Date A Live Volume 15 Translation Novels & Stories

Just days after being discharged from the hospital, my husband’s adopted sister, Wendy Crowley, went live. Crying on a rooftop, she accused me of causing her miscarriage. "The ultrasound already showed it was a boy… and that woman took his life! "She can’t have children herself, so she couldn’t stand that I could. I want her to pay for my child’s death!" My husband, Tristan Crowley, believed every word. "Wendy, I failed to protect you. If I’d known she hated you this much, I would’ve locked her away long ago." The livestream sparked outrage. Everyone demanded justice. "This is murder. She’s rotten to the core!" "Where’s the law? Lock her up immediately!" However, when Tristan and Wendy tracked me down–still streaming live–everyone watching… broke down in tears.

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

Nine years into our marriage, Linda Chancers was constantly surrounded by admirers. She enjoyed captivating inexperienced young men, making them infatuated with her.I understood and accepted it while she took pleasure in it.We continued quietly like this for nine years. It wasn’t until the day I achieved success and left without looking back. That night, Linda smashed everything in the house and grabbed my collar, screaming, "So, all these years, you've never loved me!"Love?What I loved, what I wanted, was nothing more than status and wealth.

“Are you trying to punish me? I…I don't know how many times I can apologize even if it wasn't my fault that I almost—” “I never asked you to. You do whatever you want, Niya, and I really don't care. Neither should you bother with what I do.” “You're hurt. You're hurt, Alex, and you're acting out. Don't worry we could talk this through. This isn't you.” I try to reach him again but he shoots me a deadly glare that pierces through my skin like a dagger. “Sure it is. You've just never seen me like this. You don't know what I look like when I'm not in love with you,” his brows grow together. “Now we’ve had enough of your drama. You'll find the papers and enjoy the party or use the fucking door.” He pulls away and my eyes cloud again. My ears and heart find it hard to process what is actually going on. The looks on their faces tell me it is awfully too late—I have already lost everything. “Niya, careful now,” my grandmother slowly tugs at my arm as if that will somehow make everything better. “We have guests. Don’t cause a scene.” A scene? I have literally just seen a whole movie, ma. ************* My name is Niya Kendrick. I’m 25, an author who once believed she had the perfect life. But how quickly can everything I love be stripped away in the blink of an eye? Or worse, what if the life, the family I’ve cherished has always been a blatant lie, a mere fragment of the truth? Now, I’m awake, and reality is far harsher than any dream.

In the third year that I've been diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, Xenia Jensen, the ex-girlfriend whom I have "abandoned" back then, barges into my rented apartment with the rest of her team that she leads as a police captain. Every day, I have to rely on large amounts of morphine just so I can force myself to stand like a regular human being. I can only twitch violently as I try to grab a pill bottle on the table, my skin completely riddled with needle marks. Xenia chuckles icily as she savors how pathetic I look. "Oh? It's been seven years since we last met, and yet I never thought you'd stoop so low as to become a drug addict. "Where did your gusto to get a better, richer girlfriend go? I can't believe you're willing to humiliate yourself just for some so-called medicine!" As soon as Xenia's words fall, I point at the pill bottle with a trembling finger. "Please, officer… Can you please give me my medicine?" Xenia chortles in response. She picks up the bottle before walking toward the bathroom, soon flushing it down the toilet. "You want your medicine? Go ask the peeps at the rehab for it! It seems both your heart and your body are rotten to the core after you left me for another woman!" I'm in so much pain that I'm convulsing violently right now. "Oh… Then… Am I going to die?" I curl up on the floor, hoping to tide over the latest wave of pain by using the method my doctor has taught me. But Xenia merely gazes at me coldly from the side. In fact, she starts recording me, saying that she wants to make me a living negative example.

A week after my engagement, I was delivered an unusual engagement gift. My phone chimed. I glanced down and saw a push notification from a social app. [Fell in love with a female livestreamer right before my engagement. I feel guilty toward my older girlfriend who's about to become my fiancée—how should I deal with this?] The user ID was "SimonLovesClaire." The profile picture showed a melancholy side view of a man wrapped in a gray scarf. I recognized him instantly. It was my fiancé, Simon Aldrich. That limited-edition scarf was the birthday gift I had given him last year.

Struggling college student Lena Carter works late-night deliveries to keep herself afloat, surviving on tips, exhaustion, and determination. Every night she delivered to his door. Every night he gave her another reason to stay. Lena thought Adrian Cole was just a customer. She was wrong. He was temptation in a tailored suit. And once he decided he wanted her— walking away was never part of the story. What begins with after-hours orders and dangerous flirtation soon spirals into a passionate connection neither of them can control. The deeper she falls, the harder it becomes to tell where attraction ends… and obsession begins. Because Adrian doesn’t pursue halfway. And Lena may be the one thing he refuses to let go. Late Night Deliveries: The After Hours is a seductive romance filled with longing, tension, possessive love, and the kind of chemistry that burns hottest after dark. Some deliveries arrive late. Some change everything.

Ryo is a cute fun loving girl that is hopelessly and completely in love with the school's IT guy. She spends hours dreaming of what it would be like to date and fall in love with Oliver. In her mind they are the perfect match, there is nothing that can stop them from being together. But in the real world they can't be together. They lead two very different lives. They are as different as night and day Ryo is content with loving Oliver from a distance. She has made peace with the fact that they will never be. But when she and Oliver are forced to work together on a school project everything changes. Will she be able to keep her love for him a secret. Will she be able to keep her feelings to herself.

“I know you’re pregnant, Valentina. That’s why you have to die tonight. Two lives for the price of one. Efficiency was always my strong suit.” On her third wedding anniversary, Valentina is gifted a shallow grave. Her husband, Kennedy, was never a billionaire. He was a fraud who drugged her, watched her drown in a poisoned bath, and buried her so he could marry his mistress. He never expected the gardener to hesitate. Never imagined she would claw her way out of the mud, pregnant, broken, and alive. And he certainly didn’t expect her to return. Dragged from the storm by Ian Kingston, a titan so powerful Kennedy is nothing more than a disposable employee, Valentina finds herself mistaken for Misha, Ian’s vanished wife. “You have 365 days to prove you aren’t her, little bird. Until then, you wear my name, share my bed, and follow my rules.” Trapped in a ruthless case of mistaken identity, Valentina signs the contract and becomes Misha Kingston, cold, untouchable, wrapped in emerald silk and Ian’s dangerous protection. The next time Kennedy sees the wife he buried, she isn’t in a coffin. She’s on his boss’s arm. Wearing a crown. Looking down at him from a throne he can never touch. But Valentina hides a child conceived by her enemy… While being claimed by a king who refuses to let her go. He buried a wife. Now he’ll kneel before a goddess.

Mabel Landry and I have been in love with each other for ten years. Our relationship has started since our school days, and we've been married for years. All in all, we're the perfect couple that everyone envies. But I get into an accident on our tenth year anniversary. When Mabel arrives at the hospital, she looks at me with pain and sorrow in her eyes. "Why are you this careless, Dustin? If anything does happen to you, I might as well die!" I'm about to console Mabel when I suddenly see two live comments streaking across my vision. "Mabel Landry is nothing but a filthy cheater! Despite that loving facade of hers, the truth is, she's already slept with her side piece behind Dustin's back!" "When will Dustin finally realize that Mabel has already cheated on him with someone else?"