Comix Wave Films

I had argued with Tiffany Jensen at the construction site over a 15-dollar BBQ plate, and the fight had spiraled out of control. Clutching my throbbing head, I watched as she stuffed the freshly cashed paycheck into her pocket. "Are you ever going to let this go? You just want me to pay for your meal, don't you? You're always complaining about headaches and dizziness. I think you're just lazy!" I wanted to tell her about the flashes of luxury that kept appearing in my mind, images I could not explain. However, the words stuck in my throat as another wave of vertigo hit me. By the time I steadied myself and caught up to her, she was already climbing into a black Rolls-Royce Cullinan. Their mocking voices drifted out through the car window. Someone said, "I thought your little 'real-life experience' would be fun, but this is it? You even argued over a meal." Another person laughed along. "Tiffany, Mr. Jensen's about to have a heart attack over this. Now that he's finally agreed to let you date Ethan Parker, just dump this loser already. Are you planning to support him for the rest of his life?" Tiffany replied without hesitation, "He's a nobody who doesn't even know who he is, and he thinks he deserves someone like me?" It turned out that after I lost my memory, I had become nothing more than a pawn in a wealthy heiress' rebellion game. I turned to leave, my heart sinking. Just then, an unknown number flashed across my phone screen. I answered without thinking. "Mr. Shaw, this is Alfred Wright, your family's butler. You've been missing for five years! Your grandfather is dying, and he wants to see you one last time." I glanced back at the car disappearing into the distance and said, "Alfred, come pick me up."

“You want this,” Leo murmured, his thumb slowly tracing the nape of my neck. His face hovered dangerously close to mine, so close that I forgot how to breathe. A gasp escaped me when he pushed my dress higher, exposing my thighs as his hands settled between them. I turned my head away, trying to escape the intensity of his gaze, the way it seemed to see straight through me. “Your body says otherwise,” he said softly. His lips trailed down my neck, leaving a path of heat behind until they reached my bare chest. The sensation sent a sharp shiver down my spine. Goosebumps erupted across my skin as I inhaled sharply. I tried to speak, but the words refused to come. He had that effect on me. When his tongue brushed and sucked on my nipple, a soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. “You’re trembling,” he whispered against my skin. I shouldn’t be here. I should stay away from this man. But he had already worked his way into my thoughts, invading them every single day. My body betrayed me, responding to him in ways I couldn’t control. It was supposed to be one night. I swallowed, forcing the words out as his fingers rubbed my core, making me arch forward instinctively against him. “I don’t want you.” “Interesting,” Leo said lazily, his finger hooking lightly against the strap of my thong. “Because you’re still here.” My eyes fluttered closed as a wave of sensation rushed through me. I was lying, and he knew it. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Leo,” I whispered. He leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “Give me one good reason, and I’ll stop.” “Because… you’re my best friend’s fiancé.”

Four years ago, at my mating ceremony with Alpha Damien, a witch publicly prophesied: "The powerful Alpha will betray the mate bond." Damien unleashed a terrifying wave of Alpha dominance on the spot, forcing the witch to her knees. He gripped my hand tightly and declared before the entire pack that I was his one and only mate. For three years of our marriage, he was flawless—devoted, attentive, beyond reproach. Until a year ago, when he was gravely wounded during a border patrol and rescued by a stunningly beautiful rogue Omega named Selene. Selene fell for Damien at first sight. She even knelt at his feet in front of me, crying: "I don't want anything in return. Just let me stay near you—I'd be your mistress with no title if that's what it takes." Damien shoved her away without hesitation and coldly ordered her placed at the edge of the territory, never allowing her within arm's reach. In that moment, I trusted him completely. I believed our mate bond was unbreakable. Selene asked seductively. "Alpha, who's better in bed—me, or your dignified little Luna? Your cock fucks me so good every time." Damien's low, ragged breathing filled the audio. He slapped her ass and warned coldly: "Don't get ideas above your station. Elena is my only Luna. You're just a bitch I use to blow off steam." Selene pouted with a coy whine: "I'll happily be your bitch as long as you keep fucking me." The video ended. Immediately after, an anonymous text popped up: "You sit in the Luna's seat. I'm in the Alpha's bed. Now we're even." I sat there all night, silently printing out a termination agreement for our mate bond. Since that's how it is, then I'll grant your wish. But after I left, the powerful Alpha went mad.

In order to gather 500 thousand dollars for my blind girlfriend's surgical bills, I've accepted a delivery order that's meant for someone at a private racing club. The huge floor-to-ceiling monitor is currently playing the live footage of the champion who's won the racing tournament. Champagne bottles can be seen spraying everywhere as the audience cheers loudly for the victor. Soon, the champion takes off her helmet and shakes her head full of curls off her face. Strikingly beautiful features are revealed the next moment. Next to the champion stands her childhood friend, Lewis Ross. I feel my hands clenching around the plastic bag containing the food containers. The woman shown on the screen is none other than Evelyn Carter, my so-called blind girlfriend. "Why aren't you happy even though you've won the tournament, Evelyn? Are you missing that boyfriend of yours who's still working his ass off for money?" A familiar voice comes from the lounge. An amused yet malicious smirk is played on Evelyn's lips at the moment. "Why did you bring him up? Then again, it's thrilling, pretending to be blind and all. Whenever he changes his clothes at home, he does it right in front of me." Everyone around Evelyn begins roaring with cheers. "You're so lucky, Ms. Carter!" After taking a sip from her champagne glass, Evelyn responds in a flippant tone, "Lucky? He's so busy with work every day just to gather enough money for my surgical bills! That man doesn't have a single romantic cell in him—he's just as stiff as the stick up his ass!" A wave of laughter echoes from the crowd once again. Feeling as though my blood had turned to ice, I turn on my heel and begin walking out of the club. I can still hear Lewis' cheeky voice ringing out from behind me. "There are only three days left in our one-year bet, Evelyn. Don't tell me you really fell for your boyfriend!" Evelyn merely snorts in response. She drawls back, "Don't worry. I'll dump him in three days."

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.