Eve Hazbin Hotel

Hakim was every girl's dream at Northwest High, and every guy's role model. He was hot, smart, popular, romantic and all, and every girl's dream was to get laid by him. He was living the dream life, but he had one single problem; Dante. Dante was the complete vice versa of Hakim. Soft, gentle, unnoticed, innocent, and these traits drew Hakim's heart towards him, and for that reason, Hakim hated him. He hated his lingering gazes and admiring glances, and he hated that he felt the need to hold him, to protect him, and for that reason he resolved to torment Dante, making his high school days unbearable. Dante was forever scarred by him, and his heart broke into pieces. Now, years later, after the two drifted apart, going on to their two separate worlds, Dante builds an image for himself, he is no longer the timid, innocent boy he was back at Northwest High, but is now a top corporate lawyer in the industry, and a fine one at that. What happens when he is hired by a law firm and finds out that his boss is no other person but Hakim? What will evolve as mysteries unfold and actual truth gets told?

After five years away, Anna had no plans to return to New Jersey but when Clayton Fisher, the family who saved her is on the brink of bankruptcy, she finds herself face-to-face with the one man she swore to forget—Simon Parker. The same man who destroyed her life. Now known to the world as Vectra – the best cyber security expert in the country, Anna is back with one goal – revenge. She will make him pay for taking everything away from her. Anna knew keeping the truth from the triplets was a dangerous game, but nothing prepared her for the shock when they told her – Mummy we are going to make him pay! 

My best friend and I were in relationships with the brothers from the Wilson Family, and we both got pregnant at the same time. She flaunted her relationship publicly, making everyone in Junopia know that Rick had left the monastery for her. On the other hand, I kept silent about my relationship with the heir of the Wilson Family. Thus, everyone mistakenly thought I was single. That was until my best friend saw my pregnancy report. In a fit of rage, she rallied a group of friends, stormed into my dorm, and vandalized my room with food waste. "I thought you were my best friend, and here you are, trying to steal my man," she accused. Not only did she live-stream this accusation, trying to paint me as the other woman, but she also spiked my chicken soup, hoping to get rid of my unborn child. In defiance, I poured the contaminated soup over her head. "Just so you know, Rick isn't the only Wilson brother," I retorted. Later, Rayden, the man who controlled Junopia, wrapped his arm around me and declared icily, "I've heard troubling rumors about my wife being called a mistress. We need to talk."

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

“And?” Olivia asked, her brow furrowed. “I will pay off all your debts, cover your brother’s hospital bills, and send him abroad for the best medical treatment,” Alpha Enzo made an offer he knew Olivia wouldn’t reject. Olivia raised her brow as she stared at the man she hated with passion. Just as she was about to reject his offer, she paused and thought of it. Not only would he help in clearing her huge debts, but he would also send her brother abroad, and she would have the best opportunity to carry out her revenge on him. “I accept,” she blurted out, making Alpha Enzo smirk victoriously. “Yes, I accept to be your submissive for the next three months.” *************************** On her fourteenth birthday, Olivia watched her family being murdered by a masked man with a scorpion tattoo on his right wrist. Six years later, burdened by her comatose brother's hospital bills, Olivia works at a BDSM club. There, she encounters Alpha Enzo, who bears the same tattoo in the exact spot. Determined to avenge her family, she agrees to his offer to clear her debts in exchange for becoming his submissive for three months. But as Olivia spends more time with Alpha Enzo, she finds herself developing feelings for the man she was supposed to kill. To make matters worse, she discovers he harbors many dark secrets and a troubled past.

My firefighter husband had fallen from a great height during a mission and was rushed into the emergency room, covered in blood. As the only person capable of saving him, I stood just outside the operating room, calm and composed. Reaching for my makeup bag, I began carefully applying my makeup. Another doctor, panic-stricken, rushed toward me and shouted, "Dr. Warhol! The patient's kidney has ruptured! You're the only surgeon in all of Switzerland who can perform this life-saving procedure! If you don’t act now, he’s going to die!" I continued shaping my eyebrows with steady precision, not even glancing in his direction. "Quiet," I said coolly. "If you keep yelling, my brows might end up crooked."

In the two years after Bradley Vaughn's so-called "memory loss," we divorced seven times—all to keep his childhood crush Vivian Monroe happy. Number eight? Because Vivian got pregnant. "You can't have kids anyway. Once Vivian has the baby, we'll get back together. You can raise the kid." That was his usual ice-cold line as he slid the papers across the table. That night, he kicked me out—said Vivian got nauseous just seeing me. I moved into another house. Alone. In the rain. Even after I landed in the ER from a near assault, he didn't bother asking if I was okay. Then one day, I spotted him at a clinic with Vivian. He rubbed her belly and laughed, "So what if she finds out I faked the amnesia? She can't live without me. Toss her a bone, she'll come crawling." I looked away, steady. Then my phone buzzed. [How did your checkup go?]

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

My nanny, Lucci Eyre, liked to call herself an independent, modern woman. She used to tell me every day to be self-reliant, do my own laundry and cooking, take care of the kids by myself, and even suggested that I divorce my husband. Later on, I found out that she was actually a social media influencer. Without asking for my permission, she made a series of videos trying to make me look pathetic as a Stepford wife. She also stole my jewelry and clothes. After I fired her, she accused me in the live stream of being a rival female competitor and pandering to men. Then one of her crazy fans tricked her way into my home and poisoned me. When I woke up again, I was reborn to the day I discovered that her social media account had millions of followers. ‘Since you're so into live streaming and making short videos, why not show everyone who you really are and let them see the independent woman that you are?’

He divorced her. That was two years ago. She was shopping with her best friend when she felt a blinding sort of pain before losing consciousness. She woke up at the hospital and saw her parents and Albert Matthews, her ex-husband, and the man who can cover the sky with one hand in S City, talking to the doctor. She has a disease - and they said she's dying in three days. This is her sixth day now. She died in his watch, wishing that in her next life, she would still be his wife -- and the gods favored her.