Ciúme

"Hey, beautiful." I turned around slowly to see a guy approaching me from the party. "I'm not interested." "But, I am." He cackled. "Well, that's too bad, huh?" I laughed, leaning against the wall as my vision cleared a bit. "Shut up." "And why should she listen to you?" That's when I noticed Tyson leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed over his chest. "And who might you be?" The guy turned to face Tyson instead of me. "Her boyfriend?" "No, but I'm the guy who just fucked your mom, and she said I should tell you how much she enjoyed it since your father can't compare." "You're a dead man walking, punk!" The guy charged at Tyson. And next thing I knew, Tyson was pulling the guy up from the floor by his shirt and shoving him towards the exit, effortlessly. I smirked. ☆☆☆☆ Ashley, the daughter of a millionaire, moves to a new city and hopes for a fresh start. With her sharp wit, she often finds herself at the center of school drama, not by choice, but by circumstances. Intent on maintaining a low profile at her new campus, her plan quickly falls apart when she mistakenly parks her bike in a reserved spot. Tyson, the school's notorious bad boy, is not just a troublemaker, but he's the youngest gang leader to be a part of a powerful mafia, feared by many but understood by few. Despite his fearsome reputation in the streets while other leaders might see him as a mere boy, Tyson is fiercely loyal to his inner circle, showing a side of him that few ever see. What will happen when their paths cross? ☆☆☆☆ "𝑫𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎." ☆☆☆☆

“Now tell me who you belong to?” Rael rasped, their breaths mingling together. He was her sister's fiancé, yet here he was, fucking her like he owned her. The feeling of being on the bed of the man her sister plans on marrying next month brought a sense of accomplishment to her being. “I'm yours, Rael. Fuck! I'm yours!” she almost screamed with another hard jab of his waist. “Wrong answer.” he muttered, pulling out of her just as she had almost reached her peak. … Blood seeped out of her chest just moments before she saw the other side of her stepsister. The sister who she trust most had not only sold her out to be raped by men from the black market, but had also had her murdered her. Her boyfriend, whom she thought loved her the most, had also been cheating on her all along. Feeling betrayed, tears rolled down the corners of her eyes as she bled, yet there was nothing she could do. She died. But fate gives her a second chance, letting her go back in time a month before her sister's wedding. She will make everyone who hurt her pay. And the first step is stealing her sister's Fiancé, Rael Morgan–A billionaire known for being the coldest man in Country M. To own him and to watch her sister break, just like how she had broken. But never would she have expected things to turn out the way it did. He now owned her, refusing to let go. What starts as her own plot spirals into something darker. He possesses her. He makes her his woman.

“Why are you doing this? I have done everything you asked me to do. Please, Clara, let it go.” Xavier pleaded. Clara stared at him and slowly let out a chuckle. “You mean nothing to me, you have never meant something and you never will. I don't love you and I never will.” “My words. Do they ring a bell?” She asked with a smile as she stared at him. His eyes were clouded with tears. “Clara… “ “Five years ago you said those words to me, now I am saying them back to you. I won't stop Xavier, not until the Blackwell’s Empire falls!” ~ Being in a loveless marriage for two years was something Clara got used to. Despite it being loveless, it was going great until her husband’s first love returned out of the blue and was carrying his child. The next minute, Clara was signing divorce papers. Not only was she divorced, she was humiliated by her husband and his family. Clara left the city and returned five years later with twins, she returned as a billionaire. Now, it was her ex-husband’s turn to chase her.…

And here I was, seated on the balcony, staring at the rain pitter and patter against the glass coverage walls with my bodyguard seated there, a book in hand. I don't know his problem. I know from his attitude that he wasn't happy to “babysit” a twenty year old, but he could have just ended his contract. He never paid me a single attention and was always reading, but strangely, he was always alert. I was the abomination he must never look at. And it made my blood boil. But not for long, though. Because every time I set eyes on him, I melt. It is forbidden, but who cares? I want him, but does he want me?

