Books On Natural Disaster

Si Chaira ay maganda, mabait, at matalino, ngunit likas siyang mailap, lalo na sa mga lalaki. Bagama’t nakapagtapos ng Business Management, pinili niyang manatili sa kanyang condo bilang online seller at freelance editor para sa mga social media vloggers. Sa kabila ng simpleng pamumuhay, sapat ang kita niya upang matulungan ang kanyang dalawang ate. Isang gabi, sumama siya sa club sa pilit ng mga kaibigan. Sa kalasingan, hindi niya inaasahang mawawala ang kanyang virginity sa isang one-night stand, at ang lalaking ito ay ang kanyang crush noong high school. Sa gulat at hiya, iniwan niya ito nang walang paalam. Dahil sa pangangailangan ng pera para sa kanyang may sakit na pamangkin, napilitan siyang mag-aplay sa isang trabaho. Hindi niya inakalang ang CEO ng kumpanya ay ang lalaking kumuha ng kanyang virginity at ang crush niya noong high school. Paano niya haharapin ang mapang-akit na kaniyang boss? Paano niya pipigilan ang pusong umibig, takot na masaktan at muling maranasan ang pag-iisa? Kakayanin niya bang manatili sa trabaho para sa kapakanan ng kaniyang pamilya?

For our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend, Caelen Blackwell, flew me—and his mother—to Miami. I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he checked me into the cheapest room of a luxury villa and disappeared. Two days later, I found out he was staying in the private suite with another woman—his mistress, Samatha, the same woman he had just proposed to. When I confronted him, all he said was, “I’d never marry a crippled woman. Look at you, you’ll never be rich, powerful, or beautiful like her.” So I just made one phone call to my father—the most feared mafia boss in Spain—and told him to cut off everything Caelen had been using to build his empire. It’s not like I didn’t know how men like him worked—use a woman up, then toss her aside. I just never thought he would be stupid enough to believe I was the kind of people who could be disrespected or discarded like this.

On Christmas Day, my dad gave me a golden apple. My roommates gasped in envy and immediately demanded I treat them to a meal. I smiled and agreed. I told them to head out first and that I'd join them shortly. When I came out of the bathroom, the dorm was empty. Sharon Everton's laptop was still glowing. I walked over to shut it down. That's when a WhatsApp group named 'Anti-Gold Digger Alliance' popped up on the screen. [No wonder she didn't come back last night. Bet she spent the whole night escorting again just to get that golden apple!] [A designer bag the day before, a golden apple today. With how many men she's serving every day, I wonder how wrecked she is down there.] [We have to hit her with a big bill today. Her money's dirty anyway. Spending it for her is basically doing a good deed!] There were four people in the dorm. Three of them were in that group chat. There was no doubt that they were talking about me. The friends I'd treated with genuine kindness all this time turned out to be ungrateful snakes.

The day I went to try on my wedding suit, a stranger stormed into the VIP fitting room and drove a knife into my gut. "Sleeping with my woman, and you dare wear a suit this expensive?" He ripped my shirt into ribbons with a wild grin and threw sulfuric acid straight at me. The knife was buried deep in my abdomen. Pain ripped through me as I collapsed. He yanked my hair, forcing my head up. "Susan Lefebvre is my wife. What the hell are you? Just some filthy side piece hiding in the shadows!" Blood dripped from my fingertips as the truth sank in. The fiancée I'd loved for seven years had been cheating on me all along. "What are you staring at?" He sneered. "Even if I kill you, no one can touch me. My wife runs this city!" Watching that arrogant face twist in triumph, I took out my phone with a trembling, blood-soaked hand and dialed my sister. "Allison," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Come pick me up at the bridal salon. And tell the Lefebvres that the engagement is off."

BLURB: Avery Tyler happened to attend the wedding of her boss's daughter but was left in dismay when the groom turned out to be her boyfriend of five years, also the father of the life growing in her belly. Jeffrey Rosser, the CEO of Tech Rosser. Avery was devastated but a glimmer of hope shone on her when a phone call and a stranger, Tobias Maxwell, a billionaire CEO stepped into her life. Their paths crossed again, Avery, now the CEO of Jason’s company, held the approval of Tech Rosser company's expansion. She tried to avoid any contact with Jeffrey but their children kept entangling them together. Will Avery give their love a chance or is she bent on sticking with one person who has stolen her heart? Only a love that burns can save them. But can it? Find out in this epic tale of love, betrayal, revenge, and redemption that will have you at the edge of your seat from start to finish.

"Huh? Innocent and pure male god?" Albrey Hamilton's cold thin lips brushed Oakley's cheeks gently, his hand gripping the person's pale and smooth chin. "Very funny, isn't it?" Albrey Hamilton's hand ruffled Oakley’s hair, tousling it. "Aren't you just a plaything?" Albrey Hamilton sneered coldly and domineeringly captured the lips of the person beneath him. Immediately, Albrey pinned down the person's waist and thrust into the person fiercely creating a loud papapa noise that resounded in the low-key luxurious room Oakley's eyes and face reddened which wasn't known if it was due to pleasure, fury or embarrassment. Oakley's eyes pooled with tears that slipped past his cheeks rapidly yet he only bit his lower lip, a stubborn and defying expression on his face. He refused to part his lips, speak or acknowledge the cruel words of the person hovering over him. "Naive." Albrey's thin lips curved in a cynical disparage. "How do you think your fans will react when they discover their pure idol sold his body to me to become famous?" Albrey sneered coldly, his eyes darkening with coldness at Oakley's silence. Oakley stiffened after hearing the ridiculing word that emitted from Albrey's lips.

Harry Pate fails in his plan to secure a fortune from my family. He tries to drug me, hand me over to his friends, and even film it to control me. Luckily, a kind netizen overhears him plotting with his mistress at a restaurant. The netizen posts a missing person alert online. "Please share widely. Looking for Freya White. Her boyfriend is trying to drug and assault her." I see the post and quietly pour the drug into the pot they are about to drink from.

My marriage to Bryan wasn’t perfect, but it was never bad enough for me to want him dead. Yet when he was brutally murdered in a hotel room, every finger pointed at me. His family accused me. The world believed them I spent months behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit. My empire crumbled. My only child now sees me as a murderer. I was bullied, broken, and forgotten until Damon stepped back into my life. Damon, my ex-lover, is now fighting to clear my name. He has one goal: to set me free. But he has another theory, one more shocking than the accusation itself, My Husband could be faking his death to make me suffer and start a new life with his mistress . Freedom didn’t make life easier. Outside those prison walls, I’m paying for my husband’s mistakes while battling for custody of my son, his family took everything from me but what if i turned everything around in my favour? And the question haunting me remains: Or how long was my supposed dead husband going to keep hiding?

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."

My husband, Noah Campbell, has only passed away for less than three months when my sister-in-law, Pamela Turner, starts urging me to move out. "It's not that I'm casting you out, Veronica. You see, Matthew wants to renovate your bedroom. I'm just worried that you might not have time to pack up your stuff when the time comes. "Besides, Noah is no longer around. It's inappropriate for you to continue living in an apartment that belongs to your in-laws, you know?" My mother-in-law pauses mid-bite, pretending she didn't hear a word Pamela said. Meanwhile, Matthew Campbell, Pamela's husband, continues munching on his food silently. Upon noticing that I never replied to her, Pamela adds, "Don't overthink it, Veronica. I don't want the outsiders gossiping about you, you know." Only then do I look up at her with a smile. "Thank you for your concern, Pamela. But I'm not scared of a bit of gossip." After all, I'm the owner of this apartment.