Dumbledore Said Calmly Meme Novels & Stories

I have claustrophobia, yet Luther Jansen abandons me in a stopped elevator so he can bring some flu medicine to his assistant. I ask for a divorce after that. He signs the papers without hesitation and laughs about it with his friends. "She's just throwing a tantrum—her parents are dead, so there's no way she'll leave me. "Besides, there's a 30-day cooling-off period for divorces, right? I'll generously let this matter slide once she regrets this, and she'll be back." The following day, he shares an intimate photo of himself with his assistant. "I want to record every moment of your shyness." I count the days until I'm free. Then, I calmly pack my stuff and make a call. "Can you buy me a flight ticket to Nanderton, Uncle David?"

The wife of the richest man, Andre Walker, in town needs blood desperately after suffering from complications in childbirth. Upon realizing that she has a rare blood type, which I share, I don't hesitate to lend her a helping hand. In order to thank me properly, Andrew decides to gift me a villa located in the heart of the city as well as 30 million dollars in cash. My roommate, Vera Hawthorn, who always rides the high horse of morality, is pissed off when she finds out about the rewards. "Your blood is a part of your body! What's the difference between you selling your blood and selling your body? I can't imagine just how filthy and disgusting you are right now! "That man already has a wife, and yet you still throw yourself at him! You're no different from a homewrecker!" In my previous life, I was filled with shame after hearing Vera's brainwashing reasoning. Not only did I turn down Andre's rewards, but I also cut off all ties with all men in my life. Since then, I never attended any classes conducted by male lecturers, which resulted in me flunking many subjects even though I was about to graduate. So, the head of my department decided to delay my graduation. Left without a choice, I begged Vera to help tutor me in my studies, only for her to post my desperate visage on the Internet. "What an idiot! Independent women must solve every hardship they come across in this era! Don't you feel ashamed for asking me for help? "I can't believe you failed this many subjects! If I were you, I'd just kill myself!" The video went viral on the Internet. My desperate expression was made into a meme, which circulated around the Internet like crazy. Meanwhile, Vera became a famous influencer because of this incident. That night, I suffered from a mental breakdown and took my own life by overdosing on pills. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm about to donate my blood.

I shoot to my feet and practically scream, “She?!? They’re sending a woman?” I suddenly hear the sound of heels clicking on the floor, and turn to see a pair of eyes I never thought I’d be seeing again. “Yes, Tate, they sent a woman. I’ve been hired to save your sorry ass,” she calmly states with a look of disgust in her ocean blue eyes. **** What will happen when Ashton Tate, the scandal-ridden MVP second baseman, comes face-to-face with his ex-girlfriend, Elizabeth Mason, whom the team has hired to salvage his reputation and career? Sparks are sure to fly when the two of them are forced to spend every waking moment together, in an effort to revamp his bad-boy image. Unresolved grudges, past heartache, and malicious former flames and rivals block the path to redemption at every turn. Can Elizabeth help Ashton find his way back to the man he once was, or is this his last strikeout?

The day I got back from a trip, my housekeeper filed a lawsuit against my father and me. In court, she stood with her visibly pregnant belly, her voice shaking with anguish. "Jethro Roberts and his son are nothing but monsters. They tricked me into moving into their home under the excuse of offering me a job as a housekeeper. They tied me to a bed and abused me. "The baby I am carrying belongs to Jethro Roberts." Her mother wept hard, nearly collapsing from the strain. "These two monsters destroyed my daughter's life! They should pay with their lives." As soon as she spoke, the courtroom burst into an uproar. "Shameless criminals! The dad couldn't even be bothered to appear in court. They must be punished severely!" "That's right. Look at the son. He's actually smiling. He has no conscience! They both deserve to pay for what they did." Then, I calmly stepped forward and presented my evidence. A stunned silence swept through the courtroom.

The smoothie shop was a whirlwind of activity during the lunch rush when a customer's call shattered my focus. "Is this the manager?" a sharp voice demanded. "I ordered a smoothie with just a touch of sugar. Why is it so sweet?" I checked her order and explained calmly, "Miss, Chocolate Bliss has a naturally sweet base." Not long after, she called again. "I asked for five ice cubes. Why are there only four?" Swamped and barely keeping up, I apologized and moved on. Before I could catch my breath, the phone rang once more. "I requested the guy in the black shirt to deliver my order. Why did a girl show up?" Suppressing my irritation, I clarified, "Miss, we handle the drinks; deliveries are managed by couriers." Finally, the calls stopped. But as the rush subsided, the headquarters called, telling me that a customer had lodged a complaint, accusing me of seducing her boyfriend.

