Black Witch Set Ds2 Mga Nobela at Kwento

In Kieran Chase's eyes, I was not his wife. I was a non-performing asset waiting to be liquidated. When I got sick and asked for help, he became impatient. He said, "This is a minor problem. You can handle it on your own. No need to tell anyone." When I broke down in tears, he reprimanded me. "Losing emotional control shows weakness. It exposes the fragility of our alliance. I'll have the PR team teach you emotional management." Even when I called for help after a car accident, he hung up. "Nothing about you is important enough to interrupt a transaction worth hundreds of millions." I spent seven days in the ICU fighting for my life. On my first day home, I found Kieran leaning over another woman, his voice suddenly soft and coaxing as he convinced her to take her medicine. He opened his mouth to explain. I smiled bitterly and handed him the papers I'd prepared long ago. My tone mirrored his perfectly. "Mr. Chase, regarding our marriage project, the return on investment is unacceptably low after comprehensive evaluation. I'm formally proposing we terminate our cooperation. "Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it."

I was forced into an arranged marriage with Brandon Fuller, and he escaped 99 times. The first time, I was left alone at the beach as I waited for the whole night. The second time, he switched places with a homeless man and left me alone on the stage in humiliation. Brandon finally gave in on the 99th time. However, when I went to him with my wedding dress in my arms, I overheard his conversation with his friends. “Brandon, are you really going to marry your true love seven days later? What about your arranged marriage, are you going to escape that?” Brandon snorted. “I must marry Poppy! As for arranged marriage, I’ll just simply host a fake wedding for her! “She’s the one who caused my older sister’s death! Even though I was in love with her for seven years, she deserves to be stood up!” I froze. It turned out his promise was fake. I turned around without any hesitation. Then, I called home. “Mom, I’m still having that wedding, but please find a new husband for me.”

The day my husband's first love shows up at my house, I catch a faint, cloyingly sweet scent of gardenias in the air. My genetically-linked asthma flares violently at the scent of gardenias. As expected, halfway through the meal, my chest suddenly tightens. I can barely draw a breath before collapsing onto the couch. My younger brother sprints into my bedroom like he's lost his mind, grabs an inhaler, and shoves it straight to my mouth. "Tess!" he roars. "Why the hell is there gardenia perfume?" Everyone panics. My dad grabs a liquor bottle. My mom lunges forward, grabbing the woman by the hair. And my husband positions himself in front of her, protecting his beloved first love as she trembles. Amid the chaos, I muster the last of my strength. I reach into the crack of the couch, grab another inhaler, take a deep breath, and slowly push myself upright. I let out a cold laugh as I fix my gaze on the woman cowering behind my husband. "Finished with your little performance? It's my turn now."

The wealthy Hanson family makes it clear that whichever sister gives birth to the family's first grandson will inherit the billion-dollar fortune. In my previous life, my sister, under our parents' arrangement, married the strong and healthy third son, Jerome Hanson. I, on the other hand, was given to the gloomy eldest son, Lester Hanson, whose legs were paralyzed. Under my treatment, Lester regained full use of his legs. I became pregnant with the Hanson family's first grandson. Meanwhile, my sister was driven to madness by Jerome's abuse, becoming the laughingstock of every wealthy woman's dinner gossip. On the day I went into labor, my sister stabbed my belly with a knife. Then, she pulled me off a rooftop with her. Now, in this life, we start over. The moment Lester sends over a golden bridal bouquet, my sister snatches it without hesitation. "I want to marry Lester!" she declares.

They were both soldiers, but a dark experience changed her. In a drunken state, Moraine sleeps with the young soldier in her platoon, without an idea of his true identity. When she resigns and takes up a job in a university, professor Moraine's perfect marriage facade starts to peel before Luthor Kingston visits her home as her husband's business partner. A one-night stand births a dangerous forbidden affair. To keep her, he's willing to go to any extent, including using their past to pin her down. But he never expected that she would become his stepmom. Would her relationship with his father douse the fire?

My name is Regina Chavez. The first time Carter Gresham cheats, he falls to his knees before me, slapping himself in shame. The tenth time I catch him, he smiles and tries to comfort me. "Once I get my heart back on course, I'll come back to the family." The 20th time, his patience snaps. He yanks my hand away and throws a divorce agreement in my face. I tear the papers to shreds and spend the night destroying everything in the house. By the 30th time, Carter simply sends a signed divorce agreement. In a desperate bid to make him come back, I threaten to cut my wrists. But even as my blood pools across the floor, no one seems to care. When I wake up, his friends are gathered around me, telling me to get a divorce. "Haven't you already spent years building a life with Carter?" "He's already dealing with enough because of your depression. His seeing someone else isn't the end of the world. Do you really need to cry and threaten to kill yourself over it?" Without thinking twice, I find myself signing the divorce papers. The following day, I quietly schedule an abortion, keeping it a secret from everyone. I'm done waiting for Carter to come back.

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

On the 20th of May, Stella Jewell posted a new update of her status on social media: Single, Free to Mingle. PS: Priorities for physically healthy individuals. The accompanying image was a divorce certificate. This surge of actions from Stella was just like she was in the past when she had married into the Kane family without warning. This news caused carnage within her circle of friends. Right after her breakup, she implied that her ex-husband, Keegan Kane, was sterile. Did she have a death wish for doing so? Who is Keegan Kane? A ruthless person that could sue the media company, that had made rumors, until they were bankrupt. Would he tolerate his ex-wife, who left the marriage with nothing, to connote him in such a way? In the end, after twenty minutes, everyone had their jaws dropped again. Under Stella's new account, the newly registered account commented, "Let me out of the blacklist!"

Julian Vane is the "Ice King" of Wall Street—a man of cold logic and zero scandals. Maya Rossi is a struggling creative who can barely pay her rent. When Maya accidentally live-streams Julian in a moment of utter, dorky vulnerability, his stock prices plummet along with his reputation. To save his empire, Julian’s PR team crafts a lie: Maya isn't a trespasser; she’s his secret fiancée. Now, Maya is traded from her cramped apartment to a glass penthouse, forced to play the doting lover to a man who treats romance like a hostile takeover. But as the cameras roll and the "likes" pour in, the lines between their contract and their chemistry begin to blur.

My father's adopted daughter was only locked in the cramped storage closet for around fifteen minutes, yet he punished me by tying me up and throwing me inside. He even sealed off the ventilation with towels. "As Wendy's older sister, if you can't take care of her, then you should also experience how scared she was," he declared coldly. He knew I was claustrophobic, but my desperate pleas for mercy, my terror, were met with nothing but heartless reprimands. "Let this be a lesson on how to be a good sister." As the last sliver of light disappeared, swallowed by the oppressive darkness, I struggled helplessly. A week passed before my father finally remembered my existence and decided it was time to end my punishment. "Let's hope this week served as a good lesson for you, Jennifer. If this happens again, you will no longer be allowed in this house." He would never know that I had already taken my last breath in that suffocating room. My body had begun to rot in the darkness.