Bias Wrecker Meaning Kpop

It has been fifty-five days since my fiancé cut me off. I called off the wedding I'd waited eight long years for. All while he was caring for his childhood sweetheart, who was battling depression and seeking peace at a remote retreat. He even had the historic chapel—a local landmark called the Aethelred Sanctuary—closed to the public for six months because of her. And me? I was left to face the swarming reporters, hounded from one place to the next until I had nowhere left to hide—all because he disappeared without a word. Out of options, I went to the retreat to find him. But he turned me away, saying I would disturb the quiet and sanctity of the place. In the bitter cold of deep winter, I collapsed outside the gates, barely holding on. When I woke, I saw him—Jonathan—planting an entire garden of roses on the grounds, every bloom a declaration of love. Six months later, he finally left and returned home with his childhood sweetheart. The roses they had planted now filled what was supposed to be our wedding venue, from floor to ceiling. I watched them, cold and unmoved. What he didn't know was this—I was already engaged to someone else.

On the day before New Year's Eve, I didn't shut the window all the way, and my little sister sneezed. My parents kicked me out and ordered me to collect firewood in the dark. Inside, the family crowded around her, laughing as they handed her presents. I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I slung the basket onto my back before heading into the mountains through the wind and snow. I didn't find any firewood. I found a man instead. His leg was wedged in a crack between rocks, bloody enough to scare me. When he saw me, he said in a hoarse voice, "Get me out of here, girl. I can give you whatever you want." I looked up at him, my eyes finally focusing. "Really? Then I want you to be my dad."

When the babies in my womb were about five months old, I suddenly heard my daughter's voice in my head. "Mommy, Bella is trying to get rid of me. She's grabbing my umbilical cord with her hands. It hurts so much…" Believing Ava, I forced myself to eat nonstop and take every supplement I could. I even asked the doctor whether there was any medicine that could suppress Bella's growth. When I was in labor, the fetuses were too large. I lost so much blood and only delivered Ava before I died. Bella died in me as well. Right before my consciousness faded, I saw the newly born Ava looking at me with a wicked smile. "You idiot. You believed everything I said. Your luck, Bella's luck, and even Daddy's luck. I'll gladly take them all." Only then did I realize that Ava, whom I fought so hard to give birth to, was a monster. When I opened my eyes again, it was back to the very first day I heard Ava's voice in my head.

WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT SCENES AND MATURE ELEMENTS, SUITABLE ONLY FOR READERS AGED 18 AND ABOVE. Read at your own discretion. They started as nemeses. Rivals in the game of love. Both are masters of their games. Bienley Cullen takes girls like a meal. A master of seduction, charming girls with his charismatic demeanor and captivating smile. However, his once seemingly flawless existence was disrupted when he crossed paths with a guy who brought about restless nights and an unfamiliar, gnawing hunger within him. Devon Dalton, the fierce gang leader whose mere gaze evoked fear and doubt about his existence. Devon's mere presence exuded an air of raw power and unbridled authority, yet this was not what Bienley feared. He feared of losing himself to his unmatched seduction. Can he permit himself to be lured and submit to his temptation? Can he give up his reputation as a Casanova for a man who intends to dominate him? Can he play the game by Devon's rules? Bienley Cullen, the virgin wrecker casanova, and Devon Dalton, the fierce gang leader, two boys played by fate, yet amidst society's disdain, they shaped their world far beyond the conventional. #Prequel to Bloodline:Heirs

Five years had gone by since my death. The cops called my mom and told her they got news about me. My mother and brother marched to my grandmother's home and kicked her door down. "Where's Charlie? That shameless woman has been hiding from us far too long. Her brother needs her cornea, and she's giving it to him!" "Charlie's dead," said my grandmother, sobbing. My mother sneered. "As if. The cops called us. They said they had her news. Hand her over or get out of the house, you hag." My grandmother looked at her daughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. With trembling hands, she took my photo out. "I wonder if you've ever regretted saving your brother, Charlie."

