Casually Synonym

I was the side character, the one destined to be neglected, forgotten, and never chosen. In the novel’s story, I was merely a background existence—the woman fated to marry the male lead, yet never once receive his love. The wife who shared his name but never his attention. Salvatore Mancini. The perfect male lead. Cold, powerful, and admired by everyone. Except me. Because in this story, his heart already belonged to someone else. When I first realized I had transmigrated into this novel, I thought I could change my fate. I tried to avoid the original scenes, tried to step away from the plot. But every time I tried to change something…I returned to the same place. The same moment, the same outcome. As if the unseen author of this story was reminding me again and again: You are only a puppet, and puppets don’t decide their roles. So I stopped resisting. If the story wanted me to be the neglected wife, then I would simply live quietly and let the plot run its course. That was my plan. Until one night, when I finally looked at the man and said casually— “Tell me something, Mr. Mancini. Aren’t you supposed to be my husband?” His cold eyes narrowed slightly, but I simply leaned back and smiled. “Then fulfill your role properly. Let’s see… what kind of man the great Salvatore Mancini is.” For the first time since our marriage he actually looked at me, not through me. At me. I didn’t know what changed after that, but from that night onward. Even when he looked at me with clear irritation. Salvatore Mancini began appearing around me more and more. Which left me with a very unsettling thought. The plot…It didn’t change, right?

I stretched lazily on the bed, much like a contented kitten, before opening my eyes. Hovering above me was a face that could have been sculpted by the gods—a handsome, well-defined face with sun-kissed golden eyes. My first groggy thought was that Cara had finally brought home a decent, well-groomed man for a change. But…. Why is he in my room? I abruptly shoved him away, ending the spell. "Get off your asshole!" With a scowl on my face, I got up quickly. “Was personal space not mentioned by Clara, huh?” I spoke in an irritated tone. “Clara?” He turned and casually picked up some papers from a nearby table, settling down with an annoying smile. “And who might that be, if I may ask?” He doesn’t even remember her? Asshole “Well, if you must know, Clara—” I started, but my words faltered as something shiny caught my eye. What is..? Then my memories began to flood back. —it’s a damn golden sofa. Shit. Brain Freeze. ~~~ Growing up as the oldest kid on a Chicago farm was no picnic for Mary Johnson. Her folks, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson, were salt-of-the-earth types, who worked hard on their small farm not far from the gritty backstreets of Chicago. They taught Mary and her siblings the value of hard work, self-value. But as much as Mary loved her family, she dreamed big, but those dreams took a backseat when she needed to step up and help support her family. Then, out of the blue, fate threw her a curveball. A chance in the US came knocking, and Mary didn't hesitate. And then she crossed paths with the Blacks – New York’s high society, dripping with wealth and power, who offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

It was my birthday. I thought he would take me to see the fireworks by the sea, but he showed up with another woman and her child. “Vera has a kid with her, and it’s inconvenient for them. Be a little understanding. She doesn’t know her way around here, and she has a lot of luggage. I’ll just drop them at the hotel.” He said it so casually, as if he were just explaining some trivial, everyday chore. It was that very gentleness of his that made me feel like I was so unreasonable getting angry over it. He helped them into the car. He leaned down to buckle the seatbelt on the child. Then, he turned to me with a smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t overthink things.” I stood by the roadside and watched them drive away like a picture-perfect little family. As night fell, the sea breeze turned sharp and biting. Still, I waited until a notification of Vera Cannon’s social feed update lit up my screen. He was holding her daughter in his arms. They were watching the fireworks by the beach. It was a surprise I had planned for my own birthday. The comments poured in. [What a perfect match. What a beautiful little family!] Someone asked him why he was not picking me up. He just smiled and said, “Indy is very patient. She won’t be mad.” At that moment, my birthday cake melted into a puddle of frosting. I finally realized that he had not done that to be cruel to me. He was certain that I would always wait for him. However, even the warmest heart grew cold when neglected too many times. The waves crashed against the shore, over and over. With each crash, another shred of my hope washed away. This time, I was not going to wait for him to come back.

