Bio Nerve Untuk Stroke

It's Thanksgiving, and I'm waiting for Zeke Jones to come home after cooking up an extravagant meal. When Zeke returns, he doesn't even glance at the meal I've prepared for him. Instead, he proceeds to pack a bag. "I can't celebrate Thanksgiving with you this year," he says. I take another bite of my turkey and say nothing. At the stroke of midnight, Zeke's first love posts a new photo on her social media page. In the photo, she's lying on Zeke's back with a bright smile on her face. The moon outside the window is bright. "Happy to spend Thanksgiving with good company," her caption reads. Instead of hysterically questioning Zeke about the post, I just tap on the "like" button without reacting in any way. Zeke calls me. His voice sounds panicked as he tries to explain himself. "Please don't misinterpret the post. I will definitely spend Thanksgiving with you next year…" I freeze for a few moments, letting out a small laugh. I don't offer him a reply. Next time, he says? Oh, Zeke, I'm afraid there won't be a next time.

“Hayden, don’t.” I said. My legs wouldn’t stop trembling as he started to come forward. I shook my head as my tears started to roll down my cheeks and the way he looked at me sent chills down my spine. “Please.” He put his palm on the wall as he moved closer to me and caged me in his strong arms, leaving me no space to escape. “Serena!” he spoke, bringing his lips close to my ear. Everything of his was intimidating including his hoarse voice. After all, he was the devil himself. "Hayden…” I couldn’t take proper breaths as his fingers started to stroke my cheek. He clenched his jaw as he brought his finger close to my lips and his eyes darkened. The next thing he said scared me to the core. “I don’t understand if I should kiss you or KILL YOU.” ______ Serena's life was never exciting, and she never wanted it to be exciting. However, things don't go same when she meets a handsome stranger, who is filled with lies and secrets and his world is filled with guns and knives.

I exercised too hard during the day and, by midnight, a sharp pain tore through my stomach. When I checked my pants, there was blood. I called my friend immediately and had him rush me to the hospital. The moment I finished explaining my symptoms, the doctor did not even pause to think before saying, "This is a potential miscarriage. We need to start treatment right away." My eyes went wide. I opened my mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over me. Her gaze dripped with contempt. "I see dozens of patients every day. I know exactly what you women are like. Probably had abortion after abortion in school with zero self-respect. Now that you're getting older, you want to trap some nice guy into cleaning up your mess." I had never met such an unprofessional doctor in my life. Anger flared in my chest, and I threatened to report her on the spot. She barely blinked. "Touched a nerve, huh? I'm just trying to help you out here. Doctors have it so hard these days. Tell someone the truth and complaints are all you get." The whispers started around me. People staring, judging, pointing. I had truly had enough. Had it occurred to literally anyone that I might just be a guy with long hair?

I send my sister, Lola Graham, to my couture boutique to pick out a wedding dress. As she is leaving, a trainee clerk, Kayla Larson, demands three million for the gown. Helpless, Lola says my name. "I'm the owner's sister. I don't have to pay." Kayla rolls her eyes. "You're pranking the wrong store. Our boss doesn't have a sister. You're just broke and trying to scam us!" she snapped, blocking my sister's way. "This is your last warning—either pay up, or I'll rip that dress off you and throw you out!" Stunned, Lola calls me. When I rush over, I hear my long-time store manager standing deferentially behind Kayla, warning Lola, "You'd better behave. The woman in front of you is our boss' wife. Cross her, and you'll regret it." "Trying to fake your way in here? You've got some nerve," Kayla sneers, adding to my sister's humiliation. My hand freezes on the door. Without hesitation, I cut off my husband's secondary credit card and call him. "Have I been too generous with you? Or did giving you too much money make you think you could afford another woman behind my back?"

Six years ago, a corporate acquisition deal I handled went up in flames, and 50 billion dollars vanished into thin air. Bankrupt investors spray red paint all over my front door for a year straight. Dad died from a stroke, and Mom lost her mind and disappeared. I ended up doing six years in prison for embezzlement. After I got out, I changed my name and started delivering food in downtown, running myself ragged for a few bucks per delivery. But then my ex-wife, Shirley Pearce, showed up, and the entire delivery station ground to a halt. She had become a financial powerhouse, a regular on the covers of business magazines. Reporters blocked my delivery scooter, shoving microphones in my face. "Mr. Marcus Quinn, Ms. Pearce has been single for six years, paid off all your debts, and she's been waiting for you to come home!" I stared at that perfectly made-up woman with her adoring eyes and felt nothing but disgust. That so-called "devoted" ex-wife of mine? Six years ago, she had forged company seals to help her boy toy short the stock market. Then, when everything fell apart, she threw me under the bus to save herself.

