A Silent Voice Figure

I never imagined selling myself to a stranger, but desperation changes everything. “My offer is simple,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair, his voice colder than the iced whiskey in his glass. “Help us track down those people you overheard last night and act as bait for a few months” His eyes were steel—sharp, unreadable. I swallowed hard. I was a waitress. He was a billionaire. We lived in different worlds. But my mother was dying, and I needed money fast. “And in return?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “You get two million dollars as well as protection from the criminal organization looking for you,” he said flatly. My hands trembled in my lap. This wasn’t a proposal. It was a transaction. And I was the product. But I nodded anyway. “Deal.”

As I took my newborn daughter from the nurse, I heard the voice of the baby in the next bed echoing in my head. “Don’t take her, Mommy. I’m your real baby!” The doctor and nurses did not seem to hear a thing. I thought I was hallucinating due to my fatigue, so I continued nursing my baby girl. “How dare you cry, you burdensome wretch? I’ll pinch you if you keep crying!” The baby’s grandmother picked him up and walked outside, but the voice came again, crying, “The mean old lady is taking me away. Mommy, look over here quickly! Look at the birthmark on my left ear!” I froze. My first child, who had died in an accident, had a birthmark on his left ear.

“Run, little flame,” he growled, voice thick with hunger. His voice dropped lower, “But if I find you…” “I'll fuck you till your legs give out. Until you forget who you are. Until all that's left is my scent on your skin and my name on your tongue.” And she ran. ** She was the one wolf he should've killed on sight. Instead, he craved her. Cursed to die if he chooses wrong, Alpha Kael is drawn to Nyra–a hunted temptress born of forbidden blood. But the closer he gets, the harder it is to tell... Is she his fated mate? Or the end written in his prophecy? Yet the moment he smells her, he knows. She's his salvation. His ruin. But when it all burns hot...who the hell wants to survive?

"Babe, what’s happening here?" I blurted out, my voice shaking as I tried to make sense of the scene before me. Jeffrey turned, his face hardening as if I was a stranger in my own home. "What does this look like to you?"he snapped, rising from the bed with a fierce look in his eyes. He walked toward me, gripping a piece of paper as if it held all the power in the world. "Sign the divorce papers!"he said, shoving the document toward me like it was a blunt instrument. "B... but babe!!" I stammered, my mind racing with disbelief. "Will you shut up and just do it already?" His voice was ice-cold, cutting through my confusion like a knife. Each word stabbed at my heart, making me feel like I was on the verge of falling into an abyss.

I had cancer. And Carl—my boyfriend of seven years—ditched me at the hospital to play fake boyfriend for his so-called best friend, just so she could dodge her parents' marriage pressure. When the results came in, I broke down. Clutching the report, I sobbed as I called him. "Carl, I... I..." My voice cracked. I didn't even know how to say it. I thought he'd comfort me. Instead, his voice came sharp through the phone. "Can you not? Mia's just a friend. What's so wrong about me helping her?—do you have to be so dramatic? I already promised to marry you this month. What more do you want?"

It was a remarkable experience that inflicted pain to Pastel Noreignhae Syjuco's life. She suffered torment and trauma in the hands of his ill brother. The life she has wasn't heaven at all. It was purely hell. The wildfire conflagrated flames of relentless dissolvement of her hope to live. Through art, she make used of it as a platform to unchain herself from all the thorns and fangs of life. Symbolic figure calling for help.. Dark colors of nightmare.. A dying flower.. Love.. Yves Honorario deciphers all the embedded message of her art. He was her savior. Her shield. Her hope amidst turmoil. Their love story wont stay forever in a plain portrait. It will be carve in real life.

Aliya knew she was different growing up. She and her brother Luke are hybrids. Their father was the pack's beta and their mother was an angel. Everything was going well until the night her pack was attacked by the ever-growing rogue pack. Now all sorts of secrets are coming out. Not to mention that Aliya crosses paths with her mate who she has been hiding from for the last two years. The few remaining pack members are now staying with one of their allies who Alpha is none other than Aliya's mate. Aliya fights the bond but Alpha Brayden is determined to figure out why his angel is fighting their bond. Will she give in and will the rogue pack take the Alpha's Fallen Angel

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

When Isla’s family is wiped out overnight, she runs to the first person she thinks of; Lorenzo Russo. He takes her in with promises to keep her safe, but when she overhears him admitting to killing her family, her world is shattered a second time. Will she run from him or stay to take her much needed revenge? Or is her version of the truth flawed? ~•~ “Did you…” I met his gaze. “Did you kill… my family?” “Yes,” his voice echoed in the quiet space. “It was necessary.” His voice was cold, his eyes still locked on mine. He didn’t care that I found out. He didn’t see me as a threat. I reeled back in shock, not expecting him to answer me so honestly. Then I exploded.

"Please tell them it's a lie," I whispered in my quivering voice and looked up into his eyes. They were cold. Emotionless. "This marriage isn't one from my end." He crashed his lips into mine taking them for a dominant, rough kiss. My eyes teared up as the scenes of my tortured future flashed in my mind. "Welcome to hell Rachel. I warned you not to play with me." His bone-chilling voice rang in my ears. What will happen when Vincenzo forces himself into Rachel's life? Where will this forced marriage lead them to? Vincenzo is ruthless and cold. Doesn't care about consequences and certainly doesn't accept denials. Rachel is innocent but not submissive. Her confident attitude makes her appealing to the mafia king who wants to tame her.