Even After Her Death Novel Chloe

Akala ko mababaon ko na sa limot ang nakaraan. Eighteen years ago, I walked away from the man I loved, clutching the tiny life growing inside me, shattering my own heart to protect my child. Binuo ko ang mundo ko mula sa simula, pinalaki si Gian nang may lakas at pagmamahal, at hinubog ang reputasyon ko bilang Queen Verdict, hindi matatalo at matatag sa korte. Para sa akin, ang Maynila, ang lungsod ng pagkakanulo, ay mundo na isinara ko na magpakailanman. But life has a way of dragging you back into the fire. Nang mapilitan akong humarap sa imperyo ng Aragon sa korte, I’m not prepared for the ghosts of my past especially Nathan, now standing across the courtroom from me, representing the family that once tore us apart. Ang tensyon ay matindi, personal, at imposibleng balewalain. At si Laura, na parang anino ng dilim, na may bulong ng tukso at kaguluhan, nagpapakita kay Nathan ng dahilan para makalimot sa akin. I thought I could protect Gian from Nathan’s world, from their tangled history, but fate has other plans. Nang dumating ang panganib, napagtanto kong ang pag-ibig, katapatan, at tiwala ay laban sa sarili rin. Ang obsesyon ni Nathan, ang walang tigil niyang pagsunod, ang matinding proteksyon niya ay nakakaakit, nakakatakot, at nakalilito lahat ng sabay. I have a choice: let him back into our lives or keep the walls I’ve built, shielding my son from heartbreak again. Ngunit sa larong ito ng kapangyarihan, paghihiganti, at pagnanasa, natutunan ko ang isang bagay: a Queen rises, scars and all, to claim her throne. At gagawin ko ang lahat para protektahan ang pamilya ko, kahit harapin ang lalaking minahal ko noon ,kahit pa harapin ang aking mga kahihinatnan and the consequences I never imagined.

My younger sister was crazy about novels and always envied the way ordinary heroines pick up penniless heroes and climb the social ladder. So, she started picking up men wherever she could. Until one day, a man with a face covered in sores collapsed at our doorstep. I instantly recognized the signs of syphilis and warned my sister repeatedly, and only then did she give up the idea. However, fate had other plans: my sister's best friend "picked him up" instead and married into a wealthy family. My sister held a grudge. On my birthday, she locked me in my room and set it on fire. No matter how desperately I begged, she refused to open the door. Outside, she sneered: "I know you're just scared I'll live better than you, so you want to drag me down into misery with you. People like you don't even deserve to be a sister!" I burned alive, my body reduced to nothing but ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my sister insisted on "picking up that man." This time, I quietly stepped back, letting her have her way—of course, I chose to let her succeed.

Seven years ago, Serena was a queen in the world of filmmaking. As the best producer, the world lay at her feet. Yet, for her blind love for Dewangga, she willingly cast aside her golden crown and chose the role of a devoted housewife. But that sacrifice was repaid with a chilling coldness. Since the birth of their first daughter, Dewangga had become a stranger. To him, a daughter was a disappointment, and Serena was nothing more than a failed heir-bearing machine. Now, in the midst of her troubled second pregnancy, Serena must face a bitter truth: her husband cannot even be bothered to show up to sign the papers that could save her life.

My wife went abroad for a six-month training course and unexpectedly secured a major deal.  Thanks to this contract, she was promoted to director against all odds. When I saw the news of her return in the work group chat, I immediately ordered flowers to pick her up at the airport. However, her belly, which would have been eight months pregnant, showed no signs of it. She had aborted our child, turning me into a laughingstock among colleagues. Just as I tried to swallow my anger, she told me she was pregnant with someone else’s child. She demanded that I step aside and make way for her.

My sister, Laura Ward, died the year we were ten, the year we snuck out of school to play. From that day forward, my mother’s grief turned into a burning hatred for me, convinced that I was the reason my sister was gone. She treated me like a servant, like an unwanted burden, and filled the void by adopting a perfect, obedient daughter to replace my sister. She took everything from me without a second thought — my rights, my freedom, my very existence — and even demanded that I give up a kidney for her precious adopted girl. Alright, Mother, if you want a life, I’ll give you mine! But it was only when my body lay cold, my breath long gone, that she finally turned and looked at me.

The silver blade sliced across my throat, and I collapsed in a spreading pool of blood. I called Ethan ninety-nine times. My brother ignored every single call, but on the ninety-ninth try, he finally picked up. “What now?” Irritation dripped from every word. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble already? I’m in the middle of planning Lyra’s coming-of-age ceremony, and if you don’t show up, I’ll make you regret it.” “Ethan, please—help me—” My voice came out broken and ragged. He hung up. I tried reaching through our blood bond, desperate for him to feel something—anything at all—but he’d severed that connection two years ago. My phone battery was dying, and I watched the last bar flicker before the screen went black. I stopped struggling. The silver blade pierced my heart, and my wolf let out one final whimper before she died with me. Days later, the patrol found a body. The face was destroyed beyond recognition, torn apart and mangled. But Ethan still recognized the scar on the wrist—the one he’d sworn he would never forget.By then, it was too late.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

On the day I was kidnapped, my husband was looking after his sick sweetheart. I called him, asking him for help. Yet, he merely replied coldly, "Danica, you are a bad liar." After that, he heartlessly hung up the phone call on me, causing me to get brutally murdered by the kidnappers. I failed to show up as scheduled on the day we agreed to finalize our divorce. He called me in exasperation, only for the phone call to be answered by the police. "Mr. Ferguson, are you a family member of the deceased Danica Reed?"

My mate's adoptive sister asked me to go for a walk in the mountain forest and we encountered a sudden flash flood. My mate Nathan, the Alpha of Snow Peak pack, rushed to save us. But because we were both trapped on a breaking tree branch above the raging flood, he could only save one person at a time. To save his physically weak adoptive sister, my mate abandoned me - his Luna who was five months pregnant. I begged him desperately to save me. He watched as the flood waters dragged me under. "Sarah has always been weak since childhood. If we leave her here, she'll die." "Your wolf is strong enough to swim, but Sarah can't swim." But after my death, he went mad.

Poetry and all, to inspire and to create, to give people spirit that they love, to give back something they lost and they missing in their live. Keep writing and keep on reading. We are exist for you and your desired to keep writing and reading story.

That night, Liam served me my usual evening tea. I trusted him completely—he was my mate, after all, and a respected healer of Thornpack. I shouldn't have. When I woke up the next morning, my head was spinning. The special safe where I kept the morphing inhibitor—the one I'd spent my entire savings to import from Europe for our daughter Isla—was empty. Racing to the healing center, I found Liam celebrating. He was handing out moon-blessed wine, beaming with pride as Natalie's daughter Anna showed off her perfect transformation. My inhibitor had been used on his first love's pup instead of our own daughter. The shock triggered something in my brain. When I collapsed, they diagnosed me with the rare tumor that plagued our kind. Without inhibitors, I couldn't stop Isla's transformation that came early, her six year old body couldn't handle the massive wolf form and the force ripped through her young body. And I, for one, don't even have enough money to keep her in a treatment center. She died in my arms three days later, her little claws drawing blood as the pain overwhelmed her. Until her last breath, she kept asking why Papa hadn't come. Now, in my cold, empty home, with the white porcelain urn containing her ashes on the table, I touch her and decide to sever our partnership.