Floor Guardians Overlord Novels & Stories

After a grueling year of training abroad on the company's dime, I came home holding an OEM certification for our high-end production line. Only three people in the country had it. I couldn't wait to cash in my stock options and finally give my girlfriend, Nora, a home of our own. But when I got back to the office, there was no celebration waiting. Just three notices. [Finance: $50,000 travel reimbursement rejected. $20,000 in salary frozen as a performance hold, to be released after your review is passed.] [HR: Your sponsored training carries a mentoring obligation. You must train three qualified technicians within one month of returning, as your assessment. Fail, and your travel costs will not be reimbursed and your frozen salary will be forfeited.] [Direct Manager, Kevin: Turn over all core technical documentation. Effective tomorrow, you're reassigned to the factory floor for mentoring.] I gripped the three notices and headed for the manager's office to demand an explanation. I pushed the door open and froze. Nora, my girlfriend of three years, was sitting on Kevin's lap, her clothes half undone. Our eyes met. All she gave me was one cold line. "Ethan, since you've already seen it, let's just break up." I backed out of the office without a word. I walked past all the eager faces waiting for a show, went back to my desk, and finally answered the email that had been sitting in my inbox for a week. [I've decided to accept your offer. I can start in a month.] One month. Everything this company owed me, I was going to take back myself.

I was born with a cursed tongue. The words I said came true. So as soon as I understood what that meant, I stopped speaking. For more than twenty years, I never said another word. Then my six-year-old son knocked his pregnant aunt over by accident, and my husband sent him to a kennel. My son had been bitten by a dog before. He was terrified of them. I begged. I went down on my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor until it was bleeding. Connor Grant lifted his sister-in-law Camille Lane up off the ground, ran a tender hand over her swollen belly, and his voice came out cold. "Don't think I can't see what's behind this. He did it because you put him up to it. You're a calculating little mute. He has your filthy blood in his veins. If we don't break him now, he grows up worthless." "Send him somewhere that knows how to teach a child his place. Teach him how things rank in this house. And teach you, while we're at it. Don't touch what isn't yours." By the time I found my son, he was in a cage with five vicious dogs. There was almost nothing left to hold. I pieced the small body back together. I opened my mouth for the first time in over twenty years, and the first words I had spoken in my life were: "Connor Grant. Blood for blood. I will see this house buried."

I work in a highly confidential government department. One day, my supervisor asked me to personally deliver a set of classified documents to my brother's company. The moment I stepped into his office, a young intern blocked my path. "So you're the new assistant?" Her eyes swept over me from head to toe before landing on the file bag in my hands. She let out a mocking laugh. "Trying to earn Mr. Sinclair's favor on your first day already? Maybe take a look in the mirror first and see what you actually are." That was when I realized she had mistaken me for a romantic rival. The problem was, my brother had never told me he had a girlfriend. I had barely opened my mouth to explain when a burning slap landed across my face. "You b*tch. The only person qualified to be Mr. Sinclair's assistant is me! As for being his girlfriend, don't even dream about it!" She grabbed my hair and splashed scalding water across my face. "At your age, already seducing men? Who knows how many people you've slept with behind the scenes." Curled up on the floor, I still clung tightly to the document bag, shielding it with my body. That only seemed to enrage her further. She ripped the bag away from me and tore the documents into pieces right in front of the entire company. Then she shamelessly turned to my brother and smiled. "Mr. Sinclair, your new assistant sure is bold. She was trying to seduce you. "But don't worry. I already taught her a lesson for you."

At my own wedding, I find out the woman behind the veil isn't even the one I'm supposed to be marrying. Instead of getting mad, I give her the wedding of the century. It's all because of what happened in my past life. I'd exposed that she wasn't my bride in front of everyone and blew up the whole ceremony. That forced Jessie Clarke, who'd been at the hospital with her childhood sweetheart, Oliver Grant, to rush over reluctantly so we could still get married. Because of that, Oliver refused treatment and died on the operating table. When I heard he was gone, I told Jessie she should see him one last time, but she refused. All she said was, "Blame it on his bad luck." After we got married, we acted just as in love as before. I kept getting money from my family to save her company every time it was on the verge of collapse. But on the anniversary of Oliver's death, Jessie shoved me off the top floor of her company. I hit the ground hard enough to end up a broken, bloody mess. As I fell, I caught one last look at her face, streaked with tears. "If you hadn't forced me back to marry you, Oliver wouldn't have died! You get to keep me, but I lost him for good! Why do you get to live a happy life?" So that was it. She'd blamed me for Oliver's death from the start. She'd never loved me at all. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back at our wedding ceremony.

