Are They Making A Twilight 6 Novels & Stories

Yvonne Xander had three of her ribs broken before she finally managed to escape from the mental asylum. After she escaped, the first thing she did was to sign the agreement to donate her body after her death. “Miss Xander, we must let you know that this is a special donation. Your body will be used to test a new chemical reagent. By then, there might be nothing of you left.” Yvonne pressed down on her aching chest. Her broken ribs made her voice sound like a broken ventilator. With great difficulty, she grimaced. “Just what I want.”

You don't realize what a precious thing you have until it's far gone. Throughout human history, people have experienced the phenomenon of valuing something only after it has been lost. The emotion triggered by loss can lead to a newfound application for what was once taken for granted. We often recognize the value of something only in its absence. The same thing happened with Zade Meadows. He's a dangerously handsome and well-known Alpha with a multi-millionaire empire. Who is not only famous in the werewolf world but also in the business world too. He has everything a person could ask for, Wealth, money, power, respect, a huge pack, and a loving wife. He's the apple of his wife's eye and means the world to her. Liliana Spencer is the fated mate of Zade and the entire pack's beloved Luna. But Zade loved someone else who came back into their life destroying their marriage. He lets go of Liliana after finding his long-lost love after four years only to realize he doesn't love his lover anymore but his ex-wife. But it was too late to realize as she just disappeared from his life like she never existed. Three years later, she came back with another man, and that too with a different identity and aura. What will happen next? Will she give him a second chance or not?

Have you ever been betrayed by the two men you love the most?? And one of them turns out to be your very own best friend?? And one you never even thought of?? If yes, find out what happened to me in my story of deceit, heartbreak, sadness, depression, ' death ' and finding love again.

I caught my husband cheating on me again on our third wedding anniversary. Minutes earlier, I had found out I was pregnant with his child. For three years, I loved Alexander Banks with everything I had. For three years, I forgave things no wife should forgive. That day, I finally ran out of chances to give. So I left. He never knew I was pregnant. He never knew I gave birth to twins. And he never knew one of them was stolen from me. Four years later, fate brings us together again. But what happens when Alexander Banks looks into the face of my son... and realizes he's looking at his own?

“Say you're mine, Raven,” Declan pushed his tongue against my earlobe. I struggled to stiffle the moan fighting it's way to my lips. It was bad enough I was a squirming mess, I couldn't let him win. “And if I don't?” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Then I will bend you over and each time you moan, I will inscribe a letter of my name on your neck, where everyone can see it, wherever you run to, my lovely Raven,” the husky whisper sent shivers down my spine. I didn't put it past the psychopath to do exactly as he said. ******* Raven was a trained assassin and pride of the BloodFrang Tribe, until she was tasked with bringing the head of Alpha Declan of the IronClaw Pack. Right when she's about to drive a knife through his heart, she discovers he is her mate and her mission instantly fails. To makes things worse, Declan captures her and her fiance goes ahead to marry someone else. It doesn't take long for her to realise she had been a pawn in their games and now, she just wants to see them burn.

Just after stepping out of the shower, I received a private message from my so-called uncle, Hank Shephard—a distant relative I barely ever spoke to. "Francis, that new car you posted looks impressive. Perfect for William's wedding!" I hadn't even figured out how to reply to that out-of-nowhere comment when another message popped up. "Your cousin William is getting married next month. Just treat your car as his wedding gift." The entitlement in his tone made my head hurt. I didn't bother arguing and closed the chat window. Apparently, he did not think there was anything wrong with what he had said. Messages kept coming. "Don't worry, your uncle won't let you suffer a loss. "When it's your turn to get married, I'll have William drive that car as your lead wedding car. It'll make you look good." I stared at the screen in silence. That was the moment I realized—Some people don't just feel entitled to your belongings. They believe your life exists to serve theirs.

I spent six years loving Lucas Salvatore into a marriage that was slowly swallowing me whole. I rearranged my dreams, swallowed my pain, and smiled through every moment that should have broken me sooner. Then I found Renata’s pregnancy test in my guest bathroom and every lie I had been telling myself died in an instant. I did not scream. I did not beg. I signed the divorce papers Lucas never had the courage to hand me himself and left them beside his morning coffee. They thought I would fall apart. Lucas thought I would come back. Renata thought she had won. None of them knew that losing everything was the moment I finally found myself, and the woman I became was someone none of them were prepared for.

Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home. But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside. Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door. "Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!" "Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…" Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV. In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial. The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

I got my marriage certificate with the heir of the most powerful family of the city in the morning. By the afternoon, he took me to file for divorce. I clutched the documents and stood frozen as his friends burst into unrestrained laughter around me. “Julian, just because Elena said that, you actually married Maya just to divorce her right away?” “Haha, look at her face. She’s gone pale. Is she about to cry?” However, Julian simply pulled my adopted sister, Elena, into his arms. His voice was soft with affection. “Now that we’ve got divorced, will you finally smile for me?” Elena let out a chuckle. Her cool, aloof face bloomed into a smile. I tried to step forward and question Julian, but my three brothers held me back. My eldest brother, the CEO, frowned and said, “Elena only smiles for him. Try having some decency.” My second brother, the actor, shoved me to the ground. “She’s had a hard life. You have everything. You don’t need this one man.” My third brother, a biology professor, said coldly, “Julian should’ve married her long ago. Stop interfering.” They forced me into the car, refusing to let me stand in the way of their love and her happiness. At that moment, the system that had been silent for so long finally came online: [Host, the objective has been completed. Do you wish to return to the real world now?] I sat in the back seat, gazing out the window. I almost let out a laugh. The tragic play I had put on for this mission was finally over. From now on, I wanted no part in their lives.

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]