Aesthetic L Death Note Novels & Stories

....."most things are best left unknown". The wolf she had just seen transform into a muscular man said..... **** Vanessa just ran away from a marriage she is being forced to go into, with a man she doesn't love. Thinking she was running to start a better life, she didn't know she just ran into a secret. One she is not supposed to discover. What's that secret that turns her whole life around?

Is Landon my Daddy or Gray? Little Lyra asked. Ren ignored the little girl. The man she'd fallen in love with, the man she risked everything for, kicked her out the moment he recovered from traumatic brain injury. He never thought of all her sacrifices and dedication. Now he's back, asking. "Is she mine?

In a world where the gods of legend have become actual fact, a few misnomers from another planet seek to simply live their lives in peace. If you could choose one word from the dictionary, one that simply defines you to the core of your soul, what would you say your definition is?

Flinn was never meant to fall for her. The plan was simple: a fake engagement to help him seal a billion-dollar deal and protect Rosemary from the dangerous ex who won't let her breathe. She's his best friend's baby sister. Off-limits. A single mom with fire in her veins and walls around her heart. But from the moment she walks back into his life, everything changes. One kiss turns into a night. One lie turns into longing. And one fake ring sparks something real-raw, messy, and so damn forbidden. Flinn is a billionaire with a bad rep and a closet full of secrets. Rosemary is a survivor, too strong to beg, too broken to trust. But their chemistry? It's explosive. Now lines are blurred. Rules are shattered. Hearts are on the line. And when the truth comes out... it just might burn everything down. Enemies-to-lovers. Fake fiancés. Real heat. One brutal truth: nothing about this was ever pretend.

Tennessee is one of the music meccas of the United States. Different musicians were born in this city, but this is not a musical story; it is a scary story or a horrible story.

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

Azmia, a housewife who has to accept the harst reality. When she is pregnant, Bram (her husband) is dragged into the word of coercion by Bram's bos. Azmia' brain tumor and Bram's infidelity accompanied the birth of their baby. Azmia struggle and tries to save Bram and their househode from the abyys destruction. However, happiness only last from a moment. The dead of her six - month - old baby Micca left a wound in her hearth. Losing Micca made Azmia cold and away from Bram. She's back to being a hedonistict women. Reuniting with Baren (a man whos still loves her) and knowing the life stories of her friends makes Azmia realize what she really wants in life. When Baren and Bram fought over Azmia's love, suddenly Azmia's condition was critical.

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

There was a ten-year gap between me and my sister-in-law, but we got along surprisingly well, especially given that we were both in an absurdly rich family. Then, one day, she came to me, bawling and clutching a photo in her hand. "Your brother is cheating on me! He has a family somewhere else! For more than ten years! I'm getting a divorce!" Crying, I showed her a message I got from my husband's mistress. "That bastard Christopher has a mistress! I'm leaving this home!"