Romans & histoires Camera Titan

​To the world, Nathan is an ice-cold titan—a billionaire CEO who built an empire on ruthless dominance and a predator’s intuition. But beneath the charcoal weave of his tailored suits beats the heart of a beast. Behind the reinforced glass of his penthouse, he battles a primal hunger and a violent history that his public persona can barely contain. He is an Alpha without a mate—a king ruling a lonely, concrete forest. ​Then he catches her scent. Santa. A brilliant, broken university student, she is a flicker of light surviving on the fringes. She is a survivor fleeing a nightmare, her pulse thrumming with a fear that calls to Nathan’s most lethal instincts. The connection is instant—a soul-deep recognition that shatters Nathan’s control. He doesn't just want her; he recognizes her. ​When her past finally catches up to her, Nathan doesn't rely on human laws. He yields to the wolf. In an act of savage protection, he claims her, whisking her away in a meticulously orchestrated "rescue" that feels more like a kidnapping. ​Now, she is trapped in a gilded cage of silk and steel. Her every need is met by the man who watches her with glowing, possessive eyes. As the walls of the penthouse close in, she is forced to reconcile her terror with a devastating truth: the only person capable of shredding her enemies is the monster who stole her freedom. ​As the lines between protection and possession vanish, she realizes that in his quest to keep her safe, Nathan hasn't just caged her body—he has marked her soul.

Ten years after being the sole survivor of a catastrophic train disaster, a Tanzanian student discovers that his survival wasn't a miracle—it was a mutation. Now, he is the most wanted organism on Earth. FULL SYNOPSIS The crash should have killed him. The truck should have finished the job. Ten years ago, a midnight train to Mbeya was derailed by a mysterious explosion of violet light. Hundreds perished in the wreckage. Only one person walked away: an eight-year-old boy found without a scratch. The world called it a miracle. The government called it a closed case. Now a Form Six student, the boy just wants a normal life. But "normal" ends the day he is struck by a speeding semi-trailer in the city streets. In front of a horrified crowd, his severed limbs don't just bleed—they boil, snap, and regenerate in a terrifying display of biological immortality. Caught on camera, the video goes viral within hours, shattering his anonymity and alerting the shadows. He is no longer a student. He is Patient Zero. Hunted by "Six," a ruthless biotech corporation seeking to harvest his DNA to engineer a new breed of mutants, and pursued by a government desperate to bury the secrets of the Mbeya Incident, he is forced to run. With no allies and a body that refuses to die, he must uncover the truth about what really happened on that train ten years ago before he becomes a lab rat for the highest bidder. He survived the crash. But can he survive the hunt?

Sean Parker's first love, Thea Smith, is back. The comments flood in, as everyone is waiting for me to frame her and then get brutally exposed. But the system I'm bound to is an angst system. So, I can only earn points by suffering. Only with full points can I win ten billion dollars. I'm scratching my head as to how to rack up points when Thea suddenly cuts her own face with a knife. She points at me accusingly and cry, "Why did you ruin my face?" I'm overjoyed. It's finally here—this is the part where I get tormented! But Sean points to the corner coldly. "The surveillance camera is on. Do you want me to replay it?" The air freezes, and I see a line of text appear above her head. It reads, [Angst Points: +25] Countless comments pour in like a frenzy. "Holy crap! Is Thea also bound to a system?" "No way. Are both the evil supporting character and the scheming female lead players who are farming points?" I look at the 25 points Thea scored so easily and think about the 15 points I've painfully accumulated over six years. I clench my fists. This isn't some tragic romance story. It's clearly a cutthroat competition between players! In that case, it is time for me to fight back.

One week after moving into my new home, my neighbor, Penny Halpern, suddenly knocks on my door and claims that my son, Benedict Geller, has been spying on her daughter, Monica Ritter, when the latter is bathing. "I saw everything with my own eyes! Every day, he'd cling to the windowsill and spy on me when I'm bathing! He even took pictures of me with a camera! "I'm so scared! Who knows what he's doing with those pictures? That boy really is disgusting!" Penny and Monica threaten me to call the police on Benedict if I don't pay them soon. Feeling rather puzzled, I just kick them out of my apartment. Unexpectedly, Penny summons all the neighbors in the residential area over to my place the next day. They all gather outside my door and begin insulting us at the top of their lungs. "Hey, pervert! Get out here and apologize to the victim!" "Take that perverted son of yours and leave this place! We want peace to be returned to our neighborhood!" When I tune the neighbors out, they begin smashing everything they can see at my front door. So, I can only call the police. When the police arrive, I bring Benedict out of the apartment before taking his sunglasses off. "Officer, I'd like to ask just how can my son spy on others, in this case?"

My husband's childhood friend, Ayna Sweeney, has a compulsive sexual behavior disorder. To maintain her pure image, she secretly uses black magic to transfer part of her desire onto me. She seduces my husband, Eric Morgan, and has an affair with him, while I am overwhelmed by uncontrollable urges. I grab men on the street and beg them to sleep with me. Meanwhile, she is praised across the internet as a pure and innocent lady. After my disgraceful behavior is caught on camera and spreads online, Eric is furious and turns the blame on me. He scolds, "I've been busy lately and haven't been home much. Yet, you, the wife of the richest man, have no sense of shame at all!" I cry and tell him I've been set up by Ayna, but he dismisses it. He retorts, "Ayna and I grew up together. I know her better than you do! Just because you're jealous, you come up with such ridiculous accusations. How evil of you!" But every time the two of them secretly meet up, I lose control and desperately seek out anyone to quell my thirst for intimacy. I become a woman despised by everyone in high society. At a lavish banquet, I even start taking off my clothes in public and end up beaten to death by furious high society wives. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day they first begin their affair.

