Crochet Passion Twists Mga Nobela at Kwento

Seven years after I lost my wolf, I watched my mate, Alpha Glen, get his heart ripped out and his body torn apart. The pack demanded the killer's name. I bit through my tongue and kept my mouth shut. Lena, Glen's childhood friend, hated me with everything she had. Six-year-old Nick cried and asked why I hadn't saved his father. I shoved them all away. Then the pack broke my leg and cast me out. For fifteen years, I drifted. I barely stayed alive in a dead northern town, wolfsbane buried in my bones, one leg ruined, half-crippled, waiting to die like some rogue. The day the door crashed open, Nick was already Alpha. He grabbed my chin, his eyes burning with pure hate. "You hid the murderer. You don't deserve to be my mother. "Take her back to Thanis. Strap her to the Mindfang Rig. I want the truth—even if that machine kills her." I thought that device would kill me. But when the truth was finally ripped into the open, Nick dropped to his knees and broke down, calling me Mother. Lena wanted to die to beg my forgiveness. And the whole pack lost its mind.

On the eve of the wedding, my fiancé's adopted sister was drugged at a bar and called for help. Her body was burning with fever. I grabbed my fiancé as he was about to rush out. "Take her to the hospital. Doctors have proper antidotes." Julian Zane slapped me for suggesting that. There was a savagery in his eyes I had never seen before. "Nora, do you have any conscience at all? Elena is suffering a fate worse than death, and you're still nitpicking?" He yanked off his tie and spoke in a hoarse tone. "She's the sister I've cherished since childhood. I will save her even if I have to sacrifice myself to do it." I watched him undo his shirt buttons with his trembling fingers. Elena, flushed and feverish, fell into his arms. The private room door slammed shut in front of me. The sounds of passion inside struck me like blow after blow, shattering five years of blind devotion into dust.

An unexpected pregnancy, a love shattered by fear, and a desperate struggle to reclaim what was lost. "The Billionaire's Ex-Girlfriend" delves into the story of Ana and Diego, whose relationship was torn apart by mistrust and apprehensions. After Ana decides to raise her child alone and embark on a new life, fate plays its hand and brings them together once again. However, Diego, now consumed by remorse and certain that the child is truly his, is determined to win Ana back. While he seeks to rebuild trust and prove his love, Maria, Diego's current girlfriend, will stop at nothing to sabotage their reconciliation. Amidst breathtaking twists, cunning intrigues, and an enduring passion, Ana and Diego must confront their deepest fears and fight against all odds to discover if their love is strong enough to weather the storms of the past. "The Billionaire's Ex-Girlfriend" is a captivating tale of love, redemption, and choices that shape the future, taking readers on an emotional rollercoaster that will leave them eagerly anticipating each new chapter.

George Sunther doesn't show up on the day we're supposed to get engaged. His family is nowhere to be seen either. Mom's and Dad's faces become increasingly darker as our relatives whisper disapprovingly. I'm about to contact George when I see a social media update from Winona Sunther, the Sunther family's adopted daughter. "From today onward, we're siblings and also spouses." A photo of her and George decked out in wedding attire while holding each other close is attached. Later, I find George, and he says guiltily, "Winnie is pregnant out of wedlock, and her boyfriend has made a run for it. I have to marry her first so that her reputation remains untainted. It's all so she can have the baby without any hitches." I'm stunned. The invitations for our wedding have already been sent out! George wraps an arm around my waist, his tone as gentle as always. "I'll marry you once the baby is born, okay? You're the only woman I'll call my wife, Mary. You have to trust me." I look into his eyes, which I had once loved with all my heart. My heart twists painfully. He's always like this. He always tells me I have to be more tolerant and magnanimous when it comes to Winona because she's his sister. I watch as he leaves in a hurry after answering a call from Winona. Then, I stop hesitating and call my parents. "Mom, is the Zowski family still up for a wedding?"

On the streets of Milan, our nanny, Fiona, livestreamed my son’s limited-edition sneakers. A few days later, she shockingly transformed into my son’s stepmother. I overheard Anthony telling Fiona, “Once Francesca signs the divorce papers, all her assets will be ours.” Anthony was the man I had loved for ten years and had defied my family to marry. I took a step back, pretending to break down in tears, trembling as I told him I would give him anything as long as he didn’t go through with the divorce. What they didn’t know was that I had just dialed the number I hadn’t called in ten years. In a low voice, I said, “Father, the game is over. Your heiress, the principessa, is coming home.”

