Novelas y relatos de Black Clover Ice Magic

Five years ago, Samantha Manning was seven months pregnant when her husband Channing Lane's first love, Sydney Ingram, caused her to lose the baby. But what hurt most was what Channing said to her. "Syd didn't mean it. She can't go to prison." He signed a letter of forgiveness in Samantha's name regardless of her wishes. Five years later, Sydney returned from studying abroad. Harold Lane, the son Samantha had adopted, said to her, "You're a bad woman! You're always picking on Sydney!" Only then did Samantha finally understand that there had never been a place for her in that family. Furious, Samantha fought back. She took back everything she had lost and took back the love she had given Channing for eight years. As Channing and Sydney walked step by step toward their fitting end, Samantha turned around and married the powerful man who had always protected her. When Sydney's true nature was finally exposed, Channing begged and cried for Samantha to take him back. "Sam, it was all my fault! I didn't cherish you! Please forgive me and come back to me!" Samantha smiled faintly and stroked her slightly rounded belly. A new life was forming inside of her womb. The man who truly loved her had always been by her side.

Collins’ and Alan’s story wasn’t like that of most werewolf mates. They’d both been through a lot when they finally found each other. But now she’s off to college, and he’s training fighters for the impending pack wars. The biggest thing keeping them apart now, however, is themselves. She hopes he will wait for her, but her past threatens to ruin their relationship before it even begins. Alan is being tested left and right. But the true test, is whether or not he will love a ghost for the rest of his life. The odds are stacking against them. Will love overcome it all? Or will it ruin them, and rip them to shreds, one small piece at a time?

He's sugar. She's spice. Together, they will never work. She has done the impossible. Working for the country's most difficult boss for seven years. Rosaline Carter's work life is fueled by her love for spicy food, a fat paycheck, and dreams of sending her brother to Harvard. She's sworn off love completely. Until that fateful monday morning. "I need a fiancée, Miss Carter. And I need one who at least knows my favourite brand of coffee." A contract marriage to her boss, the impossible and difficult Alaric Sylvester? Rosaline never even saw him as a man to begin with. But for five billion dollars? She would propose to Mr Ice king and plan the wedding alone. Alaric Sylvester hates his assistant. With her sensible shoes, horn rimmed glasses, and perfectly polite way of speaking, she never fails to get on his nerves. She's the last person he wants for a wife, or even a romantic figure. Yet she's the best option. No one knows his schedule by heart, or his love for sweets. It's just three years. And he'll never see her again. With his inheritance on the line, the board of directors hounding him for being too antisocial, and rumours starting to stir...he will do anything to save his reputation. Including marrying his cold hearted assistant. And with her hatred for sweets, he's sure he'll never like her. It's only a marriage agreement. The terms were simple. But simple doesn't always equal easy. And the human heart is a traitorous beast.

Richard Franklin has left his Midwestern roots behind to live on the coast of Maine with his family. But in the autumn of the year 2000, he must return to his Illinois birthplace on a sorrowful journey. His wife Michelle has been killed in New England by a hit-and-run driver who is never found, so back home he comes with her cremated remains, to fulfill a final wish and on her birthday scatter her ashes in the park along the river in Blackwater Valley—simply Blackwater Val to locals—the small town where they both grew up and fell in love. With him he brings his six-year-old daughter Katie who still grieves for her lost mother: Katie, who can sometimes guess who’s going to be on the phone before it rings. Who can stop all the clocks in the house, and break up clouds in the sky with her mind, and heal sicknesses, and who sometimes sees things that aren’t there...people who are no longer alive. All gifts she inherited from her mother. Only something isn’t quite right in the Val. Sinkholes are opening up, revealing the plague pits the sleepy hamlet was built over in the 1830s, when malaria and cholera outbreaks ran riot. Mysterious bird and fish die-offs begin to occur, and Katie can see ghosts of the dead gathering all around. But what she can’t see is the charred, centuries-old malevolence which has been waiting for her, and wants her for its very own. Or the pale Sallow Man who haunts the town’s nighttime streets...or the river witch—another Blackwater Val, of sorts—each of whom will be drawn one by one into the nightmarish bloodletting about to take place. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

On my birthday—the same day Troy hyped some "surprise" for me online—I saw a photo that afternoon. He was on my horse. With his assistant. His shirt hung open, red finger marks dragged across his chest. Caption? [First time in my life. Thanks to him.] The comments went wild: [Jealous of whoever touched those abs.] [That position... damn.] Troy liked that one. My chest went cold. I thought that side of him was just for me. Turns out—it could be anyone. I washed the horse myself. Scrubbed off every trace. Then I signed the ranch over to him. "You can give the rest away. Pick whoever you want." He lit up. I said yes to the arranged marriage.

