Db Super Universe 6

Dua tahun yang lalu, terjadi pembantaian para prajurit yang bertugas di sebuah pos jaga pedalaman. Komandan pos, putra seorang jenderal, dituduh menjadi pelakunya meskipun ia juga tewas dalam pembantaian itu. Sang jenderal tidak menerima tuduhan itu. Ia menyewa penyelidik swasta tuna rungu, Rimba, untuk menyelidiki kasus tersebut. Penyelidikan membawa Rimba pada Sakti, seorang perwira super yang selalu sukses dalam menjalankan misi. Rimba mencurigai Sakti sebagai pelaku pembantaian sesungguhnya. Demi kelancaran penyelidikan, Rimba mendekati Widya, adik angkat Sakti yang merupakan seorang polwan. Rimba tidak menyadari bahwa Sakti amat terobsesi pada Widya, sehingga kedekatan Rimba dan Widya membuat Sakti curiga dan mengancam Rimba. Belakangan, penyelidikan kasus pembantaian tersebut malah mengungkap berbagai kasus kematian lainnya yang berkaitan dengan Sakti. Menyadari betapa berbahayanya Sakti, Widya dan Rimba pun akhirnya bergabung untuk menghentikan Sakti. Saat Widya lebih memilih Rimba, Sakti murka hingga mengejar mereka. Menggunakan kekuatan super rahasianya yang mengerikan, Sakti lalu menguasai seluruh pasukan militer dan kepolisian di kota. Pasukan tersebut dikerahkan untuk menangkap Rimba dan Widya agar Sakti dapat menghukum Rimba dan memiliki Widya seutuhnya.

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

On the very night Finn Chapman's first love got divorced, he threw the ninety-ninth divorce agreement at me. "Lisa's heart is broken. She can't move on. I have to take care of her," he said. Even our seven-year-old son tried to persuade me. "You should just agree to the divorce and leave," he told me. "Let Lisa move in. We don't need a maid like you anymore." Both father and son were certain I'd scream, cry, beg them not to throw me out. But I didn't. I simply nodded, quietly signed my name on the divorce papers, and left. Ten years later, my son became the top scorer on the SATs. During an interview, a reporter asked him, "What has motivated you to study so hard all these years?" He went silent for a moment. Then, in front of everyone, his eyes turned red. "Because I wanted to tell my mom," he said, voice trembling, "I've grown up now. Will you come back? Please don't leave me again."

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."

Rivergate's most elite social circle had always shared an unspoken rule. Men were free to play the field as they pleased, drifting from one woman to the next. Women, on the other hand, were only allowed a single, discreet indulgence on the day they came of age—a privately hired "life assistant" meant to take care of their physical needs. … On my coming-of-age day, I picked Elliot at first glance from a hundred applicants who came in for interviews. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looked composed and restrained, and carried himself with a calm maturity that set him apart. He was steady, meticulous, and obsessively clean. The only condition he agreed to was that there would be no bodily contact—hands only. And after every encounter, he would scrub his hands with disinfectant alcohol a hundred times. Over five years, the empty bottles alone were enough to circle the villa seven times. I used to think that one day, I'd help him overcome his barriers and truly make him mine. That illusion shattered the night I got drunk and accidentally wandered into Elliot's room. Hidden beneath his pillow was a DV camera, and inside were several videos of him pleasuring himself. On the screen, the same man who had always been calm and rational with me was staring at the lingerie of the adopted sister who had caused my mother's death, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned her name, "Chloe… I love you…" Only then did I realize that every step he had taken toward me had never been about me at all. It had always been a carefully concealed, long-nurtured love for her. So, it was very odd that he cried when I took my adopted sister's place in marrying someone else.

