Brokerage License

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

WARNING ⚠️ SSPG, ‼️ Si BEATRICE A.K.A. BETTY, ay Isang 28 years old. She's a demure at conservative. Galing siya mayamang familya, masunurin na anak sa magulang. Isang araw habang nag chichil ride sa daan, nadaanan niya ang check point. Since nakalimutan niya'ng dalhin ang license niya mabilis siya'ng humarurot at dumaan sa short cut upang takasan niya ang check point dahil ayaw niya’ng makinig sa sermon ng mga police. Ngunit ang hindi niya alam sinundan pala siya ng Isang masungit at strictong Capitan na si Caspian. Kahit anong pa demure niya sa police hindi ito natinag at dinala siya sa police station. At ang malala ikinulong pa siya ng isang gabi. Akala ng dalaga hindi na mag co-cross ang kanilang landas ngunit. Nagulat na lamang siya Isang araw sa birthday party ng kanyang ama, naroon ang masungit na police na kinakainisan niya. And it turned out anak pala ito ng kanyang uncle ang matalik na kaibigan ng kanyang ama. At ang masaklap plano pala talaga ng kanilang mga magulang na e arrange marriage silang dalawa.

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.

During the school holidays, I took my daughter to a park. I had barely entered the park entrance with my daughter when a supercar crossed the solid line and rear-ended us. The man who jumped out came storming toward me, furious. "Do you even know how to drive? Do you know how much this car costs? You can't afford it even if you went bankrupt!" I was about to argue back since he was clearly the one breaking traffic rules. But I froze. That car looked painfully familiar. Wasn't that the supercar my mother gave me the first year I took over the Milton Group? Even the license plate was identical. My wife, Hazel Bishop, had told me the engine was broken and that she'd sent it to the dealership for repairs. I met the man's arrogant stare. "Is this car really yours?" He paused, then grinned smugly. "My wife bought it for me. It's limited-edition. Someone like you wouldn't understand. Go call your family and sell your house. You owe me 200 thousand dollars." Sneering, he added, "Don't try anything clever. My wife's the GM of Milton Group. She has serious connections. She'll be here any minute." I let out a cold laugh. So Hazel canceled on our daughter today, not because of a business meeting, but because she was out spending the holiday with her lover and his kid instead.

I had no choice but to become the partner of a mafia boss with an incubus bloodline when his heat cycle began. To my surprise, Lionel Andrus and I got along better than I ever imagined. Every night, he held me close, craving more of me, as if we were made for each other. But right before we got our marriage license, my jealous sister, Tracy Rowe, tried to talk me out of it. "Incubi are born flirts," she warned. "How do you know you're his only woman? Once he's bored, he'll toss you aside." In my last life, I had believed her. I called off my engagement with Lionel and, through her introduction, married a "nice guy" named Jamie Stephenson. After we married, Jamie cheated on me and gave me STDs. Desperate, I went to Tracy's house to ask for help. She turned me away with disgust. "You couldn't control your husband and ended up sick, and you actually came asking me for money? How dare you! You have no self-respect. You don't deserve to be my sister!" Right then, she publicly cut ties with me. Even our parents sided with her, calling me a disgrace and refusing to let me step inside the house. In the end, I couldn't take the pain anymore and ended up hanging myself. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Tracy told me not to marry Lionel.

Ximena Branson had her whole future mapped out—with Dean Hansen alongside her. He was her initial love, her stability in the tumultuous realm of high fashion. However, her ideal dream crumbled when Dean left, discarding their years together to become engaged to a different model. Devastated and embarrassed, Ximena escapes to Mexico, intent on burying her pain in a fresh setting. A single impulsive evening throws her into the arms of a significantly older, influential man,Jason Hansen, a billionaire known for his merciless image. Ximena attempts to flee, but Jason won’t allow her to escape. He fears she could be pregnant with his child, and there's no chance he’ll permit his heir to grow up in anything but luxury. Instead, he proposes a marriage of convenience—a luxurious life, limitless riches, and an ideal chance for Ximena to overcome her sorrow and make Dean regret his decision to leave her. Driven by revenge, Ximena consents, entering into a marriage that was meant to be transactional. Yet, as longing and unforeseen feelings intertwine, the distinctions fade, leading her to doubt everything,most notably Jason. Next, the bomb falls. The marriage license that Jason provided her? An untruth. In truth, he remains legally tied to a capable businesswoman, a woman who is determined not to set him free. Once again betrayed, Ximena is ensnared in a perilous rivalry between two siblings—one who broke her heart and the other who could damage it irreparably. As secrets come to light and the past resurfaces, Ximena faces a choice: strive for her own joy or leave the Hansen brothers behind for good

