Bother Antonym

I spent three days and three nights decorating the altar for my mating ceremony. My mate, Alpha Alec, used it to pledge himself to another woman. His dead brother’s mate. I rushed to confront him, but before I could speak, Serena clutched her chest and collapsed. Furious, Alec threw me in the silver room, leaving me to suffer as the silver burned through my veins. "My brother died before he could claim her! I was giving Serena the ceremony she deserved. Why did you have to ruin it?" "Serena's wolf is weak because of you. You'll stay here until she wakes up. Think about what you've done." Three years later, the Lycan King, Damien, returned to the North with his mate. He was hosting a summit for the Alliance at a top-tier lakeside resort. Alec arrived with Serena, who was dripping in luxury. He was there to beg Damien for control over the Alliance's new project on the Genetic Decay. He saw me being blocked by the guards and glanced at the file in my hands. "I heard you bonded with some rogue, a worthless wolf with a tainted bloodline, just to spite me. Regretting it now?" "If you beg me, I might consider getting you in." I didn't even bother to look at him. Damien had left a critical report at home. I had to get it to him before the summit meeting.

In the fifth year of my marriage to Kevin Gray, he, a sailor, is reported dead during a mission at sea. When his twin brother brings home his ashes, I break down and sob until I can barely breathe. Nothing can stand in the way of our love—not even death... or so I think. Grief consumes me. I cannot accept the reality of losing him. I try to end my life five times. Every time, Kevin's mother or his brother saves me. They plead with me to let go, to live on. After all, Kevin's last wish was for me to find happiness in every day of the life I had left. But in the third month of mourning, I discover the truth—he never died. He lied to me. He took his twin brother's identity and spent his days by Evelyn Stewart's side. He told me he still loved me, that he couldn't live without me, and that everything he was doing had a reason. He said he'd explain everything after Evelyn gave birth. To protect Evelyn and her unborn child, he asked me to move out for a while—just temporarily, until the baby was born. Then, he promised to bring me home again. Kevin, don't bother coming to get me. I'm not coming back.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

Imagine my shock when I found out that my husband, a professor who had proudly embraced a childless life for half of his years, had an affair with one of his own students. She even had his six-year-old son. The day I planned to report him to the university, Zia Thompson came to my door with the child and knelt in front of me. "Maybe you and Zeke were in love once," she said. "But he's over forty now. Who doesn't want to have a child? A legacy?" "I don't need a title," she went on. "I can give up the child too. I just beg you, don't tear our family apart." I looked at my husband, who stood protectively in front of them. I felt terrifyingly calm. "Cut ties with them," I said, my voice flat, "or prepare to be reported to the university. You choose." Without a moment's hesitation, he tore the report letter into shreds. I thought that was his answer. But on the fifty-second night of a bed grown cold and a home echoing with silence, he still hadn't returned. Instead, I received news that Zia was pregnant again. She had graduated by then. The report I never sent no longer posed any threat to them. Zeke didn't bother to hide his fatigue and irritation anymore. "Treat Zia and the kids well," he said, "or keep living alone in that empty house. It's your choice." My heart was already a wasteland. "I have one more option," I said. "I choose divorce."

On the way home during the holidays, my fiance's sister-in-law, Pamela Kensington, brings out an electric pot that requires 2,000 watts in order to function so that she can cook some meatballs. "The sockets in the electric car are meant for us to use, no? If we can't have hot food during our trips, then what's the use of having an electric car in the first place?" My fiance, Mason Vance, who is driving, doesn't bother to stop Pamela. Instead, he helps her fill up the pot with water while smiling. In my previous life, I had strictly stopped them from cooking meatballs and told them that we didn't have enough power left in the electric car. If they were to cook the meatballs, the car would stop in the middle of the journey, and we wouldn't be able to make it home. Pamela, who tagged along for the ride, thought that I refused to let her son have a piping hot meal, so she began criticizing me. Mason, on the other hand, thought that I was being too much of a busybody. He slapped me in front of everyone before pushing me out of the car. I was frozen to the bone in the blizzard as I watched everyone else leave me behind happily. In the end, I died from hypothermia. When I woke up again, I realized I'd returned to the moment when Pamela is about to plug the electric pot into the socket. This time, I hand her a power strip. "Go ahead and use this power strip. It can channel more power for your meatballs to cook quickly."

