Where Can I Read Street Child Online For Free?

Nadia has lived in the orphanage since the day she was born—a girl no one ever wanted to adopt. But just as she’s about to turn eighteen, everything changes. A mysterious billionaire, Vincent Voss, shows up and claims her as his daughter. He insists Nadia is a werewolf—just like him—and that she must return to the world she truly belongs to. Nadia thinks he’s insane… until the truth proves impossible to deny. Now, she’s about to begin a journey that will take her from an unwanted orphan to the future queen of the werewolf nation.

After Isabella is kicked out of her own home by her scheming stepmother and stepsister, she's left feeling lost and betrayed, with even her ex-fiancé turning his back on her. But fate throws her a curveball when she comes across an injured stranger and reluctantly decides to shelter him. Little does Isabella know, this Mr. Vagrant is a big shot in the city. But... this man she saved loved spending money so much that she almost went broke!

After losing her mother, Cassandra Laurel's life becomes a nightmare under her cruel stepmother, Loreen. Desperate to throw Cass out of the family mansion, Loreen forces her into a sudden marriage with a dirty street beggar named Liam Lucas Javier. Because of a strict family rule, Cass has no choice but to leave her comfortable life behind and move into Liam’s broken-down apartment in the slums. At first, Cass expects the worst. But the longer she stays with her new husband, the more she realizes that something is terribly wrong with this picture. Cass tries hard to find the truth while working to become a fashion model. At the same time, her mean stepmother plans a bad trick to ruin her name and steal her money. Cass must face the lies, fight her stepmother's tricks, and follow her mysterious husband into a world of secrets—only to find out that her husband, a beggar, is a billionaire.

Some people have a good life, some people have a great childhood, well some people have a roof on top of their head. But not me, I’m different than most people, I lived in my car, worked in the local library, I was no one, add to that being a little doesn’t really help my case at all. It was all going to downward to hell, until I met them, I’ve met her first, then her husband and they wanted me, homeless, bookworm and all. This our story, our adventures, and our love. Contains ddlg and mdlg, you’ve been warned. Apologies for any misspelling and grammar mistakes.

After reuniting with my birth family, my wealthy biological father tossed me a black card and laid down one rule: I could spend as much as I wanted, but I was never to call him Dad—that title belonged only to his adoptive daughter. Clutching the black card, I cautiously bought myself a two-dollar-fifty ice cream cone. Just as I was happily licking the sweet ice cream, the adoptive daughter dropped to her knees before me. "Alice, are you mocking me because I can't even afford something that costs two-fifty in the future?" My brother immediately slapped me twice. "You have money now, but you can't split love. Natalie is my one and only sister!" Then my father splashed boiling water onto my face. "No disgraceful wretch deserves to be a Gervais." To punish me, they sent me off to Rimala, forced to work as a child laborer in the mines. Ten years later, I walked into a grand banquet hall with an ice cream in hand and came face-to-face with my brother, Ansel Gervais, dressed in a hand-tailored suit. "All these years and you're still a disgrace," he sneered, but I couldn't be bothered to argue. "Let go. My dad's waiting for me—and if I'm any later, the ice cream's going to melt." He looked down at me with contempt. "Dad? Who gave you permission to call him that? Natalie will forever be the only Gervais girl—no one can take that away from her!" I rolled my eyes. Who said I was talking about that cheap excuse for a father? I was talking about my adoptive father—the oil tycoon with an incurable sweet tooth. I was in a hurry to let him taste some ice cream.

My African American Mom married a rich Japanese man. As I moved the skeleton of my new bed next to the window, I felt a gaze focused on me. Outside my window, was the house next door. The house shape was similar to ours, so it also had a window facing mine at the same level. Standing there on the other side was a skinny Japanese boy. As soon as I laid eyes on him, he stiffened, then shyly smiled and waved. His hair was all over the place, seeing him in his tanktop I thought to myself that he must've just rolled out of bed. But wasn't it the afternoon already? The boy says something but of course I can't hear him with my window closed so I slide it open. "Eto....hi." He tried in English. If someone were to tell me later I'd come to care about him deeply, I'd find that hard to believe. For as long as I could remember I've always felt empty. And that emptiness, I hid on instinct.