Call It Magic Coldplay Lyrics Novels & Stories

Everyone says I have the face of an angel. However, I choose to take a knife and slash my own beautiful face. When my twin sister sees the drastic change in my appearance, she loses it and screams at me, wanting to know why I ruined my face. In my past life, she couldn't stop stealing food deliveries. When our next-door neighbor caught her, she shoved the pregnant woman so hard that she miscarried. The woman was seven months along, and both she and her baby died. But my sister just shrugged it off, bragging that she was some popular influencer, and two pathetic lives didn't matter. She even slapped down a 50-dollar bill like it was nothing, just to humiliate them. "Still trying to scam my money? For all we know, that woman's baby was already dead inside her. Your family must've done pretty awful things to deserve losing two lives like that!" When the dead woman's family showed up at our door with kitchen knives, ready for revenge, my sister chickened out and hid. Before that, she tricked me into coming home instead. The second I walked up to our front door, the grief-stricken husband slashed at my neck, severing the artery. I died right there on the spot. After I died, everyone spat on my memory. They all said I got what I deserved, and my parents covered up what my sister really did. She even had the nerve to come forward and apologize for me, cashing in on my death while hooking up with my boyfriend. The two of them became this perfect couple online and made tons of money. This time around, I decide to destroy my face. I want to see how she will steal my identity and pin her crimes on me now!

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

Yaroslav “Viktorovich” Demidov: 25, of Russian descent, the second heir of the Demidov Family. Stoic, disciplined-well too much, perfectionist, hot headed and uptight. Hides vulnerability within that hard exterior of his. The only one in his family who has no magic because of an incident that happened when he was 4 years of age. Soul-bonded to Lian and actually holds the rarest and most powerful but dangerous power of all. Lian MAteo Alonzo-Kensington: 20, Filipino-British American, from the nurturing but competitive Kensington Family. Confident, expressive, sometimes impulsive kind of vulgar but well disciplined not in an uptight way. Has magical abilities, the rare dual type ability holders, ice and wind. His warmth clashes with Yaroslav and is soul-bonded with him therefore can also wield the other rarest and most powerful magic. Can two opposing hearts on ice bound by a soul-bond survive the weight of legacy, pressures of the competition and the dangerous pull of love and desire, when the bond that they believed to be a curse demands that one must lose his life for the other to live? For even every clash of skates, every stolen glances across the rink, every searing touch and mind-numbing kiss when they met in secret seems to burn the ice ablaze as the hatred blurs into hunger that draws them closer to a collision that could destroy or bind them for eternity. “Fuck Kensington, then I’ll risk everything, suffer everything….for one thing that matters…..You.” -Yaroslav Demidov

I was in the office bathroom stall when I heard them trash-talking me. The intern I'd trained for three months whined, "She's a heartless witch—like a robot with zero brain cells." I was about to swing the door open when another voice jumped in, laughing. "Documents incomplete." "Receipts don't match." "No signature? Denied." "Seriously, we've all memorized the freaking rulebot's script!" Once they were gone, I headed back to my desk. The intern stormed in and slammed a fat stack of reimbursement forms in front of me. "Don't go on another power trip and block everyone's claims." I skimmed the obviously fake receipts. Normally, I'd tear into her. But this time, I just smiled. "My head's killing me. Can't read the fine print."

I was dragged online by one of my own employees. According to her post, I was a stingy boss who refused to give out holiday gift boxes for Memorial Day weekend. What the internet did not know was that my company already had a long-standing tradition. Every holiday, and even every employee birthday, each person received a $300 gift card without fail. But once the whole internet started tearing me apart, I decided to give everyone exactly what they claimed they wanted. I issued a company-wide notice. To respect everyone’s demand for a more “thoughtful” holiday gesture, this year’s Memorial Day gift cards would be canceled and replaced with holiday gift boxes for all employees. The moment the notice went out, the entire company exploded. Employees crowded outside my office, begging me to bring the gift cards back.

It was the thirtieth anniversary of my alma mater, and I had been invited back to give a speech. But as I stepped on stage, my husband's illegitimate son rushed toward me, brandishing a knife. His accusations rang through the hall: I was a homewrecker, the woman who had driven his mother to her death. He went even further, kidnapping my daughter and threatening her safety unless I publicly read a letter of confession. I was beaten to within an inch of my life, my body battered and bruised. I demanded my husband come forward and confront the truth. Instead, he turned on me. "I was forced to be with you in the first place!" my husband spat, venom dripping from every word. "You're the real mistress!"

After being betrayed by her husband and stepsister on her wedding anniversary. Roseline was given a second chance in life to make up for her mistake and take revenge on the people that had betrayed her.

Drevan Valkor is the Darkmoon pack's Invincible Alpha. This makes him grow arrogant and believe himself to be untouchable. Even when he drags a knife across his own hand, the wound closes almost instantly. He laughs at me and says, "Kyra, you gasp for breath after walking just a few steps. What a pathetic, sickly burden." What he doesn't know is that a curse forces me to suffer every bit of pain he should be feeling. The only cure is for him to acknowledge me and complete the mate bond willingly. I endure three years of his pain, his cold shoulder treatment, and his constant entanglement with my "healthy and lively" stepsister. I tell myself that if I can survive until the mate bonding ceremony, I will finally be free. But that hope dies on the night of the ceremony. Before the entire pack, he pulls my stepsister, Belle Wynter, into his arms and kicks me off the altar. "I reject Kyra Wynter as my mate," he declares. "My pack doesn't need a weakling like her." That is the moment my conscience dies. If that's how it is, then he can't blame me for choosing the worst possible cure.

I’d just left a creative meeting when a TikTok video popped up on my feed, slamming my company. The title: "Stay Away! This Austin startup is incredibly cheap. The perks are a joke." The video showed off the pour-over coffee from Austin's hottest independent cafe and pastries from a top-tier French bakery. The same ones I’d just had my assistant, Sam, hand out. I frowned. In the company's Slack channel, I tagged everyone. "@here Any suggestions for this afternoon's Happy Hour?" Leo, the new Gen-Z intern, replied instantly with a voice note. “Asher, with all due respect, these snacks with gluten and dairy are so unhealthy.” “A truly visionary company would hire a private chef to customize raw, vegan bites for everyone's dietary needs. That's what respect looks like.” I laughed. It was an angry laugh. The company's daily snack budget was $25 per person. For an Austin startup, that was top of the line. I typed back: "Since it's impossible to please everyone, the snack perk is canceled. I'll convert the budget into a cash bonus for all of you." Less than five minutes later, the TikTok caption was updated. "UPDATE: Y'all, I can't make this up. I made a suggestion about dietary inclusivity, and my toxic boss just canceled all the perks! This is how toxic bosses act. Can't handle a single piece of feedback!"