The Case Of The Singing Skirt

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

People does hardworking, tiring and stressful workloads everyday while Ethel just need to sway her hips and she'll earn money. She is an entertainer, she has the confidence to dance naked publicly because she convinced herself that if she won't work today, they'll starve tomorrow. Everything about her life was repetitive until he met Terrius, the rich man who wants her for himself.

Renata never imagined her entire academic future would collapse overnight. Her scholarship had been revoked, expulsion was looming over her, and her little sister, Alea, needed a fortune to survive a rare illness. Just when Renata thought she had nowhere left to turn, Dominic Sinclair appeared—a young professor known for being the coldest and most powerful figure on campus—offering a proposal she could not escape. “Become my secret girl. You don’t need to be smart. Just be beautiful, obedient, and available whenever I want you. Your grades and living expenses will be taken care of.” Renata knew it was madness. Immoral. Dangerous. But for Alea—for her sister’s life, for her own future—she walked into Dominic’s office at exactly three in the afternoon. Wearing a mini skirt. And the moment that door closed behind her, Renata’s life changed forever.

My grandfather, Tanner Kane, valued loyalty above all else. When his adopted daughter, Alanna Meyer, was sentenced to death for murder, he sent my mother, Florence Kane, to her death. All to preserve the bloodline of his late childhood friend. Alanna took my mother's name, married, and lived a privileged life free from hardship. Meanwhile, my mother died carrying a crime she never committed. My father, Graham Hart, and I changed our names and wandered from place to place. For years, I was mocked as a motherless child. Forty years later, after enduring humiliation and dedicating myself to my studies, I became a judge in Arbor Falls. Today, I am presiding over a controversial campus murder case in which the victim fell to her death from a building. There were no surveillance cameras. Only two girls were present, and each insists the other is the killer. One of them, Nova, comes from a poor family. Her parents are divorced, and she associates with local delinquents. She is known throughout the school as a feared bully. The other one, Scarlett, comes from a wealthy family. Her parents have a loving marriage, and she excels academically. Her grandmother is a beautiful and kind-hearted artist. Her great-grandfather spent his entire life doing charity work and was recognized as a nationally renowned philanthropist. Everyone believes she is a good girl who would never lie, so Nova the bully must be the killer. However, when I looked at the name listed under Scarlett's grandmother, I saw my mother's name: Florence Kane. Without a second thought, I turned to the person beside me and said, "Reject her request for acquittal."

"Wider, Millie. Yes, that's it." I lay weakly on the examination table, my hands unconsciously gripping the sheets. The voice behind me was low and restrained, but it made my ears burn. This examination position was too embarrassing. My buttocks were forced to arch high like some kind of submissive gesture. "Doctor, I can't open any wider..." I bit my lower lip, my voice trembling deliberately. I could see my reflection in the metal bars of the examination table. My messy hair stuck to my flushed cheeks as my eyes shone with a watery, dreamy glow.

Beneath the opera house...indeed, someone is there. Watching and musing as he watches the theatre he loved and hated. Noelle is a talented dancer but is pushed aside in favour of the ballerinas. Until one night, he hears music and encounters the origin of many ghost stories; Julian is an enigmatic loner whose only companions are the rats. In Noelle, he sees the spark of talent and knows he can kindle it. And the story begins. Genius and passion are a painful mix...