Novel & Cerita Dashie Without Hat

I’m the last of a cursed bloodline. He’s the Alpha who lost everything because of mine. Matteo Cruz Valentino “El Lobo”—feared biker, mafia leader, Alpha without mercy—was never meant to be my mate. But the moon doesn’t care about grudges, and fate has no compassion. Now I’m trapped in his world. His rules. His war. He won’t love me. He won’t even look at me without hate in his eyes. But behind that hate is something raw… something breaking. He caged me in his world of darkness and violence… yet kisses me like I’m the only thing that’s ever made him feel real. And I’m not sure which will kill me first—his silence, or his touch.

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back. Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.

In a small town, Mia, a rebellious young werewolf, finds herself trapped in a dead-end job and a life she never wanted. Running away from her pack and an arranged mating, she crosses paths with Asher, a wealthy and wounded billionaire. Despite their rocky start, Asher becomes captivated by Mia's fierce spirit and the unspoken connection between them. As the world conspires to keep them apart, Mia's past comes knocking at the door, threatening to expose her secrets. In a desperate bid to protect Asher, Mia makes a heart-wrenching decision, fleeing the city and leaving him behind. Haunted by his love for Mia, Asher embarks on a relentless search, uncovering clues and enlisting help along the way. But danger lurks in the shadows. Can Mia and Asher rewrite their destinies and forge a path to happiness, or will they succumb to the forces that threaten to tear them apart forever?

“I don't want to see this angelic face of hers that deceived me and murdered my child, she disgusts me, she is nothing but a worthless, good for nothing, liar. I was so good to her and this is how she repays me? I fucking loved her, I changed who I was for her sake. I put up with her annoying and embarrassing ass but you know what, take her back to Ryan if you must, I'm sure he was so relieved when I took her off his hands but even I regret taking her.” Camilla composes herself, finding her balance but still a crying mess. “You don't mean that, you're just mad. You love me, remember?” she mummers, her gaze drifting to Santiago. “Tell him he loves me and he's just mad.” she begs, when Santiago doesn't respond, she shakes her head, her gaze falling on Adrian again and he stares at her with disdain. “You said you love me forever.” she whispers. “No, I fucking hate you right now!” He yelled. ***** Camilla Mia Burton is a Wolf less seventeen-year-old with insecurities and fear of the unknown. She is a half-human part-werewolf; she's a powerful wolf even though unaware of the power within her and has a beast too a rare gem. Camilla is as sweet as she can be. However what happens when she meets her mate and he is not what she dreamed about? He is a cruel cold-hearted eighteen years old Alpha. He is ruthless and in disapproval of Mates he wants nothing to do with her. She endeavors to change his perception of how he sees things, yet he loathes and rejects her pushing her away but the mate bond proves to be strong. What will he do when he regrets rejecting and hating her?

She is Kiara Monera—New York’s Ice Queen, an award-winning CEO who built an empire from nothing. Ruthless. Brilliant. Untouchable. She doesn’t believe in luck—only in power, control, and winning. He is Silva Blackwood—the heir to the Blackwood dynasty, feared and desired in equal measure. Arrogant. Dangerous. A man who has never been told “no.” They were supposed to marry. Not for love, but for legacy, power, and bloodlines. But Silva would rather die than marry a woman like her. And Kiara? She would never beg for a man’s love. Yet one reckless night in a dark club changes everything. A kiss that feels like war. A night that feels like surrender. And a consequence neither of them can ignore. Now, she carries a secret that could shatter her empire. And he carries a rage that could burn the world. Bound by betrayal, pride, and a baby they never planned, Kiara and Silva are forced into a dangerous marriage where passion and hate blur into obsession. But in a world where enemies wear smiles, secrets can kill, and love feels like the ultimate weakness— Can two people who would rather destroy each other than submit… Survive being tied together forever?

At the family meeting, my mafia Don husband spared his secretary one glance. I turned and walked away, canceled our wedding anniversary celebration, and decided I was done with him. I signed my name on the divorce papers I had prepared long ago. When Matteo Santoro saw the agreement, he called me at once, his voice tight with restrained anger. "What are you trying to pull this time? Is this really because I looked at Elena?" "Yes," I said. "Because you looked at her."

Noong unang beses na nakita ni Euphie ang lalaki, naisip niya: Love at first sight ba iyon? O isang nakatalagang soul mate? Pag-uwi niya, nakita niya ang isang lumang larawan ng isang matangkad at guwapong lalaki. Naglakbay siya pabalik sa panahon sa larawan, nakilala ang lalaking iyon, at natagpuan ang sagot sa tanong na iyon. Inisip niya ang lahat, ang kanyang kasintahan.

Someone had sprinkled some corrosive acid powder all over my wedding dress, the one worth over a hundred million. The moment I put it on, my flesh began to burn and dissolve. Blood and yellowish fluid pooled around me as a result. When I tried to call for an ambulance, someone’s mother held me down. She smiled cruelly and said, “You dare steal my daughter’s wedding dress? Go to hell!” However, my husband had ordered the dress from a top designer. It was one of a kind! I struggled with all my strength and shouted at her, “Do you know who I am? How dare you touch me?!” Her daughter, Yelena Stone, then grabbed a knife and stabbed me hard in my pregnant belly. She sneered and said, “You stole my man, but you have the audacity to yell at me? Fine. I’ll just spend a little more to end your worthless life.” My worthless life? I laughed. My hands were stained with blood as I called my brother, Hunter Sinclair, an elite in Jinvell’s social circles. “Hunter! Someone’s trying to kill me! And tell Jacob to get here now!”

As I casually opened the online forum, a trending post at the top caught my eye. [Share the wildest thing you’ve ever done.] I clicked on the second comment, which seemed to contain just one line. [Without a doubt, it was the night before my buddy’s wedding when I had his wife come over for a “quality check.”] However, the poster kept adding to the thread. [That night, the woman tricked that idiot into thinking it was a bachelorette party, but she actually spent the whole night at my place. [She said she didn’t want to sleep with just one man forever and needed one last wild night before tying the knot. [By the end of the night, her throat was nearly raw from all the screaming. [We kept going until sunrise, right there in the wedding car her husband was supposed to pick her up later that day.] [Not only that, but even after they got married, this fool kept bringing his wife over to my place for dinner. [He’d help me in the kitchen while I pinned his wife against the fridge and kissed her. [He’d be glued to the game in the living room while his wife knelt in the bathroom and took care of me. [One time, when he passed out drunk on my couch, his wife and I had our own fun on the carpet beside him. [Every time he rolled over, we’d both jump. It was the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any moment.] The image loaded, revealing the familiar interior of the wedding car. The lucky charm I had given my wife dangled from the rearview mirror. My fingers momentarily stiffened, and I nearly dropped my phone. A wave of nausea rolled in my stomach as a chill crept up my spine. Just then, a hand appeared in my field of vision, waving in front of me. “Calvin, what are you zoning out for? You’re at my place, and you’re still on your phone. Come on. Dig in while it’s hot.” Wyatt Preston, my friend, grinned at me. Yet, his eyes kept straying toward my wife, Queenie Jennings, who was sitting beside me.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*