Bleach Pregnancy Test Positive Mga Nobela at Kwento

When I was three months pregnant, a pack of Rogues ambushed me. In the last moments before my consciousness began to fade, I begged for rescue through my mind-link to my Alpha mate, Adrian. But he never answered. I was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment, only to be informed that the Saint-Tier Healer had been forcefully taken South by Adrian to treat Evelyn, his first love, after she lost her mate. When I woke to the pain of losing my pup, my fingers shook as I checked social media, then I saw Evelyn's post: [I knew that no matter how far away I am or how much time has passed, Adrian would always come for me. He even brought a Saint-Tier Healer to ease the pain in my heart.] In the photo, Adrian's dark eyes, which were usually cold and distant, were focused on the woman beside him with tenderness. While I was fighting for my life and losing our cub, my Alpha was protecting another pregnant wolf. I chuckled at myself bitterly. It felt as if the bond mark on my chest was withering away. I then dialed a number without hesitation. "Dr. Clark, I accept the position at the Northern Ancient Wolf Research Institute. Yes, the sooner the better. I won't be holding a farewell ceremony."

Five months pregnant, I watched my fated mate’s foster sister pour oil on our sacred threshold and strike the spark. I didn’t reach for the pack-link. Last life, I screamed through our bond. Cassian—my Alpha, the wolf I’d followed since I was six—came for me. Pulled me from the flames while his foster sister burned to charcoal behind us. He said nothing against me, even arranged the best care for my pregnancy. But on the fourth night after our daughter was born, he dragged us to the Blood Moon altar. He stood upon the High Rock, silver fur gleaming in the dark, and gave the order. His enforcers pinned me to the stone. He watched, silent and still, as they lit the pyre beneath our daughter’s body first—then mine. "You let Eira burn," he said, while the flames devoured us. "So you burn with what you loved." When I opened my eyes, I was back on the floor of our burning den.

Once I became pregnant, I was hailed as the most precious woman in the underworld. My husband, the new Don of the Jenkins family, shut down an entire private hospital wing for my check-ups, while my father, the Collins Don, summoned every Michelin-starred chef in New York to the estate, just so I could pick whatever I craved. The baby I carried was destined to be the sole heir of the two most powerful mafia families. But on the day we were to sign the papers securing my child's inheritance, they both vanished. "An urgent family matter came up," my husband, Vincent, said, kissing my forehead. "We can finalize the child's inheritance when we get back. There's no rush." Shortly after they left, I received a link to an anonymous live stream. My father's voice came from the video, colder than I had ever heard it. "You're saying your marriage contract with Evangeline was never valid. Doesn't that make the child a bastard?" Vincent, lounging in a club, blew a smoke ring. Cradled in his arms was my half sister, Sarah. "Evangeline has always had all the love and affection. Her child will want for nothing." "Sarah has been mocked for her status for years. I have to make things right for her, give our child a legitimate name." In that moment, my heart seized, and I could barely breathe. Then my phone vibrated again. It was a text message: "Welcome home to the Gallo family, my queen." "Just give the word, and the child you carry will bear the Gallo name and become the most powerful heir in the American underworld."

After dying suddenly from overwork, I found myself transmigrated into the life of a fake heiress who had been cast out of her wealthy family. While the real heiress reclaimed the life that had once been mine, I decided to leave the drama behind. Armed with my savings, I embraced a carefree lifestyle, swapping boyfriends every three days and living for the moment. Then, two months later, life hit me with a curveball—I discovered I was pregnant. The problem? I had no idea who the father was. With no choice, I approached the three powerful CEOs I had been involved with, each more arrogant and competitive than the last. What followed was a 10-billion-dollar bet by each of the three over who the father might be, with me caught in the middle. "I bet the baby belongs to all three of you," I teased, only for them to roll their eyes and dismiss me as ridiculous. Even so, when I gave birth to triplets, their argument outside the delivery room went viral, sending the internet into a frenzy and turning my life—and theirs—into a spectacle.

