Astronomy Table In Hogwarts Novels & Stories

My mother loved a billionaire once. He destroyed her quietly, with power and control and the particular cruelty of a man who knew nobody would believe his wife's pain. She left him with nothing but the clothes on her back and a warning she planted deep inside me before I could even walk. *Never marry a billionaire.* I believed her. I built my own empire. I refused every wealthy, charming, well-suited man who came to my table with a ring and a rehearsed smile. Then I walked into The Harlow Hotel and saw a waiter. No charm. No performance. Just steady eyes that looked at me like I had startled him and then looked away first. Shyly. His name was Charles Dick. Simple. Honest. Real. Everything my mother's warning was never about. I pursued him. I provided for him. I loved him completely. Five days before our wedding he told me the truth. And everything collapsed in sixty seconds. Because the most dangerous love stories are not the ones that begin with lies. They are the ones where two people lie to protect themselves from the very love they have been searching for their entire lives. .... Vivienne Donald had sworn she would never marry a billionaire. She kept her word. She married something far greater.

" Tell me what can I do to make it up for you?" He asks, taking a seat on the table near the bed, sounding guilty. Tho, I don't trust his words or feelings it can always change. I faced him, grinning violently as I asked, "Can you let me go?" He smiled. "Except that." I knew he will say something like that. "I don't wanna do this marriage. " He cocks his brow up in amusement before he chuckled, "I thought I made it clear when we met that you don't have any choice to make while you are here with me. " I sighed, with an annoy, he continued. "Though, if that's how I can make up then let's make a deal. " "What deal?" °^°^°^°^°^ Elina's life turns upside down when she got kidnapped by the man who appears in her nightmares who is none other than the son of ruthless Mafia, Andrew, and he, himself a rumored to be the most dangerous mafia in reality. Elina soon starts to hear and see the things she has no idea of and tries her best to know the reason behind it but she wasn't ready to find and process something more horrifying about Andrew and her's unknown past that was kept hidden by her.

"Thirty million" I heard a male voice echo round the walls of the hall which silenced everyone. Who would bid that high just to buy me? "Thirty million dollars" the male voice spoke up once again, a young man striding confidently forward like he owned the very building with his bidding card raised up. He was eighty percent taller than everyone in attendance. I sucked in breath at his refined but cold appearance. His tuxedo hugged his body and showed of his impeccable muscles. His dark long hair was slick and let to fall, not a single strand out of place. He had the profile of a greek God but his features lacked warmth and empathy. His brown steel eyes burrowed into mine, a look of disgust on his face for me. "Sold!" the chairman hit the gavel on the table after a brief moment of silence since no one else was willing to bid higher. A wave of ovation took the hall, men chattering amongst themselves and whistling. "Get her ready and bring her to me" he pivoted and sharply ordered one of the armed bodyguards standing close to the podium. He owns me now. **** When a ruthless mafia lord bids for an innocent girl, can her innocense survive in the abyss of his darkness?

After my best buddy, Jack Hughes, certified my 20th girlfriend as 'another gold digger', I finally agreed to an arranged marriage to the wealthy heiress Cyndi White. My family was delighted. Later, at a gathering with friends, Jack snatched Cyndi’s half-eaten cake and said like he was her real husband, "Cyndi, this cake is too sweet. Eating too much won't be good for you. I'll eat it for you." I stopped him, but he did not just think he was in the right. He even let his guard down and said, "I was just testing your wife's character. Why all the fuss? We've been bros for over a decade. Do you think I've got my eye on your wife?" If it were in the past, I might have believed him. However, I had been reborn. I grabbed the cake from the table and slammed it into his face. "What kind of character do you have, testing other people's character like that? You're just my late driver's son! Why are you pretending to be some wealthy heir? I bet you've not only got your eye on my wife, but you've already planned how to get into her bed!"

I was the real son, finally found and brought back by my billionaire parents, only to be diagnosed with leukemia right after. The only person who matched my bone marrow was the adopted son, Doug Daniel. So my parents rushed to bring him back into the family, making him my donor. To make it up to him, they did everything they could for him. My parents handed over the inheritance. My fiancée, Moira Stevens, hovered around him every day. When the pain got so bad that I could barely stand it, my parents pointed at me and snapped, "Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health?" Moira, a medical school professor, didn't hold back either. "I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug." On the day of the transplant, I lay on the operating table and waited. But Moira, the one in charge of harvesting Doug's marrow, never came in. I closed my eyes and waited for death. None of them knew I had already signed up to donate my body.