What stings the most—betrayal from others or betrayal from your loved ones, especially your own family? The answer is clear to everyone. One takes a long time to recover from the hurt that he gets from his family and loved ones. But what if this betrayal leads to your death, and by the sheer stroke of luck, you get the second chance to change your fate? Surely, you will want to avenge your past self and build a new life without those traitors. This is what Xyla Thorne, an alpha she-wolf, did after she was reborn. She planned meticulously without alerting her enemies, who were unfortunately her own family and her own mate, and struck them when they were happy to celebrate their victory. This is the story of a wounded soul who wanted nothing but to see her enemies cry blood until they die in a worse way than her. But her new life took a shocking twist too when the person who she thought never paid attention to her in the past life turned out to be the one who loved her the most. What would she do now? Would she continue her path of revenge, or should she start a new life filled with his love and the pampering that he showered on her?

“The safe word is cherry, baby girl.” He husked as his fingers trailed down my heat, and I bit my lip seductively, raising myself as high as I could with being tied up. “Yes daddy.” I whispered, and a gasp left my lips as he sank his fingers deep into me, curling on my g-spot, then pulling out and licking my juices off his fingers. “Good girl.” Then he spanked my ass with the whip in his hand, and a scream left my lips as he rammed into me. Emma Williams had one goal in mind, taking down her abusive ex boyfriend who cost her her future and left her to bleed at the side of the road. She’s supposed to be dead, but wasn’t. With a new face and name, Emma made sure that she was going to make sure she ruined him, using his father. She wasn’t expecting a sexy as sin man to be the father of her ex, and one thing she also didn’t expect was wanting him with her every being. She thirsted for him, and with every touch and stroke, she slowly lost view of what she was fighting for. Dominic was ruin itself, she couldn’t have enough. It was almost enough for her to give up her goal of ruining his only son… Or was it?

I was Rebecca, mate to Gavin Clarke, Alpha of the Ironpelt Pack—the strongest among the northern werewolf packs. Gavin was a once-in-a-century business genius, his trade networks expanding across a dozen northern packs, making his pack a successful business empire. He'd claimed me for four years. We stood together, awaiting our bonding ceremony... until his childhood sweetheart Vivian returned. The moment I saw them reunite, the truth shattered me: What I'd believed was love had only ever been my own delusion. His eyes held only her. I'd just been... convenient. At least he'd never marked me. No mate bond, just cold paperwork from the Pack Council. That made things simpler. So I crafted my revenge—disguised the Mate Bond Dissolution Agreement as a routine university permission slip. When his pen touched that paper, our bond dissolved in the stroke of an inkwell. He never realized what he'd truly lost that day: Not just a mate. But the future heir to the Ironpelt legacy. Now he hunts me across continents. Is it love? Or the pup? Or just an alpha's pride, burning because I made him dissolve the mate bond without even realizing he'd been outplayed?

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.

Have you seen anyone die in front of you? No? Well, I have, more times than I can count. I seem to have a morbid attraction to . Maybe it's like a superpower or maybe it’s a curse. Particularly the Crimson curse, as I like to call it. You would think that doesn't affect me anymore. You are right to think that because that is what I had thought until a week ago. I guess seeing your parents get murdered in front of your eyes and seeing their blood and life slowly drain out of their body isn't the same as seeing your neighbour die from a heart attack when you were 9.One more thing you should know about me is that I can make you sleep with one touch. My parents both were doctors and put their abilities to best use. My father could heal everyone other than himself and my mother like myself could drop a person to sleep with just one stroke of the hand.Now I am off to Aliam academy for mastering my supernatural ability, apparently for which my mother enrolled me before dyeing. Well, looking at the bright side, there is one boy with violet-blue eyes and curly black hair and I am falling head over heels for him.