By the time Nolan is five, I finally see the truth clearly. My husband, Justin Ford, does not love our son or me. Determined to end this disastrous marriage, I decide to leave with Nolan. But fate has other plans. A car accident leaves me with a lost kidney and Nolan missing an eye. In our darkest hour, the cold, indifferent Justin kneels in public, begging for forgiveness, promising to be a lifelong support for both our son and me. Nolan and I decide to give him a trial period of 100 days. If he passes, we will stay. On the 99th day, we stumble upon him speaking with the attending doctor. "Mr. Ford, you caused the accident on purpose to save Ms. Lloyd's child while taking organs from Mrs. Ford and Nolan. Was it really worth all that?" "It's worth it. I'll do whatever makes Suzanne happy." "What if Mrs. Ford and Mr. Nolan find out?" Justin falls silent for a moment, then instinctively touches his wedding ring. "They must never find out. All they want is a family, and I'll do everything I can to make it right," he says coldly. It turns out his entire act of repentance was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated lie. The happiness Nolan and I believed in was merely an illusion, designed to protect the one he truly cared for. Every gift came with a secret cost, and now, we are paying the price.

Bai Yanlong reset her life to three days before apocalypse. She would have liked to rip a new one to novel gods for giving her such a short time, but she hasn't got the time. Not that she can do much if there was more time. After all, she's but a poor college student from a middle class family. Now if only she could catch all the super powers in the world... What is this? she got the super powers? ... This doesn't sound right.. she has never been this lucky.. oh.. Wait a minute why did that door handle vanish? she was sure it was there in middle of that door. It was only when she looked up that she understood. No good things ever comes with out a price...

Perjalanan hidup memang sangat misterius. Seorang pemuda penghafal Al-Qur’an berusaha mencari jati dirinya.Sikap istiqomah yang dimiliki harus teruji dengan beberapa rintangan. Musibah yang menimpa keluarganya membuat dirinya menjadi seseorang yang memiliki kekuatan. Takdirnya yang akan menjadi salah satu pemuda yang akan menjadi penyelamat bumi dari tindakan kejahatan.Di sisi lain, dia juga berjuang untuk menghindari cinta yang akan membuatnya terbuai dari sikap istiqomahnya. Cinta yang ingin diperjuangkan jika menuruti hawa nafsu tapi terhalang dengan misi yang menjadi takdirnya.Akankah Daffa Albana bisa menghadapi takdirnya dengan baik?Akankah Daffa Albana mendapatkan cintanya dengan halal?Cerita yang dikemas dengan baik dan mempergunakan latar belakang kota kecil bersejarah, bekas reruntuhan Kesultanan Langkat, akan membawa anda ke sejarah yang mungkin belum anda ketahui.Stay tune terus di Mystery Of Life : Daffa Albana.

Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity. Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me. When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all. When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all. When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all. Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy. "Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?" Wendy responds by sending a photo of her and Hudson enjoying a holiday feast together. She then says coldly, "He's just asleep, not dead. Today is Christmas Eve, so I'm very busy right now. "Tell that arrogant father of yours that he's only free to visit me whenever he's ready to acknowledge his mistakes." After that, the call ends. Terry is left feeling stunned for a long time. Finally, he digs out the last cookie from the trash can and snaps it in half. Then, he feeds it to me again. "Daddy, let's eat."

After my husband's first love, Sydney Edwards, used me as a walking blood bank, I died in the run-down rental apartment my billionaire husband, Casper Hawthorne, had tossed me into like it was a blessing for me. Today was the third day since I had died. My six-year-old son, Adam, finally realized something was wrong. He had cut his finger while playing with his toys, yet I did not comfort him. He tore open a packet of crackers and raised one to my mouth to feed me, but I did not stop him. He lay in my arms, clutching my clothes and whispering for me. Still, I did not answer. Lost and panicking, he found my phone and called his father, Casper. "Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?" The man sent back a photo of himself having New Year's Eve dinner with Sydney and said in a cold voice, "She's just sleeping, she's not dead. Today is New Year's Eve. I'm busy. Tell that clueless mom of yours that when she's ready to admit she was wrong, she can come and look for me." After the call ended, Adam stood there frozen for a long time. He picked up the last biscuit in the rental apartment from the trash can, broke it in half, and held one piece to my mouth. "Mom, let's eat too."