Fake Receipt Maker

I was the heiress switched at birth by a nanny. It was not until I turned eighteen that my biological parents finally found me, and traded me back for the girl they had raised and loved as their own. However, fate played a cruel joke that very same week. My parents died in a car accident. The family business collapsed. In one night, I lost everything. My older brother survived, but his kidneys failed. I did not hesitate. I gave him mine. However, grief broke something in him. Blaming me for our parents' deaths, he spiraled into madness. "You killed Mom and Dad! Why wasn't it you who died instead?" he screamed. I gave up college and took on three jobs a day just to pay for his treatment. Years passed. One day, while cleaning a mansion as a housekeeper, I saw her, the "sister" I was traded for, gliding through a lavish party, dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewels. I froze when I heard the voices I had long thought silenced. My parents, alive, speaking to her as gently as ever: "Jasmine, you're so compassionate… agreeing to end Helen's punishment early." My brother, the one who should still be seeing a therapist, frowned and objected. "No. Not even a day less. Just because she suffers a little doesn't mean she deserves to live." I glanced down at the medical report still warm in my hands. For the first time in years, I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "Now I can finally die like I wanted to."

On her first day at work, a new colleague uploaded a 500-million-dollar property purchase agreement to the company group chat. The message was accompanied by the caption: “Thanks for the gift for my first day at work, Dad!” She quickly deleted it, following up with, “Sorry, wrong chat!” I frowned, recognizing the contract immediately. It was the same property my father gifted me for my birthday a month ago. Some sharp-eyed colleagues noticed the contract number and chimed in. “I have a relative in real estate. I remember this property. Our chairman bought it recently!” “So, the heiress has joined us to experience life. Forgive your humble servant for not recognizing you!” The chat was soon filled with flattering remarks. Even my stingy and miserly husband joined in. I felt a coldness in my heart and couldn’t help but respond in the group chat, “I recall the president always opposing ostentatious displays of wealth and advocating humility. This heiress seems to veer away from his usual philosophy.” Instead of support, I faced attacks from my husband and others. “Look at you being so poor and petty. How could you ever compare to Grace? Why did I ever marry someone so shortsighted?” “As if you know the president that well! I think you’re just jealous that Grace was born with a silver spoon!” I sneered coldly and, without hesitation, dialed the president’s number right in front of everyone. “Dad, I heard we’re not that close, hmm?”

** Meet Shravan Maheswari and Drishti Singhania Shravan Maheswari, born with a silver spoon wanted to make a name of his own. A workaholic by nature ,his sole focus is on his company SM Groups. What will happen when trouble maker Drishti Singhania lands in his life creating chaos all around. Mind you, trouble follows Drishti or Drishti follows trouble? The question is still unanswered. Fall in love with them when these total opposites fall for each other.

July a workholic woman who is in a relationship with her old lover in secret. The age that is no longer young makes her big family urge to get married, even they arrange an marriage partner for her. The reason July keeps her relationship with Argus a secret from people around her is because the past history they had as former college student and his status as a widower. Argus once left July before and married another woman of his parents ' choice. July does not want her big family to know which is definitely the they relationship will be opposed by all parties, even on the day of her marriage, July still kept the identity of the groom until the end. That's why an agent hired by Argus can show up at a wedding to be a substitute groomer. July is trapped in a fake married life with N over a contractual agreement.

On my birthday, I proposed a family trip to the northern grasslands. My younger sister, Clara Harrington, who was studying in the southern territory, decided to drive through the forest to meet up with us. But unexpectedly, she was attacked by Rogue wolves in the woods, and her body was never found. My parents, Oscar Harrington and Margaret Vale, placed all the blame on me for her death and cast me out of the family. Overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow, I left the pack to atone for my sins. I took on odd jobs to earn money to send home, all while searching for any trace of Clara. Three years later, I found myself in the southern territory and began working as a delivery runner for a forest cafe. One day, while delivering an order to Werewolf Academy, I saw my parents and Clara standing at the school gate. She said, "Dad, Mom, Adeline has been wandering for three years. Shouldn't we let her come home?" But my mother replied calmly, "She is too selfish. It's only right that she suffers a little. We can bring her back once she realizes her mistakes." My father nodded in agreement. "Let her wander for another year. We'll bring her home next year." I clutched my stomach, my face pale as I forced out a bitter laugh. Three years of exhaustion had left me gravely ill. My wolf was gone, and I only had three days left to live. I could't wait until next year for my father to come and take me home.