On the day my father gets exiled from the pack due to him losing control of himself and endangering the pack, everyone gives me and my younger sister, Sunna Jones, two options. Option one is to stay with my mother, who has been with the Alpha of a pack. Option two is to follow my father, who's prone to losing control of himself, to the wilds. In my previous life, Sunna quickly chose our mom. I packed my belongings and followed our dad down the path of exile. Unexpectedly, Dad found a way to stabilize his insane power. That was how he became a Beta of a powerful pack. On the other hand, Sunna was torn into pieces by her stepfather, who lost control of his power and shifted into a rabid wolf. After we both get reborn, Sunna doesn't hesitate to take Dad's hand. "I like Dad even more, Alice. You and Mom should stay in the pack and live peacefully." Dad turns his violent gaze toward Sunna momentarily. Then, he drags her away. I don't bother stopping her from making her choice. Naturally, I choose to stay with Mom. What Sunna doesn't know is that the reason why Dad was able to stabilize his power in the previous life was thanks to me sacrificing my soul. Now that I get another chance to make my choice, I don't have to endure Dad's beatings anymore. I just want to spend the rest of my life in peace.

There's a prophecy – a prophecy holding the fate of two worlds. On the edge of Lilah's field, at the twelfth hour of the fall of twelve, the three kings will unite, a daisy will be lost, or the worlds will be gone. The Oracle tells me that I am bound to the prophecy. That I cannot alter or change it. That I’m destined to be greater than what I am, but I already knew that. I’ve known that since the age of five. Now, can you guess who needs to die? Death doesn’t bother me. I will let the world burn if it means achieving my goals – because with every lick of the whip; he tore my flesh raw, as his laughter rang through the mansion, and my screams disturbed the heavens. No one cared to help, no one listened – definitely not the Gods. So why should I? ._. Eldora. A world woven together by magic. Cloaked in darkness and chaos, sin and deceit. Where no one is innocent; where both hands - and teeth - drip with the blood of others. And there is her. A lone wolf, watching the world tear itself apart. Watching the chaos, the death, the destruction as she fights a far greater war, within her. What's right and wrong? What's considered good and evil? Where does she stand in this enteral mystery, we call a universe? Coated in darkness and pain, she questions the meaning of life and death, and her purpose in this world of infinite possibilities. She finds only one answer: REVENGE. *WARNING this story contains abuse, suicidal thoughts, intense trauma, and erotic scenes. Please do not read if this is heavily triggering for you!*

He dropped his hands to the side, stepping away, and he voiced. “I’m not sure about having you fucking countless men, Marianne, unless you have chosen to become a whore who is more than willing to please another man’s dick instead of just pleasing one.” He smiled, pushing his hair from his face. I made the conscious decision not to let his words bother me, as it wasn't worth the stress. I said, which got him annoyed further. “I rather please a thousand dicks than yours. So do what you want to me, but I will never marry you.” He suddenly brought out a gun, playfully staring at it and he hint “Not even in a death and life situation.” He aimed the gun directly at me and I took a bold step by moving to him and I pressed my head against the gun. “Then kill me. It has always been my dream to escape from this nightmare.” I was playing with fire, but I won’t back off until we both get burnt. “Pull the trigger.” I breathe. He breath. Both our eyes locked. ****** Kidnapped and sold to a psychopath, a man who finds solace in seeing her in pain while she grips on her remaining hopes of escaping. Marianne finds herself trapped in this endless nightmare with a man who claims to love her by bringing her pain. ***** Trigger warning; This story is not for light-hearted people. Involves very disturbing sex content.

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

In order to protect me, Don Salvatore deliberately announces that my fiance, Simone Pozzi, is his long-lost son. Simone shakes with excitement when he sees the man in a bespoke suit stepping out of the Rolls-Royce that is parked outside my house. Just as I'm about to tell him it's all a lie, he shoves me aside. He even brushes his sleeves in disgust, as if he has touched something filthy. Simone says, "Stay away from me. Don't let your poverty rub off on me! Since I'm the Don's son, we'll call off our engagement. An illegitimate bastard like you isn't even fit to wipe my shoes!" When I try to explain, he cuts me off by writing out a check and flinging it hard into my face. The sharp edge of the paper slices across my cheek. "Take this one million dollars as our breakup fee and don't bother me again. We're no longer from the same world," Simone says. I watch the check flutter down into the mud and quietly turn off my phone screen. On the screen is a message Papa—Don Salvatore—has just sent me, "Just bear with it a little longer, Principessa. Papa will bring you home soon to take over the famiglia." Simone is so determined to cut himself off completely. He might have the luck to claim a fortune that big, but not the life to enjoy it.