And Logic Gate Truth Table Novels & Stories

My wife's family ran on the old logic: sons mattered, daughters were a tax. They called my five-year-old daughter "the cash drain" to her face. On New Year's Day, my wife told me my daughter was donating a kidney to her cousin. I was about to lose it on every adult in that room when something appeared in the air in front of me, a column of text only I could see: [Is this woman seriously the mother? She says it's a kidney transplant, but she actually wants the kid's heart.] [If I had a mom like that I'd have cut her off years ago.]

In a world of werewolves, identical twin Alphas Damon and Mason Daerk rule the Southern Gate Pack with contrasting styles—Damon, stern and ruthless, and Mason, gentle and lenient but yet they don't seem to see eye to eye on pack matters. Their dynamics shift with the arrival of Emma, a beautiful and timid omega wolf who becomes the object of their desire. As they navigate their complicated relationships with Emma, they're threatened by Estella, a rogue wolf and Emma's aunt, who seeks revenge against the pack. As tensions escalate, the twins must put aside their differences to defeat Estella and protect Emma, ultimately discovering their own feelings for her. In the end, can Emma accepts both Damon and Mason as her mates? Will they ever find love and unity together?

I no longer deliver meals to my husband, Zachary Smith—the man who became the factory manager after receiving a scholarship that brought him to the city—since my rebirth. I even make sure to detour using the gate at the factory's north side whenever he uses the southern gate after he finishes his meetings. In my past life, I was fully aware he took me as his wife—a humble country woman—just for the chance to move to the city. Yet, I insisted on becoming his wife, anyway. After all, I was convinced that a person's true affections could be earned and nurtured. Yet, Zachary maintained a constant, formal distance throughout our marriage. He would simply offer me a book the moment I attempted to bridge the gap, saying, "You should study more so that you don't continually attract people's contempt." I got emboldened by the drink as I threw my arms around him, yet he merely accepted the embrace rigidly, whispering, "It's just what married couples do." It wasn't until decades later, as I lay on my deathbed, that I discovered the heartbreaking words in his autobiography. In it, he stated that our entire marriage was like being trapped in a mire and that he never wanted to be with me again if he were to ever be reborn. I felt a searing pain tearing through my heart as I closed my eyes in devastating anguish. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the point in time when the gossip about Zachary and Juliana Ziegler, the factory's technician who studied abroad, first began to spread. In this life, I choose not to fight or cause drama. Instead, I am the one who brings up the divorce.

My dad arrives at the hotel after taking three bus rides from the town two hours before the wedding starts. He's wearing the old suit that he has kept for the past ten or so years. The cuffs have gone white from all the washing, and his shoes shine brightly from all the polishing. Before entering, Dad has specifically pinned the red boutonniere to his chest several times while looking at his reflection in the glass of the hotel's main entrance just so he can get it right. After all, it symbolizes his status as the bride's father. When Dad is about to take his seat, he grasps the card that shows his seat as he approaches my future husband, Elliott Chambers, tentatively. "Elliott, there seems to be a mistake with my seat." Elliott merely glances at the card before pushing it back to Dad. "Your seat is correct. There are limited spots at the main table, so you'll have to sit at a spare table at the back." Dad is stunned by Elliott's answer. "But it says here that I'm meant to sit at the main table…" Elliott frowns at Dad. "This is a last-minute adjustment. The shareholders and important clients of Chambers Corp will be attending my wedding today. Not everyone gets to sit at the main table." Dad looks down at his old suit before he slowly stuffs the card back into his pocket. He wants to take off the boutonniere, but the pin gets stuck in the fabric of his jacket. The more he wants to take it off, the more his hand keeps shaking. That's when Elliott's mother, Catherine Aldridge, speaks up. "All the seats are the same, Patrick. Don't cause any trouble for Elliott now." Dad quickly nods in response. "You're right. I'm fine with any seat." Then, he picks up the old wooden chest that's sitting by his feet before heading toward the spare table that's located in the corner. I raise my head, only to see a seating card titled "The Carvers" being placed on the most obvious spot of the main table. At the moment, Elliott is helping Claire Carver's mother into her seat. As for my dad, he's hugging the chest containing the wedding gifts meant for me while sitting by the kitchen door.

