Five Nights At Freddy's Real Novels & Stories

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,

My husband had a bizarre obsession with role-playing. In every scenario he invented, I was always the devoted wife he eventually cast aside. One day, he became the ruthless CEO who fell for the nanny; the next, he turned into a respected professor who could not resist his students. Each time he handed me a divorce agreement, watched me sign it through tears, and then tore the papers to shreds the following morning with a satisfied grin. "It's just a game, babe." That changed when my mom was in a catastrophic car accident and needed 200,000 dollars for emergency surgery. Deep in character as a penniless failure, he said, "I'm flat broke. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money for your mom?" I watched my mother take her last breath because we couldn't pay the bill. On the day of her funeral, he arrived with a pretty college student on his arm. "I've fallen in love with one of my students. It's time we get divorced." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me the agreement. This time, I didn't wait for him to rip it up.

At the Mating Ceremony, my mate Alexander rejected our mate bond in front of the entire pack, then turned around and marked Sarah instead. While I endured the excruciating pain of rejection and the pack's vicious gossip, Alexander's brother Ethan walked into our ceremonial grounds. He presented me with nine hundred and ninety-nine Moonflowers, confessing he had secretly loved me for years. His wolf had recognized me as his mate, and he'd dreamed of making me his. I was shocked to discover he was my second chance mate, and touched that he saved me from humiliation. I immediately nodded in agreement. Five years into our marriage, I had miscarried five times, and had finally managed to conceive again. Ethan held me carefully, spinning me around with joy, promising to take good care of me and the baby, even if it cost him his life. Four months into my pregnancy, I overheard him talking with the pack healer: "Alpha Ethan, just like the previous five times, the miscarriage drugs have been added to your wife's pregnancy supplements." "I don't understand. Sarah was able to bear your child, so why not your wife?" Ethan laughed bitterly: "Only those who produce an heir can inherit the Alpha position. Alexander is infertile, and I want Sarah to fulfill her wish of becoming the pack's Alpha Female." Alexander and Ethan were the children of our pack's Alpha. The Alpha had declared that whoever produced an heir first would become the next Alpha of the pack. All those passionate vows and promises were nothing but lies. The brothers, Alexander and Ethan, both loved Sarah. If that was how things stood, I would leave. I returned to our bedroom and secretly took out my phone, dialing a number I thought I would never contact again: "I agree to return and inherit the Shadow Pack. But I need you to do me a favor."

Elena Quinn built her reputation exposing powerful men who believed money could bury the truth. Her latest investigation leads her to The Velvet Exchange, a secret auction where billionaires buy thirty nights of absolute obedience from carefully selected women. Rumor says the Exchange is protected by a mysterious billionaire whose name appears nowhere in public records. Men who cross him disappear. Others are found broken. Determined to uncover the truth, Elena takes the most dangerous step of her career. She enters the auction herself as Lot Seven. But the moment the bidding ends, her plan shatters. Because the man who bought her is the one person she never expected to see again. It's none other than Soren Vale. The billionaire she destroyed ten years ago

Five years ago, my family died in a car crash. My parents. My adopted sister, Liz. Everyone but me. They left behind grief, an empty house, and a debt so large it swallowed my life. When the collectors came, I turned to the only person I had left—my husband, Adrian. He told me he had cut ties with his own family to marry me and had nothing left. I believed him. For five years, I worked every job I could find, paid every dollar I earned, and told myself love was worth the suffering. When the balance dropped to its final $18,000, I signed up for a paid drug trial at a private clinic. They handed me a waiver, warned me about possible delayed reactions, and promised fast money if I swallowed the experimental dose. I thought it would buy us a new beginning. Instead, I came home early and heard Adrian on the phone. “Let Liz use the card. Evelyn still doesn’t know. She took away Liz’s money five years ago, so she has to earn every dollar back herself.” Then he laughed softly. “One more year, and her punishment is over.” That was how I learned the dead were alive. The debt was fake. My husband had never been poor. And the life I had fought so hard to survive was only a sentence they had given me.

