A Day With Bowser Jr

My fated mate's secretary was pregnant. He brought her home on my birthday. Then he stood there and gave me orders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Alina has bad allergies. Be careful when you cook from now on. Don't use anything she's allergic to." "She's pregnant. She needs me next to her at night. Move your things into the guest room." I didn't say anything. I picked up the suitcase I'd already packed and walked toward the door. Alina hugged Dominic's arm and let her voice go soft and small. "Dominic, if Mia's upset about it, just forget it." Dominic let out a cold laugh. "Let her sulk. She'll come crawling back in three days." Alina smiled. So did the servants. To them, I was just a stray Omega Dominic had picked up off the street. The only reason I had a place in this house was because I was his fated mate. Without him, I had nowhere to go. What none of them knew was that my real father, the Alpha King, had already sent a private jet to bring me home. This time, I really was leaving.

Isolde and Adrian had been the typical high school couple, so it comes as no surprise to anyone who knows them, they had been unbreakable since high school. But when Isolde fiery and ample best friend Aria, returns to the home town for the wedding after five long years, the couples relationship spirals downward. All it takes is one drunken night of passion between Adrian and Aria to spotlight the many problems in his relationship with Isolde. They both begin a grimy affair at the expense of those around them, and as all three of their lives begin to spiral out of control, more secrets unshackles. Nobody will be left out when the whole truth comes to light……

In a luxury boutique, a male influencer and I are eyeing the same watch. I'm about to give it up when I hear the salesperson yell at me in a shrill voice, "Get your filthy hands off it right now! Mr. Parr saw it first. How dare you compete with him? He's an important customer of our store!" I freeze and see Alan Parr staring at me with utter disgust, his arms crossed. "You think a country bumpkin like you deserves that watch? Do you even know how much its accessories cost? A pauper like you definitely can't afford it!" he snaps, then holds up a card and signs the receipt. However, the name he signs is my wife's. The supplementary card he's holding is the one I gave my wife for her allowance.

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"

"Sa sandaling matakpan Ng Araw Ang liwanag Ng buwan, Isisilang Ang maestro Ng tatlong kaharian." Ang isang tagnang labis na kinatakutan ng tatlong kaharian!!! Subalit ang tagna nga ba ang dahilan ng pag-bagsak ng kaharian? O ang Wagas na PAG-IBIG ang magsisimula ng matinding HIDWAAN...

"Mommy, you have to be the first person to come pick me up, okay?" These are my daughter Dorothy Grant's final words to me when she walked me out of the house this morning. But when I stand at the kindergarten's entrance with a box of Dorothy's favorite strawberry shortcake in my hands, the security guard just stares at me as though I lost my mind. "Ma'am, this place might be where Sunflower Kindergarten is located, but it has already closed its doors for three years. This place is now a retirement home." I rush into the "kindergarten" instantly. The spot where the slide used to be is now replaced by a row of flowerbeds. The room that used to be the classroom now hosts a bunch of elderly people, who bask in the sunlight. With trembling hands, I call my husband, Chester Grant, on the phone. He sounds very exasperated and exhausted over the phone. "Honey, we've been married for five years, and we choose to be childless. You've never given birth before."

The day I land a hundred-million-dollar deal for the company, my girlfriend—Paisley Needham, the CEO—finally agrees to marry me. The next day, I wait at the city hall until it closes. She never shows up. Instead, what I get is her official announcement with her assistant, Jude Grayford. In the photo, she nestles in his arms. A crisp marriage license sits in her hand, impossible to miss. The caption reads, "My CEO, Ms. Paisley Needham, couldn't bear to see me going on blind dates, so she just went ahead and got the marriage license with me today. I'm so happy!" My colleagues gossip, assuming I'll be jealous and furious. I don't. I just like the post and comment, "So, when's the ceremony? Don't forget to invite me!" Paisley calls immediately, cursing me out. "I just didn't want to see him being pressured into blind dates by his parents, so I agreed to get married on paper to keep them off his back. It's not like we're actually married. Do you really have to be so petty? "Delete your comment right now and get on your knees to apologize to Jude. If you don't, I'll never marry you." I laughed bitterly. "Even better," I say. "I hope you two have a long, happy life together… and have lots of kids."

My dad collapsed from a sudden heart attack and died. The shock hit my mom like a freight train, and she blacked out cold. By the time I raced home from college, his body had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. Grief barely had a chance to sink in before the debt collectors pounded on our door. That was when the ugly truth emerged. My dad had secretly racked up billions in loans, saddling my mom and me. A year later, the relentless harassment from those goons drove my mom to despair. She ended her life, and I was forced to drop out of school, scavenging dumpsters just to scrape by. But fate had a cruel twist in store. I spotted my "dead" dad, alive and thriving, hosting an extravagant birthday bash for his secret son. I stormed in, desperate for answers, only to be hurled out by security. My head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black. When my eyes fluttered open again, I was inexplicably back on that fateful day of my dad's heart attack.

The day I found out I was pregnant with twins, Vincent Castellano celebrated like a man who had been handed heaven. Fireworks over Brooklyn. Vows whispered against my stomach. Promises that his empire, his loyalty, and his life were mine. That same day, I found out the hospital built in my name had been sheltering his affair. While I was throwing up and fighting to keep our babies safe, he was holding another woman in the next room. So I made my choice. I would keep the twins. But Vincent Castellano would lose all three of us.

Rule number one: Do not kiss strange men in clubs. Rule number two: Never kiss the owner of the club. Rule number three: If he’s a secret billionaire with a dark past and a disturbing obsession with your heartbeat? Run. My name is Scarlett Whitmore. And I broke all three. I was born with a heart condition called Mitral Valve Prolapse. My mother hates me for ruining her life. My brother cannot stand me. And my boyfriend, Drake Bittencourt, the man I thought was the love of my life, proposed to my twin sister in front of 19,000 hockey fans. And she accepted him without hesitation. When my sister walks into the club I work at, flaunting Drake’s ring without remorse, I make a rash decision: I grab the first man that catches my fancy and kiss him like my life depends on it. He turns out to be Harlan Rousseau. Team captain of the formidable Vancouver Icefangs. Hockey god. And according to the tabloids, dead broke and drowning in debt. But the tabloids are wrong. Not only is Harlan Rousseau NOT broke, he’s the secret heir to a ninety- billion-dollar oil empire. He offers me a deal: wear his ring. play the devoted wife. And sleep in his bed for a year. In exchange, he’ll pay off my medical debt and save my best friend from homelessness. The most important of all: he offers a chance to get my revenge. I should’ve said no. But I was desperate. And desperate women make deals with the devil. The longer I stay, the more I realize Harlan Rousseau is not just hiding wealth. He’s hiding a monster. And I’m starting to think I don’t want to run from it…