Before We Knew It Novels & Stories

Bradley Oliver Jones was eight years old when he first heard "Phantom of the Opera" in New York.The lights gleaming across the stage, the voices of the performers ringing through the theater in a way that brought tears to the eyes of those listening. A wonderful canvas of brilliance painted bright by the dull colors of the world.The performance brought something wonderful to Bradley Oliver Jones.The theatre brought magic, brought light, brought hope into the mind of a little eight year old kid.A kid now dead set on being on that stage.And suddenly, the world was on fire, and everything was possible.

Falling in love is easy, but keeping that love is not that easy. Karan is an entrepreneur who is hard working. Because of his heartbreak, he dedicated himself to his work and never looked back after that. After successfully becoming a billionaire on his own, he decided to get married. But the girl he was married to was the girl who he think, had mercilessly smashed his heart under her feet. Amayra is a content writer in a financial magazine who values her relationships. She was always dedicated to work and never wanted to get married. After tasting the bitter taste of betrayal, she was left broken and never wanted to be in any kind of relationship. But she again entered into a relationship. And this time it was marriage. But with the same person. They both fell in love obviously. but wait they fell in love during their college days. and now after five years, they are enemies, while both were madly in love with each other. But why do not want to see each other faces, not even tolerate another person's presence? what happened during these five years or five years ago. Why did they betray each other if they were madly in love? READ MORE AND FIND OUT

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.

For one year, I believed Matteo De Luca had truly fallen in love with me. Our marriage began as an alliance, but he held me every night, kissed me before council meetings, and fastened the De Luca Donna brooch at my throat as if I already belonged beside him. Then his first love, Vanessa Ashford, came back. Within days, our official ceremony was postponed, her access was added to the Donna wing, and Matteo stopped wearing the family signet he once used to claim me in public. He said it was council business. But council business did not leave amber perfume on his skin. It did not sit beside him on a private jet to Palm Beach. And it certainly did not smile from the Donna’s chair while his friends watched me lose my place. The final humiliation came at a private dinner, when someone asked whether I was Matteo’s wife. He looked at me, then said calmly, “Elena and I have an arrangement.” That night, I stopped waiting to be chosen. Matteo could keep his first love, his title, and the home he let her enter. I packed my passport, my Florence contract, and the prenatal report he had never seen. Then I left New York with his child.

After we got back together, I kept the Winter family’s rules in mind all the time. I never threw any tantrums and was content with being the man supporting Winona Winter, my wife. Within the upper-class society, I became well-known as a magnanimous husband. However, when Winona became pregnant with another man’s baby again, everyone thought that I would fight against that man, but I only brought her back calmly and took care of her. Yet Winona lost her composure and grabbed my collar. “Shaun, why aren’t you arguing with me?” I only smiled and calmly took out a copy of the family rules. “According to Rule 137, the husband needs to be magnanimous and tolerant. He must understand that his wife has needs and cannot be unreasonable.”

The world has one rule. The beast determines your worth. Mira has no beast. No rank. No place among the strong. She is an Omega in a world that has already decided what she is and what she will never be. But when a selection letter lands on her doorstep, one that should never have had her name on it, she stops playing by the rules. Training camp is brutal. The students are stronger, faster and backed by bloodlines she can only dream of. And then there is Caden Crest. Cold. Untouchable. Next in line to rule the world. The boy who looked her in the eye and told her she didn't belong. The boy who felt something in that moment and has been running from it ever since. Mira has survived everything the world has thrown at her. She just didn't know the hardest thing to survive would be him.

On the eve of my wedding, the drug effects of the sleeping pills have faded away. That's how I find myself waking up amid the rambunctious laughter in the master suite of the estate. As soon as I open my eyes, I see my luxurious custom-fitted wedding gown being shredded into pieces by Trevor Gibson's female best friend, Sophia Lynch. She toys with the scissors as she jokes around in front of her phone, where a livestream is ongoing. "Helena is no lady of the house! At the end of the day, I can still manipulate her as though she were a maggot!" Trevor's friends agree with her loudly. "Trevor was the one who laced her milk with sleeping pills, to begin with. Anyone else would've slept like a log!" The comment section is filled with mocking comments directed at me. Meanwhile, Trevor just pats Sophia on the head dotingly. "You must be done venting your anger by now, right? Be a good girl and turn off the livestream. If Helena wakes up and kicks up a fuss, it'll be difficult for tomorrow's wedding to proceed." Once everyone leaves the master suite, Trevor sits by the bed and tucks me in. "Sophia mustn't get triggered at all due to her depression. I'll only deal with you later. Anyway, I've already arranged for a plane to fly in a new wedding gown for you as we speak. Honestly speaking, that gown fits you even more." I can only grip the covers quietly. Then, I fire a text at Jordan Scott. "I'm not going to get married now. Are you still sticking to that promise you gave me back then?"

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?” I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?” He repeated, “Can you handle it?” My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?” That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn. Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought. Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over. When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.” I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

Arianna Reynolds, second year med school student of King's University attracts the hottest player to ever exsist in the city of London, Damon King, who practices his internal training for cardiology. She was betwichingly gorgeous, and alluringly innocent. A perfect angel with good grades and a little devil who loves chaos. Damon King, the most arrogant badboy and the most cruel heartbreaker. His world toppled when she entered all in her glory as his junior. She excited him, and challenged him when she acted blind to his charms. His excitement turned to anger when she punched him. He was evrything she hated in a guy. Nonetheless, she found him slowly changing for her. Her brown orbs always seemed to tempt his heart with whirlpool of exotic emotions and he was sucked into it when ever she locked his gaze with him. ------------- "You are mine Ria," he yelled slamming her onto the nearby locker. "No," she deadpanned with annoyance. "I love you," he confessed nearning her petite figure, invading her personal space. Her breath clogged for a second as she was stunned with his confession. Her eyes hardened again when she said," No, you wanna play with me." Pushing him back lightly she looked away. "I need you Ria, trust me. It's no sick game of mine. I am had over heels for you. Please, just give me a chance," he begged her with moist eyes, closing the distance again. Her stance grew guarded as the cruel heart breaker was confessing with vehement emotions stirring in his eyes. "Prove that your intentions are true," she said pushing him back from her personal space. Leaving him drown in her thoughts, she walked away from him. "You are mine Ria. I will prove myself worthy of your love. You belong only to me," he promised to himself watching her retreating figure.

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"