Novel & Cerita Freeze Skz

One day, a wealthy couple is invited to give a speech at my university. My childhood sweetheart, Henry McGregor, tugs me along, eager for us to sneak out to the cafeteria and do some part-time work. He tells me to go grab the empty bucket from the shelf. But just as I take a step, a flood of messages suddenly appears in front of my eyes. [Don't touch that bucket! It's filled with scalding soup that Henry prepared. He wants to ruin your face!] [Three years ago, Henry had his first love impersonate you, becoming the long-lost daughter of the Wright family. Now, he plans to disfigure you so you'll never be able to return.] [You'll endure severe burns all over your body and undergo countless skin grafts. In the end, the fake heiress will poison you by swapping your medicine.] [Meanwhile, that scumbag will marry into the Wright family. Along with the impostor, they'll drain the Wrights of everything they have.] [You need to go back right now and let Mrs. Wright see your face. This is your only chance to reclaim your rightful place as their daughter!] At that moment, I hear Henry urging me again to hurry and move the bucket. As I glance at the flood of messages once more, I freeze, stopping dead in my tracks.

I get picked up by the cops in the middle of the night for street vending. While questioning me, they pull up my file. One officer eyes me suspiciously through my mask and asks, "What's a Clairefield University graduate like you doing selling stuff on the street at midnight?" I freeze and lean over to look at the file. The ID number matches mine, but the photo has been replaced with one of Madison Bass. That's when it hits me—20 years ago, I was the one who got accepted to Clairefield University! Dazed and numb, I stumble home only to hear my husband, Joseph Gunther, speaking on the phone. "Madison, don't worry. I won't let Lucy interfere with your life. Just go abroad in peace." It's him! Joseph helped Madison steal my identity and my future. My stomach twists. I turn to confront him, to expose the truth. But before I can, he strangles me to death with a belt. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You can't ruin Madison's future…" When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the classroom. Our homeroom teacher is handing out university application forms. This time, I'm taking my life back.

The day I fail to get into university, my childhood sweetheart breaks off our engagement. Then he delivers the next blow. He's marrying my best friend, Katherine Schaffer, who actually got into a university. They've even already registered their marriage. Crushed by the double betrayal, I leave home to clear my head, only to fall into the hands of human traffickers. Katherine's stepbrother, Dominic Frizzell, spends his entire fortune rescuing me. Even after I lose a hand, he proposes. After we marry, he spoils me in every way. Sometimes it feels like he practically worships me. That goes on for seven years, until one day, I overhear my mother-in-law lecturing him. "You abducted Valerie and cut off her hand just so Katherine could take her place at the university. And to make sure Valerie couldn't get revenge, you even married her. You've done more than enough for Katherine." Dominic's voice holds a quiet melancholy. "It's still not enough. Kat always deserves the best." I freeze behind the door, stunned by the truth. It turns out that all the suffering and every supposed act of salvation were simply Dominic using me.

“You should end things with him.” A husky deep voice echoes from the darkness. I freeze in place, his thick Russian accent sent shivers down my spine. I could only make out his large form from the dim lights of the smoking area. “H-how long have you been standing there?” I shivered, not from the cold but from an unsettling feeling. He chuckles richly causing my heart rate to quicken as I watch a small flicker of light before smoke puffs out into the air. “Go inside, krasotka it’s too cold for that little dress of yours...” ******** Josephine Beaumont would’ve never imagined that working as a personal nurse for a wealthy French businessman would entangle her into a deadly web of mafia rivalries. Struggling with financial issues and a toxic relationship, she catches the attention of the dangerous and ruthless Russian pakhan, Sasha Romanov and a deep dark obsession brews takes root in his heart. He stalks her every move with burning desire and manipulates their meeting in the pretense of fate, pulling her into the dangerous dark world of the mafia. Delve into this dark, steamy mafia romance filled with obsession, power, and high-stakes danger, BRATVA'S OBSESSION will leave you breathless and craving more.