I got into a car accident on my way to celebrate my daughter, Anna Chapman's birthday. When I wake up, I stare at my family, who has my bed surrounded. Then, I decide to crack a joke. "Sorry, but who are you people?" I do my best to suppress my smile as I look forward to how my family will comfort me now that I'm "amnesiac". Will my dad and my wife hold my hands out of heartbreak? Or will Anna rush over to hug me while crying for me? What I don't expect is that my family actually heaves sighs of relief after their initial shock. My dad is the first one to speak up, his tone tinged with relief. "It's a good thing that you've forgotten about your past. The truth is, you're the adopted son of the Gray family. Calvin is the actual heir of the Grays." My wife, Yvonne Stewart, points at me while telling Anna, "You should address him as Uncle Damian." Before I can recover from my shock, I see Anna, who I've risked my life to protect, run into Calvin Gray, the fake heir's arms. "Daddy, I was out having fun the whole day! Oh, I've missed you so much!" It turns out that my family wants nothing more than for me to lose my memories. In that case, I might as well abandon everything that's fake in my life.

I married Dario Vellari in place of the true Salvatore heiress. Dario was the only heir of the Vellari Famiglia, the one with the severe PTSD. Five years of marriage. He never slept with me. Then Bianca came home from Boston, the real heiress, and everything changed. In front of her, Dario reined in his temper. The rooms he had never let me enter, the things he had never let me touch - Bianca walked through them as if they were her own. I thought, then, that I was finished caring for Dario. But after I left, he scoured every corner of the northern hemisphere looking for me. Said if the bride wasn’t me, he would never marry at all.

When Naomi Sullivan married me, she was already ten million dollars in debt. I spent the last five years working three jobs to help her pay off her "debts" while providing for her as well as our son, Shane Lewis. Not once did I ever complain about anything. All along, I firmly believed that my efforts would pay off, and we would eventually lead a good life together. Last week, our company finally secured a massive investment. Naomi and I hugged as we celebrated the occasion. I thought that the hard times were finally over. Today, I ended up seeing Naomi featured in the financial news. Dressed in a formal gown, she was hailed as the sole heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire. She was shown engaged in an animated conversation with her "investor", Jared Lewis. The news headline read, "Naomi Sullivan Completes Five-Year Adversity Trial, Proves Her Ability to Build from Scratch to the Board of Directors". I trudge home in a daze. When I get there, the five-year-old Shane is playing with the latest limited-edition toy robot. He looks at me with a frosty, distant expression that bears an uncanny resemblance to his mother's. "Mommy told me everything. You failed the trial, Daddy. You care too much about money."

Charlie Sinclair married me to punish me. He had a reason. He believed it. He never asked me a single question about it in three years. He never looked at my face for three years either. Then the woman he had been waiting for came home, and he handed me the divorce papers without looking up. He never knew I left that house carrying a secret. Two of them. I came back five years later with an empire he does not know I built, and two children he does not know are his. Yesterday he saw me at JFK. For the first time in eight years, he looked. He knelt down and handed my daughter her ball, and he did not know whose eyes were looking back at him. Too late, Mr. Sinclair. I am no longer the wife you could not see.

For five years, Silver Winters endured everything. The mistresses. The humiliation. The cold indifference of a husband who saw her as nothing more than a convenient trophy. All because she had saved his life and hence requested for a marriage as payment and due to his parents being traditionalists, they accepted the deal. Then came the night of the accident—the night Seris chose to save his best friend, a petite sick patient instead of his wife. Silver died in that icy river. *But she woke up five years earlier, on the morning of her wedding day.* *This time, she's not walking down the aisle.* This time, she's rewriting every rule.She is no longer the dumb princess who thought true love was everything and she was going to live happily ever after with her prince charming. She wasn't going to cling onto someone who never wanted her in the first place. *With the knowledge of five years of betrayal burned into her memory, Silver sets out to reclaim everything she lost: her career, her confidence, and her chance at real love.* *But her cold CEO husband seems... different this time.* *"Why didn't you marry me? This has been your childhood dream" Seris demands, cornering her at a business gala.* Silver smiles, unbothered. "I decided I'm worth more than being someone's doormat." As she builds her empire and attracts the attention of powerful new allies, Seris realizes what he lost. But Silver is already three steps ahead. And this time, she's the one holding all the cards.