Folder Stw

Knock Knock “Boss?” “Come in.” Pagkatapos ng pahintulot, agad na bumukas ang pinto ng opisina. “Narito na po ang mga dokumentong kailangan ninyo.” “Dalhin mo rito,” utos ng lalaki. Nag-aatubili ang sekretarya na lumapit—marahil dahil naroon pa ang ina ng kanyang boss at ayaw niyang makisali sa usapan. Maingat na lumapit ang dalagang may maayos na tindig, at iniabot ang mga dokumento sa presidente ng kompanya na nakaupo sa kanyang upuan. Ngunit sa halip na kunin ang folder, hinawakan ng lalaki ang kamay niya at hinila siya paupo sa kanyang kandungan Nanlaki ang mata ng babae, nanigas sa gulat, at hindi makapagsalita. “Lorien! Anong ginagawa mo sa kanya?!” Napabalikwas ng tayo ang ina ng lalaki sa labis na pagkagulat. “Mula ngayon, hindi mo na kailangang uminom ng pills. Gusto na ng mama ko ng apo.” “Ano???” Nagulat si Madame Hazel sa narinig mula sa anak.

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.

To "fix" Leonard Rinehart's oh-so-tragic depression, Naomi Gaffron—yeah, the same girl who once swore she'd only ever marry me—secretly tied the knot with him. So I gave in. Played along with the family's little matchmaking stunt. Married Aurelia Spencer—Brieton City's golden girl who'd been obsessed with me since forever. For seven years, she clung to me like I was oxygen. Every night, curled up like she'd break if I moved. I thought that was happiness. Then one night, I caught her whispering to her best friend: "Leonard's already got international awards. When are you dumping Leone?" "Whatever—I'm stuck with someone I don't love anyway. Doesn't matter who I married. Someone's gotta keep an eye on Leone so he doesn't screw up everything Leonard built." I checked her study. Found a hidden folder—over 100,000 photos of Leonard. A hundred unsent love letters. Even I couldn't fake it anymore. Bought a silicone dummy. Laid out the plan. The fire would be step one. Dead or alive—we're done.

Yselle Morel is watching her family's glassworks collapse—unpaid wages, angry suppliers, a bank ready to shut the gates. When Renaud Valois, a feared billionaire financier, offers a rescue, it comes with a cruel condition: marriage. He says it’s business. His eyes say it’s revenge. In Valois’s riverside estate outside Paris, Yselle plays the obedient wife—smiling, thanking staff, acting harmless. She calls it "wife camouflage." Then she finds a locked room behind the library wall: a war room filled with files, photos, and timelines about her father’s life… and a folder stamped with Yselle’s name. Renaud didn’t choose her. He planned her. As “accidents” start closing in—tampered brakes, poisoned tea, a near fall on a dark stairwell—Yselle realizes the marriage isn’t only punishment. It’s protection. Someone wants her silent before the Day 30 board vote that will decide her family’s future. And the closer she gets to the truth, the more she fears the man who raised her. On the eve of the vote, Yselle opens the last drawer in the war room and finds an envelope addressed to her—in her mother’s handwriting. The ink looks fresh. Then the lights go out, and a voice behind her whispers, “Don’t trust your husband.”

My childhood friend promised to marry me once we came of age — but at my wedding ceremony, he gave my wedding ring to my stepsister, Summer Hugh. At the time, it was Victor Lowell, the fearsome mafia heir, who saved me by publicly announcing he had loved me for years. In the five years we had been married, he would fulfill every wish I had, even those I mentioned offhand. I truly believed I was the center of his world. All that changed when I stumbled across a top-secret folder as I was cleaning his bookshelf. The very first page was a file on Summer, with three red words printed in bold, “Top protection priority.” It was followed by a mission report I knew too well. On the night of the mission, there had been an attempt on my life. My blood had almost run dry before I was saved. When I woke up at the hospital, I found out that I had lost a baby I did not know I had been carrying. I wept bitterly in Victor’s arms, but I did not tell him about the baby. I did not want him to worry about me more. Now, I finally found out — Summer had been attacked that night as well, and Victor’s orders had been: “Save Summer first.” My tears soaked into the paper, smudging his handwriting. “Alright,” I said softly but firmly into the silence. “If my marriage had been a lie all along, I’ll disappear from your life. Forever.”

Three years ago, my father marries me off to Evan Blackwell, the CEO of Blackwell Group, for the family's interests. Everyone thinks I'm done for because Evan is known for being ruthless and cruel. Yet, he's nothing but gentle to me, and he never raises his voice at me. He even has my initials, SH, tattooed on his chest. Every year on our anniversary, fireworks bloom across the city right on the dot. They spell out my name and the loving words he dedicates to me. On our third anniversary, the fireworks suddenly replace my name, Selena Holloway, with Serena Harroway. Before I can ask about it, Evan immediately calls his subordinates and tears into them. "What's going on? How could you mess up my wife's name? Do you want to lose your jobs?" I hastily tell him it's fine and that the thought is what truly matters. In the end, he lets them off the hook. However, he pushes me until my legs are shaking and my voice is gone that night. When I wake from the night that leaves my whole body humming, he's already seated at his desk and buried in work. He asks me to grab a folder for him, yet I open the wrong drawer and stumble upon an old photo album. It contains intimate photos of him and a young woman who looks strikingly like me. There's a confession on the back of every single picture. "I miss you so much, Serena."