“No one touches what is mine and gets to live,” he replies firmly, sending a cold shiver down my spine. “Alessandro, I am not yours. I am not anyone’s property,” I argue. He laughs softly. “Okay,” he says casually, as if what I said doesn't matter. “I mean it; I will never be yours—not your property, not your plaything, and certainly not your mistress,” I've already made it clear that I won't be his mistress; I don’t know why he can’t seem to accept that. His jaw tightens, then he scoffs. “He threatened you, he touched you,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “It really didn’t matter if the device was his or not; he knew what was coming for him.” In search of her missing father, Renée, a 24 year old boudoir photographer, moves to a new country and makes a deal with the FBI. She helps them bring down the most feared Mafia Don in the country, and they help her find her father. All she has to do is seduce him and get him to lower his guard—easy. Alessandro has been married for three years to the perfect wife, the princess of the East Mafia dome. That kind of marriage makes Alessandro the leader of both the South and the East of the Mafia dome and untouchable, Ruthless. Then one night at a masquerade ball, he meets her, the seductive stranger with a different accent. She looks like the typical type of woman he would make his mistress. But is that enough? Will his world accept a woman like her? It has been a rule for as long as he can remember that certain races can't mix, at least not from where he stands. Plus, he is a married man. Everything about her is forbidden.

My fated mate, Sebastian Grant, was the most brilliant healer on the continent. Specializing in treating wolfsbane, he had saved countless of our kind. To everyone else, he was a miracle walking among us. But he had a childhood friend and fellow apprentice, Sabrina Jordan. If Sebastian was famous for curing poison, then Sabrina was infamous for creating it. For years, she studied toxins while he developed antidotes. They worked so closely together that the pack slowly stopped distinguishing danger from jokes. That was until the day she tested a new kind of wolfsbane on me and I almost died. When I woke up, Sebastian was sitting beside my bed, writing a prescription for me. "Christina, don't blame Sabrina. My mentor and I have spoiled her. She knew I'd be able to cure you, so she was just messing around. She never meant to hurt you." He said it so casually, as if I had caught a cold. Not as if my organs had been failing and I had been a breath away from death. Before I could respond, someone burst into the room shouting that Sabrina had poisoned herself. Sebastian stood up and rushed out at once, his steps hurried and almost frantic. He never noticed that my prescription was missing a key herb. Just like that, the antidote that was supposed to save me became a poison that quietly sped up my death. That was when the Moon Goddess spoke inside my mind. [You can only return to the human world if you die at the hands of your fated mate. But are you sure you want this?] I lowered my gaze to the prescription in my hand, the ink still fresh. Sebastian himself had written it. The same hands that saved countless lives had just written the final prescription that would end mine. "I'm sure," I whispered.

This isn't your typical Bad boy meets Good Girl story. Oh no. You see the thing is, our Bad boy, is actually a bad man. Ruthlessly determined to get what he wants. Ignore the fact that his life is painfully dangerous, or the constant threat of death that seemed to follow him, or the slew of bodies slain in his wake. (Details! Details!) But Does his intense mocha orbs burrow through your skin and casually stroll along the shores of your soul? Does his luscious dark hair - messily - sway and bend at the will of his slender fingers, and yet, by some miracle seem to always look perfect? A MILLION TIMES YES! Does he always wear black and look formidable yet absolutely ravishing? Do you even have to ask? Reid J. Dawson, has a skill set that is unique and almost unmatched. He is well travelled, intelligent and fancy’s himself a man of particular tastes. Our bad man, however, is not exactly who he says he is, his past has put him on a daunting path one he has no choice but to follow. Reid would burn the world to achieve his goals but nothing could be have prepared him for the danger that came with the saucy, firecracker who is sent barrelling his way. His conviction and his controlling nature is put to the test when his world clashes with a gut-wrenchingly beautiful, stubborn girl. Our “good girl” isn't ‘typical’, She has a mouth on her. Filter? Practically nonexistent. Maya Dupree, is an aspiring editor who always has her head in a book. She is a witty, outspoken fire cracker who certainly has her eccentricities but that never stopped her. What happens when a fearless good girl uncovers the secrets hidden behind the man in all black.

To transfer my sister, Suri Voss, who was 13 years younger than I was, to a new school district, I took 7 days of annual leave and went back to my hometown. I pulled strings, delivered gifts, called in favors, and finally forced a spot for her in the best middle school in the city. At last, when I could pause long enough to catch my breath, I told Mom, who was heading out to buy groceries, that I wanted grilled pork ribs for dinner. Suri walked over with a cold expression, then threw a full glass of icy water straight onto my head and pointed at my face as she exploded. "You country leech, mooching off our family for years, eating our food and living in our house whenever you feel like it. I let all that slide. Now you want to steal my mom too? Do you have any shame at all?! "Listen carefully, Mom only has one child. She will only ever love me!" I stood there, stunned. Suri had no idea I was Mom’s biological daughter, too. All this time, she had treated me as some freeloading relative. I looked toward the doorway, where Mom was changing her shoes to go out. She seemed not to have heard a single word of Suri’s disrespect. She merely said casually, "Suri doesn’t like ribs. Let’s have grilled shrimp instead." She had forgotten that I’ve been severely allergic to seafood since childhood. I lowered my head and let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh. Unbeknownst to them, if I could secure Suri a place in that school, I could just as easily make sure she lost it.

