Clair Obscur Expedition 33

Her father made her marry an absolute stranger, and for six years, he abandoned her, ignoring all of her advances to make their marriage work out. Now she wants a divorce, but he refuses to let her go. "Fine. If you're not going to let me go, I'll make sure this works out for all of eternity, Mr Damon. You're mine."

This book is for viewers above the age of 18. It may contain explicit and violent scenes not suitable for all viewers. If you're not into dark romance you might find this disturbing. Her body hit the wall, her breath trembling as her eyes darted across my face. I knew that look — the one that screams lust. It made my mouth water instantly. “Stay back,” she gasped, her voice unsteady. But I did the opposite. As our bodies pressed together, I felt her tremble beneath me. “I just want you and that… that—” she faltered, the words dying as my hands found her hips. “That what, Mrs. Claire?” I murmured. She swallowed hard. Mrs. Claire — the woman who lets desire consume her. The woman I can’t get out of my head. --- Mrs. Claire: How did I find myself in this mess? I only wanted them to leave my family alone. But now… here I am, caught in a scandal of my own. What happens when your husband's mistress boyfriend becomes your Dom.

My mother sells special éclairs. Each one costs a thousand dollars, but the female customers fight each other to buy them. They look like they can't get enough. My sister wants to take a box to share with her boyfriend when she sees how popular they are. However, my mother firmly rejects her. She says she's the only one who can touch those éclairs. My sister refuses to listen. She secretly sneaks into the freezer in the basement. Then, in the middle of the night, I hear her wanton moans.

Luna Roja Villacencio thought she was living a normal life, until the blood moon on her eighteenth year's existence changed her entire belief in life. Little by little, piece by piece, the questions about her life have been answered in the most cruel and confusing way. How could she live normally, if she, herself, was not normal at all? Could she still do her best to live despite all the obscures that are obscured by the people she trusted the most?

We were supposed to be in love for eternity. But my vampire fiancé, Caius, has stood me up at our blood-bonding ceremony thirty-three times. The first time, the girl he’d sired, Evangeline, lost control during a hunt. He raced to her side, leaving me alone in the church under the blood moon. The second time, he vanished mid-ceremony because Evangeline was being bullied by another clan. He left me to face the elders’ mockery alone. After that, his little fledgling always had some fresh disaster for him to avert. And he always had an excuse: “I sired her. She’s like a child to me.” Then I saw the fresh bite marks on their necks. They had shared blood—the ultimate intimacy between mates. My heart turned to ash. It was time to burn our betrothal to the ground. The day I finally disappeared, he went mad, tearing our world apart to find me.

The day my husband, Reece Malcolm, reached the pole for his polar expedition, his childhood sweetheart who was sent away reappeared in his bedroom. Everyone had kept it from me. Erica Lowell had been by his side day and night. Though Reece said he didn't want her there, he still allowed her to stay by his side for four years as his assistant. "You have to believe me, Lucy. There's nothing between Erica and me," he used to say. Always so sure. Always so convincing. But when he returned, it was with Erica in his arms—heavily pregnant. "She threatened to kill herself, Lucy. I didn't have a choice," he said. "The baby's coming. I need you to raise it. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." Four years. Four years of silence, of waiting alone in a house that never felt like home. Now, the lawyer is hired. The assets are tallied. The divorce papers are signed and sealed. I'm done.

After secretly registering our marriage, my lawyer husband, Benedict White, proposed holding a public wedding ceremony every time he gained favor with his lover, Anna Lester. Over three years, Benedict asked me thirty-three times and broke thirty-three promises. The first time, Anna’s dog died. He said we had to mourn for three months to honor it. I stood in a wedding dress and apologized endlessly to the friends and relatives seated below the stage. The second time, Anna had menstrual pain. He turned around on the way and went to care for her. After that, every ceremony he promised came with a new problem from Anna. I cried. I protested. Yet Benedict always said, “She's just a friend with benefits. You’re my wife. Don’t be so petty about it.” After the thirty-third time, I finally grew tired. I slid a divorce agreement across the table in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

After I register my marriage with Gabriella Archer behind everyone's backs, whenever she unlocks a new bedroom position with her childhood sweetheart, Nathaniel Taylor, she tells me that she'll throw a wedding to make it up to me. In three years, Gabriella has brought the wedding up 33 times. Of course, she has broken her promise 33 times as well. The first time she did, it was because Nathaniel's dog had died. In order to pay respects to it, Gabriella told me that she couldn't host any auspicious events for three months. I was still clad in a tux as I kept apologizing and making amends to all of our family, friends, and relatives beneath the stage. The second time Gabriella flaked out on me, it was thanks to Nathaniel's stomachache. She had the wedding car turned around so that she could buy medicine for Nathaniel and take care of him. In every wedding after that, Nathaniel would get into all sorts of troubles and ailments. I fought with Gabriella, and I lost my temper multiple times. But Gabriella often hit me with, "Nate and I are just friends with benefits. You're my actual husband here, so don't be petty." After Gabriella breaks her promise for the 33rd time, I'm finally done with her. So, I slide a divorce agreement in her direction. "The cooling-off period is over, so let's just finalize the divorce."

Sylvia Frost and Victor Rothwell's wedding had been postponed 33 times. This time, it happened on the night before the ceremony. She was struck by a car and left with 19 broken bones. She was rushed to the ICU three separate times before her condition finally stabilized. Once she was strong enough to leave her bed, she braced herself against the wall and shuffled into the hallway. As she reached the corner, she overheard her fiancé speaking with a friend. "Last time it was drowning. This time you used a car. That gets you another two months. What are you going to do next?" Sylvia's blood turned to ice. Victor stood there in his white coat, his phone turning slowly in his hand. "No more delays." His voice remained flat.

Rosalie Maxwell is the breadwinner of her ungrateful family. She does everything she can for them, pays medical bills, electricity and tends to all their needs even though they've never appreciated her. The only reason she looks forward to the daily visits to her parents house is because of her grandmother, the woman who did a better job at raising her and her brother than their own mother. Taking care of her family, taking their constant ungrateful treatments, and the insults has become a normal routine for Rosalie. But one day her whole life is up in shambles when her beloved grandmother goes missing. When Rosalie finds out that her, Grandma Mary has Alzheimer's which makes Rosalie all the more scared about what may happen to her. She has nowhere to run to. So, she goes to the only person she thinks can help her. Her boss, and the man that seems to inherit space in all of her wet dreams, Nicholas Sinclair. Philanthropist, Most handsome man three times in a row on the cover of Rayview Magazine. Rosalie is ready to do anything if it means getting her grandmother back. She'll take on extra hours, whatever it takes! But what happens when Mr Sinclair wants something far different from extra hours at work? What will she do when her boss tells her what he wants? He wants, Rosie.