Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang CEO Secret Love

Shawn Hansen, Wigston's most notorious playboy, always has a thing for dazzling women. This time, his eyes are set on Carrie Myers, my fiance Harvey Anderson's close friend. And now, he decides to marry her on the same day as my wedding. When I go to Harvey to discuss the wedding details, I walk in on him holding Carrie and promising, "Don't worry. I'll marry you. Our churches are side by side, and with your face hidden under the veil, I'll swap you in for her. No one will ever notice." Carrie sobbed, her voice filled with concern. "Angelina is clever. She will undoubtedly notice something is wrong." He kisses her forehead gently and comforts her, "I'll drug her so she won't be able to think straight or resist." Only then does she relax, yet she asks curiously, "You really don't mind letting her marry Shawn?" Harvey thinks seriously before replying, "I love you and must marry you first. Shawn is my good friend, so even if he marries her, he wouldn't touch her. I'll bring her back once he realizes the bride has been switched. By then, the two of you can serve me together." I can't bear to listen any longer, and I turn to leave with a broken heart. Despite the sorrow, I am determined to become Shawn's wife.

I’m Daisy Valence. Eighteen. The favorite daughter of the Valence family. I woke up and found myself eight years in the future. Not only was I married to my nemesis, Lorenzo Astor, but we had a four-year-old son. Even crazier, the future me was a stone-cold snake, plotting to gut Lorenzo's operation while planning to run off with her "lover" after the divorce. And this "lover"? Just some nobody from the slums I was bankrolling. I must have lost my mind. Just as I was about to cut ties with all of them and get my free, single life back... I found the love letters Lorenzo wrote me, a secret stash of things I’d used, and a phone filled with my pictures… Then he grabbed me, his eyes bloodshot, and held me so tight I could barely breathe. He growled, "Who the hell gave you permission to leave me?" "I never agreed to any divorce, my wife."

My childhood sweetheart tanked his startup and racked up millions in debt. He begged for my help, so I dropped out of college and sold liquor to keep him afloat. Ten years later, he proposed to me. I thought we'd made it through the worst until I saw his chatting records with his buddies. [Lorelei is pushing 30. Too old and too used up for you.] [Who knows if she earned that debt money by slinging drinks or something else?] [Besides, what about your kid with your secretary?]

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world. When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board. I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company. When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview. The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings. In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible. Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good. The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery. "Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets". I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived. Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry. She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh. "It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?" But I wasn't there to secure any investment. I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind. I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

Being a good saleswoman means knowing how to make money and save it. So when my landlord said someone wanted to split the rent with me, I jumped at the chance. My new roommate kept regular hours. He was neat and even knew how to cook. His only downside was that he barely talked. But to me, that was a plus. Quiet and emotionally stable. Perfect. Then came the year-end company meeting. As the top salesperson, I was invited to sit with the executives. The man at the head of the table looked up. His expression was cold and distant. My manager introduced him as the heir to Prescott Group. Except... I could've sworn he was my quiet roommate. I'm speechless. Here's the thing. I got drunk last night and accidentally ripped his pants and boxers. Think I still have time to sew them back?

My fiancé was drugged at a party and spent the night tangled up with Isabelle Parson, the housekeeper's daughter. Afterward, Isabelle turned up pregnant, and Adrian tore up our engagement right there at our engagement party. "Leah, Isabelle is carrying my child. I have to marry her. I know you still love me. After I marry Isabelle, you can keep being my lover." I agreed to break off the engagement on the spot, then turned around and married Gordon—the man I'd once refused in a family alliance. At my wedding, Adrian stood before the guests and mocked me with an icy smile. "So this is what you've sunk to without me—marrying a pauper on the verge of bankruptcy. I'm the richest man in Jeffolton City. All you have to do is beg, and I'll let you come back to me." I looked at him with a thin, distant smile. He still didn't know—whoever I marry would become the richest man in Jeffolton City.