Elena Ghen's life is suddenly overturned when Alpha Williams declares war against her pack and wins. Elena is forcefully taken away from her pack and joins The blue moon pack where Alpha Williams plans to make her his Luna. What happens when Elena meets her mate at the mating dinner organized for her and Alpha Williams? What happens when she finds out that her mate is non other than the Alpha in line, Jake, Alpha William's very own son. Elena and Jack have the same goal but can they put down their differences and make it work. The moon goddess doesn't make mistakes , or does she? ~~~~~~~ I smirked on seeing his red blazing eyes stare me down, his face hardened, his fake demeanor falling apart. I could feel his hard on pressed against my thighs. His hands gripping my hair tightly, holding my chin up. "Shut it." He snarled "Imagine me, pressed against the sheets with him, thighs apart. His hands gripping my thighs so hard they'd leave a bruise. My neck covered in love bites as I -" "Shut the fuck up before I show you exactly how mean I could be. I don't mind ruining in the sanctuary of this place. I will fuck you real, good. Your head and thoughts will be filled with my name, because you're mine, just mine." "Why don't you make me. Do it." I teased, challenging him. Watching his smirk deepened. He yanked my hair tighter, raising his eyebrows "Get on your knees and make that mouth useful."

My husband, a surgeon, committed a fatal error during surgery. In despair at the loss of his patient's life, he chose the ultimate escape via sleeping pills on the very same night. By the time I reached his side, his ice-cold body was already being carted into the morgue. His death set the beginning of my tragedy. The patient's family, consumed by grief and rage, turned their wrath on me. Their cruel vengeance eventually took my life. As my spirit left me, I came to witness a shocking revelation. My supposedly dead husband was, in truth, alive and well! While I suffered, he enjoyed a life of luxury with his mistress and his new family. He had it all—sleek fancy cars, a stately mansion, and a mountain of wealth. The discovery burned me with rage. So furious I was, I couldn't rest in peace. When I opened my eyes again, I awoke not in the afterlife, but on the day my husband faked his death. I had returned…

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

In my past life, my mate Marcus ran off to the forest to make love with my best friend Scarlett, who was eight-month pregnant. That’s when they'd be surrounded by a pack of rogue wolves. Scarlett, heavy with child, started bleeding heavily. Both of them desperately called for the Border Guard. As the Chief Warrior, I had risked everything to fight those rogue wolves. But Scarlett still died along with her unborn pup. My mate Marcus led others to accuse me of using my position for personal revenge. He personally severed both my hands with a silver blade. "A warrior without morals like you deserves to burn in hell!" he snarled. But I remembered clearly—when I drove off the rogues and got the pack healer to Scarlett, she barely had a scratch on her. Finally, Scarlett's parents arrived. I begged them to examine her body and investigate the truth. Instead, they reported to Alpha that I had neglected my duties. They claimed I was high on wolfsbane while guarding the border. Alpha exiled me for fifteen years. With both hands severed, I had no way to fight or shift properly. I survived by begging scraps from neighboring territories. Fifteen years later, I returned to the pack. I saw my mate Marcus walked through the airport's first-class terminal with Scarlett and their son. They were using my inheritance to fund their luxury vacation to the Maldives. They spotted me. Without hesitation, they pushed me into a silver pit to destroy all evidence. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Scarlett faked her death. This time, I took one look at the scene and declared them beyond saving. I told my assistant to send them to bury them directly.