Beyblade Burst Achilles

The wedding had reached the part where the groom kissed the bride. I closed my eyes and leaned in to kiss Stella Stafford, only to end up with a mouthful of fur. Her assistant held up the camera and burst out laughing. "The almighty Mr. Rowe can't even tell if he's kissing a person or a dog?" I stared at the Husky in front of me, its tongue lolling out, and felt my stomach churn. I was about to lay into him when Stella stepped in to block me. "It was just a joke. No hard feelings." Laurent Reilly smirked smugly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "And guess what? This Husky happens to be a female, so why don't you just marry her instead? You're not good enough for Stella anyway." The employees erupted in laughter. Mortified, I kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling. The next second, Stella smashed a wine bottle over my head and demanded an apology. I wiped the mix of wine and blood from my face, then dialed an overseas number with a cold grin. "The wedding is short one bride. You in?"

A billionaire who hides his bleeding heart with a tough exterior and a soft, family oriented 24 year old woman. Who would have ever thought? Vanessa Higgins lives in constant reminder of how indebted she is to her aunt for taking she and her sister in when they lost their mum. But the ultimate favour was asked of her when she was asked to marry a man she barely knew to enable the family business. In an unexpected turn of events, she ends up marrying another man on that same day, a cold hearted billionaire who is willing to go to any length to have the debt he's owed paid back. Damien De Luca never imagined he'd be getting married when he woke up that morning. But after a look at Vanessa, he had to keep her around him, even if that meant entrapping her with her family's debt. He has married her alright, but not for the reason everyone thinks. What happens when his true reason dares to burst out? A marriage based on a contract might not be so bad after all, but what of a marriage based on lies, warped truths and secrets?

On the day of the wedding, my fiancee, Bianca Newton, approached me with a bright smile, handing me a glass of wine. I drank it down in one gulp. Suddenly, her male best friend, Xander Lynch, raised his phone and burst out laughing. "See! I told you this idiot wouldn't even notice that it was my piss! Pay up, everyone! Don't forget to follow my account! Pay up!" I started puking uncontrollably, but Bianca merely looked at me with disgust. I demanded that Xander apologize, yet Bianca placed herself in front of him and stopped me. "It was just a joke! Why are you taking it so seriously?" At the same time, Xander said smugly, "Come on, say hello to the views in my livestream! Tell them how it feels to drink piss!" I smashed a wine bottle right on his head. Bianca demanded that I kneel and apologize to him. Then, she hurriedly escorted Xander to the hospital, still in her wedding gown. Looking at the wedding venue in utter chaos, I calmly took my phone out and dialed a number. "Are you interested in marrying me?"

The first time I attended my girlfriend Joyce's friend gathering, after a few rounds of drinks, her male best friend pulled her onto his lap. With a cigarette dangling between his fingers, he grinned. "Call me daddy!" Instead of getting offended, Joyce leaned into him, helpless but indulgent, and said, "Daddy." I froze, scowling, but she waved me off without a care. "It's just a joke! Lucius always never cared for the rules, and everyone knows we have a father-daughter vibe, okay? Don't get it all twisted, Henry! Aren't you a man?" Lucius became even more provocative, throwing a smoke ring at me. "Yo, son-in-law! Aren't you going to bow to me? Come on, kneel and offer me a drink, and your dad's got your back!" Everyone at the table burst into laughter as they waited to see me lose my temper and make a scene. I just smiled, meeting Joyce's impatient gaze with an excited expression. "That's great! I like the way you think, so why don't you call me daddy too?"

Two decades earlier, the realms of the Four Courts waged war against the covens of witches. Neither side would yield, though both were bleeding themselves dry in a war that spanned five brutal years. The Courts relied on their noble bloodlines, the witches on their wild and ancient spells. Each skirmish ended in ash, with neither enemy capable of breaking the other. Then a sorcerer from the Courts revealed a weapon: an octagonal crystal forged from eight different stones, each carved from the essence of a court. On the battlefield, before witches or nobles could comprehend what was happening, the crystal ignited. A blinding eruption of light burst forth, eight rays fusing into one unbearable brilliance. It was not merely sight that was torn away in that flash — but power, essence, and soul. Both Courts and witches alike fell, drained of the magic that had defined them. When the light faded, the battlefield lay silent under a sky of glittering dust. The enchantments were gone. The witches’ spellcraft, the courts’ line-born sorcery — extinguished forever. Neither side had won. Both had lost. And magic never returned.