Willow Grant has spent nearly a decade in Manhattan, building a life of logic, skyscrapers, and safety. She traded the wild air of Redwood Bay for the steady pulse of the city and found a man who offers her a quiet, uncomplicated love. She’s no longer the girl who wept on a cold floor; she is older, watchful, and finally in control. But when a family engagement demands her return to the territory, she discovers that some ghosts don't stay buried—they grow teeth. Seven years ago, he let her run. Now, he’s done waiting. Roman Vale is no longer the boy she once idolized. He is the Alpha of the Vale Clan, a lethal tactician who rules the northern territories with a heart of flint and a gaze of stormy gray. He has spent years in the shadows, expanding his empire and purging anyone who dared touch what belonged to him. He has stayed silent. He has stayed celibate. But he has never let go. From the moment Willow steps back onto his soil, the hunt is on. Roman doesn't want a civil conversation or a polite reunion. He wants the woman who was promised to him in the moonlight. He wants to tear down the walls she built in the city and remind her that no matter whose hand she holds, her wolf only howls for one man. As a dangerous conspiracy threatens the Grant lineage, Willow is forced into Roman’s orbit for protection. But in the corridors of the Vale Compound, the greatest threat isn't the enemies at the gate—it’s the suffocating, magnetic heat of the man who calls her Rosebud while looking at her like prey. The rose has finally bloomed. And this time, the Alpha is playing for keeps.

"Did you kill him?" The detective asked again."I've already answered you like a thousand times... Yes, he was a monster. Yes, he beat me up a lot but I didn't do it. I didn't kill Jude!" Amanda replied."I'm sorry. I know what it's like to be a victim of abuse and all that, but you need to understand that murder is a serious case too. You'll have to forgive us for asking you continually it's just that you were the closest to him we've got here.""I wasn't. There was someone else he was seeing that knew a lot about him than I ever did," Amanda replied.*******The night was growing colder and the rains seemed to have agitated in full force. Amanda sat on one of the soft leather chairs that squeaked with her every move in the living room with tears in her eyes as she watched the rains drop on the floor forming small pools and waited for Jude to come back. She was worried sick about his whereabouts even though all his presence caused her were pain and more tears. The protruding bump on her stomach, made it quite difficult to move around at ease so she was stuck with calling his busied line while she watched the clock tick its way into the midnight mark.*****A heart rending story told differently. Stronger than Pain captures a dysfunctional Nigerian home where a callous man, beats his wife on a daily basis. Time flies and now he is dead. All the characters have a reason to kill him, but she's their number one suspect. The Question still remains, who pulled the trigger?

My sister has awakened her mermaid bloodline, but it is incomplete. Her skin is her curse. A single touch, too hard, and it cracks. For her, everything hard in our house has been thrown away. I love to dance, but the hard tips of ballet shoes are forbidden. I love music, but the strings of a guitar or the keys of a piano are too dangerous. Every dream I've ever had has been strangled in its cradle because of my sister's condition. My brother, Liam, who raised us both, always looks at me with tired, pleading eyes. "Elara is fragile, Isla. You have to be understanding." But I was only eighteen the first time I truly understood. I came home from my high school graduation ceremony, the scent of sunshine and excitement still on my clothes. The moment I stepped inside, Elara's hand connected with my cheek. Hard. For no reason at all. Everyone rushed to her. Liam pointed a furious finger at me. "Look what you've done! You've hurt her hand! How could you be so careless?" He shoved me aside and rushed out with Elara to find a doctor. I fell back against the glass coffee table, the impact jarring. And then, a strange, cold pain bloomed across my back. I felt my skin... tear. It was then I remembered the doctor's words from my last check-up: "You carry the Siren's Gene, Isla. It could manifest at any time." As my vision blurred, my own blood pooling on the pristine white floor, I finally understood. The curse wasn't just my sister's. It was mine, too.

