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After Pierce Emery and I got back together, I started "renting him out." Every time his old flame, Daphne Roach, called him away, I stopped crying and causing scenes like before. I charged by the hour instead. Ten grand an hour during the day. Twenty at night. Triple on holidays. Three months later, my account was up almost two million dollars. Pierce had promised to help me pick a dress for a banquet, but Daphne called him crying, saying she'd sliced her hand while cooking. I didn't even look up. I just held out my phone with the payment screen open. One night, I came down with a brutal fever. While Pierce was driving me to the hospital, his phone rang again. Daphne. He stared at the screen for a long second before answering. Her voice came through shaky and tearful. "Pierce, the thunder's so loud. I can't sleep. Can you come stay with me?" I quietly pulled out an umbrella and told him to let me out at the next intersection. He looked at me like he wanted to explain something, but I just smiled. "Don't forget to transfer the money." The same thing happened again on the day our daughter went in for her routine checkup. Except this time, she was the one asking him for money.

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.

Outside the police tape surrounding a fancy hotel, a police officer can be seen blocking my way. "There seems to be a bomb hidden in the hotel! Unauthorized personnel are not allowed to get any closer!" I'm just about to dig out my work badge when the intern next to me, Christine Wyatt, covers her mouth in a pretentiously shocked manner. "Officer, there's a detonator and a timer in his bag! Those things look so scary!" The entire scene goes eerily silent. Almost immediately, I see a few guns getting aimed at my forehead. Anxiety begins overwhelming me. "I'm a bomb disposal expert from the Headquarters Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit! My bag contains all the tools necessary to dispose of a bomb!" "Throw your bag over to me and keep your hands where I can see them!" Captain Scott Hunter roars at me. My bag is opened afterward. Things like an insulated cutter, a bomb suppression blanket, and a liquid nitrogen cooling tank are scattered across the ground. Before I can explain myself, Christine suddenly points at me while screaming, "Why are you still playing dumb? You just told me that you wanted to set off an explosion in that hotel! "What, now that the police are here, you dare not admit what you just said, huh? You're a terrorist through and through!" Scott reacts quickly by pinning me on the hood of the police cruiser with my hands folded behind my back. "We're taking you back for a thorough interrogation!" My heart almost stops at those words. The bomb that's packed with enough firepower to take out half a street has already gone on a countdown in the hotel lobby. But I, the only bomb disposal expert who can get rid of the bomb, have handcuffs put on me because of Christine's nonsensical accusations. Right now, there are only 29 minutes left before the bomb goes off.

“Thirty minutes for 10 thousand dollars.” That was the deal. Julian Valentino is the “Holy Billionaire,” an ice-cold CEO who views love as a liability. After a brutal Valentine’s Day betrayal, he didn’t just swear off women…. he chose a path of strict celibacy, vowing to keep his body as untouchable as his empire. For years, he has been a saint in a world of sinners, until he is anonymously drugged in his own hotel. With his control now crumbling and his body on fire, he turns to the only woman who can quench the flame: THALIA. Popularly known as "Tee" in elite lounges, she is a high-end sex worker who doesn’t believe in fairytales love and only lives for the bag to fund the search for her lost identity. What she expects to be an easy paycheck turns into a nightmare when a city-wide murder triggers a 48-hour security lockdown. Now trapped with a possessive, drug-fevered billionaire, thirty minutes of service becomes two days of raw heat and secret whispers. But when the doors finally open, Julian doesn't want to let her go. He wants a new deal... a new contract to buy her time and be her exclusive client. And that is when it dawns on Thalia that she has walked into a trap. Behind the closed doors, another contract was waiting. She isn’t just a worker anymore… with the outside contract? She’s now the very weapon sent to destroy the Valentino empire. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+

On Christmas, the company handed out bonus envelopes, and I drew a 24-hour overtime voucher. Meanwhile, the boss took the female workers and my wife to a yacht party to celebrate. So, I calmly lit the Christmas tree and burned the company down. In my previous life, I worked overtime until I was completely exhausted. With a sharp pain in my chest, I called the boss to ask for leave. His tone was cold. “Everyone accepted their Christmas gift. Only you didn’t. “Get lost, then. You’re fired. Just a nobody at the bottom of society, anyway!” Through the phone, I heard my wife’s heavy breathing, one wave after another. “Thomas, ever since I got married, I’ve never had a good life. Today is truly amazing!” “Hahaha, Samantha, you’re really pitiful, married to such a poor loser.” Mocking laughter filled my ears. Rage consumed me, and I died at my desk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Christmas Day.

It only takes one unfortunate evening for Amara: she is jobless, she catches her fiancé with her stepsister, and her own father places the blame on her. One too many drinks led to Adrian Cole, a powerful CEO and the greatest rival of her ex-fiancé. Adrian gets to offer to treat her mother when she becomes critically ill, one of those very few moments in Amara's life when she doesn't have enough money for her treatment. He makes her one proposition: Amara must marry him for three years. Jealousy, lies, and an ex trying to return threaten to rip apart their contract marriage. Amara attempts to walk away, but Adrian refuses to let her go. Until the truth comes out. Now she wants her freedom. He wants another chance. And three years may not be enough.