False Protagonist Novels & Stories

一 Caroline softened her voice, it was likely that she was also using the same suffering technique on Dona Cristina as she used on Felipe and possibly on Senhor Jacob. 一 Unfortunately not, Caroline. But I'll look for you, excuse me 一 She asked rudely, but before she did she turned to me and then smiled 一 See you later my dear 一 She smiled at me and only after that did she leave. There was hate in Caroline's eyes, she could fool heaven and saints but not me. I knew her type of girl, the shy and suffering when in fact her goal was to make other people's lives hell, the reality is that she was the only villain.

I stared at the police cruiser in front of me in terror. “I’m not doing it! That’s a crime.” The system in my head replied coldly, [If you don’t sabotage your life, you will die.] I did not believe it at first. Just half an hour ago, I suddenly heard the system’s voice in my head. It told me I was the heroine of a tragic story. After Kris’ first love, Ruby Dynevor, returned to the country, I would be abandoned and kicked out of the house.

The lines between good and bad obscured, and the heaviness of his choices bore intensely on his shoulders. Amid the confusion, a beam of trust glimmered when a columnist, detecting a more profound truth, began diving into the unpredictable trap of trickery. Unbeknownst to Arnold, his painstakingly built façade started to break. The disclosure of controlled stock rates and dishonest indictments cast uncertainty on the story he had woven.

“He’s a monster, Victoria. But he’s a predictable one. He’s played this game for forty years. He used my mother, he used Silas, and now he’s using you.” I sat back, the magnesium from my earlier treatment making my head swim, but the logic was suddenly, terrifyingly clear. I looked at the two men in front of me. On one side, the husband who had lied to protect me, now broken by the realization that his own father was an assassin. On the other, the “brother” who might be a clone, a man raised in a cult, currently trying to play the role of the honest whistleblower. I was a pawn. My baby was a pawn. We were the “Vermon Assets” being traded between two predators.

The true identity of our mysterious antagonist was none other than a trusted confidant, someone who had been with us every step of the way, masquerading as an ally while weaving a web of deception. The betrayal cut deep, leaving us stunned and reeling from the realization that the enemy had been among us all along. But even in the face of this devastating blow, we summoned the strength to forge ahead, vowing to expose the truth and bring down the web of corruption that had ensnared us.

he confirmed, the resolve in his eyes unwavering. "Sebastian," I continued, feeling the emotional weight of that name. "He will look defeated, but he may try one last psychological gambit. A plea for mercy, a reminder of the brotherhood. You look him in the eye and remember the tree. You remember the cost of his dishonesty. You hold the truth." "The truth is secured," he affirmed, placing his hand over mine. My own role was crucial. I was the star witness the author whose personal story was inseparable from the fraud. I wasn't just testifying to a financial crime; I was telling the story of betrayal.

Leaving personal matters within, I shot back, "You are living your life your way, aren't you? Then why can't I? Stop interfering in my personal life." Damien uttered glaring at me, "Don’t you dare to question my life, Ms. McBride. By any chance, if you are telling me to be loyal to you because you are my fiancee then put a thing in your mind that YOU are my fake fiancee. Fake. And I don’t have the useless wish to interfere in your so-called personal life. But unlike you, I have a reputation that will get hampered if you continue falling into a stranger's arms like last night. I won't like the news about my fiancee stepping out from a stranger's place in the early morning or roaming with some

If looks could kill, Veronica would be six feet under the ground by now. “In your case, I don’t believe you are capable of making good decisions. And I don’t want a child of mine to end up as a pathetic wife. For these reasons, I have carefully scouted and singled out a man of great nobility: Tristan Aguilar. You will go on a date with him, fall in love with him, and eventually, get married to him.”

I couldn’t even see clearly and my thoughts were fully jumbled up. But in the background, I overheard my colleagues handing me off to Saint to take me home since I was too drunk to get myself home. I attempted protesting, feeling appalled that they’d dare hand me over to the person who hated me as much as I hated him. Instead of getting me home, he’d rather dump me in a ditch! But my colleagues didn’t pay me any mind, and one by one, they all left, leaving me all alone with Saint. Fuck my life.

I'm reviewing a math practice test the night before the college entrance exam when I spot a chunk of red text that shouldn't be there. "At 10:00 pm, your sister's classmate, Britney Lowe, will come to your house asking to stay the night. She'll say she had a fight with her parents and has nowhere else to go." "At 2:00 am, she'll sneak into your room, then call the police at dawn and accuse you of assaulting her." "The police will arrest you, and you'll be sentenced to three years in prison. Your younger sister, Lizzie Brown, will become the target of school gossip, and unable to face the online bullying, she'll jump to her death." I frown as I read it, assuming it's some kind of prank.