I confirmed Vincent Lowe was cheating on me on the day of our third wedding anniversary. The dining table was filled with dishes, yet he barely touched his fork before heading out the door. "Where are you going?" I asked. His answer was unnervingly straightforward. "A friend's treating me to dinner. Cassidy Mason—you know her, right? It's a free meal. It'd be a waste not to accept." An hour later, however, I received a voice message from Cassidy. In the message, Vincent's voice was lighter and livelier—so different from how he ever sounded with me. "They say you should marry someone you can truly enjoy a meal with. I really regret meeting you so late. If only I had known you earlier, I would've married you instead." I listened in silence. Then, alone at the table, I finished every last bite of the meal I had prepared. Afterward, I left a divorce agreement behind.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

Zara grew up in a remote village, believing she was just a poor girl with a hardworking mother and a dream to become a lawyer. She never knew that her father was the founder of Falcon Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar empire, or that he died under mysterious circumstances when she was only two. For sixteen years, her mother has lived in a shadow of terror, hiding in poverty because of a deadly threat from Zara’s "kind" Uncle Rahim: “If you ever tell her the truth, she won’t live to see her eighteenth birthday.” Now, Zara has finally made it to the city for higher education, supported by the very man who stole her legacy. But when Uncle Rahim cruelly cuts off her tuition, Zara is forced to take a job as a waitress at the city’s most elite restaurant to survive. Aryan Knight is the youngest, most ruthless CEO in the country—cold, powerful, and bored of the greedy women in his world. When he sees Zara being humiliated by an arrogant socialite at his dinner table, something in his frozen heart stirs. He doesn't just see a waitress; he sees a girl with the eyes of a lioness. A fated encounter leads Zara to save Aryan’s beloved grandmother, pulling her into the inner circle of the Knight family. As Aryan falls for the innocent girl from the village, he begins to uncover the dark secrets of her past. Can Aryan protect the girl he loves from her own blood? Or will the truth about the stolen empire lead to a deadly confrontation?

Zara Lowry once gave her heart to Yosef Webb, her boss and savior, risking everything in a whirlwind of passion. To him, however, she was nothing more than a reliable cog in his corporate machine.She was done with that, though.Yosef could not stand Zara's cool-headedness, her logic, her self-sufficiency. Yet, he eventually found the warmth and adoration he longed for in her eyes.Her eyes, however, were looking elsewhere. ***[In this story, neither the hero nor the heroine is perfect. This is not your typical tale of a successful female lead. Yosef is a jerk, but is later changed to become a man who would do anything for love. This is a tale of a tsundere man, and it takes many chapters for the two of them to reconcile.

Julian Vane is the "Ice King" of Wall Street—a man of cold logic and zero scandals. Maya Rossi is a struggling creative who can barely pay her rent. When Maya accidentally live-streams Julian in a moment of utter, dorky vulnerability, his stock prices plummet along with his reputation. To save his empire, Julian’s PR team crafts a lie: Maya isn't a trespasser; she’s his secret fiancée. Now, Maya is traded from her cramped apartment to a glass penthouse, forced to play the doting lover to a man who treats romance like a hostile takeover. But as the cameras roll and the "likes" pour in, the lines between their contract and their chemistry begin to blur.

I was dying of kidney failure. Henry Colombo—the ruthless Mafia heir who once swore he’d burn the world to keep me alive— found me a donor. But the price… was her. Susan Miller, the woman who’d always lingered between us, smiled as she set her terms: “Be mine for one month. Pretend you love me—and I’ll save her life.” He agreed. He said it was just to save me. But every lie, every kiss, every photo she posted online was another nail in my coffin. Each time the surgery drew near, she invented a new delay—a fever, a nightmare, a tender bruise. And Henry believed her. He always believed her. The night my heart flatlined on the operating table, he was across the city, feeding her grapes under candlelight, whispering her name—the name of the woman who had let me die. When he finally learned the truth—that every tear she shed was rehearsed, every promise she made was poison— he destroyed everything. Her lies. Her wealth. Her family name. His own empire. But none of it brought me back.