5 Elements Of A Story

Carl Anderson doesn't show up for our engagement party. I finally find him in a bar's private room after night has fallen. "I only think of her as a sister. Who would've expected her to want to latch onto me like that? There's no way I'll marry her in this lifetime!" He downs his drink. Later, when he and Angela Moran get married, he tells his friends to stop me at the entrance. He's afraid I'll crash his wedding and ruin it. "Keep an eye on Iris, guys. Don't let her crash the wedding!" he says. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I show up with Henry Moran. "Don't even dream of stepping in there, Iris!" Carl looks at me warily. "You're so rude! You have to call her Aunt Iris now!" Angela greets me warmly and leads me inside.

My mother claims my husband has cheated on me and pushes me to get a divorce. I want to collect evidence before proceeding with anything—if it's true, I have to uphold my rights. Yet she causes a scene at an art exhibition I've worked on for three years, humiliating me in public and making me sound like a gold digger. "How are you any different from a prostitute when you're holding this dumb exhibition with a man's money? I didn't raise you to be a gold digger! How can you be so revolting?" She slashes the million-dollar paintings in the exhibition, claiming that she's doing this for my good. She wants me to see the error of my ways and return to the right path. Meanwhile, I clutch my bloody hand, which she slashed with her blade. I say, "You say you want me to return to the right path, but is that what it really is? You want me to divorce my legally wedded husband, who's a CEO, without a penny to my name. "Then, you want me to marry a 45-year-old cheap man who has a child and no money? He even wants me to support him!"

Being in a Contract marriage with an illegitimate daughter is one decision that Alaric cannot change but manage with. Desperate to make his betrothed wife give up on the marriage without having any share of his property made him and his mistress drug her and set her up in a one night stand with a stranger. Not only did she get pregnant for an unknown man,it cost her marriage and also rendered her homeless. Faced with no choice than to search for the man that not only took her virginity but also made her a mom. Was her search successful? Who was the identity of the man she had a night stand with?

นายหัวอัสลานผู้อุปากระมาหยา ตอนนี้ อายุ 19-20 ปี เรียนจบ ม.6 แล้ว ตลอด 5 ปีที่อุปการะไม่เคยไปดูนอกจากส่งลูกน้องไปดูแลให้การศึกษาดูแลอย่างดี แต่เขาไม่ชอบเด็กเลยส่งไปอยู่กับแม่นมในสวน จน 5 ปี ไม่เคยเห็นหน้าจนเกิดอุบัติเหตุทำให้ได้เห็นหน้ากัน และพอเห็นหน้าดันหลงชอบเด็กในอุปการะคนนี้เข้าอย่างจัง แต่หารู้ไหมคู่แข่งบานเลย หัวกระไดบ้านไม่แห้งตัวเองก็หวงจนหัวฟัดหัวเหวี่ยง คู่แข่งตัวเป้งคือ นายหัวใหญ่ เจ้าของบาร์และเจ้าของร้านที่มาหยาเช่าร้านขนมอยู่ “หนูชื่อมาหยาจ้ะ หนูชอบทำขนมแล้วอยากจะมาขายขนมที่นี่ได้ไหมจ้ะ” “ได้ซิ ฉันคิดค่าเช่าเธอเดือนละ 3500 จ่ายล่วงหน้า 3 เดือนสัญญาเช่าซื้อให้ 2 ปี เธอตกลงไหม”ความจริงค่าเช่าที่เดือนละ 40000 บาท แถมสัญญาเช่าปีต่อปี แต่นายหัวใหญ่ที่อยากจะเห็นหน้าเด็กคนนี้ทุกวันก็ยอมลดทุกอย่างแถมโปรโมชั่นให้เด็ก ม.5 ที่น่ารักคนนี้ เอาแซ่นายหัวใหญ่ผู้เปย์ก่อน นายหัวอัสลานผู้อุปการะ ใครมันจะชนะใจ มาหยาได้กันนะ

