath fanning against the skin between valley of her breasts. She whimpered feeling scared of them. "You are ours, love." the third voice made it's way to her ear. The last brother's lips teasing the nape of her neck and he suddenly bite the sensitive skin there making tears fell out of her doe eyes. "P-P-P-Please l-l-l-let me g-go." Vanessa pleaded to them making the trio smirked at her stuttering self. "Say this without stuttering and then we will consider your request." one of them said to her and the trio laughed at her aloud. *** Joaquin, Emiliano and Alejandro Fernandez are the triplet brothers. Their aura screams danger and power. They always have the upper hand and no one dares to cross them. They never had a mother figure in their life but a bastard father names Teal, who was killed at the name of peace treaty by Russian mafia boss Miakhail Igor Gorbachev years ago. Now they only had their sister with them but she was also taken away by Liam ovich Gorbachev and the Spanish trio brothers are furious would be an understatement. Vanessa Lynn Gorbachev, daughter of Rooh and Mikhail Igor Gorbachev and the only sister of Liam, is an innocent little girl. She was as innocuous as the child because she was never been out in the cruel world. She was homeschooled because of her stuttering problem.

By the third year of my marriage to Daniel Hawthorne, the war had already taken more than it ever returned, and this time it took his younger brother, Thomas Hawthorne. My sister-in-law, Eleanor, collapsed, and in the weeks that followed she tried to follow her husband into death— once with sleeping pills, once by the river beyond the officers’ quarters— only to be dragged back both times, each time clinging to me afterward as though I were the last thing keeping her grounded. I stayed with her, wiped her tears, and whispered that Thomas would want her to live, until the day she received the test results confirming she was three months pregnant, and the grief of losing her husband was slowly softened by the arrival of new life. I smiled too, believing grief had finally loosened its grip. That night, holding my own pregnancy test in my hand and thinking it was finally time to tell Daniel, I passed the study and heard his friend say quietly, “She’s carrying your child. You convinced the doctors to adjust the timeline so everyone would believe the baby belonged to your brother. Aren’t you afraid Margaret will find out?” Daniel didn’t hesitate. “She won’t,” he said calmly. “She loves me. She wouldn’t leave. I won’t let her know.” I didn’t step inside. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I opened the letter I had received weeks earlier— an official deployment order from the international medical corps, assigning me to a frontline war zone— and tapped Accept.

My best friend and I married the Luther brothers. I married the older brother, a legendary specialist in childbirth. My best friend, Autumn, married the younger brother, the CEO of a pharmaceutical company. On my birthday, my husband’s crush, Kirsty, scared me into early labor by sending me the carcass of a rotten, dead cat. Autumn rushed me to the emergency room. The doctors had their hands tied as I went into premature labor with a case of amniotic fluid embolism. With the last of my strength, I turned to my husband for help. Instead, I was berated. “So I missed your birthday. Do you have to make a big deal out of it? Why are you lying to me? Kirsty’s pet dog is having puppies. I need to help with the birth, so stop getting in the way!” Later, Autumn took charge and operated on me. I managed to pull through, while my baby was rushed to the ICU. Autumn tearfully called her husband, pleading for the specific medication produced by his company. “Kirsty’s dog is struggling in labor. I’m making a nutritious meal for it. You sure are good friends with Bella to take turns stirring up a fuss. Don’t you have anything better to do than act out in jealousy?” In the end, I lost my child. My heart shattered into pieces. “I want a divorce, Autumn.” “I’m with you! The cheating bastards don’t deserve wives.” We filed for divorce, and the brothers panicked.

Midway through the banquet, the clasp on Carrie Ellison's bra suddenly snapped open. I was just about to take her to the dressing room when she turned around, letting her childhood sweetheart, Gabe Allen, slip his hand inside her dress and fasten it for her. I frowned. Carrie rolled her eyes, completely unconcerned. "Why are you getting jealous over nothing? Back then, Gabe even used his teeth to undo my bra clasp. What's the big deal about him fastening it now?" That very day, news of the "perfect childhood sweethearts" shot to the top of the trending charts. After the banquet, Carrie didn't receive my apology. Instead, she received my resignation letter. In front of everyone, she splashed champagne in my face. "It's just fastening a clasp! Do you really have to nitpick and make me look bad?" I said nothing. I simply placed the divorce agreement I had just drafted in front of her.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

Our wedding was canceled again and again because Lynn’s childhood friend kept pretending to commit suicide. I was humiliated in front of relatives and friends, and my mother was so angered that she repeatedly fainted and was hospitalized. Lynn Wensley was filled with regret and anger, even swearing, “If I ever run off with that bastard again, I’ll die a terrible death.” I believed her. However, when I finally gathered the courage to stand in the center of the crowd again, Kyle Lane barged into the wedding wearing a blood-stained suit. As a doctor, I recognized at a glance that it was fake blood dye, but when I grabbed Lynn to explain, she slapped me hard and knocked me to the ground. “Someone is dying and you’re still trying to stop me? Are you even human? If anything happens to him, you’ll all pay for it!” Then, she ran after him without looking back. My mother suffered a sudden heart attack from the shock and died in my arms. Meanwhile, Lynn was celebrating Kyle’s safety with fireworks above the city sky. After I finished handling my mother’s funeral, I received a text from her: [Trust me, there won’t be a next time.] My face was pale, but I felt nothing. There was no anger or sadness. There really would not be a next time. It was completely the end for us.