At dinner, Tiffany White grabs my fiance's phone and spends 100 thousand dollars on a designer bag. She even sticks her tongue at me. "Come on, Meredith. You're loaded. You won't mind such a small amount, right? Shawn and I share everything. His money is my money," she says. Everyone at the table waits for me to lose my temper or smile and let it slide like a saint. Instead, I calmly take out a voice recorder and my laptop from my bag and adjust my gold-rimmed glasses. "100 thousand meets the threshold for criminal filing. Since you said you two share everything, I have to ask—is this embezzlement or an illegal transfer tied to an improper personal relationship? "Oh, and what you just said about 'his money is my money'? I recorded that. According to the supplemental clauses in our prenup and the company bylaws, I'm officially initiating an asset-freezing order against Shawn Harrison." I turn to Tiffany. "Enjoy your free meals in prison, Ms. White." Shawn is livid. "It was just a joke, Meredith. Is it really necessary to ruin me over this?" I hit the "enter" key. "Sorry. In my book, there are no jokes—only bad debt."

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.

Dominic Langdon, a gang boss, is about to host his birthday banquet soon. He specifically tells everyone that he wants bluefin tuna and premium abalone as the grandest dish in his banquet. That seafood comes to a total of 80 thousand dollars. But my uncle, Steve Cutterson, gives me 800 dollars and tells me to carry out the task. I head toward the garbage dump of the farmers' market immediately. Soon, I return with a cartload of canned sardines and crayfish. After calculating the transportation costs, it comes to a total of 800 dollars. When the cheap-looking seafood is served, Dominic is so pissed that he flips the table on the spot. "How dare you pocket my money! You must have a death wish!" Steve quickly makes me the scapegoat. "Mr. Langdon, Caleb is the one who bought the seafood! He must have embezzled your money! Caleb, you'd better grovel to Mr. Langdon and pay him back right now!" I just show everyone the magnified version of the transfer record of 800 dollars with a stony expression. "Take a good look, Uncle Steve. Do you really think you can afford bluefin tuna with just 800 dollars? Did Mr. Langdon give you the money purely out of charity purposes?"

Amy Lacey and I were sworn enemies—stuck in a marriage neither of us wanted. She blamed me for ruining her last chance with her childhood sweetheart, Bryan Gurley. I hated her for sliding a separation agreement across the table on our wedding night. Seven years together. We both wished the other dead. The day I finally decided to divorce her, our private plane started going down. She grabbed the only parachute and strapped it around my waist. "Isaac Irving, if you die, how are you supposed to pay me back for the years I wasted on you?" The parachute snapped open. Then the explosion hit—and her last words cut through it. "Next life, don't come bother me again." Later, the rescue team pulled her burned body from the wreckage. In her arms was the love token Bryan had given her. That night, divorce papers in hand, I stepped off a rooftop. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Amy ran to the airport to win Bryan back. This time, I let her go without a second thought. In this life, I set her free. From here on out, we'd walk our own roads—owing each other nothing.

My father was hospitalized with a fractured bone. He needed someone to look after him. My wife, Alma, who was also a doctor, said she had to attend the Lancet conference abroad. She claimed it was an event she could not miss. While I was caring for my father, my younger brother, Jack, forwarded a short video to me. “Clyde, you need to look at this video of Alma.” In the video, Alma, who always took great care of her hands, was assembling parts on an assembly line at an electronics factory. I looked up info on who uploaded the photo. It was Tobias Zidel, a male nurse from her department. He captioned the video: [From the operating table to my assembly line. A true woman of all trades!] I resisted the urge to confront her. Instead, I forwarded the video to the department’s group chat. [I wonder how much Dr. Ashford earns per day working at Mr. Zidel’s family factory?] The group chat instantly exploded with messages. The video spread across the entire hospital. Alma bombarded me with frantic phone calls. She demanded that I retract the message. “Come with a written apology on Monday. You will apologize to Mr. Zidel publicly during the meeting!” I hung up decisively. Then, I scheduled an appointment to file for divorce. I did not want a wife like this.