Did Dumbledore Know Snape Would Kill Him Novels & Stories

I was once the cherished princess of the Silver Moon Pack, adored by all. Back then, I fell for Kael, one of the pack's rogues. But when I grew bored of our little fling, I cast him aside without a second thought. Years later, my pack was destroyed and my parents were killed. Kael, however, had risen to become the Alpha of a powerful new pack. He claimed me, forcing me to become his Luna. Everyone said I was lucky, but they didn't know the truth. They didn't know that he brought different she-wolves back to our territory every night. And through our mate bond, every moment of their intimacy seared my soul like a blazing fire. I never cried, never protested, simply enduring it all in silence. But my silence only made Kael more volatile. This time, he went a step further. He got his Beta, Chole, pregnant. Still, I remained calm. Enraged, Kael slammed me against a rough stone wall. "Elara, do you love me or not?" I had thought his outbursts were a twisted sign of his love, that he was waiting for me to break. But then, Chole and I went into labor at the same time. I begged him to take me to the pack hospital first, and wanted to tell him that I had no choice when I rejected him back then. He pulled me into a tight embrace, only to shove me away moments later. "See? I knew you would break." "Drop the act. Do you really think you're still that high and mighty princess?" He ignored my pleas, ignored the life of his own pup inside me. He swept Chole into his arms and left without a backward glance. His cold voice echoed through our mind-link. "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you." "You deserve to feel a fraction of the pain I felt when you cast me aside. Savor it."

I've worked with my wife, Naomi Prescott, for seven long years. Yet, she refuses to make my identity public in the company. Naomi claims that she's worried that the entire company might think of me as a man who relies on his partner. Believing her excuse, I stick to myself and keep a low profile all this time. But on the day my project team secures a ten-million-dollar business deal, Naomi is quick to make me give the credit to her childhood friend, Matthias Crowell. When faced with my questions, Naomi retorts in a matter-of-fact tone, "Matt is new to the company. Can't a veteran employee like you take care of him at work?" I'm furious, to say the least. "What if I say no?" Naomi throws a resignation letter at my face. "Well then, you can pack up and get lost, you pathetic loser!" I pack my belongings calmly and leave the company afterward. Three days later, Naomi's company is on the brink of bankruptcy. She sobs loudly as she begs me to return with her. I produce a business card and give it to her. "Sorry, but I prefer being the boss of my own company. It so happens that my company still needs a janitor. I suppose I can reserve that position for you, seeing as we used to be married and all."

I thought losing my cheating husband was the worst day of my life. I was wrong. My name is Maya Winters, and I spent six years trying to make Damien Cross love me. Six years being the perfect wife to a billionaire who looked at me like I was invisible. Then he brought home his secret daughter and her mother, handed me divorce papers, and destroyed what was left of my stupid heart. Two weeks later, I lost our baby—the one he never knew about until it was too late. I thought my life was over. Turns out, it actually was. Now I'm trapped in something called THE SURVIVAL GAME with twelve other dead people, including my ex-husband. We have to survive forty days of deadly children's games. Red Light Green Light. Hide and Seek. Simple games with one terrible rule: lose and you die for real. But that's not even the worst part. One of us is a spy working for the Game Master. One of us is making sure people die. And I have no idea who to trust—especially not Damien, who keeps looking at me like he actually cares now that we're both fighting for our lives. The prize for winning? One wish for anything I want. Money. Power. Revenge. Or even a second chance at the love that destroyed me. Forty days. Thirteen players. Only one winner. Game on. Warning: This story contains mature themes, violence, and intense situations. Recommended for readers 18+.

My husband was working over the holidays, again. He’d been sent out of town to oversee one of the Family’s dock operations and a string of gambling houses.. I decided to buy a ticket and surprise him. Only business class was left. Staring at the five-figure price, I gritted my teeth and spent a year’s worth of savings. Then I couldn’t even figure out how to pull down the damn tray table. The socialite seated next to me let out a cold laugh. “Never flown business class before?” I forced an awkward smile. “My apologies. You must be… important. You have that aura.” “Oh, me? No. The man who keeps me is important. He’d charter a private jet if I asked. Business class is practically slumming it.” I blinked. “A… keeper? That’s rare.” “Not really. I’m his secretary. I mess up a lot. Cost him a fortune. He yells at me until I cry. And then, well… crying leads to other things.” She winked. “You know how it is.” “Funny,” I said, my voice tight. “My husband has an assistant who helps him manage accounts for the docks. She’s always messing things up too.” “You’re married?” She looked me over, head to toe. “My man has a wife about your age. Says he’s sick of her. That touching her is boring. Says I’m more exciting just brushing my hair out of my face.” She leaned closer. “I told him I wanted to see him for New Year’s. So he told the wife he had to work.” The diamond on her finger caught the light. It was identical to the wedding band I’d lost. My body went cold. No. Matteo was just a low-level enforcer. A foot soldier the Family occasionally trusted with small operations—dock shipments, backroom gambling, nothing more. When did he become a Don?

