Why Did Walter White Start Cooking Meth?

“Take them off yourself, or I will do it for you.” Ten sessions. Two hundred thousand dollars. Her brother’s life for her body. Dr. Avery St. Clair signed a contract in blood. To save her family, she has to fix the mind of Obsidian City’s most feared monster, Dominic Kessler. He’s a Mafia Don rotting from the inside out. A bullet gave him C-PTSD and a touch so sensitive he can’t stand being touched. Avery is the only antidote who can calm him down. So he locked her in his villa. But Dominic is playing a game he’s already lost. He doesn’t know Avery is the woman from seven years ago. The stranger who saved him on that dark gambling ship and disappeared before sunrise. He doesn’t know the scar on his wrist is burned into her memory. And most of all, he doesn’t know the autistic little girl hiding in her clinic is his own daughter. While Avery hides the truth behind her professional mask, their little girl feels his every nightmare. Every flashback. Every crack in his monster mask. When the secrets finally come out, his empire will fall. He’ll lose his sight. His throne. The only woman who ever made him feel human. To win her back, he’ll have to destroy the monster he became. And help her burn down the man who murdered her parents. She won’t make it easy. This is not a love story. It’s a monster learning to beg. Why read this? Obsessive Mafia Hero Secret Baby with an Autistic and Gifted Daughter Identity Reveal “Touch Her And You Die” Energy Massive Groveling and Revenge A Heroine Who Fights Back No Cheating. Happy Ending Guaranteed.

Coraline Hart was a typical young woman for those looking at her from the outside. She went to work at a café, paid her bills, and was never seen without a smile on her face. But no one was to know the true horrors of what Coraline was forced to endure behind closed doors. To deal with his pain, her father went to the bottle and spent most of his time off his face with drink to forget his feelings. Due to his alcoholism, he can never hold down a job, and whatever money he does have, he drinks away. Causing Coraline to give him all of hers, knowing the dangers of what he could do if she were to say no. She had accepted this was her life now, going to work and giving all her money to her father, but that was until her saviour, in the form of a man in a very well-pressed suit with slicked-back hair and the thickest Spanish accent, walked into her café. This mysterious man soon becomes infatuated with this woman, who had unknowingly saved him the day they met; to him, it proved she was his and no other person was to cross her. But his infatuation was soon about to turn deadly; any man that he deemed too close to his Coraline soon slipped away without any hassle. When a police officer comes into the café and shreds some light on the man she was seeing, her world comes crumbling down. But for the mysterious man with the thick Spanish accent, he can never let go of his new obsession. Read on to find out how this simple interaction between two complete strangers became deadly.

"Please, doctor! I'm begging you!" As soon as I get off work, I can't control my urges anymore, so I quickly bolt toward the private hospital. Ever since I'm afflicted with the ailment that makes me addicted to pleasure, I keep feeling very empty on the inside. The urge to let loose and satisfy myself keeps plaguing me at all times. Left without a choice, the doctor can only feed me some medication. But my sinful thoughts keep overtaking my mind. At that moment, I feel myself losing my mind. What should I do?

My wife, Monica, hated the smell of alcohol, so I had never once seen her drink. Not even at the celebration for my succession as Don did she touch a single drop. That changed at a Family banquet, when a party game broke out halfway through. Monica lost. The penalty: sit on the lap of your one true love and share a lovers' toast. Without a second of hesitation, she picked up her glass, settled onto Dillon's lap, and drank it down. The room erupted in cheers, and every pair of eyes turned to me with the same expectation. They were waiting for me to flip the table and storm out. But I just watched Monica in silence, slid the ring off my finger, and placed a set of divorce papers in front of her. "Divorce." My voice was flat. Monica froze for a beat, then let out a scornful laugh. "All because I didn't drink with you?" "Exactly. That's why." I pushed the papers a little closer.

I'm Julian Johnson, and I love cake. My mommy, Charlotte Davis, brings me a small cake every day after work. My daddy, Peter Johnson, buys a full set of ovens and baking tools. For my sake, he then patiently learns how to bake cakes. I use to think I'm the luckiest kid in the world. That is, until the day my parents get divorced, and the man who comes to pick up Mommy turns out to be the bakery owner, Larry Patterson. Daddy suddenly whips around and glares at me with bloodshot eyes. "This is all your fault! If it weren't for you and your constant cake cravings, your mother never would've had an affair!" He stretches out his burn-scarred hands and shrieks hysterically, "My hands have never been free of wounds, all because I kept making cakes for you. But how do you two repay me? You're both convinced that whatever comes from outside tastes better!" Daddy strikes me hard with the baking tray. I bite my lip tightly, not daring to cry out. That night, Daddy brings home a little boy, Dustin Decker. Despite the pain racking my body, I drop to my knees and plead for Daddy to forgive me. "Daddy, I'm sorry. Please don't abandon me. I promise I'll never eat cake again!" Daddy slaps me several times in fury. Then, still not satisfied, he throws me into the large oven. "Don't call me that! I'm not your father! If you love cake so much, then stay in there and think about what you've done! You and your tramp of a mother both deserve to die!" After Daddy slams the door and leaves, Dustin skips cheerfully over to the oven and smugly presses the switch. "From now on, your daddy is mine!" The oven starts up. The temperature climbs around me, and yet I smile. Maybe this is for the best. At least Daddy can finally be happy now.

My husband, who was a drug enforcement police officer, personally got me into rehab. My son was cheering on the side, saying that he no longer had to see me under the influence for a long time. After I was discharged, I discovered my husband moved in with his lover and our son. I begged him to come back and told him that someone would kill me. He did not believe me. Instead, he said coldly, “If you die, you better end up in a trash can. Otherwise, I’d have to deal with your body.” My son cheered at the side. “Mommy is finally gone!” After a week, I was dismembered. My body parts were found in multiple trash cans. He was the police in charge of the case.