Fancy Dinner Jogja

At the team dinner, everyone started hyping Peggy Madoff and me up to call our partners. Before I could even move, Peggy—runner-up to my top spot—whipped out her phone. "Babe, everyone's making me call you!" she giggled. On the line? Gerard Busch. Yeah, the CEO. He laughed. "Guess I'll be counting on you all to look after Peggy," he said. Cue the gasps and cheers. I just kept downing my wine. Because Gerard? He was my husband.

When I found out I was pregnant, Elroy Lousteau went all out—hired some fancy doctor, loaded me up with meds to "protect the baby." He'd never believed in anything before, but suddenly he went to church, praying like his life depends on it. "You've been through hell, babe. Once the baby's here, I swear I'll make it right." That same day, I picked up his phone by accident. "As instructed, the meds include a compound for permanent infertility. The baby will be stillborn. "Ms. Tillon's baby is healthy and will be delivered safely—as the true Lousteau heir. "Mrs. Lousteau won't suspect a thing. Your relationship's secure. You can rest assured." I looked down at my belly. He never loved me. Not really. So I made up my mind—once the divorce papers were signed, I was gone. No looking back.

Every one thinks her life is perfect but inside her, she knows it's far from even good or she should say that it's more like a luxurious hell. She has everything that makes life fancy but no meaning. She never receives love from her own home Her heart is totally empty until her secret prayer came to life. That one night when she asks her mom who passed away long time ago, after giving birth to her for something she never thought possible. "I know it's impossible for me to be with you and I don't know kung hanggang kailan ko kayang mag-isa... well you could at least send me an angel." nakangusong wika niya sa kawalan habang nakatingin sa nakangiting larawan ng kanyang ina. Nasa ganoon siyang tagpo nang may biglang kumatok. Who could possibly that be?

My husband, Daniel Thompson, looked down on me. I was just a farmer's daughter in his eyes, and he never loved the son I gave birth to. It wasn’t until our baby turned 100 days old that he held him for the first time. Then, one day, his first love, Claire Matthews, came back to the city. That night at dinner, Daniel, who was always cold and distant, finally smiled. He even reached across the table and placed a piece of meat on Noah’s plate. Noah beamed all evening, clutching onto that tiny gesture like it was a treasure. Just before bed, he whispered to me, "Mom, do you think he likes me now… even just a little?" I wrapped him in my arms, tears blurring my vision as I gently shook my head. "No, sweetheart. It’s because the woman he truly loves is back. It’s time for us to go."

On Valentine's Day, I set up a candlelit dinner and waited. At 9 PM, my husband, Alfred Johnston, finally texted. [Something came up at work. Don't wait for me.] Then I saw her post. [On a business trip with the CEO for Valentine's Day. Every hotel is fully booked—awkward...] Vivian Bianca, his secretary. Attached was a photo of a guy in a bathrobe, standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. The comments were all 'ooh, CEO's so hot and girl, you're in for a night.' Vivian? Just dropped a smug emoji. So that's what "something came up" meant—a romantic getaway with his secretary. I screenshotted it, posted it on my own feed, and added a smiling emoji. A second later, Alfred called, fuming. "Vivian was joking! Why are you so petty? She's young, not as calculating as you!" I didn't let him finish. "Then let's get a divorce. That way, I won't have to care when you screw around and catch something."

The casino my husband and I ran was about to go through a chaotic police raid. Anyone who got caught would likely end up arrested. We had the time to leave. But we couldn’t all leave. One of us had to stay behind, or the cops would keep chasing us. Elias, my charming husband, didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Mireille and left me to handle the cops, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll send a lawyer to you.” Lucky for me, I managed to walk away without any consequences. And then, I saw, Elias, the man who was supposed to have my back, not only did escape without me, he also whisked Mireille away to some fancy resort, like they were on vacation. He looked so carefree, so unbothered. Not a hint of concern for the wife he’d just abandoned. “Think Seraphina’s gonna be mad that we left without her?” Mireille asked, all innocence. Elias laughed, that cold, detached laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. “Please. As if she’d ever get mad at me. She can handle herself.” He didn’t care. But you know what? Neither do I. Not anymore.

"W-What do you want?" "I want to see the girl who saved me. Do you know who I am?" James sharply gazed up at Delilah's blue eyes. Delilah innocently shook her head at him. "From now on, call me, Mr. J." James Harristian, aka James Belgenza, is the mafia leader of Daga Nero, a splinter group of one of the oldest famous mafia families in Naples. Apart from his powerful ruler of the town who controlled the underground weapon industry in Europe, James was also a successful owner of a high-tech motor company. One day, James was deceived into a scam dinner by his mistress. It strived to kill him, but somehow, he escaped. Being trapped in gunshots with his enemy, a flower girl saves James' life from his shameful miserable death. Delilah is a flower girl who runs a small flower shop in an alley in Naples. She thought innocently helping James to get to the hospital without wondering who the man was. When James has another chance to breathe, he does not feel grateful to his savior unless to kidnaps her. Unfortunately, Delilah turns out to be a collateral of her father's debt, which ran off unable to pay. Therefore, he intentionally kept Delilah in his mansion and added more debts to confine her forever. What will happen when the debt is only a scheme to kill James and Delilah is a pawn? Meanwhile, James falls for Delilah, who tries hard to pay her unpaid debt.

Ten years to the day we were mated, Eric came home wearing the scent of his first love. He wrapped me in his scorching heat, his voice a hoarse whisper against my ear. "I want you, Lyra." He hadn't marked me on a full moon in so long. But right now, the scent of another she-wolf on him was a bitter ache in my chest. The dinner I'd prepared for our full moon ritual was swept off the table by our cub, River. He looked at me with his father’s cold expression. "Mom, your cooking doesn’t even come close to Auntie Aurora’s." Aurora. The first love Eric could never forget. The one he'd brazenly appointed as CFO of our pack's corporation. They were the perfect pair, flaunting their connection for all to see. And I, his true mate, had become the pack's laughingstock. For ten years, I played the part of the perfect mate and mother, only to become a shadow in my own home. That night, I filed the request to the Elders. I would sever the mate bond。 Later, under the brilliant Alaskan aurora, I received Eric's frantic mind link. "Lyra, what about River if you leave?" I let out a small laugh. " River only needs you." "Your first love is back, isn't she? Let her be the mother. I'm free."

Amelia Starling lived a normal life in the city of Michigan, working as a waitress in a very fancy café she lived a single life her only stress was to go to work and cater for her grandma as she was an orphan, but all these changed the moment she witnesses a gunfight between two mafia gangs which causes an uproar in her life, one that went from a prickly nightmare to a flowery soft dream. Damon Morningstar, the Don of the highest mafia gang in the states, was referred to as the Mafia King, he has both the looks and the money, ladies fell at his feet, and he was called the Mafia king, death himself. Known for his ruthlessness and popularity he holds a great standard in the mafia society and outside, he meets Amelia at the gunfight and makes it his mission to get her as his. Two to tango they both take off into a world of hate, love, and death.

For three years, I was the only one allowed inside my husband, Matthew Carter's, secret room on the top floor. Until that day—when I walked in and found his young assistant there. "Matthew asked me to get things ready for his dinner party," she said, all confidence and no shame. I smiled. It turned out this was what it felt like to have my privileges as his wife trampled on. Fine. If the rules of the game had changed, then I would show everyone who the real player was. One by one, I dismantled the Carter family's most prized projects. That was when Matthew finally panicked. He demanded, "Why? We're husband and wife!" "Exactly," I said, tossing the divorce papers onto his desk. "And that's why betrayal comes with a steeper price, doesn't it?"