C12 Forum

When I see someone asking for help in an assignment related to the entrepreneur course on the college forum, I join the group chat using a student account. I even help refine several financial models and market strategies because of my job's nature. Everyone in the group chat is excited, to say the least. Every day, they keep calling me a genius while urging me to improve the details of the whole assignment. Two months later, the assignment's quality is very close to perfection. But the group chat suddenly goes silent. I scroll through the chat history out of curiosity, only to find out that the students have already created another group chat. "That senior isn't an official teammate of ours. Let's not tell her about us using this assignment for an upcoming competition." "Precisely! Our names are the only ones on the list! She'd better not steal the credit during tomorrow's finals!" "With one less person involved, we each get an additional tens of thousands of dollars' worth of rewards!" As I look at the screen, I just let out a soft chuckle. It appears that this isn't an assignment at all. But unfortunately for these students, I happen to be one of the judges sitting at the judging station tomorrow.

Right after finishing a meeting, I opened a forum and saw a warning post. The location tag was our company. The title read: “Red flag! What a cheap company. Anyone who joins is a total sucker. They can’t even afford a decent coffee break.” The photo attached showed the expensive coffee and five-star desserts I had just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frowned and tagged the entire group chat, asking if anyone had suggestions about the afternoon tea. A Gen-Z intern who had just joined, Julian Hayes, instantly replied with a voice message: “Boss, no offense, but these assembly-line desserts are full of trans fats. Nobody would eat them.” “A truly humane company hires a Michelin chef to cook and slice everything fresh on site. That’s what real respect for employees looks like.” I laughed in disbelief. Our company’s daily coffee break budget was thirty dollars per person—already considered top-tier in the industry. So I replied, “Since it’s impossible to satisfy everyone’s taste, we’ll cancel afternoon tea from now on and convert the budget into cash for everyone instead.” Less than five minutes later, that post was updated: “Guys, can you believe this? I made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and the lame boss immediately canceled the whole coffee break perk! This is the true face of corporate greed—can’t handle even a little bit of honesty!”

Il y a un mois, j'ai été accidentellement infectée par le poison mortel de l'aconit, sans aucun espoir de guérison. Mon corps a commencé à se dégrader jour après jour, jusqu'à aujourd'hui, où ma louve a été tuée définitivement, et ma vie est entrée dans un compte à rebours de trois jours. La veille de ma mort, j'ai accepté de transplanter mon rein à ma sœur. Mon compagnon, très ravi, a dit qu'il me compenserait plus tard. Quand ma sœur a été accusée de plagiat sur le forum de l'université pour avoir copié mon article de recherche sur la portion de Belladonna, j'ai volontairement admis que j'étais le plagiaire. Mes parents étaient satisfaits, disant que j'avais enfin compris comment me comporter. Je suis enfin devenue la bonne épouse et la bonne fille idéale qu'ils attendaient. Néanmoins, quand je suis devenue un cadavre glacé, pourquoi ont-ils tous pleuré ?

Someone started a thread on a forum asking, [Do men become stingy with their wives after marriage?] The replies were full of women complaining about how cheap and calculating their husbands were. My husband, however, went in the opposite direction. After we got married, he handed me his payroll card to manage and kept only a few dozen dollars a month for his own expenses, as though he had truly given everything to me and to this family. I shook my head and was about to respond when my mother-in-law's call interrupted me. "Chloe, Josh's god sister is sick. She needs $4,500." My husband immediately slipped an arm around my shoulders and assured me, "Don't worry. We'll use my salary. You won't have to pay a cent." "Alright," I said. Seeing how certain he was, I transferred one dollar to him on the spot and added a note: Medical expenses transferred. When my mother-in-law saw the transfer, she flew into a rage, sharply accusing me of being jealous and petty, even withholding money meant to save a life. I remained unmoved. "That's all there is on the card." She completely lost her temper, threatening to come over and audit how many kickbacks I had supposedly pocketed over the years. I agreed to settle the accounts. That was when my husband suddenly lost his enthusiasm.

My childhood friend, whom I hadn’t contacted for years, kept calling nonstop during an important meeting. After the meeting, he spoke in a sharp tone. “Do you think you’re too big for your britches? I’m getting engaged and you’re not even coming back to help out. Do I have to invite you?” I was representing my country at an international scientific forum, so I could only decline politely. Unexpectedly, he turned all haughty. “Fine then. If you’re not coming back, then just send me a gift with four circles and I’ll let it slide. Four circles? Thinking he meant ten thousand with four zeroes, I immediately agreed. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you ten thousand dollars as a wedding gift.” “Ten grand? Who the hell are you kidding? “My wife is the eldest daughter of the Jeffersons, the most prestigious family in Cirrus. Only the most distinguished people are on the guest list. Seeing that we’re old friends, I’m letting you attend. It’s your great honor!” He cursed angrily and sent me the invitation. I was struck dumb the moment I opened it. My aloof ice queen of a wife, who kept strangers at bay, was locked in a passionate kiss with her arms wrapped around my childhood friend’s waist. “Four zeroes, huh? How about four wreaths?” My gaze darkened as I clutched my phone. Four funeral wreaths ought to count as four circles, too!

À seulement 19 ans, Alayna vit un véritable cauchemar. Depuis la mort de son père, sa mère s’est remariée avec un homme violent, manipulateur et tyrannique. Leur maison est devenue une prison. Sa mère, aveuglée par l’argent de ce nouveau mari, ferme les yeux sur les abus, laissant sa fille se débrouiller seule dans l’enfer domestique. Un soir, après une nouvelle dispute, Alayna tombe par hasard sur un forum anonyme de luxure et de confidences. Elle y lit une histoire similaire à la sienne : une fille qui a vendu sa virginité à un inconnu pour s’enfuir. L’idée germe… et devient obsession. Prête à tout pour échapper à sa vie, Alayna poste un message : “Je vends ma virginité au plus offrant. Pas pour le plaisir, pas pour le vice. Juste pour m’acheter une nouvelle vie.” Contre toute attente, un seul message lui est envoyé. Court, direct : "Je paie le double de ce que tu attends. Mais je fixe les règles." Signé : W.W

I had just walked out of the Pack Healer's cabin, clutching the crumpled paper of my official pregnancy report, when I refreshed my social media feed. An anonymous post on the local pack forum caught my eye. "I've been sleeping with the Alpha for a while now, and I just found out I'm pregnant. But his Luna is knocked up too, and she's months ahead of me. I hate the idea of him having a pup with someone else. I want to carry his firstborn. How can I make him force his mate to get rid of it?" The comments section was flooded with curses and insults calling the poster a home-wrecker. But the original poster had liked one particularly vicious comment. "That's easy. Tell the Alpha that his Luna is too weak and that she is carrying an abomination corrupted by wolfsbane. Tell him it will be a stillborn anyway." I usually just lurked in these threads, but my wolf, Selene, growled within me. My fingers flew across the screen as I replied. "Aren't you afraid of the Moon Goddess's wrath for defying Her will like this?" The moment I hit send, my mate Kael, the Alpha of the Starlight Pack, walked up to me. He was holding a forged diagnosis report from the Healer, his face a mask of pained hesitation. "Seraphina," he said, his voice trembling. " The Healer says our pup's soul is fragmented. It has been judged as a stillborn. For your safety, we have to terminate the pregnancy immediately." He took a breath, looking deep into my eyes. "I have already made the arrangements. Tomorrow, before the Moon Goddess's altar, I will supervise the surgery personally to ensure your absolute safety."