Bonnie Poster Fnaf Mga Nobela at Kwento

After my grandmother passed away, I returned from my countryside home to Oberis City, ready to tidy things up and prepare for my wedding. But no sooner had I arrived at the wedding planning company, ready to book an extravagant, luxurious wedding, than the staff there delivered a piece of news that struck me like a thunderbolt. The groom—my groom—had already gotten married. Three months ago, Cain Bassett, the eldest son of the wealthiest family's conglomerate, tied the knot with his childhood sweetheart, the daughter of the mayor of Lith City—Mary Schindler. Now here I stood, frowning in front of the grand gates of Cain's villa. But the thing is, I am Mary Schindler, the daughter of the mayor of Lith City.

THE IMPOSTER'S RECKONING AND OTHER COLLECTIONS After being resurrected from death, my nightmare began. I was taken into the throne room; Fredrick stood up from the throne and made his way to me, scanning my features and said. "Undress Yourself" he demanded. One wouldn't murder their lover, and 120 years later, when the body has become a walking dead, he demands they take their clothes off upon first arrival. Being fucked in Infront of everyone is a disgrace for someone who just woke up from death, I wish I could crawl back into my grave. Fredrick Is The Devil. ************************************************ My name is Edmond; I am Fredrick's look-alike; 120 years ago, I killed Fredrick, took his identity, and killed his woman, Molly. I have turned his mansion into my palace. I have ruled his city and people for 120 years. I'm their God, and whoever dares to oppose me we be killed in an instant. My enemy awakened will not shake me because I will kill him again and make his woman my bitch. I, Molly Dobrev, have been awakened from the dead to kill my lover, Fredrick, for his betrayal and to free the people from his terror. The only question I have in my mind is, can I kill him? My name is Fredrick Lannister; I have been resurrected from the dead by unknown witches. I have come to reclaim my identity and save my woman from the hands of my doppelganger, Edmond. This imposter has ruled with tyranny, but I vow to bring him down and restore justice to the people.

Abhorred and burned to death, a nameless female takes on the identity of another to infiltrate the most prosperous pack in the Northwest. Her plan? Inherit the pack with the protection of her soulmate. Because she has zero faith in the resilience of a chosen mate bond, she never dated a man up to this date. On her 22nd birthday, the pressure on her increases as new foes emerge and old enemies resurface. So when Einas Raed, the Lycan Commander of the Pacific Sea, regrets his choice and asks for a second chance, she grasps the golden branch she believes would be the end to her demons. Not exactly who she claims to be, what will happen when her secret is exposed to the world? ... I am not who I say I am. I copied her face and took her name, then impersonated her to enter the Evergreen Pack. I replaced her in her family and stole her place in her pack. Neither the right to be the Alpha King's Heir nor the privileges of Alpha Malivik's daughter belong to me. Yes, I know. I am a terrible person. I am a thief. An Imposter. This is why the shame of my guilt burdens my heart, and it's eating me from the inside out. The fear of my dirty secret getting exposed has me ardently praying to the Moon Goddess. Because I copied her face, it's only a matter of time before everyone finds out I stole her identity. ... ----------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2023 All Rights Reserved.

My mate, Kane Blackwood, was the most feared Alpha in the Northlands. For three years, he treated me like something that belonged to him. He would drag me into his arms on the stone steps after moon rituals, pin me against the wall in Blackthorn Keep’s long corridors, and bite the mark on the back of my neck beside the patrol trails in the border woods, as if he needed everyone to remember exactly whose Luna I was. I used to think that was his way of loving me. Rough. Possessive. Lacking tenderness. But love, all the same. Until one night, I stopped outside the council hall and heard an elder say in a furious voice, “Those charcoal sketches on the black market were released by your people, weren’t they? Every one of them is of you and Elena in bed. She has become a joke across the pack. Do you even understand what you’ve done?” There was a brief silence. Then Kane said, coldly, “She is the Luna the council chose for me. She is not the woman I wanted.” I stood frozen outside the door. All those years, I thought his roughness meant he loved me too fiercely to be gentle. But it was never love. It was humiliation. Punishment for taking the place of the woman he actually wanted. I lowered my eyes to the moonstone bracelet on my wrist, the one he had clasped there the day our mating contract was sealed. If that was all I had ever been to him, then I would leave.