During an elective class, the campus belle, Jemima Ford, who is our senior, describes her ideal type with everyone egging her on. She says, "My future husband has to be at least six feet two inches tall. His parents must be college professors, and his grades should be top three in his major…" The room buzzes with teasing chatter and gossip. At the same time, I snap up my head in surprise. Why does Jemima's description of her ideal type sound like my boyfriend, Elijah Sanders? The next second, the professor standing by the podium smiles obsequiously and says, "Very well said. If Eli hears this, he'll definitely be very happy! Later, the two of you can meet. That way, he won't get tricked by some naive girl into going abroad." Amid the burst of laughter from the class, I lower my eyes and look at the message my parents sent me. It reads, "Sweetheart, are you really going abroad with your boyfriend? There'll be no one left to inherit our company with you gone."

“She is mine!” Alpha Casper roared, yanking me toward him, his eyes blazing a dangerous shade of red. “Let her go, you filthy mutt and I might let you live.” Alpha Jake only pulled me closer, his lips curling into a dark smirk. “Funny,” he growled, “I was about to say the same thing to you.” The room trembled with their growls, two powerful Alphas locked in a deadly stare, both refusing to back down. But just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the doors burst open and another Alpha stepped in. His eyes landed on me, and his voice rumbled with possessive fury. “Mate!” … Kamari had just turned eighteen, the age every wolf dreams of, when she can finally shift and embrace her destiny. But the Moon Goddess had other plans. Instead of one fated mate… she was given three. Three powerful Alphas, each bound to her by destiny, torn apart by rivalry, and willing to destroy the world just to claim her heart.

Cesare Xandri, the rising gangster of the Nalitan mafia, unexpectedly lost a bet at an elite private casino in Ithel, the kind that smells like cigar smoke and blood money. The penalty was simple, he had to call his hard-to-tame pet. The phone was on speaker. The men circled him, whistling and hooting, waiting to be entertained. He asked what I was up to in a relaxed and amused tone. I replied softly, insinuating he was sinful, hiding my defiance behind innocence and fake devotion. When I finished my insult, the room fell silent, then burst into loud and uncontrollable laughter. The call ended. Less than thirty minutes later, the mansion gates were smashed open. He stormed in smelling of gunpowder, a Beretta still in his hand. He pushed me against the wall furiously beneath the Virgin Mary statue. I leaned into him without hesitation, fingers brushing the heated gun, and I met his gaze without fear. I chose virtue and rejected him in my past life, in return I was thrown into the open sea to die. I intended to be his temptation when I got a second chance at life, I wanted to be a beautiful sin that ends his story under the Cecilian sun.

I sell handmade fortune cookies in the park. Each one costs $10,000, yet every day, people fight to buy them. That’s because what I sell are fertility fortune cookies. Eat one, and you can get pregnant instantly. You can even choose what kind of child you want. Slip in a double-yolk charm, and you’ll have twins. Seal in a perfect test paper, and your child will be a genius. A spayed female dog ate one and ended up pregnant with six puppies. Someone buried a fortune cookie beneath a withered tree, and by the next day, it had burst into full bloom. I sell fortune cookies to both women and men—anyone who wants to get pregnant. I turn no one away. Even animals, if they so much as make a sound, I’ll feed them. Until one day, a young woman, Mara Kessler, who had been standing in line from dawn until dusk, finally stepped forward and timidly said she wanted to buy a fortune cookie. I only took one look at her, then staggered back in terror. "I can’t sell to you. Leave. Now."

My sister-in-law, Sabine Vire, deliberately swapped my prenatal medication with abortion pills. As a result, my eight-month-old baby was gone. As I cried until I nearly collapsed from grief, my husband, Cassian Thorne, held me tightly and murmured, "Don’t worry. You’ll have another child." Three months later, I became pregnant again—this time with triplets. Overwhelmed with joy, I was just about to share the wonderful news with Cassian when I overheard a conversation between him and his friends. "All five of you didn’t use protection, right? I want to see how many brats her belly can carry. The wager is $50 million." "I bet three." "I bet one." Cassian burst into laughter. "If we’re betting, then we’re going big. I bet six. Who told her to slap my precious Sabine? If she can pop out a few brats to make Sabine happy, that’s her blessing." Sabine, the very woman who had fed me the abortion pills, was Cassian's beloved.