Profession Series #1 Atty. Elara 'Ara' Lynette Miranda whose starting her career by establishing up her own law firm. Graduated with Civil Engineering degree and went on to law school to give her brother the freedom to write novels. She lives in province where she met her dearest friends and grow up with his step father. She had previously suffered self loathing and psychiatric disorders but she overcame them by envisioning a new beginning and becoming a better version of herself. She is a powerful Attorney who can turn any case on its head. After nearly three years of living in the dark, a light entered her life when a man named Attorney Devon 'Dev' Sirius Selvantes walked into her office and says that he was the new hired attorney for the law firm. Devon Selvantes title has been ripped off, he gave up his license to practice law and now works as an Accountant. Little did Elara know that little light that came to her just when she needed it the most would cause far more havoc than her parents did. Their happy relationship is shattered, full of uncertainty and is replaced by hatred, pain, and suffering. When their paths cross again, will serve as a resolution to their long-standing misunderstanding or the end for both of them. See you in the court room. Warning ⚠️ -This novel contains sensitive topics about criminal cases (not that detailed), family relationship and a inappropriate languages. Please be open minded. -Under Major Revision! The Verdict ©️PennFeather 2020

At the bachelor party the night before the wedding, the truth-or-dare penalty was brutal—show the most hidden photo on your phone. Gina, Peter's so-called "girl bro," lost. She just grinned and cast her screen onto the big TV. A marriage license filled the screen, stamped by the county clerk. Names: Peter Cooke and Gina Draper. Date: yesterday. The room went dead silent. I stared at Peter's drained face. Gina didn't flinch. She patted his shoulder. "Oops. Guess you found out. Joey, don't take it seriously. Just a dumb bet. I wanted to see what the county clerk's office looked like, so I dared Peter to register a marriage with me." She leaned in, eyes on me like I was the joke. "You're still getting your wedding tomorrow. The vows, the ceremony. I just borrowed your fiancé for a stamp. Don't tell me you're jealous of his buddy." Peter jumped up and pulled me in. "Babe, listen. You're the only one in my heart. It was just a joke." He pulled out the diamond ring, dropped to one knee. "I'll file for divorce first thing tomorrow. It won't mess up our noon wedding. Invites are already out. Don't make this a scene in front of my friends. Once we're married, all my money's yours, okay?" I smiled. He had no clue how any of this worked. Didn't even know divorce came with a thirty-day wait. I didn't take the ring. I pulled out my phone and blasted a group text canceling the wedding.

Elena Vance made a fifty-dollar mistake that cost her her freedom. Believing her one-night stand was a high-end escort, she left cash and a mocking note on his pillow, only to walk into a boardroom hours later and realize the man was Adrian Blackwood, the ruthless "Ice King" CEO. Adrian didn't just hold her career in his hands; he held a cocktail napkin marriage license signed in a tequila haze and her father’s $200,000 gambling debt. "You belong to me for six months," he declared, trapping her in a fake marriage to secure a corporate merger. Elena entered the "gilded cage" of Adrian's penthouse expecting a cold, transactional war of wills governed by strict "no-touch" clauses. She remained loyal only to save her father, unaware that he would eventually betray her to their enemies. But the boardroom battles quickly turned lethal. Victor Kane, Adrian’s bitter rival from MIT, obsessed with erasing the Blackwood legacy, sold the company's debt to the Russian Bratva. Suddenly, the fake spouses were forced into a terrifying reality: becoming FBI informants. The "Ice King" melted into a desperate protector, and the graphic designer sharpened into a survivor. Their bond shifted from a business deal to a sacrificial love, forged in the fires of betrayal. But when a mission to plant a bug at a mob wedding ends in a massacre, they realize the FBI is compromised. Stripped of his billions and presumed dead, Adrian stands in the ashes of his empire alongside Elena. A secret brother watches from the shadows, and the Russian mob is closing in. "We have nothing left," Elena whispered, staring into the dark. Adrian gripped her hand, his eyes burning with a new, dangerous resolve. "We have each other. And now, we run."

My adoptive parents' long-lost daughter came back. She's a wellness influencer. She eats from crystal bowls she "cleansed." Sleeps with a white noise machine. She will only ride in a custom, climate-controlled car. That's not all. She filled our family's Manhattan law firm with Himalayan salt lamps and energy crystals. The espresso in the conference room? Replaced with gluten-free, organic dandelion root tea. "The energy here is so murky," she'd say. "We need to cleanse the world with love and light!" My guilt-ridden parents gave her everything she wanted. Even my fiancé told me, "Ava, you stole twenty years of her Upper East Side life. Can't you cut her some slack?" The day of the final hearing for our firm's biggest case, the entire court had to wait for her to finish her "emotional cleansing meditation." The judge was furious. I stood up. Delivered a flawless closing argument. I won our client $500 million and secured the future of the firm. But at the party, she had a drunken breakdown, fell into the pool, and drowned. My parents and my fiancé blamed me for everything. "You always have to win, don't you? It was a simple, open-and-shut case. You couldn't even let her have that?" They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They destroyed my law license and my reputation. They even had me injected with a fatal overdose of sedatives. I died full of hate. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day she was crying on her Instagram Live, begging for the case. This time, I walked straight into our rival's law firm. This "sure-win" case? I'm going to make you lose everything.