Beasts Of No Nation

Sa edad na 19, gumuho ang mundo ni Castheophy Ynares nang misteryosong mamatay ang kanyang mga magulang, iniwan siyang nag-iisa upang alagaan ang tatlo niyang nakababatang kapatid. At sa isang iglap, nawala rin ang yaman at seguridad na inaakala niyang habambuhay nilang sandigan. Pero hindi siya sumuko. Sa loob ng limang taon, nagpakahirap siya, tiniis ang lahat ng sakit at gutom, hanggang sa tuluyan siyang makapagtapos bilang Summa Cum Laude sa Ateneo de Iloilo. Ngunit sa pagpasok niya sa bagong mundo bilang isang abogado, isang trahedya ang agad na sumalubong sa kanya—napagbintangan siyang nagnakaw ng mahahalagang files. At doon niya nakilala si Jaiden Wench. Makapangyarihan. Misteryoso. Walang awa. Siya ang lalaking hindi lang may kakayahang manipulahin ang mundo, kundi pati ang puso ni Castheophy. "You think you can escape me, Castheophy?" bulong nito, ang tinig ay malamig at puno ng panunuya. "You stepped into my world—now, you’re mine." Dahil sa isang kontratang wala siyang lusot, napilitan siyang manatili sa piling ni Jaiden. Ngunit sa bawat araw na lumilipas, mas lalong lumalalim ang laban sa pagitan nila. Galit o tukso? Laro o katotohanan? Habang tinutuklas niya ang madilim na nakaraan ng lalaking ito, isang bagay ang hindi niya maitatanggi—unti-unti siyang nahuhulog sa demonyong hindi niya dapat mahalin. Ngunit sa larong ito, may kailangang matalo. May kailangang magsakripisyo. At may kailangang mawala. Sa huli, pag-ibig nga ba ang magpapalaya sa kanya—o ito rin ang tuluyang wawasak sa kanya?

Moans. I hear moans. "Ugh! Faster!" I covered my ears like an innocent child hoping that they would quite down. I ran back down the kitchen and drank a glass of water. I'm not paid enough for this. Thinking back and I was already regretting my life decisions— NOT! Now that I have discovered how much of a big womanizer this fiancée of mine is, I think I now have a reason to dump him. Disguised as his maid is so hard just to get intel unto what his true colors actually are. Honestly wasn't the best idea, but it definitely is the most efficient one. I sat on the counter of the kitchen and rested my head on the table over my folded arms. Perhaps a nap might help innocent me up. Just when slumber finally came, I heard sloppy footsteps coming down the staircase. The "young master" finally finished his business. I went to meet them at the bottom of the stairs to greet his lady friend safety on her way home. "I can't wait for tomorrow night," she said in a seductive tone and batted her lashes on him. I held back my urge to barf. Her arms are all over him as if she was the drunk one when in fact it was my good for nothing fiancé. "You're too loud," Timothee replied as it was his way of rejecting girls. And yes, another girl cried that night. She won't be expecting to sleep with him again. As the lady went out the door, I look at the young master. His hair wet, topless and jeans unbuttoned. "Don't drool over me, scullery maid." And with that he went back up. Jerk!

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

Despite a decade of marriage, Simon never once shared my bed, claiming that he had pledged himself to ascetic practices and that it was beneath him. I thought that he suffered from some shameful ailment and guarded his secret like a devoted fool, until my birthday, when I came home to find him entangled with a brothel worker before the floor-length mirror. When I lunged forward in rage, he drove a shard of that broken mirror straight through my heart. When I awoke, I was gripping my phone, its screen illuminating a message Simon had just sent: [I’ll still give you a lavish wedding, but the marriage certificate? That belongs to her.]

When I saw Vincent Carson again, he was now the formidable head of the Carson Corporation with a net worth of tens of millions. By his side was a young, promising screenwriter. Meanwhile, I dragged myself out of the basement, crippled and in a pitiful state. With a condescending tone, Vincent asked, "Three years ago, you sabotaged Irene's chance to win that award. Do you regret it now? If you wish to remain my wife, you must apologize to Irene first." At the same time, the system's voice sounded in my mind, 'Host, are you ready to go home?' I nodded silently. A look of satisfaction washed over Vincent's face as he stepped forward to embrace me. However, in the blink of an eye, I began to vanish right before his eyes. Subsequently, I heard he lost his sanity.

