Contos e Romances sobre Melodramatic com Awakening

My husband Christian Messina's assistant has been blowing through my money like it's water. At the underground auction, she laughed in my face and called me a useless trophy wife. So I cut her access. She got humiliated at checkout, and the club's security locked her up for a full day and night. When Christian found out, he froze my card on my birthday. Told me I'd better figure out how to pay, or I'd be stripping down and crawling out on all fours in front of every mob higher-up in New York. What he doesn't know? I'm the heiress to the biggest mafia empire in the country. The Moretti name? That's mine. And everything he has right now—every turf, every dollar, every scrap of power? I put it all in his hands. Quietly. Behind his back.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

On the day we take our graduation photos, the class decides to split into groups. The moment I stand beside my girlfriend, Susie Langdon, someone calls out, "Put Paul next to Susie!" Another girl echoes, "Yeah, the hottest guy and the prettiest girl in our department should stand together!" Before I can react, my childhood friend, Joanna Boyle, grabs my arm and switches our places. "Zach, switch with Paul. It's just a graduation photo. Don't be so petty." Susie smiles and doesn't object. She simply steps aside to make room for Paul Ramos. I stand there frozen, instinctively touching the ring on my finger. It is the first gift Susie ever gives me. I've wanted to wear it for the most important photo of us. Right before the shutter clicks, Susie suddenly calls out, "Zach." My stomach tightens. She reaches over and slips the ring off my finger. "Paul's hand looks too bare. Let him wear it for the picture." The crowd starts teasing them again. Paul just smiles, and Susie doesn't even offer a word of explanation. The photographer shouts, "Say, 'Happy Graduation!'" As everyone yells in unison, I stand at the far edge of the group. At that moment, I finally understand how unimportant I am to Susie. If I don't deserve to stand next to her, then she has no place in my future either.

My best friend and my girlfriend's graduation trip vlog blew up online, racking up millions of likes. The comments were full of people swooning over their picture-perfect love story. Someone finally asked who the guy sitting quietly in the corner was. Suzanna Jones replied to the comment: [Just some random guy. I don't know him.] When I sent her a screenshot, she explained impatiently. "You stutter when you talk. Putting you on camera would only make you look ridiculous. "Elliot and I are only pretending to be a couple so he can make enough money to pay for his mom's medical treatment, so stop getting jealous over nothing." For the past year, I had practiced speaking to my phone every single day, all for the relationship-announcement video she had promised we would make. Now, I could finally speak without stuttering. However, she did not know that, because she had not been patient enough to listen to me in a long time. Just like now. Before I could say a word, she turned and walked away, hand in hand with Elliot Walker, stepping straight back into her camera frame. During their seven-day trip, Elliot filmed thirty-two videos. She appeared in every single one. She patiently listened to him ramble about anything and everything, never letting a single thing he said go unanswered. The last part of my heart that had been fighting to hold on finally went quiet. I lowered my head and deleted the relationship-announcement I had practiced hundreds of times. If I was nothing more than a background extra in her world, then so be it. She would not have a part in the of my life anymore.

My girlfriend, Tasha, was a hopeless romantic, hooked on using a breakup to test how much I love her. The first time, she threatened to kill herself when I was in the middle of defending my thesis. She pushed me to turn down a six-figure job offer, so I’d spend the day at the beach with her. Later, Tasha told me, “I just wanted to know whether your job or I meant more to you.” The second time, she showed up at my father’s funeral, arm in arm with her guy best friend, Jesse. She demanded a public apology, all because I didn’t answer her call the day before. “I was only testing your emotional stability. Why are you so upset?” The third time came in the fifth year of us dating. She rented a massive screen downtown and broadcast a video of her kissing Jesse. Tasha made a post on her social media. “If he hikes to the top of Mount Rainier and proposes to me, I’ll forgive him.” Her friend group was already betting on the hours it would take me to reach the summit in tears. Too bad they were all wrong. I was done proving myself in Tasha’s so-called tests of love.

In my last life, I died three days after Layla Vale became a "savior." Even as she injected concentrated wolfsbane into my IV, she practiced her funeral face in front of a photograph of Seraphina Blackwood. "Once she's dead, I'll be remembered as her savior. Adrian will fall for me sooner or later. Rowan, why did you have to call the police and ruin everything?" I tried to pull the needle out, but my wrist was pinned to the bed. The Vales reminded me that they had taken me in from an orphanage, paid my tuition, and given me a home. So writing Layla's fraudulent interview copy, covering up the wolf-luring resin, and finally dying in her place were all debts I owed her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back two hours before the charity night run began. Layla kicked her white boots over to my feet and ordered me to crouch down and tie the laces, then write the interview copy for her "heroic rescue." She had no idea that two hours later, she would deliberately release maddened wolves to play the hero on camera and leave Alpha Adrian Blackwood's wife critically injured. In my last life, I worked myself to the bone covering every crack in her plan, only for her to kill me to keep me quiet. This time, I warned her: "The east emergency door isn't locked. Something is going to happen tonight." Layla sent the order to the team chat, impatient. "We go as planned. Nobody changes anything." I saved a screenshot, started recording, and for the first time did not clean up after her. Later, her arrow wounded Seraphina. I pulled the child to safety, triggered the alarm, and staunched Seraphina's bleeding. When Adrian arrived, he gave Layla only one look. Yet she told me, her cheeks flushed, "Did you see that? He's fallen for me." I looked at the wolf-luring resin that hadn't been wiped clean off her glove, and I smiled. She had no idea Adrian wasn't looking at a woman he desired. He was watching the woman who had hurt his wife.

After my sister and I were both diagnosed with liver failure, we were admitted to the same hospital. But only one matching donor liver was available. My family favored her. I still wanted to live. I broke down in the hospital hallway, pleading with my parents for that chance. Someone filmed me and posted the video online. Everyone called me cold and selfish. They said I had sacrificed my humanity just to stay alive. When it was time to sign the preoperative paperwork, my brother finally came to my room. His face was hard. The moment he saw me, he started in on me. He wouldn't even look at me. "This family has always indulged you because you're the youngest. Haven't you caused enough trouble? "Camilla Hale is only twenty. Her life is just beginning. "You've been sickly since childhood, but we've taken care of you all these years. What would it cost you to put her first this once? "You've been sick your whole life, and you've always pulled through." He didn't know Camilla had secretly switched our test results. Before I could tell him, his phone rang. Camilla sobbed on the other end, asking if I was still being heartless. Henry's voice softened as he reassured her. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. "This is yours. No one is going to take it from you." Whenever I got sick as a child, my brother, Henry Hale, carried me to the hospital on his back. Back then, he would hold my hand and say, "Livia, I'll be your guardian angel." Now, as I looked at his familiar face, I understood how much trouble I had caused everyone... "All right, Henry. She can have the transplant."