Novel & Cerita A Thousand Heartbeats

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

As I was about to leave my brother’s restaurant, the female manager stopped me. "Miss, excuse me, but you haven’t paid your bill." I looked at the unfamiliar face and thought that she was probably new and didn’t recognize me, so I explained politely, "Just put it on the owner’s tab. He knows me." The manager shot me a disdainful look. "Miss, this is a Michelin three-star restaurant. We don’t let just anyone run up a tab." She handed me a printed bill. I glanced at it. Fifty thousand dollars for one meal. Three thousand for tableware maintenance, five thousand for exclusive air purification, ten thousand for a VIP mood-calming service fee, and a bunch of other ridiculous charges. I didn’t even know my brother’s place was such a scam. I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. "I’m the owner’s sister. If there’s a problem, tell him to talk to me at home." But she just wouldn’t drop it. "If you can’t afford it, stop acting like you can. And don’t act like you know Mr. White, either." I fired off a quick text to my secretary. 【Tell my brother to either fire this manager or I’m pulling my investment.】

On the one thousand and ninety-fourth day of being Mrs. Harris, I asked James Harris for a divorce. His face showed a hint of confusion, but it quickly shifted to his usual, composed expression. "As you wish," he said, his tone as flat as if we were discussing whether to replace the milk on the breakfast table. He did not even bother to ask why. On the one thousand and ninety-fifth day, I gently saw him and the children off, acting as if nothing had happened, and then completely left the Harris family behind.

Two hearts who meet almost a thousand years back are forced apart by the cruel hands of death who take away one of them. The other vows to bring his beloved back, which he did, but had to pay a price. One thousand years later, Ariel is found regaining consciousness after the supposed coma she had been in. She finds herself in an unknown room with no recollection of her memories, and is forced to live with the cold hearted Damien. What will happen when she realizes who she is?

18+ Skin. Sweat. Surrender. No apologies. Just the filthy, holy truth of what we do when the lights are off. In the hush between heartbeats, desire speaks its own language. These stories peel back the skin of restraint to reveal the raw, trembling want beneath - hands that linger too long, mouths that confess what daylight forbids, bodies that remember every sin they were never supposed to commit. From velvet-shadowed hotel rooms to rain-slicked backseats, from whispered commands to wordlessly surrender, from collars that lock with a soft click to knees that bruise beautifully on marble, from words like "please" and "good girl" to the moments we steal when no one is watching... and the ones we can't stop replaying even when they are filthy. No slow burns. No fade to black. Just wet mouths, spreading thighs, fingers that don't ask permission, and orgasms that leaves teeth marks.

I've invested in my cousin, Jack Glenwood's farm. His net profit is more than four million dollars per year. On the day I'm supposed to receive my bonus, Jack tears the contract stating that I get a 55% profit share right in front of my family. After that, he transfers 40 thousand dollars to me. He even has the audacity to pat me on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "Noah, you never did anything throughout the year. Since I'm giving you 40 thousand dollars, that means I'm treating you well, right?" I just smile as I look at Jack's greedy and despicable expression. Then, I accept the 40 thousand dollars without saying anything. The next day, I cut off the secret formula to the farm's feed and travel overseas to carry out a new round of investments. This time, I want to see how Jack will fare without my secret formula.

My best friend was obsessed with playing the part of a socialite, always chasing after rich heirs. When she saw posts online about guys making money over the summer by 'renting themselves out,' she decided to copy them. Two thousand for a hike. Five thousand for a dinner date. Twenty thousand for a trip. The prices kept climbing. I was worried she would run into the wrong kind of people, so I tried everything to talk her out of it, to keep her from walking straight into trouble. Later, the wealthy guy she had her eye on went public with another influencer who had built the same 'socialite' persona. She took it out on me. Sold me to a nightclub. I was abused in every way imaginable until I died. There was not even enough left of me to bury. Then, I opened my eyes again. She was already scheming: "Guys like that can make 500 just tagging along on a hike. I'm way prettier. Charging 2,000 isn't too much, right?"

After seven years of bloodbath, the most decorated soldier returns to the capital.“Whatever was taken from me, I will take back a thousand fold!”

Three thousand years ago came the twilight of the gods. The betrayal of the Fire God reduced all civilizations to ashes, along with order itself and the glory of the divine realm. Three thousand years later, upon the new lands created by the King of the Gods, the deities were gradually reborn. The silent and ruthless King of the Gods. The beautiful and gentle Queen of Heaven. The innocent yet cruel Fire God. The endless conflicts between gods and giants, the blessings left behind for a thousand years, the memories preserved within the Hall of Valor… To me, all of it had once been nothing more than tales recorded in ancient scrolls. Even my encounter with Loki felt like a destiny long foretold. Only after becoming engaged to him did I realize that my marriage to Odin had once been the happiest time of my life— and that Loki himself had been the one who destroyed that happiness with his own hands. Had there been no memories left by the God of Love, had the war between the two tribes never begun, I would have known clearly what I was meant to do. To remain by Loki’s side. To accompany him—from rebirth… to destruction.

I go to the boutique my son has invested in to pick up the gown I've ordered for a banquet. Just as I'm about to leave, the manager, Wendy Reed, stops me and says that I still owe them money. She pulls out the bill. I look down at it and see that the boutique is charging me 300 thousand dollars for their creativity, 500 thousand dollars for fabric therapy, and one million dollars for their chief designer's mental wellness. On top of other expenses, the price totals up to two million dollars. I laugh incredulously and send a message to my secretary. "Withdraw our funding from my son's company and this boutique!"