On the day my husband, Samuel Fletcher, and I flew home, our plane ran into great turbulence, causing it to crash. We both died in that crash. When we wake up again, we've returned to the night of our graduation day. That's when I find out Samuel has never let go of his feelings for his first love, Sienna Blake, the whole time. I decide to grant his wish in this lifetime. I take off my wedding dress and no longer simp over him. After that, I part ways with him, not planning to contact him ever again. Seven years later, Samuel becomes a famous artist in the city. He and Sienna announce their relationship publicly at an art gallery. Upon noticing that I've come to the art gallery on my own, Samuel mocks me right away. "I know you love me deeply, but can you please stop being so shameless? I can't believe you stalked me all the way here!" At that moment, my daughter, Elena Dalton, runs over and takes my hand. Samuel looks extremely shell-shocked. With raised brows, he demands, "Didn't you promise you'd love me and me only? Who the hell did you have this bastard child with?"

I've been pregnant for six months, but my Alpha mate, William, has delayed our mating ceremony 29 times. He's waiting for his adopted sister, Rita, to find a mate so they can have a "two-couple mating ceremony." The 30th time I altered the waist of my beloved mating ceremony dress, the bridal shop assistant looked embarrassed, "Miss, this dress really can't be widened anymore. How about you choose another one?" Disappointment rose in my throat like bile. I called William, asking when the ceremony would finally happen. But William said: "I will give you an unforgettable mating ceremony, but Rita's mate hasn't been matched yet. Darling, can you wait a little longer? We shouldn't ruin her whole life over such a small thing, right? I know you'll understand. You're always so kind." My heart clenched suddenly. So, my dream mating ceremony is just a small thing. Rita's sweet, high-pitched voice chimed in: "Brother, my mating ceremony dress matches yours so perfectly!" That was the moment I realized I was never the one being chosen. I looked down at my round pregnant belly, tears slipping quietly from the corners of my eyes. Then, with a trembling hand, I dialed the number that had always been waiting for me. "I'm ready to leave." After the call ended, the clerk cautiously asked: "Would you like to choose another one?" "No. Just cancel it, please." I took one last glance at the dress that would never belong to me. If this ceremony was never for me, then I won't stay for it.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

On the morning of her wedding day, Chelsea saw her sister moan under her fiancé's embraces. Later that night after she canceled her wedding, she got drunk and called a night escort service for revenge sex. So she spends the night together under the influence of alcohol. Little did she know that the man she thought was a night escort, turns out to be Liam Shax, the narcissistic CEO! As she feels guilty thinking that she had raped someone, Chelsea is about to jump into the river. "I'll give you a purpose to live! So come down first,” as Liam's voices reach her ears, she turned around. "What purpose?" "To bear my child." ".... euw." -splash!- "Did she just say 'euw' before jumping?" "Yes ... sir. SIR?!" Liam jumps to the river.

My son, Tim, was kidnapped by a group of rogues. My husband, Alpha Kieran, spared no effort, using every resource at his disposal to find him. Finally, he tracked him down to an pub training center nearby. But when Tim regained consciousness, he discovered that he was disabled. As the only son of Kieran, destined to inherit his father’s title, he couldn’t bear the reality of his condition. Despair consumed him, and in his grief, he attempted to take his own life by drowning himself in the lake within our territory. I arrived too late. By the time I pulled him from the water, my strength was nearly gone. Kieran rushed me to the pack hospital, holding me close as he whispered into my ear, "Please, Selene, stay with me. I cannot lose you too." But after my surgery, as I lay in bed, I overheard Kieran speaking to his Beta, Damon, in the hallway. "Alpha, sacrificing the rescue mission that could have saved Tim seemed… excessive. Finding another heart donor wouldn’t have been impossible. Using Tim’s—he was your only son with Luna Selene." "I allowed him to be born because I knew he could save my daughter. I’ve already raised him long enough. It’s only right that he gives me what I need now." "And the doctor said siblings have a better chance of surviving heart transplants. Ana is my most precious child—I won’t risk her suffering another heart attack." Kieran’s words shattered me. He was my fated mate, the love of my life. Yet he had sacrificed our son—our son—to save the bastard child he had with his mistress. The marriage I once cherished, the fated mate I once believed in, had now become my own personal hell.

I no longer deliver meals to my husband, Zachary Smith—the man who became the factory manager after receiving a scholarship that brought him to the city—since my rebirth. I even make sure to detour using the gate at the factory's north side whenever he uses the southern gate after he finishes his meetings. In my past life, I was fully aware he took me as his wife—a humble country woman—just for the chance to move to the city. Yet, I insisted on becoming his wife, anyway. After all, I was convinced that a person's true affections could be earned and nurtured. Yet, Zachary maintained a constant, formal distance throughout our marriage. He would simply offer me a book the moment I attempted to bridge the gap, saying, "You should study more so that you don't continually attract people's contempt." I got emboldened by the drink as I threw my arms around him, yet he merely accepted the embrace rigidly, whispering, "It's just what married couples do." It wasn't until decades later, as I lay on my deathbed, that I discovered the heartbreaking words in his autobiography. In it, he stated that our entire marriage was like being trapped in a mire and that he never wanted to be with me again if he were to ever be reborn. I felt a searing pain tearing through my heart as I closed my eyes in devastating anguish. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the point in time when the gossip about Zachary and Juliana Ziegler, the factory's technician who studied abroad, first began to spread. In this life, I choose not to fight or cause drama. Instead, I am the one who brings up the divorce.