Blue Lock I'm Kira Ryosuke

My younger brother, Samuel, gave me a call and asked me to go to his university. However, his unusually serious tone took me aback. I rushed over to his counselling office, only to see him, his fellow counselors, and a female junior whom I had coincidentally helped in the last semester. The female junior, Sally, was covering her slightly protruding belly. She abruptly dropped to her knees before me in front of the counselors. “Honey, I know this unexpected pregnancy has put a lot of pressure on you. But you can’t just abandon me and our baby!” she choked back with tears. Then, she reached out to grab the hem of my clothes. However, I stepped back and left. Sally’s cries turned sharp and shrill. “You heartless jerk! How could you behave like this?! If I’d known that you’d pretend not to know me the second it was over, I would’ve never gone to a hotel with you!” One of the counselors looked furious, and he seemed furious beyond measure. “Kid, being young is no excuse. A man needs to take responsibility!” A crowd began to gather outside the office. Their pointing fingers and contemptuous stares nearly overwhelmed me. In the middle of the chaos, Samuel casually leaned against the wall and spoke with a drawl. “Chris, aren’t you going to stay and see your unborn baby?”

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

Amidst the cold country of Glacia where evil and corruption continues to grow, a young swordsman named Arth, from the small village of Frostwood, wants nothing more than to help his poor village that's suffering under the hands of the nobles. On his journey, he finds himself entering a rebel guild called Forgotten Winter—a group of talented assassins who has only one goal; to eliminate the source of evil and corruption in the country—that is … to overthrow the King. But when Arth discovers the game-changing truth about him … about the King … about who the real enemy is … He has to learn how to unleash the hidden power he has within himself, because he's the only one now who can save his country from annihilation.ATTENTION: My book had been selected ... and Goodnovel will create an AUDIOBOOK from it … We're currently working on it now … so please stay tuned!

I've been married to billionaire CEO Christopher Hayes for two years, and only now does my ex, Benjamin Clarke, decide to propose. The rumble of engines echoes as a fleet of black trucks lines up neatly outside my private estate. The drivers unload box after box of gifts—luxury watches, fine jewelry, couture gowns, and even a grand piano. Standing proudly among the shower of rose petals, he announces, "Sienna, I told you—the only reason I had a child with my sister-in-law was because my older brother died in an accident, and she wanted to keep our family's bloodline alive. "The baby just turned a month old. I've fulfilled my promise to her, and now I've come to marry you!" I lounge in the heated pool, having just finished my postpartum recovery exercises, and I can't even be bothered to look at him. He knits his brows, and his tone turns patronizing. "I know you're upset, but you're the heiress of the Grant family; you have everything you could ever want! Why can't you show a little compassion for a widow who just lost her husband? "I know it was selfish of me to make you wait for two years, but I'm back now! Our wedding will be held in three days. I can tell you still care about me. If not, why would you greet me in such a revealing bikini?" His overconfidence makes me chuckle. "Guards, get him out of here! I'm trying to swim here." What a joke. I've just welcomed the heir of Hayes Group into the world, and Christopher has been insisting that I take our baby home to visit my parents. Yet, somehow, I end up running into this idiot.

On my 18th birthday, my stepmother, Sheila Coleman, teams up with her secret lover, William Lynch, to kill me in cold blood. After that, she carves my femur into a bone sculpture and presents it to my dad as a gift. Dad loves the sculpture to no end. Thanks to Sheila slandering me in the past, he doesn't give a damn about me at all, even after finding out that I've gone missing. In fact, he even declares that he wants to cut off all ties with me. "Don't bring that brat up in front of me from now on! I hope that she dies out there!" But when he finds out that I'm really dead, he goes crazy from remorse.

In the fifth month of my pregnancy, my husband brought back his first love, who was eight months pregnant and causing a stir about getting a divorce. I politely told him that pregnant women would influence each other, which wasn’t good for the child. Alex, however, smashed a water glass and said in disgust, "Sarah is depressed because of the divorce, and the only one she can rely on is me! Do you want her to die?" I felt nauseous and vomited, unable to sleep through the night, and my health worsened with each passing day. To make her happy, he filled the house with lilies. But he had forgotten that I was allergic to lilies and locked me in the room, saying, "Let’s see if you can get an allergic reaction if you can’t smell the lilies." I bled continuously, desperately calling him for help for both myself and the child, but he simply said that I was still early in the pregnancy and there wouldn’t be any problems. When the fetal movements stopped, I had completely given up. It was at that moment that he frantically pushed open the door.

Contains strong language: My parents died, my sister died, my brothers left, and I was left to a man who thought we were pawns in his play. You know the type of people who say "it gets better" they're lying to you, because it just keeps getting worse. How the hell did I end up in a gang? Well, this is that story

Sophie thought she had everything she ever wanted—an incredible life and a boyfriend, Aaron, who was her entire world. Or so she believed. After all the sacrifices and unwavering love she gave him, Aaron repaid her with the ultimate betrayal. He didn’t just cheat—he had the audacity to look down on her afterward, completely unremorseful. Should Sophie crumble in heartbreak and misery? Absolutely not. If Aaron thought he could discard her, he was dead wrong. And what better way to reclaim her power than by using his irresistibly powerful uncle? It wasn’t her original plan, but marrying Damien Cavanaugh turned out to be the best impulsive decision she had ever made. And her heart? That belongs to no one. Not ever again. And Damien Cavernaugh? He new Sophie before she even knew herself, and he's something dangerous she was never meant to collide with. What happens when their unknowingly intertwined lives spiral into something unpredictable? Will Sophie ever be able to stand the dark past and grave secrets of the man she thought she could simply use to get back at her ex? _________________ This book is a sequel of “Mommy, Please Spare Daddy!” Though it can be read as a standalone.

I no longer deliver meals to my husband, Zachary Smith—the man who became the factory manager after receiving a scholarship that brought him to the city—since my rebirth. I even make sure to detour using the gate at the factory's north side whenever he uses the southern gate after he finishes his meetings. In my past life, I was fully aware he took me as his wife—a humble country woman—just for the chance to move to the city. Yet, I insisted on becoming his wife, anyway. After all, I was convinced that a person's true affections could be earned and nurtured. Yet, Zachary maintained a constant, formal distance throughout our marriage. He would simply offer me a book the moment I attempted to bridge the gap, saying, "You should study more so that you don't continually attract people's contempt." I got emboldened by the drink as I threw my arms around him, yet he merely accepted the embrace rigidly, whispering, "It's just what married couples do." It wasn't until decades later, as I lay on my deathbed, that I discovered the heartbreaking words in his autobiography. In it, he stated that our entire marriage was like being trapped in a mire and that he never wanted to be with me again if he were to ever be reborn. I felt a searing pain tearing through my heart as I closed my eyes in devastating anguish. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the point in time when the gossip about Zachary and Juliana Ziegler, the factory's technician who studied abroad, first began to spread. In this life, I choose not to fight or cause drama. Instead, I am the one who brings up the divorce.

My husband and his employees went on a camping trip, and his assistant posted on social media. [We drew lots for the tents, and guess who ended up with the handsome CEO!] The post showed a selfie she took. Behind her, my husband was taking his shirt off. Someone left a comment. [A man and a woman alone together? Sounds juicy.] The assistant quickly replied with a smirking emoji. [I like a little excitement!] After I liked the post, it was deleted right away. Soon, my husband called me on video. In front of his crying assistant and several employees, he scolded, “Why did you like the post?! It was just a game! Don’t be so close-minded!” As I watched him hold the assistant in arms and comforted her, I quietly hung up. After ten years of loving Caelan Sullivan, I decided then and there to let go.