Anime Sweat Drops Novels & Stories

When Diana sacrificed everything to save the Silver Moon Pack, she never imagined that her mate, Alexander, would spend eight years punishing her for it. After losing their unborn child to a vicious attack from Alexander's lover, Diana begs for freedom from her loveless union. But dark secrets lie beneath the surface—secrets that could shatter both packs. The birth moon approaches, and Diana must decide whether to keep her promise of silence or finally break free from the Alpha who never wanted her. A tale of betrayal, sacrifice, and the thin line between love and hate. At the Silver Moon Pack's annual full moon ceremony, I was viciously shoved to the ground by Alexander's female companion, Selena. Wearing silver-tipped boots, she stepped directly onto my swollen belly. In an instant, bright red blood stained my white ceremonial dress. Alexander glanced at me with a slight frown. "Pregnant but not staying in the den to take care of yourself? Out here challenging pack hierarchy again? Trying to frame Selena, aren't you? The sacred ground is stained with your blood—so unlucky! What a disgrace to a Luna!" After saying this, he turned away without hesitation, wrapping his arm around Selena's waist as they left. Even the urgent howls of the pack healer didn't make him look back at me once. The bitter wolfsbane medicine churned inside my body, and in the end, the pup couldn't be saved. Clutching my now-empty belly, I had just come out of the healer's den when I saw Alexander on the pack's communication crystal, passionately marking Selena with his scent. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, piercing straight into my heart. Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I looked at my mother-in-law standing by the healing bed. "Elder Mardanna, it's been eight moons. The Silver Moon Pack's crisis was resolved long ago. I really want to break the mate bond. Please, let me go..."

I had always been fragile, the kind of kid who could not handle a gust of wind without losing balance and who teared up over the smallest thing. The day my biological parents found me and took me back into their wealthy world, everything had already felt unreal. Then, things got worse. Out of nowhere, an old woman came sprinting down the street and dropped right in front of the Bentley, like she had timed it perfectly. I panicked and completely froze, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped down beside her and started crying. However, I overdid it. I cried so hard that blood started streaming from my eyes. The old woman jolted upright like she had seen something horrifying. She shoved 500 dollars into my hands, muttered a string of curses, and ran off without looking back. Just like that, I was back with the Snyder family. The house rose in front of me, all polished stone and perfectly kept lawns, like something out of a magazine. However, the closer I got, the more my nerves kicked in, and that familiar metallic taste crept up my throat again. The so-called heir walked over, smiling like we were supposed to be close. Then, he gave me a light shove. He leaned in, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Stay in your place. Don't start wanting things that were never yours." Right there, in front of everyone, I leaned back and collapsed. I did not move at all. He froze. His face turned red as he grabbed my collar and shook me. "Quit pretending. Get up!" A few seconds passed, then a few more, before he slowly turned his head, his movements stiff. Tiny drops of blood speckled his clothes. His voice trembled. "Mom… Dad… I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think he stopped breathing."

On Christmas Eve, I giddily wait for my husband, Hunter Gibson, to come home while nursing my eight-month pregnancy. Unexpectedly, Hunter bursts through the front door with his childhood friend, Winter Jones, in his arms. I attempt to help him out, only to get shoved to the floor instead. My belly bumps into a corner of the coffee table, causing pain to shoot up my nerves. Cold sweat soon beads on my forehead, and yet Hunter doesn't even spare me another glance. "Get out of my way! Someone drugged Winnie's drink at the bar! If I don't purge the poison out of her, she'll die!" As I shield my belly, I dig out my phone. "I'll call an ambulance for her—" But Hunter snatches my phone away before hurling it at the floor, breaking it into splinters. Then, he grabs me by the neck angrily. "Are you trying to ruin Winnie's reputation? If word gets out, how is she going to live with her head hung high?" In order to prevent me from "ruining his plan", Hunter decides to trap me on the balcony while disregarding my pleas and the fact that I'm only wearing thin pajamas. "You should take some time to cool off! Once you've finally learned your lesson, you're only permitted entry!" I can only slam my palms onto the glass door desperately with tears running down my face. There, I'm forced to watch as Hunter and Winter go at it like desperate rabbits on the carpet in the living room, with the Christmas songs serving as their ambiance. A heavy snowfall has occurred that night. At the crack of dawn the next morning, Hunter finally remembers that I exist. He calls my number, yet my phone was turned off. Furious, Hunter yells, "Where the hell did you go? Winnie's stomach is in discomfort! Get your ass back here right now and cook her some soup!" What he doesn't know is that I'm right outside the balcony door. The thing is, dead people are incapable of answering phone calls, not to mention Hunter has already broken my phone, to begin with.

