Romans & histoires Booktok Table

Julian got exactly what he wanted, and it destroyed him. He spent weeks convincing himself that Elian’s pregnancy was a betrayal, a lie to cover up the shame of his kidnapping. He used Valentina to twist the knife, choosing her "purity" over the man who had actually bled for him twice: once in the dirt at sixteen, and again on a freezing floor at eight months pregnant. When Julian finally opened that door, the sight of the frozen blood broke the delusion. Seeing Elian’s limp body wasn’t the victory he imagined; it was a mirror reflecting a monster. Now, the DNA results sit on the bedside table a stack of papers proving the "impossible" truth. The baby in the plastic bassinet has Julian’s eyes, but he has Elian’s fragile spirit. Julian sits in the dark, listening to the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator keeping his husband alive. He holds the child he spent months disowning, feeling the weight of a life he almost extinguished. He’s the King of the underworld, yet he’s powerless to wake the only person who ever truly loved him. He has his heir, but his husband is trapped in a coma, and the silence in the room is the loudest scream Julian has ever heard.

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

My husband, Garrett Kachmar, vanished overseas with his ex, Linda Sharpe. They left me with one thing—an illegitimate, screaming baby. Twenty years later, I posted that my "son" had passed his exams. He was joining the police force. That's when Garrett came back. With Linda. And a lawsuit. At the plaintiff's table, Linda looked polished—soft makeup, perfect posture. Her voice? Pure control. "After Garrett divorced, we got married and had a big, healthy boy. Jemma couldn't stand seeing us happy, so she stole our son. We searched for twenty years. She refuses to give him back. We're his biological parents. We have the right to take him." Garrett shot me a glare. "Jemma, just because you can't have kids doesn't mean you get to steal mine." The trial was livestreamed. The comments exploded. [Can't have your own kid so you steal one?] [You destroyed a family. Sick.] [Give him back to his real parents!] Then my "son" was called into the courtroom. And the whole room went dead quiet.

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved. He didn't come home. I sat alone at the table until the food went cold. Then I did what I always did. I opened Selene's profile on the pack network. New post. One hour ago. A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den. Her hand on his shoulder. Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth. The caption read: Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries. I stared at it until my eyes burned. Then I liked it. Filed the bond-dissolution request. And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months. Ethan didn't believe it when he found out. "She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates. "Give her three days." "I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back." "She always does." What he didn't understand was why I always came back. It was because I loved him. That was gone now.

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

From a campus romance to marriage, Dominic Fleming had always believed he led a perfect life. His wife, Isabella Sinclair, was dazzlingly beautiful. Their daughter, Lilith, was sweet and obedient. Dominic sometimes told himself he must have been a saint in a past life to deserve such happiness. Everything began to change the moment Isabella's so-called "sworn brother," Alexander Grant, entered their lives. Alex's name appeared more and more often, and it crept into every corner of their marriage. For Lilith's sake, Dominic endured the strain again and again until the day of the accident. As he lay on the operating table with his life hanging by a thread, Isabella was not at his side—she was with Alexander instead. That was the moment Dominic's heart finally turned cold. So why did Isabella regret it? She knelt with Alexander, who likewise barely clung to life, and wept as she begged Dominic for forgiveness. "Dom, I know I was wrong. Let's get married again. I will make him kneel and beg you for forgiveness," Isabella said. "Scram," Dominic replied. Isabella nodded eagerly. "Fine. I will throw him out right now!" "Get the fuck out too!" Dominic barked.

Richard Lorde’s childhood friend had just become a widow. On our fifth wedding anniversary, he brought his childhood friend and her daughter into a karaoke box and removed my ring right before everyone. “Lily needs a proper status right now. It’s no longer right for you to wear that ring. “Resign from your job tomorrow and take care of Lily and her daughter.” Everyone in the room fell silent as they waited for me to blow my top off. But I said nothing. I calmly brought out the divorce agreement I had already signed, put it on the table, and left. My best friend stood up to advise me against it, but Richard just swung the wine glass and snorted. “Let her. She’ll come begging for my forgiveness before tomorrow.” When I slammed the door shut, I heard laughter from the room. What they did not know was that half an hour ago, I had received a message telling me that my visa application had been approved. The person in charge of picking me up had been waiting at my house ten minutes ago. This time, I was not turning back.

My best friend Ada felt sorry for my eight-year crush on Theo. So when our wolves recognize each other as mate, Ada simply gave me a pheromone-enhancing herb and sent me to Theo’s bed. Intoxicated by my scent, Theo claimed me like crazy. When I woke up, he coldly agreed to hold the marking ceremony. But shortly after the marking, Theo frequently visited European packs, and stayed away for five years. I raised our son Alex alone, waiting for him at the pack. But he never came come and just told me he didn’t like puppies. Until Alex's birthday party, I saw a video where someone asked him: "Theo, what's your happiest moment?" He replied carelessly: "Last week in Europe, after putting Marcus to sleep, I took Claire to the dining table in the living room." Amidst the whistles and cheers, my hands and feet turned ice cold. Claire was his ex-girlfriend, Marcus was his ex-girlfriend's son. They say he'd been living with them these five years in Europe, so it was all true. I was completely heartbroken, submitted the mate bond dissolution to the Alpha Council, and left North America with my son, erasing our pack registration.

Before Christmas Eve, all of Nowevik was betting. Not on money. On me. Would I finally pull the winning lot? Would Leon Fabian finally take me to his family estate for Christmas? The Fabians had a rule. A new bride had to attend the Christmas Eve dinner with the whole family before she counted as one of them. I'd been married five years. Five years. The lot never landed on me. I'd become Nowevik's favorite joke. This year, the winning ticket went to a nightclub hostess. She lounged on Leon's lap and flicked it onto the table in front of me, smiling like she'd already won. The room went silent. Everyone waited— for me to lunge at her like I had the last four years. Claws out. A scene. But I didn't move. "Congratulations." Leon leaned in, breath warm at my ear, smiling like he'd just proved something. "Wynne, you're finally learning how to behave. Keep this up and you might actually become a proper lady of my house." I lowered my eyes and tore the ticket in half. My face stayed blank. Leon had no idea the five-year deal between my brother and me was already over. Soon, he'd come take me home.

At the Christmas dinner table, my drunk uncle suddenly turned on my mom. “You know, Sis, you’re pretty shameless, aren’t you? Every year, I give Anna five hundred bucks as a Christmas gift, but you’ve never given my daughter anything!” The rest of the family had clearly been holding this in for a while. Since someone had said it out loud, they all jumped in at once to accuse my mother of always taking and never giving. They called her selfish and stingy. My mother suddenly grabbed me by the hair and slapped me. “Anna, why didn’t you tell me you got money from them? Have you been hiding cash? You made me look like I can’t return a simple favor! Happy now?” I had clearly given her everything I ever received! With the way she twisted the truth, I ended up becoming the liar in everyone’s eyes. As a result, later that night, when a fishbone got lodged in my throat and I choked, everyone just sat there laughing and watching. They were convinced that not only had I lied about the gift money, but I was also trying to scam them for medical bills.