The Breast Tax

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

On the first day of her marriage, Lyra Leighton told her CEO husband, Wesley Cheswick, "I don't care if you fall for someone else later. But if she ever shows up in front of me, you'll never see me again." So when he did fall for a schoolteacher, he kept her tucked away. Gave her everything she wanted. Everything except permission to cross Lyra. But the side chick got bold on his affection and ignored the line. She showed up with a baby bump and shoved it in Lyra's face. "Wesley said it himself. He never loved you. He married you for your family's status. Know your place. Get an abortion and divorce him. Now. Otherwise, when Wesley dumps you, you won't get a dime." Lyra smiled and called her father. "Pull the investment from Cheswick Tech. I'm getting a divorce."

At the contract-signing meeting, a major client casually asks our new technician if she can handle her alcohol. She immediately pours a glass of red wine over his head and says coolly, "This sort of socializing is a bad habit. I'm putting an end to it." Leon Langley, a top client who brings the company 300 million dollars in annual revenue, flies into a rage and tears up the contract on the spot. As the project lead, I bend over backward to apologize and drink with Mr. Langley until I'm hospitalized with gastric bleeding—just to salvage the deal. When I report the incident to my boss, he scolds me instead. "As the person in charge, you nearly ruined the project. Forget the three-million-dollar commission we planned to give you. Consider this a warning." After that, I put Hannah Storrie's name on the department's downsizing review list. She sneers. "I'm a top talent the boss poached at great expense. I'm not some cheap hostess who survives by smiling and drinking like you. "Firing me would be throwing the company down the drain. When that happens, you'll be begging me to come back." I ignore her. However, when the review period ends, the name on the layoff list turns out to be mine. My boss seizes the opportunity to announce that Hannah will replace me as the new sales director. "Clients are extremely important to us. You don't seriously think you're capable of landing them, do you? "Hannah's is more qualified, more tech-savvy, and prettier than you. She's clearly the better choice." I simply smile, turn around, and dial a number.

He drove there to annihilate the whole pack which had the audacity to combat against Him, The Dark Lord, but those innocent emerald eyes drugged his sanity and He ended up snatching her from the pack. Lyceon Villin Whitlock is known to be the lethal Dark walker, the Last Lycan from the royal bloodline and is considered to be mateless. Rumours have been circling around for years that He killed his own fated mate. The mate which every Lycan king is supposed to have only one in their life. Then what was his purpose to drag Allison into his destructive world? Are the rumours just rumours or is there something more? Allison Griffin was the only healer in the Midnight crescent pack which detested her existence for being human. Her aim was only to search her brother's whereabouts but then her life turned upside down after getting the news of her family being killed by the same monster who claimed her to be his and dragged her to his kingdom “The dark walkers”. To prevent another war from occurring, she had to give in to him. Her journey of witnessing the ominous, terrifying and destructive rollercoaster of their world started. What happens when she finds herself being the part of a famous prophecy along with Lyceon where the chaotic mysteries and secrets unravel about their families, origins and her true essence? Her real identity emerges and her hybrid powers start awakening, attracting the attention of the bloodthirsty enemies who want her now. Would Lyceon be able to protect her by all means when she becomes the solace of his dark life and the sole purpose of his identity? Not to forget, the ultimate key to make the prophecy happen. Was it her Mate or Fate?

Quinn, a sweet, social and bubbly turned cold and became a badass. She changed to protect herself caused of the dark past experience with guys she once trusted. Evander will come into her life will become her greatest enemy, the villain of her life, but fate brought something for them, she fell for him but too late before she found out a devastating truth about him. What dirty secret of the villain is about to unfold? And how will it affect the badass?

When my son was born, I noticed a small, round birthmark on his arm. But the weird thing? By the time I opened my eyes again after giving birth, it was gone. I figured maybe I'd imagined it. That is, until the baby shower. My brother-in-law's son, born the same day as mine, had the exact same birthmark. Clear as day. That's when it hit me. I didn't say a word, though. Not then. I waited. Eighteen years later, at my son's college acceptance party, my brother-in-law stood up and dropped the truth bomb: the "amazing" kid I'd raised was theirs. I just smiled and invited him and his wife to take their "rightful" seats at the table.