Fedora Smith was done with love. Finished. Buried. Betrayal had ripped out her heart and torched it—her boyfriend of four years and her best friend of twenty-five caught pants down on the very anniversary sheets she gifted him. And their excuses? “You’re not attractive anymore.” “You took too long to marry him.” Fine. If love was a game, she was rewriting the rules. Now, she runs The Bridal Fix, an elite agency providing fake marriages for a steep price—rent-a-bride services for men needing to fool their families, secure an inheritance, or stage the perfect breakup. Fifteen weddings, fifteen divorces—no strings, no mess. Just business. Until Judah Carlstone. He hires her like the rest—one contract, one wedding, one payday. But Judah asks too many questions. Looks at her too long. And when he smirks and says— "Tell me, Fedora… how does it feel to say ‘I do’ and not mean it?" For the first time in years, she has no answer. Because this was never supposed to feel real.

Two years after we marry, my husband moves his sister and her family into our marital home. The four of them settle down and refuse to leave. So, I quit both my jobs. I laze around at home all day and splurge on various things. I have so many parcels delivered that they pile up by the door. Occasionally, I ask my husband and his sister for allowance. When the management office sends someone to chase for our maintenance fee, my husband breaks down so loudly that everyone in the building can hear him. He asks me whether I've lost my mind—who will support the family if I don't work? How will we survive without money? Am I going to allow our family to starve? So, it turns out he does know that we'll starve without anyone generating income. Why does he and his sister stay at home and plot to take away all my money, then?

My son accidentally ate peanuts and suffered a severe allergic reaction. I threw away all the anti-allergy medication in the house and even hung up when he called 911 for help. I watched helplessly as his airway swelled shut and he suffocated to death. In my previous life, when my son struggled to breathe, I immediately drove him to the hospital. After an intense rescue effort, he survived, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. However, my mother-in-law stormed in, furious, accusing me of being a monster and blaming me for nearly killing him. I hurried to explain that he was fine. Yet, when I presented the doctor's report and discharge paperwork, I was horrified to discover that they had turned into a death certificate. My son, who had been resting safely in the ICU, was gone. He had somehow appeared in the morgue. Refusing to accept it, I checked the surveillance footage. However, the footage clearly showed that my son never left the operating room. Instead, it was just me, talking to myself the entire time. I had no idea what was happening. No one believed me. They locked me in a psychiatric hospital. In the end, as my condition worsened, a swarm of frenzied patients attacked me and tore me apart alive.

Devon menyodorkan surat cerai tepat ke depan muka Rosa. Pria itu tak terlihat main-main. Pada akhirnya pernikahan yang mereka lalui tidak berhasil meskipun Rosa sudah mencoba sebisanya. Rosa menginginkan Devon. Sangat membutuhkan kekuasaan keluarga Wijaya yang berada di genggaman Devon. Dia tak bisa pergi, tak akan mau. Ketika Rosa tengah memutar otak untuk menunda perceraian ini, tiba-tiba saja petir menyambar Devon secepat kilat! "Ja-jangan mati!!!! Ambulans! Tolong, siapa saja panggil ambulans!" jerit Rosa dengan derai air mata bercucuran. Sementara itu, Devon bergeming di tempatnya. Asap-asap hitam mengepul keluar dari sekujur tubuh dan perickan listrik seperti melompat-lompat di atasnya. Namun bukan itu yang penting. Sebuah suara melengking yang pria itu kenal jelas, merasuki kepalanya dengan kurang ajar. Devon bisa mendengar suara isi pikiran Rosa tanpa sepengetahuan wanita itu. Dan darahnya dibuat mendidih. 'Siapa bilang laki-laki ganteng di dunia ini cuma Devon? Cuih! Manusia macam dia mending bertapa di gunung jadi biksu. Percuma dikasih istri secantik aku kalo matanya nggak dipake,' ujar Rosa dalam hati. Gigi Devon bergemeletuk menahan amarah. "ROSA!!"

On the day of my birthday, my cousin, who does ballet, falls and injures her leg. My father smacks my leg with a club in a fit of rage. I cry out in pain, but he doesn't care. He sneers and says, "Now, you know how it feels! Why didn't you stop to think how much pain your cousin would be in when you pushed her and made her fall down the stairs?" He hits me with all his might until I can't make any more sounds. To drive the lesson home, he shoves me into the basement, uncaring that I'm on the brink of death. "I'll let you out of there once you stop thinking these dirty thoughts, Yvonne!" But when he opens the door to the basement once more, all he sees is my decomposing corpse.