Forty-eight Thousand Novelas e Histórias

Cesare Xandri, the rising gangster of the Nalitan mafia, unexpectedly lost a bet at an elite private casino in Ithel, the kind that smells like cigar smoke and blood money. The penalty was simple, he had to call his hard-to-tame pet. The phone was on speaker. The men circled him, whistling and hooting, waiting to be entertained. He asked what I was up to in a relaxed and amused tone. I replied softly, insinuating he was sinful, hiding my defiance behind innocence and fake devotion. When I finished my insult, the room fell silent, then burst into loud and uncontrollable laughter. The call ended. Less than thirty minutes later, the mansion gates were smashed open. He stormed in smelling of gunpowder, a Beretta still in his hand. He pushed me against the wall furiously beneath the Virgin Mary statue. I leaned into him without hesitation, fingers brushing the heated gun, and I met his gaze without fear. I chose virtue and rejected him in my past life, in return I was thrown into the open sea to die. I intended to be his temptation when I got a second chance at life, I wanted to be a beautiful sin that ends his story under the Cecilian sun.

When I'm eight months pregnant, my husband, Levi West, becomes a donor to help his ex-girlfriend get pregnant. He even brings her and their illegitimate child home, wanting me to serve them. I refuse, and he calls me inhumane. "Audie's lost her husband—what's so bad about her wanting to have a child? You're a woman, too! How can you be so cruel?" I leave the house in anger, but Levi doesn't care. "Where can a country girl like you go when you're so heavily pregnant? You're going to come back and beg me to take you in again!" I head to the hospital to get an abortion. Then, I return to the countryside and rear pigs with my grandmother. Later, when Levi sees my flat belly and asks to see our child, I throw a handful of ashes in his face. "There you go. It's all there."

I had proposed seven times, but Winnie Smith continued refusing to marry me. This was because the Smith family had a special test. To marry their daughters, their sons-in-law had to refrain from sleeping with their fiancees after being drugged. I tried seven times. However, every time after I regained consciousness, Winnie would be sleeping naked next to me. She would cry and throw herself into my arms. “It’s fine. We can try again. I trust you.” It was not until the eighth time that I overheard her instructing the butler, “Switch the aphrodisiac to sleeping pills, and make sure it’s a high dosage. “After he falls asleep, I’ll take it from there as usual.” While I kept my eyes shut tight, I could hear her taking off her long dress. Then, she came over to unbutton my shirt. I heard her sigh. “I’m sorry, Benjamin Lowe. Joe Anderson’s been diagnosed with cancer, and his last wish is to be with me. “Don’t worry, though. After he passes, I’ll marry you immediately.” Right then, I realized that her family’s test had been a lie she told just to marry her childhood best friend. The next day, my parents pressured me again to leave the country and inherit the family business. So, I agreed to their request. Since she wanted to marry Joe, I would wish the couple well.

My show-quality service beastkin doesn't like me. He only wags his tail for my sister. I then bring home a low-grade venting beastkin. But he's now so upset that he's nearly in tears. "Layla Manfred, there can only be one hound, and that's me!"

My new next-door neighbour was a total hottie. He fixed my plumbing and brought over baked goods, basically the perfect gentleman. However, I could see a bright red stat hanging over his head. Malice Level: 1,111 It could only mean he was out to get me. One night, he snapped my stalker’s wrist, and red digits reset to zero. Somehow, his murder meter turned into a pink possessiveness score of 9,999+. He wiped the blood off his hand, his tone eerily gentle. “Who gave you the right to touch my prey?”

“This is the contract you need to read carefully. If you accept, you can sign it,” he said. I stared at the document in disbelief. I was about to sign a contract to become a surrogate for a man I barely knew—for eight thousand dollars.

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

Wendy staggered forward at the hospital entrance. She held the Seventy Thousand Dollars she had received for selling her kidney. Her pale face carried a satisfied smile. That was enough to cure Lucas. She thought it was worthy to sell off her kidney for his life. She ignored her post-surgery weakness, and stumbled all the way to the hospital ward. Her heart ached even more as she looked at the frail man lying in bed. "Lucas, your lowly girlfriend is not around. Why put on a show?" "Shut up! I'm perfecting my acting. How else could I fool her?" A familiar, teasing voice came from inside. Wendy's hand froze on the door handle. What did he mean... by fooling her? Laughter and exclamations erupted from the room. "You're smart, Lucas! A fake medical report was all it took to make that woman believe you had cancer!" "I heard she handed over all her savings; all she had was only Eight Thousand Dollars!" "Eight Thousand Dollars? Lucas could simply spend more than that on a single bottle of liquor at the bar. Her money is worthless, yet she actually offers it."

Carlo La Rosa is the Don of the La Rosa family. As for me, I'm just a plaything who's been delivered to his bed in order to clear off my family's debts. For the next three years, Carlo vents his carnal urges on me anyhow he wants. He doesn't do any foreplay. In fact, he doesn't even turn off the lights. Instead, he forces me to look at myself in the mirror. He wants to show me how he eventually devours me. "Take a good look at who's screwing you right now, Lydia!" Carlo is very rough with me in bed, as though he wants to merge with me. I beg him to be gentler with me, but all I get in return are harder thrusts. Those thrusts continue until I faint from the intensity. When I wake up, I see a black card and a morning-after pill on the nightstand. Even though I quickly take the pill, I still end up getting pregnant. I'm about to tell Carlo the news when I see the news on the TV. Apparently, he gets stabbed three times in a row just to protect his first love, Serena Sergio. It turns out that I'm just a plaything for him to vent his urges on. I'm not even considered a replacement. As I caress my belly, I drop my signature on the divorce agreement. Then, I snap the black card in half and leave the pieces on the table.

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight years, but in the end, what she got was his indifference, news of his wedding, and him saying to her that someone like her did not deserve to be loved. She didn’t argue. Instead, on the last page of her diary, she quietly wrote, “That’s okay. I’m going to be with my mom now.” Amidst the five thousand streets in New York, he never found her again after that.