"Notorious Bachelor Lucas Hart, 29, proposes to his first love and childhood sweetheart, Natalia Rossi!" My heart broke as I saw the picture of Lucas proposing to Natalia on one knee, the same ring I found in his jacket pocket, in the photo being slid onto her finger. The camera zoomed in on Natalia’s face and a gasp escaped my lips. It was like staring at myself, but a thinner, sicklier version of me. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years.  "Bianca," My father’s voice answered, "To what do I owe this sudden call?" "Dad," I said, "I accept. I will come back home for the arranged marriage and take back my inheritance." *** Bianca Salvatore, heiress of the Salvatore empire ran away from home, trying to escape the marriage arranged by her father. She met Lucas who she dated for three years, until his first love returned. He never knew about her true identity, and always shamed her for being poor. He heartlessly announced that he would get married to his first love, then make Bianca his side piece. Bianca didn’t want that life for herself, so she agreed to her father’s arranged marriage and took her inheritance. From being known as a poor pauper, to a famous billionaire heiress. Now her ex is on his knees, begging for a second chance. Will Bianca risk her heart again for the man who shattered it, or will she choose the powerful husband who sees her true worth?

I was the firm’s star. The one they called for the impossible cases. My latest miracle? The “Titan Project” patent case. I made the firm a billion dollars. My cut was supposed to be a two-million-dollar bonus. But today, a fresh-faced intern waltzed off with it. I thought payroll had made a mistake and stormed straight into the senior partner's office. “Preston. My two-million-dollar bonus. Tell me there’s been a mistake.” Preston didn’t even bother to look up. “Victoria, I’ve looked into it. We won this case because of Chloe’s client management.” “She was schmoozing clients. Late-night golf games. Weekend yacht parties. While you were what, exactly?” “You never showed your face outside the courtroom. Teamwork is everything.” I almost laughed. It was absurd. “She’s a rookie who can’t even recite the rules of discovery.” “Enough!” Preston cut me off. “The firm doesn’t make mistakes. I see what everyone contributes.” “If you're not happy, you can prove your worth somewhere else.” He tossed a severance agreement on the desk. My heart went cold. I signed it on the spot. Before I left, I got the last word. “Preston, next time the firm has a real fight on its hands, you’d better call your social butterfly, Chloe. Don’t bother me.” He blew a perfect smoke ring, smirking right through it. Unfazed. Soon later, my phone blew up. It was him. Begging me to come back and save his ass.

During the annual awards gala, I stepped out to use the restroom. When I came back, my year-end bonus was gone, canceled for allegedly assaulting a new coworker, Elan Crowe. In my first life, I desperately tried to prove my innocence by showing my fitness tracker’s movement data, proving I had been in the bathroom. Calder Roane, the department head, flew into a rage. "Everyone in the department saw you hit him. And you still want to deny it?" I struggled and explained frantically, but in the chaos, I accidentally fell down the stairs and died on the spot. In my second life, I took medical leave and skipped the gala entirely. I never expected that just past noon, the police would surround my home. "Lyra Vale, you’re suspected of intentional homicide. You need to come with us." Elan’s enraged family had then rushed forward and stabbed me repeatedly. I died again. In my third life, I ran to the city plaza, started a livestream, and rapped on camera, turning every viewer into my alibi. That night, the police still came. "The evidence is conclusive. Please come with us." At the station, they pulled up surveillance footage. It clearly showed me sneaking into the gala hall, arguing with Elan, then picking up a knife and stabbing him straight in the back. I was completely stunned. Three days later, I took a bullet. After endless rebirths, I finally laughed in anger. This time, I stormed straight into the gala hall, pressed a knife across Elan's throat, and said, "This is a kidnapping."

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

Every time I miscarry, Adrian Sadler brings home a new woman who eerily resembles his first love. He makes me put the rubber on him, forces me to watch their fevered passion, and then orders me to bring warm water for their intimate cleanup. I do everything I'm told, begging for just one night a month with him. That is, until I accidentally tear his favorite lover Peggy Olson's lingerie. That night, Adrian streams my humiliation for the world to see. He drags me onto the bed, twists my body to expose me fully to the camera, and pins me beneath an avalanche of shame. "Did you think her lingerie was suggestive? What about now? Look at yourself. Do you think you are any better? You love crawling into my bed, don't you? I'll help you get your fill. Maybe one man isn't enough to satisfy you. Why don't I call in ten men tomorrow?" As punishment, Adrian throws me outside, in my birthday suit, in the courtyard. Blood slowly pools beneath me. I experience my tenth miscarriage. I look for Derek Sadler and say, "I promised to help your family to repay your kindness. I tried my best. Ten miscarriages later, whatever blessing I once had is gone. I'll never have children again. Today, I've come to say goodbye."