A Thousand Splendid Suns Novels & Stories

Since I've spent a few minutes using the toilet during work hours, I only receive 3500 dollars despite my salary being 20 thousand dollars. I confront my boss, Vivian Dune, immediately. Although she seems fair and just on the outside, she adopts a passive-aggressive attitude with me. "The security footage from last month shows that you've used the toilet for 40 minutes altogether. Don't tell me you're working there, right? "It'll be 500 dollars for every minute you spend in the toilet. That's the new rule of the company. Since you're a veteran employee, you should be the one taking the lead. Honestly, I already went easy on you." I'm a veteran employee who has been working at this company for ten years. Each business deal that I've closed brings the company at least 100 million dollars worth of revenue. But now, I get robbed of my most basic right as a human. Seeing my lack of response, Vivian flashes me a venomous smile. "If you really don't want to work here, you might as well leave. Do you seriously think we need you? Don't forget that your five-year contract isn't up yet. Who in this industry will want to hire you next?" I don't argue with her any further. But when my contract, which only has five days left, comes to an end, she's the one panicking instead.

*Book 6* Gabriella is a no nonsense kind of woman. She loves deeply and fights for what matters to her. Her life was going along just fine, that is until she catches her boyfriend cheating on her. That should have been the worst of her issues, but soon a cheating boyfriend pales in comparison to being fated to a God, and a brooding one at that. Quickly Gabriella will be pulled into thousand year old drama and find out she is part of a prophecy that could potentially destroy the world depending on what choices she makes. How will this simple human handle carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and a possessive God on her back? A Queen Among Gods is the sixth book in the Queen Among series. Characters and plot pots have been meticulously set up in previous books building up to this one. So, many events and terms in this book will not make sense if you haven't read the previous books. Here are the books in the series: A Queen Among Alphas - Book 1 Bite-Size Luna - A Queen Among Alphas Prequel A Queen Among Snakes - Book 2 Runaway Empress - A Queen Among Snakes Prequel (coming soon) A Queen Among Blood - Book 3 Whole Again - A Queen Among Alpha's spin-off A Queen Among Darkness - Book 4 Dark Vocation - A Queen Among Darkness spin-off (coming soon) A Queen Among Tides - Book 5 Valor, Virtue, and Verve - A Queen Among Tides Prequel Spin-off (coming soon) A Queen Among Gods - Book 6 A Queen Among Tempests - Book 7 (coming soon)

During the school holidays, I took my daughter to a park. I had barely entered the park entrance with my daughter when a supercar crossed the solid line and rear-ended us. The man who jumped out came storming toward me, furious. "Do you even know how to drive? Do you know how much this car costs? You can't afford it even if you went bankrupt!" I was about to argue back since he was clearly the one breaking traffic rules. But I froze. That car looked painfully familiar. Wasn't that the supercar my mother gave me the first year I took over the Milton Group? Even the license plate was identical. My wife, Hazel Bishop, had told me the engine was broken and that she'd sent it to the dealership for repairs. I met the man's arrogant stare. "Is this car really yours?" He paused, then grinned smugly. "My wife bought it for me. It's limited-edition. Someone like you wouldn't understand. Go call your family and sell your house. You owe me 200 thousand dollars." Sneering, he added, "Don't try anything clever. My wife's the GM of Milton Group. She has serious connections. She'll be here any minute." I let out a cold laugh. So Hazel canceled on our daughter today, not because of a business meeting, but because she was out spending the holiday with her lover and his kid instead.

He dropped his hands to the side, stepping away, and he voiced. “I’m not sure about having you fucking countless men, Marianne, unless you have chosen to become a whore who is more than willing to please another man’s dick instead of just pleasing one.” He smiled, pushing his hair from his face. I made the conscious decision not to let his words bother me, as it wasn't worth the stress. I said, which got him annoyed further. “I rather please a thousand dicks than yours. So do what you want to me, but I will never marry you.” He suddenly brought out a gun, playfully staring at it and he hint “Not even in a death and life situation.” He aimed the gun directly at me and I took a bold step by moving to him and I pressed my head against the gun. “Then kill me. It has always been my dream to escape from this nightmare.” I was playing with fire, but I won’t back off until we both get burnt. “Pull the trigger.” I breathe. He breath. Both our eyes locked. ****** Kidnapped and sold to a psychopath, a man who finds solace in seeing her in pain while she grips on her remaining hopes of escaping. Marianne finds herself trapped in this endless nightmare with a man who claims to love her by bringing her pain. ***** Trigger warning; This story is not for light-hearted people. Involves very disturbing sex content.