Untuk menyembuhkan depresi si putri kaya palsu, kekasih masa kecilku yang pernah bersumpah hanya akan menikah denganku, Darryl, diam-diam pergi mendaftarkan pernikahan dengannya. Di belakangnya, aku menyetujui perjodohan keluargaku. Aku menikah dengan pewaris keluarga konglomerat di ibu kota, Vincent, yang diam-diam telah mencintaiku selama bertahun-tahun. Setelah tujuh tahun menikah, dia memanjakanku sepenuh hati. Malam demi malam dia selalu menuntut kemesraan dariku. Bahkan jika aku menginginkan bintang di langit, dia tetap akan berusaha mengambilkannya untukku. Aku sempat mengira, akhirnya aku telah menemukan kebahagiaan. Hingga suatu kali setelah bercinta, aku tidak sengaja mendengar percakapan Vincent dengan sahabatnya. "Avril sudah jadi aktris internasional peraih penghargaan. Kapan kamu mau pisah sama Ariel?" "Toh sama saja harus nikah sama orang yang nggak kucintai, jadi mau sama siapa pun itu nggak ada bedanya. Lagi pula, aku harus jaga Ariel agar dia nggak mengganggu kebahagiaan yang didapatkan Avril dengan susah payah." Aku membuka komputer di ruang kerjanya. Di dalam sebuah folder tersembunyi, tersimpan ratusan ribu foto Avril dan seratus surat cinta yang tak pernah dia kirimkan. Setidak percaya apa pun pada kenyataan, saat ini aku benar-benar sudah harus sadar. Aku membeli sebuah tubuh plastik, lalu merancang sebuah kebakaran besar. Mulai saat ini, entah di langit atau di neraka, aku tak akan pernah bertemu dengannya lagi.

My childhood sweetheart, Samuel Burton, once promises that he will marry me the moment we graduate from college. But on our wedding day, he shows up late. When we finally find him, he's tangled in bed with my stepsister, Vivian Holcomb, in a hotel room. In front of everyone, Ethan Fuller, the heir to the wealthiest family, steps forward and boldly declares that I am the one he has secretly loved for years. Five years into our marriage, he remembers every little thing I say, and I truly believe I am the person he cares about most. Until one day, when I'm doing housework and accidentally find a confidential folder hidden deep in his desk drawer. The very first page is Vivian's resume. On it is his own handwriting. He has written, "Priority. Above everything else." Behind it is a hospital operations report I have never seen before. The date matches the night of my car accident. I was rushed to a hospital owned by Fuller Group, yet no surgeon ever came. By the time I woke up, the baby I'm carrying was gone because I had lost too much blood. I cried in Ethan's arms until my voice broke, but I never told him the full truth. I didn't want him to worry even more. But now I finally know. Vivian was also injured that night, and the order Ethan sent to the hospital was— "Pull every specialist available. Treat Vivian first." My tears soak into the page, blurring the ink. "If I'm not your top priority, I'll disappear from your life then."

“You've read the contract, I assume?” His tone was soft but firm. His eyes, however, were fixated on her lips. “Every word.” Aurora hesitated, fingers brushing against the folder's edge. Michael furrowed his brows, gauging her expression. “Are you sure you want this? You can say no, and we’ll simply pretend this never happened.” “No,” Aurora said firmly, gripping the edges of her skirt. Her entire body pulsed with need for him, so how could she disagree? “I want this.” She quickly signed the contract. His hands left her jaw, reaching down to pull her up and against his office table. His hands slowly reached under her skirt. “Well, then. Let us begin, shall we?” *** Aurora Lane thought the worst day of her life was catching her boyfriend trying to sneak off on a hotel trip with her best friend, using her money. She was wrong. Booking the suite solo, she never expected to find a stranger already there. Tall, brooding, and infuriatingly magnetic. Michael Carson, a billionaire hotel mogul who lives for control, should’ve thrown her out. Instead, one night of passion turned into something neither could forget. When fate brings them together again, their simmering chemistry becomes impossible to ignore. A secret “no-strings” contract should have kept their hearts safe, but the more they try to resist, the deeper they fall. Then the past returns to destroy everything. A jealous ex. A web of lies. A powerful family that will do anything to keep them apart. And when a shocking betrayal turns deadly, Aurora must decide whether love is worth risking everything for… even her life. In a world of money, manipulation, and impossible love, can two broken hearts rewrite their destiny, or will the secrets between them burn it all down?

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.