When my family went bankrupt, I was drugged and sent to the bed of my childhood sweetheart, Craig Kennedy. From that night, he brought women home every evening, tossing a divorce agreement in my face. "Beg me, and I won't leave you." He stood above me, watching as I humbled myself to dust, pleading to preserve our marriage. He even ordered me to kneel in his office and massage the feet of his secretary, Lucia Langston. On the day the Moore Group needed ten million to survive, she blocked all my desperate calls for help. I waited 24 hours, watching my family's legacy collapse and my parents take their lives. Craig, with Lucia at his side, entered the house and threw the signed divorce agreement at me again. "You wanted money to save your family, didn't you? Beg me, and as long as I don't divorce you, no one will touch them." But I signed it with calm despair. "Don't bother. We no longer need your help."

At my coming-of-age ceremony, I confessed my feelings to Uncle Daniel, who wasn't blood-related to me. Yet, he sent me overseas to study. Later on, I was diagnosed with brain cancer. The headaches were brutal. Left without a choice, I turned to him for help. Yet, his first love accused me of being wasted abroad. Said I got into stuff. Claimed my pain were just withdrawals. He believed her and dragged me back home. He locked me up in the family's abandoned villa atop the mountains, guards watching me around the clock. With treatment delayed, my headaches grew worse. It was a complete nightmare. One night, I couldn't take it anymore. I quietly slipped out of the window and jumped. One year after my death, he finally remembers me.

My sister, Fiona Miller, has recently opened a luxury spa for business. As such, I bring Dad along to check it out. Of course, we pick the most expensive treatment package available. But barely a few presses from the male therapist, and Dad feels a sharp pain in his chest and can't seem to breathe properly. All the color drains from his face, and cold sweat starts beading on his forehead. I call the manager over, but he seems annoyed. "Oh, he just has poor blood circulation. He'll be fine after the massage. That's just a normal reaction." I can't believe what I'm hearing. "My father has a heart condition. What are you lot even doing to him?" The manager, Seth Zeller, explodes as if I've insulted him and raises his voice. "That's his own pre-existing condition. How is that our problem? We run a legitimate business here. No refunds once treatment begins. Got it?" I gesture at the credentials displayed on the wall. "I don't see your name anywhere up there. You're not even certified. Is this the kind of operation Fiona's running?" Seth folds his arms across his chest, looking down his nose at us. "I'm the boss here. You and your dad look broke as hell. I can tell you're just trying to get a free massage and walk out without paying." "Let me spell it out for you. This package is 38,000 dollars. Adding in the cost of my emotional distress and lost time, the total is 100,000 dollars. Pay up now, or I'm having you both arrested." A massage that almost kills Dad costs 100,000 dollars? So that's why Fiona was suddenly so eager to open this spa. As it turns out, she and her boyfriend are running a fraud scheme. I reach for my phone to call her, but Seth is already making a video call. "Babe, you need to get here right now. A couple of deadbeats are trying to get a free massage and walk away without paying."

Drevan Valkor is the Darkmoon pack's Invincible Alpha. This makes him grow arrogant and believe himself to be untouchable. Even when he drags a knife across his own hand, the wound closes almost instantly. He laughs at me and says, "Kyra, you gasp for breath after walking just a few steps. What a pathetic, sickly burden." What he doesn't know is that a curse forces me to suffer every bit of pain he should be feeling. The only cure is for him to acknowledge me and complete the mate bond willingly. I endure three years of his pain, his cold shoulder treatment, and his constant entanglement with my "healthy and lively" stepsister. I tell myself that if I can survive until the mate bonding ceremony, I will finally be free. But that hope dies on the night of the ceremony. Before the entire pack, he pulls my stepsister, Belle Wynter, into his arms and kicks me off the altar. "I reject Kyra Wynter as my mate," he declares. "My pack doesn't need a weakling like her." That is the moment my conscience dies. If that's how it is, then he can't blame me for choosing the worst possible cure.

I'm sold into the underground and turned into an anthropodermic fan, suffering endless days of humiliation. It isn't until my spine shatters from a hammered nail that my brother—Daxon Smyth—and my fiance—Joshua Moore—finally arrive. The two men who've doted on me for 20 years swear to make the guilty pay in blood. And I think my salvation has come. But when I overhear their words, I realize the truth—every torment I've suffered is of their doing, all to make me behave and stop me from competing with the true heiress they've found. When another man carries me away from that place, they lose their minds and scour through all ends of the world, trying to find me.