DEVAUX SERIES 1: The ruthless CEO second chance (Aiden Story) [COMPLETED] DEVAUX SERIES 2: (Keon Story) upcoming... DEVAUX SERIES 3: (Addison Story) upcoming... DEVAUX SERIES 4: (Allistair Story) upcoming... DEVAUX SERIES 5: (Allard Story) upcoming... Atasha Selry, isang wedding coordinator na matagal ng pinipilit ng kaniyang ina na magkaroon na ng asawa at mga anak but it is not her thing because she wanted to focus on her mom first until unexpectedly had happened. Nangyari ang isang gabi na magpapabago sa buhay niya sa piling ni Keiron Kent Devaux ang pinkang mayaman na tao sa mundo, a billionaire. Nagkaroon sila ng kambal na anak pero hindi ito alam ng lalaki hanggang sa muli silang magkita.

While preparing for the SATs at the library, my brother is accidentally shot and injured, causing him to bleed profusely. I pass by this scene but turn a blind eye and quicken my pace to leave. This is because in my previous life, when I saw him, I rushed him to the hospital in a panic. He had intracranial hemorrhaging, and he urgently needed surgery. I quickly called my mom, the top neurosurgeon in the city, begging her to come to the hospital as soon as possible. However, she thought I was jealous that she had taken my adopted sister to the beach instead of spending time with me. She also believed I had fabricated the story about my brother's injury, and thus refused to return. By the time my dad and the rest of the family hurried to the hospital, it was too late for rescue efforts—my brother had passed away. The whole family blamed me for his death. They were convinced that I had deliberately misled my mom and delayed his critical treatment. When my mom returned from out of town, she lost her composure and pushed me down the stairs, watching coldly as I bled to death. After opening my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother was shot at the library.

For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post.  This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, with the caption: [Paid in full. As the saying goes, ‘Where a man spends his money, that's where his heart is’.] I knew he bought it to soothe her temper. But this time, I had enough. I decided to divorce him.

One day, in the school's group chat, I accidentally revealed that I was the daughter of Sanfiric Inc.'s chairman. Out of nowhere, Sally jumped in with a scathing remark: [Do you have no shame? Clinging to some random man and calling him ‘Dad' just because you're desperate to be an heiress. Have you lost your mind?] Her accusation left me completely baffled. I didn't even bother responding, but she wasn't about to let it go. She bombarded the chat with photos and videos, all claiming to prove that she was the real heiress. In a video she shared, she was clinging to my father's arm, acting sweet and coy. I stared at the screen in shock, my mind reeling. Before I could even process what I was seeing, the school advisor kicked me out of the group chat entirely. "How could we have such a vain and shameless student? You're a disgrace to the school!" Furious, I whipped out my phone and called my dad. The moment he picked up, I exploded, "Roger Burberry, do you have another daughter I don't know about?!"

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."

On the eve of the National Robotics Championship, I smashed my carefully designed bot to pieces and announced my withdrawal. Everyone said I was a fraud who was quitting out of fear of being exposed. Online, the netizens mocked me relentlessly. Only one person, Adrian Cross, the so-called genius of the century, spoke up in my defense, his voice dripping with false sincerity, "I believe in River Lowell’s skills. Only he deserves to be my opponent. No matter what setbacks he’s facing, I hope he comes back to the arena and proves himself." In my previous life, the robot I built was identical to his. No matter how I tried to prove he had copied me, Adrian stood before the cameras, wearing his benevolent mask, and said, "It’s fine. This robot can go to River. I can always build something even better." His fans swarmed me, tearing me apart online, and no one believed in my talent. I swallowed the humiliation and vowed to rebuild my robot from scratch. However, when I was assembling it, the Power Core in my kit exploded, shattering my skull. That same night, I was rushed into the ICU. Netizens clapped and cheered, saying I got exactly what I deserved. That night, my girlfriend, Lila Hart, signed the hospital’s DNR consent form without hesitation. Until the day I died, I never understood how Adrian had gotten my robot’s data or why Lila had joined forces with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day of the competition.