The Hot Series (Book 1) Story Of a Mysterious Professor, a girl full of life and Mr. Stranger. He gave me a grin as they all student left, I averted my eyes to show him my fake anger. He strolled to the door and shut it close. "Sir, what are you doing?" I asked dramatically as he locked the door. He turned around, his lips drawn up into a naughty smile. "I need to spend some private time with my student." He's sauntering to me, gazing at me, having desires in his bewitching black eyes. My heart started racing, only with the thoughts of what he'll do to me. I'm excited to spend some time with my Hottie Professor in the classroom. This is making me excited. I'm looking at him in anticipation. "But your favourite student is still angry with you." I turned my face on the other side as he reached in front of me. "Then her professor has his own to pacify his favourite student." He cooed, holding my chin with his thumb and finger. As he turned my face to him, I pouted angrily. "Oh, really? So what are those ways ?" I sassed, removing his hand from my chin. As he abruptly grasped my bare waist, I shivered because of his touch. He lifted me from the floor and made me sit on the desk. We gazed into each other eyes passionately in utter silence, the only sound we could hear is our heartbeats. He started coming close to my lips, gazing into my eyes fondly. His warm breath caressing my face.

Melissa Jones, the so-called 'fake' heiress, lost her memory trying to save me. Her memory was stuck at the time she was 18, back when our lives had not yet been set right. Everyone told me to be the bigger person. In the new family portrait, I was the only one missing. My biological mother tried to comfort me, "Shirley, be reasonable. It's just a photo. We will make it up to you later." I applied for the vice president position year after year, only to be rejected five times in a row. Then, when Melissa said she wanted to learn the business, my brother, Maverick Jones, approved it immediately. Afterward, he turned to me and said, "You should give way to Melissa. You're the reason she lost her memory. I'm helping you make up for it." When I went into labor and needed my husband, Charles Smith, to sign the consent for a C-section, he was one floor above me, accompanying Melissa to a follow-up appointment. I called him seven times. He declined every call. In the end, my seven-month-old baby suffocated. Even in a wheelchair, I went to demand an explanation. However, outside the hospital room, I heard Melissa crying. "Back then, you all agreed I should pretend to have amnesia. I'll never randomly decline calls for Charles again. I just want to stay by your side for three more months." There was a moment of silence. Then, Charles and the others agreed. At that moment, I was not angry. I just felt something inside me turn completely empty. I turned around and accepted my adoptive parents' request to return to Nebula City. This time, I would give these people what they wanted.

On the day I'm due for my labor, Chad Nelson's first love, Lucy Baker, who's diagnosed with depression, barges into the maternity ward. Without warning, she plunges the knife she's holding into my belly. By the time Chad and the medical team arrive at the ward, I'm already lying in a pool of my own blood on the bed. The machine recording my vitals keeps screeching loudly the whole time. But Chad crouches down next to Lucy, who has gotten shoved to the floor by a nurse earlier. It seems that her elbow has suffered from light abrasions. "Dr. Nelson, your spouse is in critical condition. She needs to undergo a surgery immediately!" Chad raises his head to glance at me. His tone is cool and professional. "None of Caitlin's vital organs are hurt by the stab, so she can still endure the pain for now. Lucy, on the other and, has a coagulation disorder. Even though she has only suffered from abrasions, there's a chance that her blood flow can't be staunched at all. This makes her situation more critical than Caitlin's. "Anyway, give the two bags of blood in the blood bank to Lucy." When I get pushed away, I use all of my strength to grip Chad's white coat tightly. He just frowns at me in return. "Lucy didn't do this on purpose. Her depression has gotten triggered, that's all. Since you're a woman of medicine, you should be more empathetic toward the patient." After that, Chad digs out a letter of forgiveness from his pocket that he has already printed out in advance.