My anxiety spiked during our wedding photoshoot. A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. My fiancé, Caius—the Falcone family heir—was helping his adoptive sister, Fiorella, try on my wedding dress. He didn't even spare me a glance. He was on one knee, focused on adjusting the lace on Fiorella’s hem. Before we’d even left the shop, Fiorella posted a selfie in the dress. She was all smiles, my fiancé standing beside her, posed like her groom. Calmly, I pulled out my phone. I sent a message to a painter I keep on retainer. "A royal portrait. The two of them. Old-world style. Use the cheapest materials you can find. I want the frame dripping with fake diamonds. Make it look like trash." I'll have it sent to Fiorella. A wedding present. The note will be simple. "A work of art as priceless as your bond. Best wishes on your wedding."

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

On the day I get back together with Leo Laycond, he uploads a photo of us on his social media account. I stare at the post for three long minutes until I notice a silver lock icon on the bottom right corner. It turns out that Leo has blocked Lisa Laycand, his younger adopted sister. That sister of his is always the person he cares about the most. I tell Leo calmly, "If you yearn for Lisa even more, I can always cancel the mating ceremony." Leo panics immediately. He deletes the restriction in front of the entire pack so that they can witness our reunion. Half an hour later, Lisa rushes into the training grounds in nothing but a thin dress. Then, she "collapses" in front of Leo. I watch as Leo scoops Lisa into his arms. It's an action that's very familiar to him, as though he's done it hundreds of times. Suddenly, I realize that the engagement with Leo bores me to no end.

For my birthday, I got a gift box. Inside was a dead silver fox. Its fur was peeled away. Dark, profane runes were carved into its flesh. My wolf cried out in agony, then shattered. I desperately reached for my Alpha, Darian, through our mate bond. “Darian… help me… My wolf… my heart…” His response was ice cold. “Maeve, stop being so dramatic. It’s just a prank. A Luna should be stronger than this. Amara has a fever. I’m with her.” He just cut the bond. He chose his childhood friend over me. Her mate had recently died, and she only had a low-grade fever. I was left to collapse in agony. I didn't get help until a pack beta found me and rushed me to the medical center. It took me three whole days to recover. When Darian finally came back, reeking of Amara’s sweet perfume, he sneered at me. "I knew you were faking it. How could a dead fox hurt you? You just wanted to stop me from comforting her!" I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just handed him a document to sign. Compensation, I said, for choosing Amara over me. He signed it without even looking. "Is this about money? Don't be another jealous she-wolf. Don't cause trouble for me. I can give you anything. Amara and I grew up together. She's important to me. You know that." I just nodded. I didn't say a word. The next day, he took Amara to an Alpha-only alliance dinner. Pictures were all over the werewolf social feeds. He had no idea what he’d signed. It wasn’t a compensation agreement. It was a rejection of our mate bond. I counted down the three days. I calmly packed my most precious things. Then, I pulled out my burner phone. “Uncle Marcus? I need a private jet to the South.”

To settle a debt of gratitude, Adriana Adler left her first love and married Chris Slater—a man who, by all appearances, was paralyzed from the waist down. For five years of marriage, he had been her husband. Before that, he'd been the protector she'd known since they were kids. She played her part as his devoted wife—the quiet shadow behind his wheelchair. Chris was certain that no matter how openly he doted on his ex-fiancée—who had just returned from overseas with a child—Adriana would never leave him. What he didn't know was that in Adriana's heart, only obligation remained. The love had died years ago. The day the truth came out, she set the divorce papers calmly in front of him. He panicked. His eyes burned as he grabbed for her, desperate, clinging like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Adriana looked down at his legs—standing firm and strong—and felt a deep, icy quiet fill her chest. Five years of lies. Five years stolen from the man she truly loved. There would be no forgiveness. The once-untouchable Chris dropped to one knee, his eyes red-rimmed and raw. "Adriana… you're all I have left." Her expression didn't waver. Not a flicker of softness crossed her face. She stepped back toward the man she'd never stopped loving, her voice steady. "But you're not all I have, Chris." He was the power player all of high society scrambled to please—the one who'd lit up her younger years. He'd always assumed she would love him forever; it never crossed his mind she might walk away. But the poised, mixed-heritage gentleman who'd loved her all along said nothing. He simply slid a priceless diamond ring onto her finger. This was the day he had waited five years for. This was the happiness Adriana should have had all along.