On the day my husband's dying first love gave birth, his father, the Don of the Lupo family, posted ten armed men outside my door. They were on high alert, terrified I might storm the delivery room and disrupt the birth of the first heir to the Lupo family. But I never even touched the door, not even when the newborn's cries echoed down the hall. Luca's mother, the family's Donna, let out a long sigh of relief, her hand tightly gripping the woman's on the hospital bed. "Bianca, we're here. That barren woman, Stella, won't lay a finger on you or my grandson." Luca leaned over, gently wiping the cold sweat from Bianca's brow, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Don't worry, Father's had his men lock down the entire private hospital. If she dares to cause a scene, I'll have her struck from the family records myself." Only after confirming I wouldn't show up to make trouble did he finally relax. He didn't understand. In his eyes, he was just honoring a debt, giving a dying woman a child to carry on her name, helping his first love fulfill her final wish. Why couldn't I just be graceful about it? Why couldn't I see the bigger picture? A satisfied smile touched Luca's lips as he gazed at the swaddled infant. He was even thinking that if I would just swallow my pride, admit I was wrong, and show Bianca a little kindness, he would forgive my previous coldness completely. He'd make it up to me, even offering me the hollow title of the child's mother, allowing me to keep my position as the Underboss's wife. But what he didn't know was that I had already signed the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up. In a week, I would cut all ties with the Lupo family, take the twins growing inside me and walk away. We would never see each other again, not in this life or the next.

My husband forced me into labor the same day his widowed sister-in-law went into labor. I was only seven months pregnant when he dragged me to the hospital and demanded that the doctors induce me. Eugene Cobb locked me inside the delivery room, his expression tense and urgent. "The baby Fiona's carrying has a rare disease. The doctors say he'll die as soon as he's born. They need umbilical cord blood and special stem cells during delivery to save him! My brother's already gone. It's my responsibility to take care of her and her child." A four-inch-long induction needle pierced into my body. Violent contractions crashed through me, cold sweat soaking my back. I said weakly, "Fiona's pregnancy has been perfectly healthy. How could the baby suddenly have a rare disease? And my pregnancy is high-risk. The doctor said I need to carry to term. If you force an early birth, you'll kill both our baby and me!" Eugene frowned slightly and pinned me firmly to the hospital bed. "The doctor already explained everything. The baby just needs to be born two months early. Nothing will happen." As Fiona Smith's screams rang out from the delivery room next door, something seemed to occur to him. "You're not trying to get rid of Fiona because I've been taking care of her all the time, are you? I told you a long time ago I'm only helping her because she's my sister-in-law. How can you be so vicious?" I stared at the blood spreading beneath me and begged through tears. As long as he spared the child, I was willing to divorce him and give them my place. Eugene's eyes filled with impatience. "What are you talking about? I'm the baby's father. Why would I harm my own child?" My umbilical cord blood and stem cells were finally used on Fiona's baby. Both mother and child were declared safe. Only then did Eugene finally remember us. But when he arrived at the hospital room, the only thing waiting for him was an empty bed.

I am Ivy Blackthorne, the Luna of the Graystone pack and a princess of the White Wolf royalty. Tomorrow, when the full moon rises, I will personally place the heirloom upon my nine-year-old pup, Lucas Gowling, as both his mother and Luna. Lucas is not only my pup with my Alpha mate, Alexander Gowling, but he is also the Child of Prophecy foretold to lead the Graystone pack to glory. For nine years, I have believed that moment will be the most perfect in my life. But three minutes ago, I caught a faint yet chillingly bitter scent in my breakfast. It is wolfsbane, a rare poison that can kill wolves. My blood runs cold. Who would poison my food? I force myself to stay calm and not react immediately. I lift my bowl and pretend to drink its contents, but I secretly pour it into a napkin under the table. A more terrifying thought forms in my mind—if my breakfast is poisoned, then what about Lucas' food? I shoot to my feet right away. Without even stopping to grab a coat, I rush toward the training grounds in the back of the mountains. Before I reach it, I hear Lucas' voice from the woods toward the north. "Mother, did I do well today? I watch her eat breakfast with my own eyes." I freeze like I was hit by a bolt of lightning. Trembling, I push aside the bushes, only to see someone unexpected standing there. It is Sophia Crow, Alexander's childhood sweetheart, whom he had supposedly cut off from his life long ago. She crouches slightly and wipes Lucas' sweat off his brow, her movements intimate and natural. "Very good. Just one more day. After the succession ceremony tomorrow, you won't need to call her 'Mother' anymore," says Sophia. Lucas replies, "I've grown tired of calling her Mother for a long time. If she dies, can I openly call you 'Mother'?" Sophia gently pulls Lucas into her arms. "Of course. You are my pup to begin with." In that instant, every breath I take feels suffocating. The pain is unbearable. The pup I raised for nine years is actually the illegitimate child of my mate and his childhood sweetheart.