My first day back home and my husband's secretary was already flexing her muscles, trying to grab my antique right out of my hands. Before I could get a word out, she smacked me across the face. Twice. She sneered at me with a look that could freeze fire. "This piece caught my eye, and I'm being nice to you. Better apologize and thank me, pronto!" I moved to confront her, but before I knew it, her bodyguard had me pinned to the ground. She looked down at me like I was nothing. "Trying to challenge me? I'm Mrs. Collins of the Collins family here in Riverton City. You're nothing! One word from my husband and you're out of here!" Passersby started chiming in: "Aren't you going to bow down and beg? She's the apple of Mr. Collins' eye." "Play your cards right, and maybe you'll still be scrubbing toilets in Riverton City." I was ready to set things straight when her title hit me like a ton of bricks. The Collins family of Riverton City? When did Eric get another wife? I dialed Eric's number and laughed calmly. "Eric, since when did you secretly marry someone behind my back?"

My friend, George, and I are both knocked unconscious by a basketball. When I wake up, I suddenly hear my late mother's voice. "Tam, don’t let George fool you again. He loves pretending to have amnesia just to toy with you and please Ariana Rogers." I freeze and look at George, who has just woken up. I hear him ask, "Who are you?" My mom goes on, "In your past life, he ruined you. You gave him a good life and everything you have, but he killed you just to be with Ariana. "Listen, your dad is about to ask you to choose a boy to be your brother. Don't pick George. Choose the boy from the Muller family. Even though he never smiles or gives you the time of day. He quietly carries your bottle for you during training every time." Before I can process it, my dad walks toward me and holds out several photos of boys. He says, "Tam, they are all children of soldiers who sacrificed for our country. I plan to adopt one to be your brother. You choose. From now on, we will be a family." This time, I do not hesitate. I point straight at Clyde Muller. "I'll listen to Mom and choose him."

We got caught in a blizzard—me, my fiancé Melvin Dunn, a few of his colleagues, including Sally Blom. Middle of the night, I woke up shaking. My heavy-duty sleeping bag—the one built for minus forty—was gone. In its place? A flimsy summer quilt. Sally was curled up in my bag, fast asleep in Melvin's arms. I shoved him hard. "Why is she in my sleeping bag?" He pulled me aside, whispering, "Keep your voice down. Sally's kinda fragile—she's about to catch a cold. You're strong. You'll be fine." I pointed at my feet, already numb. "So I'm supposed to freeze to death for you two because she's 'fragile'?" He frowned. "God, Peyton, stop being so dramatic. It's just a sleeping bag. Think about the team for once." I laughed, tears slipping down my face. Didn't say another word. Just crawled back into the corner, grabbed the sat phone, and called my brother—Captain of Stormfang Rescue, an elite international search and rescue team. "Hugh, come get me. The coordinates are... Remember—I'm alone."

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.

For three years, I’ve been stuck in a contract with a man who calls himself my fiancé, a chronic cheater who treats me like a trophy and a tool. But everything changed the night of the auction. I went only because I heard whispers that a sacred artifact, a relic tied to my pack’s downfall, would be up for bidding. That relic could save us. I needed it more than my next breath. What I didn’t expect… was him. Damon Cross. The man every Alpha in the city feared. The man who could freeze a room with one look and burn it down with the next. To my wild shock, he was my fiancé’s powerful, ruthless uncle, and the one man I should never want. He unexpectedly got the artifact I wanted. I rushed after him and seeing him head to his car, I yelled. “Hey!” He stopped. Looked down at me with heat in his gaze as I ran up to him, panting. “Give it to me,” I said, holding out my hand. He stepped closer, shadows clinging to his shoulders. “Can you buy it for double the price?” I blinked, his coldness like a slap. Did he not remember me? Then the smirk came. “Tell me, my lovely ex-girlfriend.”

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero.