Eleven Minutes Full

When my body is engulfed in flames, my firefighter father is watching a new movie with my sister. My mother is baking them a cake. I hear laughter in the living room, and I can smell the caramel popcorn in the kitchen. Today is my family's weekly family day—it's a day for my sister and parents to be with each other. The doorbell rings, and the perpetrator gives me a chance to ask for help. My limbs are bound, and stones fill my mouth. I stand at the door and desperately wait for my parents to open it. They don't get up. Instead, they sit on either side of my sister and hug her. "We promised you we'll only be with you on our family days. No one can disturb us." "What if it's Danica?" Ravenna Sutton, my sister, asks. "Her? She hasn't answered her phone in days—who knows where she's off being wild? I'll think of her as dead if she still doesn't return tomorrow!" Ravenna giggles. Mom feeds her some popcorn, and Dad discusses the movie's plot with her. The perpetrator drags me back upstairs and laughs mockingly in my ear. "Looks like I did something unnecessary. They genuinely don't care about you." Smoke permeates every corner upstairs, and the flames start to lick at my body. Mom and Dad protect Ravenna as they run downstairs. They have no idea their birth daughter is screaming in pain amid the blazing fire.

Five days before my wedding, a group of MadeMen drag me to an underground casino. "I'm the fiancé of Lorenzo Gambino, Don of the Gambino family and Gambino Corporation! Think of the consequences you'll face if you dare touch a hair on my head!" My stern warning is met by mocking laughter. I curl up in agony under the brutal blows of their baseball bats; they pierce my ankles with sharp blades, severing my tendons. I gather the remnants of my consciousness to shield my abdomen, where my and Lorenzo's child grows. Lorenzo finally arrives with hired mercenaries. He razes the underground casino to the ground and saves me. I lie on the hospital bed and force myself to hang on. I don't want to end up in a coma. Unexpectedly, I overhear Lorenzo's conversation with a doctor. "It's not too late to operate, Boss. If we delay this any longer, Ms. Jones won't be able to stand anymore! There are many other ways for you to marry Ms. Valente—why did you have to do this to Ms. Jones?" "Being crippled is the only way Renee will obediently accept my and Kelly's child. I can keep a cripple by my side but not a troublemaker. Kelly values ceremony more than anything—I promised her I would give her a perfect wedding," Lorenzo says coldly. "But… Ms. Jones is pregnant. She's four months along…" "Make her miscarry, then." Tears stream down my face without anyone noticing. It turns out no one wants to bless the wedding I've been looking forward to. If so, any woman who wants to be Lorenzo's wife can have him. He's just a small mafia boss, anyway. I'm going back to being the heiress of the East Coast mafia's Don. I'll be the queen of my own life.

I was about to get married, but my boyfriend of nine years had no idea. Why? All because his recently divorced ex-girlfriend waltzed back into town, and he threw himself into her life without hesitation. The knight in shining armor was back, ready to save the day. The moment they saw each other, it was like a scene from a bad romance novel. Their gazes lingered, sparks flying, the kind that screamed, “Oh, we’re soulmates reunited.” To welcome her back, he had 9,999 Juliet roses flown in to decorate her room. Why? All because it was a promise he had made to her long ago. How sweet. Except for one small problem: I’m severely allergic to pollen. When I woke up in the hospital after an emergency rescue, I didn’t cry, yell, or demand answers. No, I pulled out my phone and texted my parents, "Please help me arrange a marriage. I’m done."

Wanting to escape the turmoil last year had caused, my mom thought a fresh start was what we needed, so we moved to a different country. My first clash with the three Glass brothers happened at the airport, and ever since then, they’ve been everywhere I go. Turns out they’re my neighbors and the golden boys of my new high school too. I want to stay away from them and focus on maintaining my GPA and the drama-free life I promised myself, but it’s not working. There’s a dangerously strong pull between us that feels almost unreal. My pulse trips over itself when they’re near, my blood boils when I see them with other girls, and my body betrays me, craving their slightest touch. It’s confusing, maddening and especially aggravating. The fact that all three of them look like they had stepped out of a dark fantasy novel written by a woman with unrealistic expectations wasn’t helping the case. Then I witnessed horror—bones snapping and reforming, fur replacing skin. The Glass brothers aren’t humans; they are beasts, Lycans, Supreme Alphas, and just as I thought things couldn’t get worse, they tell me the pull I have been feeling is because I’m mated to them—all three of them. But luckily, I have the chance to reject them, and I’m going to take it, because I’m just an ordinary human girl. I am not Beauty. And this certainly isn’t Beauty and the Beasts. Warning!!! Extremely graphic and explicit erotic content.

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

Di tahun ketujuh pertunangan dengan Benedict Liander, dia mewarisi seluruh harta dari kakaknya yang telah meninggal. Termasuk istri kakaknya, Diana Lowi. Setiap kali setelah tidur bersama Diana, Benedict selalu memeluk dan menghiburku, “Jenny, sabar ya. Setelah Diana hamil, kita baru mengadakan pesta pernikahan.” Itulah satu-satunya syarat keluarga mafia di Wilayah Noesa, agar Benedict bisa menjadi bos besar mafia yang baru. Setelah kembali ke dalam negeri setengah tahun lalu, Benedict sudah pergi ke kamar Diana sebanyak 59 kali. Dari awalnya sebulan sekali, kini hampir setiap hari dia pergi. Akhirnya, pada kunjungan ke-60, aku melihat tunanganku keluar dari kamar Diana dan kabar baik pun datang. Akhirnya Diana hamil. Namun bersamaan dengan itu, Keluarga Liander mengumumkan bahwa Benedict dan Diana akan menikah. “Ibu, ada yang mau menikah di rumah?” Aku memandang ruangan yang dihias dengan meriah oleh penyelenggara pernikahan, lalu dengan dingin menggendong anakku yang polos, menjawab, “Iya, ayahmu akan menikah dengan orang yang dia cintai. Jadi, kita harus pergi dari sini.” Yang Benedict tidak tahu, Keluarga Marilin sudah menjadi keluarga mafia yang bisa menandingi Keluarga Liander. Dan aku, Jenny Marilin, putri bungsu yang paling dimanja Keluarga Marilin, tidak akan pernah terkekang oleh pernikahan.

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke. My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me. Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there." His words crush me, and I do die. Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him. Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality. Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity. Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

On the 20th of May, Stella Jewell posted a new update of her status on social media: Single, Free to Mingle. PS: Priorities for physically healthy individuals. The accompanying image was a divorce certificate. This surge of actions from Stella was just like she was in the past when she had married into the Kane family without warning. This news caused carnage within her circle of friends. Right after her breakup, she implied that her ex-husband, Keegan Kane, was sterile. Did she have a death wish for doing so? Who is Keegan Kane? A ruthless person that could sue the media company, that had made rumors, until they were bankrupt. Would he tolerate his ex-wife, who left the marriage with nothing, to connote him in such a way? In the end, after twenty minutes, everyone had their jaws dropped again. Under Stella's new account, the newly registered account commented, "Let me out of the blacklist!"

My boyfriend, Allen, is a fitness coach who is cheerful, handsome, and has eight-pack abs. After getting together with me, he transferred all his female students to other colleagues and would send me daily check-in photos. In anticipation of becoming his fiancee, I happily prepared for our engagement ceremony. However, two weeks before the ceremony, I discovered a bright red lipstick mark on Allen’s workout pants. I quickly pulled up the check-in photo he had sent me that day. Through the reflection on a dumbbell, I saw a woman standing next to Allen—her lips painted in the exact same lipstick color. Most of the previous photos had flaws, but I had trusted Allen too much to notice them. Looking at his message under the photo, I let out a cold laugh. "Baby, I have to work overtime today to train a male student." He actually dared to deceive me. Just then, my phone rang. It was the wedding planning company confirming the engagement ceremony setup. I quickly responded with a confirmation. The ceremony would proceed as planned—except I had a special surprise prepared for Allen, one he would never forget.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."