The holidays are almost here, and yet I've chosen to burn down the mushroom greenhouse, which has generated millions of profits that can sustain my family's livelihood. As I stare at the blazing inferno, my heart is as calm as a still lake. In my previous life, I had a grand haul of mushrooms after devoting my blood, sweat, and tears into cultivating throughout the year. When I was about to sell them, Sarah Clarkson, my husband's childhood friend, came knocking on my doorstep. Apparently, she wanted to get about 30 pounds' worth of mushrooms so that she could give them away as holiday gifts. Having taken her relationship with my husband, Dominic Kane, into consideration, I didn't hesitate to pack up the mushrooms and give them to Sarah. Little did I know that I'd receive the news of her getting poisoned the next day. Not only that, but Sarah even started a live stream and started berating me for selling the mushrooms. "I've already consulted the fungi experts, Hazel! Apparently, the mushrooms you've given me contain lethal poison! "Thank goodness I'm the one who found out about this! If not, I can't imagine just how many people would've been poisoned by your mushrooms once they got out!" I tried to defend myself, but Dominic was quick to produce the so-called solid evidence. "I thought you were just joking about wanting to plant cheap, poisonous mushrooms. I didn't think you'd stick to your word!" At that moment, the viewers lashed out at me so much that I went viral. Later on, I got forcibly taken away by the police so that they could proceed with the investigation. The results completely stunned me. It turned out that the mushrooms I had spent so long cultivating were actually poisonous! After leaving the police department, I found out that all of my savings were already siphoned by Dominic, who then used it to pay off Sarah's medical bills. He also filed for a divorce, stating that I was a woman with poor character. Left with nothing under my name, I was completely dazed and delirious. In the end, I collapsed and died on the street. When I open my eyes, I've returned to the day before the grand mushroom haul. That's when I decide to torch all the mushrooms. But this time, Sarah still gets poisoned for some reason.

To afford train tickets home for New Year's Eve, I searched for a part-time job and stumbled into a livestream that was practically throwing money at the chat. A young woman in a silk robe rested her chin on her hand. Behind her, a villa glowed under expensive lighting that reflected off polished marble floors. "Being kept in here is suffocating," she said in a voice that mixed boredom with sweetness. "My sponsor gives me more money than I can spend. Help me out. Take some off my hands." Cash drops flashed across the screen one after another. I tapped as fast as I could, my heart hammering. A few large ones landed in my account. I was close. One more would cover both my ticket and my boyfriend's. The streamer leaned closer to the camera. "He keeps saying my tear mole looks like his girlfriend's," she said, her mouth twisting with disgust. "So unlucky. Of all things, I had to match with some broke girl." My finger slipped. I had a tear mole under my eye in the same spot. The live chat flooded with questions. [How is the sponsor's girlfriend broke?] The streamer gave a short snort and reapplied her lipstick, as if correcting a minor flaw. "He's just messing around. He tricked her into 200,000 dollars in debt. She's so stupid she works multiple jobs to help him pay it off." A chill settled in my chest. My boyfriend also owed 200,000 dollars. She continued, her tone light, "The funniest part? He slept with me for three days. When he left, I asked if he was giving her a taste of honey." She smiled cruelly. "He said all he has to do is claim he's going to work a construction site hauling rebar. The idiot will feel guilty and deliver food all night. So he won't need to please her." Another large cash drop flashed across the screen. The total reached the exact amount I needed. My phone rang. Benjamin's name lit up the display. When I answered, his voice sounded worn down, as if it had scraped against concrete. "Via, we still don't have enough for the tickets," he said. "I hauled rebar and made a little over 40 dollars. I'm heading home now."

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."