Is Zade Valerie Zaia Active On Social Media?

There's a prophecy – a prophecy holding the fate of two worlds. On the edge of Lilah's field, at the twelfth hour of the fall of twelve, the three kings will unite, a daisy will be lost, or the worlds will be gone. The Oracle tells me that I am bound to the prophecy. That I cannot alter or change it. That I’m destined to be greater than what I am, but I already knew that. I’ve known that since the age of five. Now, can you guess who needs to die? Death doesn’t bother me. I will let the world burn if it means achieving my goals – because with every lick of the whip; he tore my flesh raw, as his laughter rang through the mansion, and my screams disturbed the heavens. No one cared to help, no one listened – definitely not the Gods. So why should I? ._. Eldora. A world woven together by magic. Cloaked in darkness and chaos, sin and deceit. Where no one is innocent; where both hands - and teeth - drip with the blood of others. And there is her. A lone wolf, watching the world tear itself apart. Watching the chaos, the death, the destruction as she fights a far greater war, within her. What's right and wrong? What's considered good and evil? Where does she stand in this enteral mystery, we call a universe? Coated in darkness and pain, she questions the meaning of life and death, and her purpose in this world of infinite possibilities. She finds only one answer: REVENGE. *WARNING this story contains abuse, suicidal thoughts, intense trauma, and erotic scenes. Please do not read if this is heavily triggering for you!*

Elena Voss, the heiress to the world's largest media conglomerate, steps out of a private jet looking unassuming but is instantly mobbed by paparazzi. "Ms. Voss, what ended your four-year marriage to Mr. Black?" She flashes a confident smile. "Time to claim my trillion-dollar empire." "And the whispers of you seeing multiple suitors?" Before she can reply, a deep voice cuts in from the crowd. "All lies." Damian Black emerges, eyes locked on her. "I've got a fortune too, Elena. Why not take mine instead?"

While picking up my parcel from the mailroom, I run into Ivan Judd, an underprivileged student from my grade who is working part-time there. While we chat, he finds out that I'd spent 128 thousand dollars during the Black Friday sales. Dumbfounded, Ivan cries, "I've never even seen that kind of money in my entire life! And you're spending it so casually? Did your mom send you to college to study or to blow money like this?" He yanks the parcel out of my hands and physically blocks the exit. "Return it immediately! Kids like you never understand how hard it is for adults to earn money! If you're this wasteful now, what man can afford to marry you in the future?" I can't help but laugh angrily at Ivan's ridiculous attitude. I retort, "What does me spending my mom's money have anything to do with you?" "How does it not?" He looks completely justified when he says, "I'm dating your mom. Every cent you spend counts as our future marital assets!" I am shocked. Isn't Mom a lesbian? Since when did she start liking men?

She wanted to be free, but did that mean surrendering everything to Damien and his whims? Tired of her domineering husband, Valerie Tanner decides it's time to start a new life somewhere else. However, when she moves to Live Oak, her brother's friends show her a life of total abandon where someone else calls the shots, and she has no choice but to obey. Once she gives in, Valerie descends into a dark morass of exploits that leaves her reeling and craving more, even though she fights each order she's given. Her mind screams at her that it's wrong, but her body pleads for her to continue. The question now is: how far will she fall before she loses herself? Or, is this the path to show her who she truly is?

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."