My wife and I slept in separate beds for over three years. Then on our wedding anniversary, she suddenly tried to win me over. She climbed into my bed and pulled out all the stops, trying to get me to sleep with her. I stayed calm and collected. When our son started crying, I used it as an excuse to escape to his room, where I stayed all night. Vivian Hartley spent the entire night knocking on the door. The next morning, she acted sweet and gentle, graciously making me breakfast as if nothing had happened. She even tried to hand over her salary card. When my mother-in-law heard about this, she exploded at her daughter. "You pathetic fool! People need some self-respect! If you can't stand up for yourself, just get a divorce already!" Yet Vivian claimed her feelings for me ran so deep that the heavens themselves could vouch for her sincerity. She even defied her own mother. Our relatives and friends looked at us with envy. But my son and I continued to give her the cold shoulder. Finally, Vivian turned to social media for help. "Three years ago, I was busy with work. My husband and I had completely different schedules. I was afraid it would affect my performance at work, so I suggested we sleep in separate rooms. "Now our child is older, and I've swallowed my pride to try to fix things, but my husband won't even touch me." Someone in the comments gave her some advice: install hidden cameras around the house. "We can't just take your word for it. Record everything so we can see what's really going on. Plus, if things actually end in divorce, at least you'll have built up your social media following. It won't be a total loss." Vivian had no idea I was watching from among her followers.

When my daughter, Lily Gage, has a parent-teacher meeting going on, she requests that my wife, Melody Hutton, and I attend it. Yet, Melody doesn't inform me about the meeting. Instead, she takes her secretary, Benjamin Carter, to the meeting. After the meeting, Melody explains that she doesn't have the heart to interrupt me, seeing as I'm too busy with work. In order to maintain the peace of this family, I decide to endure Melody's shenanigans just this once. But one day, Lily has gotten into a fight with another student at school. By the time I arrive, I witness Benjamin dealing with the situation with Lily in his arms. After asking Lily's teacher for more information, I find out that Lily has actually changed an emergency contact. Apparently, she has filled in Benjamin's contact information in the father's column. Also, Melody has given her permission for Lily to make the change. At that moment, I've lost all interest in staying in this family. That night, I bring up divorce in front of Melody. She just smiles mockingly at me. "So, you want to get divorced just because Benjamin's an emergency contact now?" "That's right."

When the mafia heir, Marco Gallante, barged into the family vault with his mistress, I was standing before the Virgin Mary statue, cross-checking bloodstained ledgers. Fiore Albero cowered behind him, pointing at the ledgers in my hands and shrieking, "Marco, I'm scared..." I did not even bother looking up, just flicked the ash off my cigar. However, Marco kicked the desk over with one swift boot. "Chiara Moltisanti, Fiore can't stand the sight of all this blood and violence. Sign the divorce papers, now!" I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, thinking back to the pregnancy report the family doctor had handed me just ten minutes ago. The Gallante bloodline was dying out in this generation. Ever since the eldest son, Luca Gallante, died in that accident, Marco became the sole heir. The Don, Carmine Gallante, dreamed of nothing more than a legitimate boy of pure blood to carry on the family name and glory. So, I smiled, bright and sharp, with unmistakable mockery. "Perfect. Since you want true love, then the Don's throne will never be yours." Besides, I never wanted Marco, that useless fool. What I wanted was the Gallante empire, a mafia dynasty spanning three continents with 100 years of roots, and the control that left him with nowhere to run and no legs to stand on. This time, I would cut him out completely, keep the bloodline, and sit at the head of the family.

"Mommy, you have to be the first person to come pick me up, okay?" These are my daughter Dorothy Grant's final words to me when she walked me out of the house this morning. But when I stand at the kindergarten's entrance with a box of Dorothy's favorite strawberry shortcake in my hands, the security guard just stares at me as though I lost my mind. "Ma'am, this place might be where Sunflower Kindergarten is located, but it has already closed its doors for three years. This place is now a retirement home." I rush into the "kindergarten" instantly. The spot where the slide used to be is now replaced by a row of flowerbeds. The room that used to be the classroom now hosts a bunch of elderly people, who bask in the sunlight. With trembling hands, I call my husband, Chester Grant, on the phone. He sounds very exasperated and exhausted over the phone. "Honey, we've been married for five years, and we choose to be childless. You've never given birth before."

My grandfather, the company’s chairman, had an unmistakable obsession with pink. Not only had he decorated his entire house in soft rosy hues, but he even had his newly purchased Rimac Nevera repainted in blush pink. I was home for the summer. On the day he got his new car, he excitedly asked me to drive him to work. We had just entered the underground parking garage when a black Rolls-Royce suddenly blared its horn and sped up to cut in front of me. It then slammed on the brakes without warning. Unable to react in time, I crashed straight into it. The driver lowered his window and cursed at me. His face was twisted with arrogance. “Are you blind? Vixen, can’t you drive?” Swallowing my anger, I retorted, “You were the one who deliberately cut me off. How can you twist this around and blame me?” He let out a mocking snort. “You women in pink cars are hopeless drivers, yet you still blame others? You had it coming. You must be a new intern. Let me tell you something. You’ve just hit the chairman’s car. Get ready to go bankrupt!” My grandfather and I exchanged a baffled look. If that was the chairman’s car, what were we in?