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, the old Alpha King laid the names of several heirs before me and told me to choose my future mate. Because I was the only pureblood heiress of the Redmoon Pack. For generations, Redmoon Pack had bound itself to the Alpha King’s line through bond. Only my bloodline could bear true pureblood heirs, and whoever formed a bond with me would stand closest to becoming the next Alpha King. This was never just a bond. Even so, I chose without hesitation. Kaelan, the fourth heir. Everyone present was stunned. Everyone across the packs knew that I, Sia, the pureblood heiress of Redmoon Pack, had loved Raine, first heir to the Alpha King’s line, since I was young. I had once declared before the gathered packs that I would bond with no one but him. In my previous life, I got exactly what I wanted. I bonded with Raine. But three days after our bond was sealed, he told me he intended to bring my half-sister, Veya, into his household and keep her by his side. My mother refused, and Veya was instead promised to one of my father’s young retainers. Raine hated me for it. He believed I had torn him and Veya apart. After that, one she-wolf after another appeared at his side, and every one of them resembled Veya in some way. He let them humiliate me, torment me, and grind me down until I died on the day he took the title of Alpha King. Now that I had lived again, I wanted only one thing: to stay far away from him, leave him to Veya, and spare myself. But when the old Alppha King’s bond pact finally came down, the same Raine who had once wanted me dead lost control on the spot and openly defied it.

Three days ago, Damon Ashford marked me. The night he became Alpha, he sank his fangs into my neck under the moonlight. When his wolf blood mixed with mine, my wolf soul trembled violently. I thought the bond was taking root. I was too excited, too happy to tell the difference between real blood transfer and the simple sting of broken skin. This morning I went to City Hall without telling him. I wanted to pick up our certificate and frame it for our bedroom wall. I wanted to surprise him. The clerk checked the system, then looked up at me. "Whitmore, the mark on your neck is fake. There is no trace of wolf blood exchange." "Also, Ashford completed a formal registration with a woman named Clara Wellick two weeks ago." Under wolf law, a mark must be registered within seven days or it becomes invalid. I came to register, only to find I was never registered at all. I took off the scarf covering my neck and dropped it into the trash can outside City Hall. Standing on the steps, I sent my brother a message. Marcus, I’ll go with you for the closed medical research.

An accidental act of heroism reshaped Sera’s life entirely. She lost her sight saving the grandmother of a stranger. In return for her goodness, she was forced into marriage with the old woman’s grandson, Lucian Vitale. He was a mysterious businessman with no interest in love, and as people whispered, colder than ice. Given her circumstances, Sera had no choice but to accept. She became his pretend wife, bound by contract. It was a kind of relationship she’d never imagined living. Sera had never planned to fall for a man she’d never seen. But with every touch, every murmur from Lucian, she was slowly pulled under by longing and feelings that should never have taken root. In darkness, she learned to love—and to bleed. Then came the day her vision returned. She heard a truth that shattered her world and tore at her heart. Frightened beyond reason, Sera ran and vanished. She carried a secret in her womb: the child of their passionate nights together. Four years slipped by. A man stepped back into her life. Same voice, same scent, same way his hands found hers… but he did not know her. He had amnesia. Can Sera escape the man who once meant everything to her? Or is this fate’s way of calling them back to settle what they began—in their beds, their hearts, and the secrets that still wait to be told? Between lies, desire, and memories… will they choose each other still?

On the day of the earthquake, my sister Elena shoved me off the third floor, then burst into tears and said she had only been trying to save me. Everyone believed her. The only person who stood on my side was Nicolo, the youngest mafia boss Sicily had seen in decades. He lifted me out of the rubble, then proposed to me in front of everyone and said that from that day on, anyone who touched me would answer to him. Two months later, I was pregnant. Nicolo bought an entire island and planted it with my favorite irises for our wedding. My father spent a fortune on a one-of-a-kind gown made just for me. Everyone said I was the most envied woman in the family. Then I went into labor, and both of them disappeared. My father said the family had a deal on the line. Nicolo kissed my swollen belly, murmured that he would be back soon, and promised to bring gifts for me and the baby. Right before I was wheeled into the delivery room, an anonymous video landed on my phone. Nicolo was wearing a groom's suit. Elena stood beside him with a hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She was wearing my wedding dress. Her arm was looped through my fiance's as if she had won him fair and square. At the end of the clip, my father asked in a lowered voice, "If you and Valentina stay married only on paper, what happens to the child she gives birth to?" Nicolo was quiet for two seconds before he answered. "Valentina grew up with everything. Elena spent her whole life carrying the stain of being illegitimate. Her child will not grow up the same way." So all that tenderness had never been for me. It had all been for Elena. Fine. They could have each other.

Lucien Varelli loved me best when my madness belonged to him. I tracked his convoy routes, checked his burner phones, and almost turned the city upside down whenever he disappeared for more than five minutes. At first, Lucien loved it. He kissed the signet ring on my hand and swore no woman, no family, no power in the city could ever take him from me. Until the night I cut off a call from Celeste Ardian. After that, I was no longer his wife. I was a problem. A scandal. A woman too unstable to stand beside the heir of a ruling house. So Lucien signed the papers and sent me to St. Dymphna House. They called it a private residential clinic. What it really was, was a place where inconvenient women were broken down and rebuilt into something quieter. Five years later, Lucien came to take me home. The director told him I had done beautifully. I no longer screamed. I no longer fought. I knew how to lower my eyes, soften my voice, keep my hands still, and smile like a proper Donna. Lucien thought they had cured me. He was wrong. They had not cured my madness. They had only killed the part of me that once loved him.