D 520 Fighter Novels & Stories

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" burst onto the scene like a traveling circus promising wonders. The idea was plain enough: "If you reckon someone's life is a mess, and you think you can do better, go ahead and prove it. There's a reward waiting if you do." Before I knew it, my whole family had me pegged for the fool in the middle of the show. There was my mother, dreaming of turning me into some grand goose; my husband, who'd spent years dodging his rightful share of the family load; and my son, mortified by the very sight of me. They shoved me onto the "judgment seat" like I was the villain of the tale. Every last one of them swore up and down that, given my place, they'd manage my life better than I ever could. The stakes? Well, if they pulled it off, my consciousness would be erased—gone, wiped out like a mistake on a chalkboard—and turned into their personal servant. On top of that, they'd waltz off with a cool million dollars. But if they couldn't? Then I'd be the one raking in three million dollars. Now that's a gamble for the ages, isn't it?

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.

By the time I hit twenty without a husband, I'd become the joke of Butcher's Alley. I wasn't about to just take it, so I marched out to the pauper's graveyard and dragged home a half-dead man I found there. He was gorgeous. More handsome than any portrait I'd ever seen. It didn't matter that he'd lost his memory and wasn't quite right in the head. It didn't matter that he couldn't lift a crate or carry a load, that he nearly fainted dead away the first time he watched me slaughter a pig. I slapped my knee and made up my mind. "You're the one. You handle looking pretty, and I'll handle bringing home the bacon." I named him Walt and treated him like he was made of glass. I fed him well, kept him comfortable, and slowly nursed him back to health until his cheeks were full and his skin was soft. Then I started planning the wedding. On our wedding night, I'd just gotten his wedding coat off when the front door flew off its hinges. Hundreds of royal guards dropped to their knees all at once, their voices shaking the walls. "Welcome back to the capital, Grand Chancellor!" I looked down at the man beneath me. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by something cold and sharp. The belt I'd been holding snapped right in two. I was done for. I'd been bossing around the most powerful man in the empire for six months and using him as a house husband. Was I looking at death by slow torture, or would they wipe out my entire family?

Sext Buddy: [I’d do anything to fuck you right now.] Alicia: [I want you so bad too…really.] During the summer, Alicia has been sexting with a total stranger in hopes that she’d never meet him. At the beginning of college, her mum tells her that they have a guest. She meets the stranger she was constantly sexting. But then, what happens when the stranger is her cousin?

But as much as I loved him, there were cracks in our perfect marriage. Damien didn’t want children. He’d been clear about it from the start, even though I had always dreamed of being a mother. He’d smile that charming smile of his and say, “Pups will tie us down, my love. You’re so beautiful and vibrant and pregnancy would change that. I want you to stay just as you are.”

I'd been bonded to my mate, Brandon Blackstone, the Alpha heir of the Blackstone pack, for three years. But I'd never been allowed to attend his family dinners. Every full moon, I could only stay home alone. Brandon said it was a centuries-old tradition of the Blackstone pack. Only after passing a long probationary period, proving absolute loyalty to the pack and one's mate, would someone be allowed to attend the Alpha's family dinners. I'd believed him for three whole years. But now, I'd found three photos in his car. In the background, I could see a long table laden with a variety of fruits and delectable dishes. The Alpha and Luna raised their glasses beside the statue of the Moon Goddess, standing quietly to the side. And beside Brandon stood a beautiful she-wolf. Moonlight spilled down, and I could clearly see how close they were standing, their fingers tightly interlaced. That was when I finally understood. Not being allowed to attend the dinners was never about some probationary period. It was because Brandon, or rather the entire Blackstone pack, believed that the person qualified to stand beside the future Alpha would never be me.

The healer told me I had Soul Decay Syndrome. In three days, I'd be dead. The only thing that could save me was water from the Sacred Spring. But my Alpha mate, Vincent, gave it to my adopted sister, Fiona. So, during the final 72 hours of my life, I gave up everything. When I handed Fiona the perfume formulas I'd spent years developing, my parents smiled in satisfaction. When I gave up the couples' vacation package I'd won and let Vincent take Fiona to see the Northern Lights instead, he praised me for finally being mature. When I taught my daughter to call Fiona "Mom", she didn't hesitate. She turned to me without a second thought and called me "Aunt." To my family, all my sacrifices were only natural. "Fiona is a frail human. Her lifespan is much shorter." "We'll love you properly later. We'll make it up to you." I let out a mocking laugh. There was no later for me. I'd never live long enough to receive their love. And after I died, they lost their minds with regret.

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.

It was in our bedroom that I first found out about Nathaniel Foster's affair. My anger got the better of me, and I demanded a divorce right away. Nathaniel broke down into tears and claimed it was a drunken mistake. He went down on his knees, begging for my forgiveness. He cried, "I'll jump off this building if we get a divorce!" I relented, and things went on like this for five years. He was the sweetest, gentlest husband ever since that day. It was as if he was trying to pretend that night never happened, like I'd never noticed his infidelity. Everyone told me Nathaniel could throw his life away for me. Then, his mother's 60th birthday came. She blurted, "Where's your son, Nathaniel? I'd like to see him." That stunned me, but then I thought she'd gotten the date wrong. So, I smiled. "Melanie, the delivery date's in two months." Melanie shot me a calm look. She muttered under her breath, "Ah, so you still don't know about the boy." Something squeezed my heart, and my eyes darted to Nathaniel. Nathaniel put his silverware down. "I have a five-year-old son." He spoke as if he'd just listed out his grocery list for next Tuesday.

The day I decided to marry the heir to one of the East Coast's wealthiest families, my ex-boyfriend Jack Harris showed up in my dream again. This time was different from all the others. He was on his knees in front of me, sobbing until his voice gave out. "Nora, I regret it." "Won't you come back to me?" The old me would have softened. But this time, I woke up and only wanted to laugh. For ten years I thought I dreamed of him because I couldn't let go, that I was pathetic for it. Then my best friend, a therapist, told me a colleague of hers had picked up a very strange client, a man who'd sold off everything he owned to learn a form of hypnosis that let him control people's dreams deeply. That man was Jack Harris. His wife was Vivian, the classmate who'd bullied me for years. The three of us had grown up together, childhood friends from the same small town. He'd tormented me for ten years, dumping me a different way in my dreams every single night, all to keep Vivian happy. And now he had me listening to his confessions in my dreams. It wasn't his conscience turning over. It was so I'd kill myself, so my heart could be transplanted into Vivian whole and undamaged. What he never imagined was that I'd found out everything ahead of time. This time, I was going to watch this rotten pair destroy themselves, one rotting away in his dreams, the other rotting in a hospital bed.