To take care of my paralyzed mother-in-law, I quit my job and spent three years as a full-time househusband. That day, after cleaning up her waste, I hid in the bathroom with a cigarette between my fingers and came across a post on my wife’s boss’ Instagram. [You’re meant to be with me in the end. Since that freeloader can’t give you happiness, let me take you to the paradise of Maldev.] Above the caption were two plane tickets. Someone commented below. [That homemaker husband of hers is definitely clinging onto her. After all, she’s his meal ticket.] The boss replied. [Don’t worry. Tonight she’ll go home and come clean. She’ll say the company was caught falsifying accounts and is facing massive fines, and that she might need to serve jail time. [To keep that guy from getting dragged into it, the only option is divorce. He’s as timid as a mouse and will take any chance to flee.] I stared at the screen, stunned, until the cigarette burned my fingers. Ten minutes later, my wife rushed home, panic written all over her face. She dropped her bag on the floor. “Honey, something’s gone wrong with the company’s finances. They’re accusing us of falsifying accounts. I was solely responsible for the accounts. I might need to serve 10 years in prison, plus fines of more than ten thousand dollars. “We need to sign the papers before they seize our house. I don’t want to drag you and mom into this.”

At the wedding, I immediately recognized that the woman under the veil wasn't Selene, but an impostor. But I still went through with the ceremony as if nothing was wrong. In my previous life, Selene had been forced to return and complete the wedding with me after I exposed the fake bride in front of everyone. That very night, however, her childhood sweetheart was rushed to the ICU with acute alcohol poisoning. When Selene heard the news, she didn't shed a tear. Instead, she cursed him, saying he got what he deserved. … After we married, Selene and I appeared to be a loving couple on the surface. I kept funneling money from my family to save her family business from collapse. But on our first anniversary, my wife—with not even a sliver of warmth in her eyes—tied me to a helicopter with her own hands. "If you hadn't forced me to come back and marry you that day, Chase wouldn't have ended up like that," she snarled. "What right do you have to live so happily? I'll make sure you feel the pain he went through before he died." She threw me from ten thousand yards up, and I hit the ground as nothing more than a broken heap of flesh. So, this time, I pretended to know nothing and went through with the wedding alongside the fake bride. I wanted to see just how Selene would manage to save the crumbling Liraine Co. without the Schreiber family's support.

There's an unspoken rule in the high-end society—married couples who are bound by marriage alliances are allowed to branch out romantically. But if they ever buy anything for their side piece, they must buy the same gift for their legal spouse. Raymond Johnson is a very particular person. That's why he continues sticking to the rule and gives Melanie Strickland the respect she deserves by showering her with gifts that are 100 times more than his mistress', even after the Stricklands have gone into bankruptcy. If his mistress gets 100 thousand dollars' worth of allowances every month, Melanie's bank account must receive ten million dollars in return. When Raymond gifts his mistress jewelry that's worth a million dollars, he'll go for the main highlight of the auction. After that, Melanie will receive an antique emerald ring worth 100 million dollars. The rich wives, who are too used to seeing wealthy men immersing themselves in booze and beautiful women, can only sigh wistfully whenever they witness Raymond and Melanie's lovey-dovey relationship. But at the same time, they can't resist dropping Melanie words of advice—mainly to tell her to appreciate what she has now. Appreciate, huh? Of course Melanie appreciates everything she has right now. That's why on the day Raymond gives a house of very little value that's located in the suburbs to his mistress, Melanie decides to ask him a question while receiving the land deed of Villa No. 1 that's located in Northshore. "I've grown tired of this marriage. Can we get a divorce?"

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

Vivienne Duarte had spent her youth supporting her husband, pouring all her time and dreams into his ambitions. Married for years and neglecting her own life and career, she believed everything would be fine as long as she remained the dutiful wife. But she was wrong. She wasn’t enough. When Vivienne discovered her husband, Marco, was cheating on her with his first love, the same woman who had once left him for another man, her world shattered. And when she confronted him, Marco didn’t even deny it; instead, he coldly suggested a divorce, breaking her heart into a thousand pieces. Devastated and numb, Vivienne drowned her sorrows at a bar, where a single reckless night led her into the arms of a stranger. And by morning, she vanished without a trace. Five years later, she returned no longer the fragile woman she once was, but a brilliant, mysterious doctor with a new name and a heart hardened by betrayal. She came back for revenge. Yet fate dealt her a cruel twist, because the stranger from that night turned out to be Marco’s uncle… the very man who had been searching for her ever since. Now, Vivienne vows to stay away from him at all costs, for she has something that belongs to him, something he must never find out. But her plans spiral into chaos when Marco reappears, claiming the same thing as his own. Can Vivienne outsmart them both in this dangerous game of love, power, and vengeance, or will she become the pawn in their deadly game of chess?