The day I finally secured an investment worth over 20 million dollars, I walked into the office and immediately caught sight of that calculating assistant wearing a smug look as she spread gossip around. According to her, my husband, the CEO, was planning to strip me of my position and exile me to some forgotten branch in Northreach. Contract in hand, I headed straight for the CEO's office. I stood behind my husband and rubbed his temples while joking casually, "You won't believe what I just heard. Apparently, you're sending me off to a branch office. If only they knew we've been married in secret for seven years and are about to make it public." He didn't look surprised at all. He gently pushed my hand away and smiled. "It's not a rumor. Andrea messed up the last project, and the board is breathing down my neck. They want someone sent to Northreach, and they picked her. That place is brutal. She wouldn't survive it. She's not like you. She doesn't have the luxury of failure. If she goes there, her career is finished. She was my junior back in school. I can't let her life fall apart." He paused, then added softly, "Once you come back, I'll announce our marriage. And I'll make sure you get what you've always wanted. A child." I smiled, but it held no warmth. I turned around and walked out without another word. Before I reached the elevator, I made a call to his biggest competitor. "Looking for a vice president? I'm bringing 20 million dollars of funding with me. I only ask for one thing: Don't send me to Northreach."

I am Eliana Torre, the Consigliere for the Caputo Famiglia. In Deyork, a city controlled by the mafia, everyone calls me Ice Lady. They say I am the first love of many MadeMen, that I clawed my way out of the slums with sheer ability, and am just one step away from the Don of the Caputo Famiglia, Lorenzo Caputo. Only I know that for the past three years, all my hard work and persistence have been just for one goal. I want to be promoted to Senior Consigliere so that I can be worthy of Lorenzo, who is my secret boyfriend. I believe we are in love. We share so many private moments of tenderness, like the late-night embraces in the apartment, the warm breakfast that suddenly appears on my desk, and the way he quietly protects me at business dinners. Until one day, my private photos spread throughout the entire company. I go to Lorenzo for help, but outside his office, I overhear a conversation. "Lorenzo, you casually send out Eliana's intimate photos, and all her efforts over the years are wasted. She can't compete with Fiore for Senior Consigliere anymore. "But I don't get it. Eliana is so beautiful. Even if you are not attracted to her, why do you keep having your brother sleep with her in your place?" It turns out that from the very beginning, Lorenzo is with me only to pave the way for my rival, Fiore Marotta. Even the intimate moments at night are carried out by his younger brother, Vincenzo Caputo, in his place. Tears run down my face. I wipe them away and unlock my phone to buy a ticket to Grayland. Then, I start drafting my resignation letter. I will never, ever return to this city full of deception.

After having a crush on someone for 10 years, out of love, my father drugged his friend and placed him on my bed. When he woke at dawn the next morning, his eyes were ice-cold. But he still accept our engagement. However, life after marriage wasn’t as good as I thought. Mike Ashton would frequently fly abroad and stay there for a long time. I gave birth to our daughter on my own as I waited for him to return home. After four years, when I heard that he was returning home, I postponed everything and went to the airport expectantly with our daughter in my arms. Our daughter reached out her little hand and was hoping for a hug from him. He just looked at me indifferently and said in a cold voice, “I’m sorry, but I’m a neat freak.” From then on, my daughter and I would wash our hands at least three times every day and the house would be spotless. However, he still rarely came home and never gave our daughter a warm hug. That was until when I accidentally saw a video with Mike in it. “Mike, what do you think is the happiest thing in the world?” He answered casually, “I think it’s when I tucked Oliver into bed and dragged Jennifer into the bathroom when I was abroad last week.” The people around him all laughed, but my heart felt ice-cold. Jennifer Bundred was Mike’s ex-girlfriend who he still had an entanglement with and Oliver was her son. It seemed that he had been living with them during the time that he was abroad for the past four years. This fact finally made me give up all illusions. I left a divorce agreement for him, gave up my and our daughter’s identities, and went abroad to start a new life.