My sister gets into an accident and needs an emergency blood transfusion when I'm six months pregnant. After a round of tests, my blood is the only suitable one. I'm exhausted and too skinny after being tormented by morning sickness. I have to say no. However, my family forces me to do it. I have no strength to resist; I can only beg my husband for help. To my devastation, he stands by and watches me coldly. "It's fine for you to donate some blood since you're so healthy. Queenie isn't the same as you—she has a bright future ahead, so we can't let anything affect that." I pass out after the blood donation. The first thing I do when I wake up is make an appointment for an abortion.

I had once been the woman Theo Bennett would have risked his life to marry. For six years after our wedding, he treated me like his entire world. He even had a matching tattoo carved into his lower abdomen, identical to mine, as proof of his devotion. But in the seventh year, he coldly demanded that I make a full-body model for his kept woman. "Catherine," he said, his voice sharp with contempt, "this is the price you pay for lying to me about being my savior. You know my tastes better than anyone. Make sure you replicate Hannah's body temperature. She's pregnant. I don't want to hurt her." Hannah Moore lay limp in Theo's arms, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "How pathetic, Catherine," she mocked. "I'm pregnant, so I can't be with Theo. And yet he'd rather order a model of me than lay a finger on you. Once this one wears out, I guess I'll have to trouble you to make a few more copies of me." Only then did I understand. Theo had mistaken Hannah for the woman who once saved his life. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I didn't argue. I simply turned around and dialed Sebastian's number. "Sebastian," I said calmly, "Theo is having an affair. I want a divorce."

Después de que mi prometido, con quien crecí desde pequeña, pospusiera nuestra boda por séptima vez por culpa de su primer amor, me di cuenta de que esto no tenía sentido. Corrí al hospital para preguntarle por última vez a Juan Torres si aún quería casarse conmigo. Con paciencia, este estaba pelando una manzana para Ana Flores, quien yacía en la cama del hospital. -Sara, ya no eres una niña. Tienes que aprender a ser considerada. Podemos casarnos cuando queramos, pero Ana está enferma, ¡así que no podemos descuidarnos! El cuchillo emitió un leve crujido en la punta de sus dedos, pero me resultó muy molesto. -¡En ese caso, buscaré un nuevo novio! Sus movimientos se detuvieron y, al segundo siguiente, dijo con una sonrisa gélida: -Lo que tú digas.

"What am I to you? A trash picker?" I asked him sarcastically, looking at him from head to toe in disdain. "Lauren." he growled, clenching his fists tightly, glaring at me in disbelief. "Yeah, I know this is my name. You don't need to remind me, and please don't pop up in front of me like an unwanted ad in the middle of an interesting scene. You irritate me the most in this way." I scolded him, still with an ugly expression in disgust on my face. "So, now I disgust you, huh? Why didn't you disgust before when I." "Because I was a fool back then. I assumed a filthy rock as a gem and paid a heavy price for that." Before he could complete his sentence, I interrupted him, scolding him in a loud voice. His already widened angry eyes widened more in shock this time. I took a step forward while locking my gaze with him. "A scum like you who used me when he needed me and then slapped the divorce paper doesn't deserve even a glance from me, Gabriel. Never bother me again, or else what I will do to you, you can't even think about that." "Hey, babe. Why are you here?" I beamed when I heard his magnetic voice calling me from behind. I immediately moved towards him when Gabriel held my wrist. "You are making a mistake, Lauren," he warned me in a stiff voice. I yanked my hand from his grip and threw a disgusting gaze on him before walking towards the boy who treated me like a treasure. Gabriel’s devotion to his first love made me realize that loving myself is the only thing that can make me happy forever. I grabbed Vincent's arm with a beaming smile.

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.

It's my third day of being a ghost, and I feel like I'm going to starve to death again. The underworld messenger takes pity on me because I'm a child and secretly tells me that people like me, who suffered grievances and died with resentment, have to stay by the sides of the people who loved us most in life. Then, we survive on their "guilt". I lower my head and narrow my eyes. I choke up and say, "You might as well just leave me to starve." My mother hated me to the core. Why would she ever be guilty over my death?