I was six months pregnant when my husband's childhood sweetheart showed up on Christmas Eve, pregnant too, demanding her place in his life. Smiling, I welcomed her in. "Come on in. Make yourself at home." In my previous life, I had forced my husband to kick Shirley out. She collapsed from low blood sugar and froze to death that very Christmas Eve. Matthew did not hold it against me. On the contrary, he softened, stayed by my side and took care of me while I waited to give birth. However, when the baby came, despite being an obstetrician himself, Matthew sent our healthy newborn son straight to the morgue. I begged him desperately, but his face was twisted with hatred. "If you hadn't been so petty and dramatic, Shirley wouldn't have died along with her baby!" "You're heartbroken over your son? Then go freeze to death too. Pay for Shirley’s life with your own life." Just like that, I opened my eyes again, back to the moment Shirley arrived on Christmas Eve.

After being forced to go to rogue wolf territory to exchange my mate's kidnapped childhood sweetheart while three months pregnant, I was tortured to death. Before my death, my eight-year-old daughter begged her father three times. The first time, my daughter took her father's hand and said, "Daddy, mommy is pregnant with my little brother. She can't go to the rogue territory." The alpha wolf let out a cold laugh: "How dare your mother teach a pup to lie." Then he had his beta guards drive my daughter out of the pack house. The second time, my daughter grabbed his sleeve and told him the rogue wolves were torturing me with silver. The alpha frowned: "These rogues were hired by your mother to kidnap Willow. How could she really be tortured?" The guards stepped forward and once again pulled my daughter out of the room. The third time, my daughter lay on the floor, desperately clutching his pant leg, crying that I was dying in the rogue wolf territory. The alpha finally lost his temper. He slapped her away with force. "I told you, Ava won't die. She's strong. If you come running back here to disturb Willow's rest again, I'll definitely throw both of you out of the pack territory." To save me, my daughter gave her most precious possession to the most powerful warrior in the pack—the healing gemstone I had given her for her birthday. "Please, can you use this to help save my mother? I don't need protection anymore. I just want my mother to live." The warrior took her healing gemstone, but before he could leave to rescue me, Willow stepped in his way. "Sorry, little pup," she smirked. "The warrior needs to stay here to protect my dog. Your father was afraid I would be sad if anything happened to my pet."

My bestie Kenna and I were the fated mates of the two most powerful Alpha brothers in the Dark Moon pack. I was mated to the Head Alpha, Cade. Kenna was mated to his brother, Rhys. On our mating anniversary, a bloody package reeking of Rogues arrived. It was from Cade’s childhood friend, Lilah. The feral scent shocked my body into premature labor. Kenna rushed me to the pack’s private medical center. But the labor triggered a fatal condition: “Moon Eclipse Sickness.” My life force was draining away. With my last bit of strength, I used our mind-link to beg my Alpha for help. His furious voice was my only answer. “You’re faking this just because I missed our anniversary? Lilah’s rare silver hound is giving birth, and it’s dangerous. Don’t cause trouble for me now!” In the end, it was Kenna who drained her own wolf’s spirit to save me. I barely survived. But the pup I delivered was rushed to emergency care, too weak from my fading life force. Her eyes bloodshot, Kenna contacted her mate, Rhys. She begged him for "Moonflower Dew"—a serum from his own company that could save our baby. "Lilah's hound is weak after giving birth. I’m busy making a special formula for it. You and Evelyn are two of a kind. Always stirring up trouble. First her drama, now yours." My pup died. And my heart shattered with him. “Kenna, I’m rejecting my mate bond with Cade.” “If you reject him, I reject mine. Traitors don’t deserve mates.” But when we told the Alpha brothers we were rejecting them, they felt a panic they had never known.

I've planned seven wedding ceremonies in total, and not once has my fiance, Zachary Gardner, ever shown up for it. The first time, his adopted younger sister, Louise Foster, bursts into tears because she lost her passport at the airport. It was the dead of winter, but he dumped me by the side of the road and left me. The second time, Louise's dog sprained its ankle. Zachary stuffed the ring back into its box and rushed to the animal hospital to accompany her. Every time I argue with him about it, he declares nonchalantly, "We can get married anytime, but I can't let Louise be upset." Everyone around us agrees with him, saying that we're all family anyway, so I shouldn't be so petty. None of them has seen Zachary and Louise kissing fiercely on the dance floor. Today is the seventh wedding ceremony. Once again, he turns to leave after getting a call. I grab the corner of his shirt and say in a choked voice, "If you leave this time, Zachary, I won't marry you anymore." He stops in his tracks and peels off my fingers. "Wait for me," he says before rushing off. What he doesn't know is that this time, I won't be waiting for him any longer.

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.