We were supposed to hand in our college applications. The ditzy school belle volunteered to hand in the whole class' applications and told them it could save them time. "Have fun, guys. I'll make sure all your applications are handed in." I was the class president, and I told her that the applications are important. "Their future is on the line. We can't have someone else hand in the applications on their behalf. They have to be there themselves. No exceptions." That made her cry, and she told everyone that I humiliated her. That very afternoon, she climbed up to the main building's roof and jumped off. My childhood friends lost their minds when the results were out. They stopped me from getting out of the classroom and yanked my hair as they dragged me to the rooftop. "She was only trying to help! Why'd you humiliate her?" "You killed her! You're not our class president!" "We're not letting you live! Not when she's dead!" They shoved me off the rooftop. I hit the ground hard, and blood seeped into the cracks between the tiles of the ground. When my eyes snapped open again, the first thing I saw was the school madonna asking for everyone's application. I snickered and handed her what she asked for. My childhood friends were surprised but also glad. I went into the headmaster's office and signed the papers that would secure me a spot in Harland University. There was only one of those here. This time around, I decided to stop helping those who didn't deserve it and take the highway to success. The boys would see their own future ruined as their applications were changed and sabotaged. As for me? Why, I couldn't care less.

To keep my grandmother's failing organs stable, I simmered a medicinal broth for her every day and strictly controlled her diet. Then the Whitmore family's long-lost real son was brought home. "You're feeding my grandmother something that looks like slop? Julian Whitmore, what kind of heart does a fake son like you have?" The butler wiped sweat from his forehead. "Sir, this is Mr. Whitmore's specially prepared medicinal broth. The old madam's been drinking it for years, and her health has only--" "Shut up!" Tyler Whitmore threw an all-foreign-language menu in my face. "I've consulted top nutritionists overseas. What Grandma needs now is protein!" "I've had the finest bluefin tuna flown in. From now on, I'll handle Grandma's diet myself." My grandma, Irene Whitmore, stayed silent. She merely glanced at me, which counted as approval. I forced out a smile and turned to leave. "Fine. Then take good care of her." They had no idea Grandma had been poisoned with a rare tropical toxin. That bowl of medicine was a suppressant I had prepared specifically for her. Once she stopped taking it and touched seafood or other triggering foods, the poison would backlash instantly.

At my own wedding, the groom switched—Malcolm Lowell bailed, and the best man stepped in. Lumi, the Irving's real daughter, latched onto Malcolm's arm and smirked from the crowd. "I was just feeling a little low," she said. "Didn't think Malcolm would go this far for me." Malcolm raised a brow. "I just wanted to make her happy. You took her spot for years. Time to pay it back. This is for your own good." That's when it hit me—this whole wedding was a setup, a twisted show just to entertain Lumi. All because I was the adopted one. I'd lived in her place for over two decades. I didn't cry. Didn't freak out. I just took the new groom's hand, faced the priest, and said, "Keep going."

Everyone in Harbor City knew I had a wife whom everyone envied. Not only was she a wealthy heiress, but a celebrated lawyer, untouchable and elegant. However, in private, she was a delicate, devoted wife. I had planned to tell her the truth on our wedding anniversary—that I was the heir to one of Jinmist City's most powerful families—and take her home. However, on her birthday, I walked in on her being pinned to a car and forcefully kissed by her new assistant, with pieces of her torn clothing scattered everywhere. I lost control. The assistant ended up in the ICU, and I ended up in court. To my shock, my wife turned on me in court, falsely accusing me of malicious assault, while saying nothing about the assistant’s attempt. I was sentenced to three years in prison. In the visitation room, I demanded answers, but she remained calm. “You’re my husband. Even if you go to prison, I still love you.” “But Daniel is different. He comes from a poor family. If he’s charged with attempted assault, his life would be ruined forever.” At that moment, my hope shattered. Fine. If she didn’t want the title of wife to the Millers' heir, I’d just have to take it back.

After ten years studying interior design overseas, I came back to my hometown to do work that mattered to the people who raised me. I offered the full package, from site survey to soft furnishings. The materials were chosen by hand. The price was fair to the bone. The town had just gone through a redevelopment. Everyone was getting new units. With the new family policy, every family wanted a third bedroom too. My business was good. Customers from the next county were driving in. Then a girl just back from a city college kicked open my studio with her phone on a livestream and her neighbors at her shoulder. "This is the dishonest one. Look at her. She has been ripping the village off." "In the city, an eighty-square-meter unit can be done for twenty thousand dollars. She is charging eighty." "That's a sixty-thousand-dollar margin. Sixty thousand. Right out of our pockets." The village fell in line behind her. They demanded the difference back. When I refused, they smashed my studio. They beat me into a coma. The pile-on online killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I would refund every single one of them. And then I would tear out every single thing I had installed. Let's see what twenty thousand dollars actually buys you.