Novel & Cerita Beca Chloe Fanfiction

“Prey, tell what happens when… if you lose? What benefits am I to reap from this bet of yours?” This bastard had a lot of nerve.I could not back down from him. I knew I could see this contest through. I know I can make my dream a reality.“If I lost than…I will serve under your modeling agency for free for half a year. Does that seem fair enough?” I said regaining my confidence. I could not help but glared back at Elijah. “Sounds like a fair trade to me, little kitten.” He said. I do not like that nickname. No matter how sexy it sounded on his lips.“If I lose than I will publicly apologize to you, I.” Elijah said with a smile repeating the terms. “But it you lose than you work as a model in my business for free for half of the year. Sound about right?” Elijah said.I shook his hand. “Deal.”Elijah smiled to the point where his teeth reminded me of the big bad wolf. “Deal,” he said softly.

Emma dedicated her youth to loving Alpha Draven Sinclair and being a perfect wife for him, but what did she give her in return? He demanded a divorce as soon as his girlfriend woke up from the coma and threw her into the jail for the crimes she did not even commit. Now she is back six years later, to prove her innocence and punish everyone who made her life miserable. And this time, she is not alone as she got a new attitude, a bunch of men trying to win and two adorable kids who would do anything to protect their momma.

In a luxurious suite, I get pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window by my rival, Elias Forrest. At the moment, we're making out with each other without a care in the world. Just as I'm about to immerse myself in lust, I suddenly notice rows of live comments appearing before me. "Why is the villainess being such a slut? Is she that big of a whore for men? If not for the fact that the male lead has mistaken her for someone else due to his drugged state, there's no way she could've gotten together with him in the first place!" "It's fine. The female lead will soon show up to save the male lead from the villainess. Once he has all sobered up, the villainess will definitely get what's coming for her. Heheh!" "The male lead is our darling female lead's devoted lover, you see! He hates the fact that the villainess has tainted his purity, so he's decided to toss her into the slums so that she gets violated by a group of beggars. In the end, the villainess dies a terrible death on the streets." With red-rimmed eyes, Maisie Sadler opens the door. "What the hell are you two doing?" But the steamy scene that Maisie imagines is nowhere to be seen. I'm not even hugging Elias right now. There's only a dog with fur as white as snow in my arms. Both of us turn to look at Maisie in confusion. "Hmm?" Even the dog barks in confusion as well.

For three years, Evelyn lived a lie wrapped in luxury. Her marriage to the cold and powerful Lucian Blackwood was supposed to be a mere business arrangement—a thirty-six-month contract to save her family from ruin. But as the days turned into years, the lines between duty and desire blurred. Evelyn fell for the man who remembered her favorite meals, protected her from the cold, and ensured her medicine was always at hand. She believed that beneath his obsidian gaze, a real heart had begun to beat for her. The illusion shatters on the night of their third anniversary at the Blackwood Estate. With the stroke of midnight and the smell of acrid smoke, Lucian presents her with the Decree of Divorce. The crushing truth is revealed: every gesture of affection, every moment of "domestic bliss," was never about Evelyn. It was a lingering habit from his past with Sarah, his first love who has finally returned to the city. Evelyn wasn't a wife; she was a rehearsal.

I had just suffered a miscarriage. With trembling fingers, I called my husband, only to hear the sounds of a rowdy party on the other end. "Don, this was supposed to be your anniversary gift for your wife," a voice teased amidst the cheers. "Giving it to Miss Lena instead—aren't you afraid your lady will throw a fit?" Vincent's voice was deep and dismissive. "Lena's brother died saving my life. I owe her. As for Isabella... she's gentle. She'll understand." He paused, his tone turning colder. "Besides, she came to me with those scandalous rumors surrounding her past. The resources the Corleone family has given her over the years are more than enough to compensate for these little grievances." As blood stained the hem of my skirt, I silently pressed the end-call button. Tears fell uncontrollably. He doesn't know yet—the baby is gone, and I am finally done with him.

On the day I get into an accident, Anthony Flint forces me to donate blood to his first love, Maisie Jones, even though I'm on the brink of death. He threatens me that if I dare reject him, he'll torture me till I die. Later on, I end up dying on the streets due to massive blood loss, just like Anthony wants me to. But he bawls his eyes out as he begs me to open my eyes and look at him again.

I married someone two years ago. From then on, I lived a happy life. Thankfully, I did not have to deal with a mother-in-law and did not have to work. I even got two hundred thousand dollars from my husband every month as pocket money. Even my best friends lived the high life because of me. But today, right after I got my allowance, I got a call from the police station. They told me to pick my husband up from there.

Julian Hayes spent eight years climbing from first officer to captain of the most coveted international routes. I stood beside him for every mile of that climb. For him, I walked away from the Valenti family, the most feared Mafia name on the East Coast. I buried Elena Valenti, and became Lina Vale, the girl who smiled in the cabin while he ruled the cockpit. The day I left, my father stood on the marble steps of our estate and said, "Elena, if you walk out that gate for him, don’t come crawling back." Julian never knew. To him, I was a woman with no real family, no real power, and no life worth asking about. I was the one who memorized his flight schedule, packed his stomach pills, and kept dinner warm until midnight. Once, I asked him, "Can you take me into the sky the way you see it? Just once." He didn’t even put down his fork. "The cockpit is a workplace, Lina. Not a theme park." I said okay and never asked again. Then one sleepless dawn, I found the encrypted album on his phone. More than forty cockpit photos: cloud seas, blood-red sunsets, double rainbows after storms, the Milky Way over the Atlantic. Every one had been sent to the same contact. A teddy bear emoji. The newest photo showed half a sun hanging off the wingtip. His caption read, [Next time you’re off, I’ll put you in the observer seat. Sit on the right. That’s where the whole sky opens up.] She replied, [I’ll hold you to that.] I put the phone back. I didn’t change the password, didn’t delete the album, didn’t wake him up to beg for an explanation. At dawn, I brewed his coffee like always, sat alone at the kitchen island, and drank mine in silence. Then I sent my resignation letter and called a number I hadn’t touched in eight years. I watched the first flight of the morning rise beyond the Manhattan skyline and said, "Papa, I’m coming home." When the line connected, my father’s voice was colder than a gun barrel. "Have you thought it through?"

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

She married him because of a contract, not love. He stayed because it was convenient, not because he cared. For three years, she played the perfect wife- silent, patient, invisible, while his heart belonged to someone else. When the woman he truly loved returned, divorce was the only thing he offered her. Broken but not weak, she signed the papers and walked away, determined to rebuild her life and reclaim the version of herself she lost in that marriage. But when she finally learns how to live without him, he realizes his biggest mistake was letting her go. Now regret follows him everywhere. The woman he once ignored is no longer waiting. And love is no longer guaranteed. In a marriage that began with a contract and ended in divorce, can love find its way back—or is this second chance already too late?