Exposed Ceiling Novels & Stories

I was cleaning up the house on the second day after my wife went for a business trip. I casually instructed the smart speaker. “Smart, play some music.” However, I heard a husky, strange male voice. “Sure. I’m the Sun that loves you. Plus, Lindy, I would like to remind you not to forget about your birthday surprise for Sam tonight.” I stiffened and found the music particularly annoying. Linda Clark was my wife, but I had no idea who Sam was. I immediately called my wife. “Did you use the smart speaker at home?” Linda paused for a moment before she laughed indifferently. “Oh, my friend visited me a few days ago. She might have connected her account to it. What’s wrong?” I laughed and told her it was nothing. After hanging up, I found the login record of the speaker and hailed a cab. I headed straight to the registered company associated with the unfamiliar account on the record.

Just as my wealthy boyfriend and I were talking about getting married, his mother dismissed me as an unrefined girl and demanded I attend a finishing school to learn how to be a proper wife. Looking at Zach’s pleading gaze, I gave in. I endured relentless psychological and physical torment for three months. However, on the day I was discharged, I overheard a phone call between Zach and his friend. “Zach, if you don’t want to marry Cathy, why didn’t you just tell her? Why did you have to send her to that hellhole to suffer? That finishing school your family runs is a freaking torture chamber. Constant beatings, electric shocks, forced kneeling for hours… No one comes out of there the same.” “You don’t get it. Jen is about to get engaged, and I can’t risk Cathy ruining it. As long as Jen is happy, I don’t care who I marry. Cathy grew up poor, so she can endure a little hardship. Three months of hardship for a lifetime of Stein money is a fair trade.” My vision blurred with tears when I heard those cruel words from his mouth. I thought. “Zach, since you loved Jenna so much, why did you have to toy with my feelings?”

Attending a high school reunion, I rode my motorcycle to the venue. By the time I arrived at the Moon Valley Hotel, most of my former classmates were already there. Everyone seemed to be doing well for themselves. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars belonging to high-ranking pack members. There was even a Rolls Royce that belonged to the son of an Alpha. As I dismounted from my motorcycle, a former male classmate I barely remembered looked at me with disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't our former class president. Still riding a basic bike like an omega, I see." During dinner, everyone was fawning over the Alpha's son while completely ignoring me in the corner. Only Derek, our former class monitor and now a beta, sat beside me with a sympathetic look. "Don't worry about it. Even though you're still just an omega like your parents, I'm sure one day you'll rise up in the pack rankings." I couldn't help but smirk, whispering under my breath: "This isn't just any motorcycle. It's the Royal Guard's official vehicle."

At my wedding to my childhood friend, Mason Rivers, a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [LMAO, supporting character still doesn’t know the groom is a stand-in! The real male lead, Mason Rivers, is at the hospital with the fragile, sweet female!] [It doesn’t matter who the groom is. He only agreed to the marriage to keep his company afloat. This story is about the childhood sweetheart losing to the girl who came later.] [In the end, the supporting character gets completely ruined by the male lead. I almost feel bad for her.] I hid the shock in my eyes and pretended not to know anything as I finished the ceremony. I didn’t want to be the stepping stone for their love, the disposable extra who dies a tragic death. If he didn’t want to marry me, then I’d turn this act into something real and marry someone else instead.

At the staff meeting, I was singled out and criticized by the supervisor. The supervisor said that someone had reported issues with my work attitude and demanded an immediate explanation. My face was displayed on the big screen at the meeting, subjected to public scrutiny. Just as I was feeling overwhelmed, the face of our boss appeared in my camera frame."Tell me what’s the problem.”

During a classmates' reunion party, the villa unexpectedly collapses, trapping both Priscilla Hobbs, my husband's true love, and me beneath the fallen ceiling. My husband is a member of the rescue team. To keep Priscilla alive, he chooses to lift the ceiling from her side. He says, "Pris is an actress. She can't be crippled." The ceiling crushes my legs as it's lifted from the other end. My husband seems to have forgotten that I have a congenital blood clotting disorder. Without my legs, I'll die…

“Have we met before?” He asked and I almost collapsed in fright, my whole body getting drained of blood as my hands just shook in fear while I had my head buried. “Speak!” His voice thundered as he held up my chin roughly, willing me to look up and I averted my gaze shakily, trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and anything other than his face. “N… N… No…” I managed to stammer and much to my dismay, our eyes met and rather than averting my gaze immediately, stupidly with a racing heart, I maintained eye contact. ************************** After Nora’s double life is exposed, she flees the pack, only to discover she’s carrying the child of the most dangerous and feral Alpha alive. Running is her only choice, but shadows follow her. Dark secrets haunt the Alpha, a deadly curse looms over him, and a destructive past threatens to repeat itself with greater consequences. In the midst of it all is a longing neither of them can resist… one only a true mate can feel. Not even the goddess can save them from what’s coming.

I've chosen to participate in a death game. As long as I can escape from the murderer's killing spree in ten time loops, I'll be able to win at least 100 billion dollars. In the first loop, I have my apartment refurbished into a bank vault. Still, the killer is able to bust down my front door. In the second loop, I hide in the ceiling crawlspace. Yet, the killer is quick to locate me immediately, as though he knew where I was, to begin with. In the third loop, I finally realize that something's definitely fishy…

The last thing Valentina Serra sees before she dies is the crack in the ceiling above her bed. She is 45 years old. She is not unhappy. That, she realizes in the last seconds of her first life, is the most devastating thing she could say about it. She opens her eyes in a university lecture hall in Barcelona. She is 20 years old. Her notebook is open, her pen is in her hand, and she can feel — with the precision of someone who has lived an entire life — exactly how much she is about to waste if she does nothing. She does something. Armed with 25 years of memory, Valentina sets out to close every loop she left open: the military commission she dismissed, the marketing career she let others architect for her, the relationship she stayed in long past its expiry date, and the mother she visited but never truly knew. One by one, she reaches for the life she talked herself out of the first time around. But the two people closest to her — the friends who have always been there, always supportive, always first to suggest the safer, smaller option — are watching. And when Valentina begins exceeding the quiet ceiling that they built for her, Isabel and David begin to coordinate. Then there is Ethan Cole. Washington D.C. Investment sector. Five years younger, which bothered her the first time. He will walk into her life again in Barcelona, and this time Valentina already knows what the long dinner and the careful conversation and the late-night walk along the Passeig de Gràcia will mean — if she doesn't talk herself out of it. She is not going to talk herself out of it.

{Completed}(Previously called Keenan Hiltons Chaos) The room is awfully quiet except for Keenan's laboured breath and my heavily pounding heart. His hands are planted on his hips and his eyes fixated on the ceiling as if he's thinking about all the regretful things he's done in his life. Why does this feel like the beginning of another disastrous road? “What's wrong?” I ask in a panic because I wonder if he's also recollecting the events that happened last night in part like I am and regretting it. “Apparently we did more than get drunk last night,” He lifts the paper certificate from the bar counter and shows it to me, “we got married.”