Gacha Table Green Screen

I finally recovered my sight. Just as I was about to tell my parents about it, a slip of paper on the table caught my attention. "Don't tell your parents you've recovered your sight."

"Call me sir." He demanded."What?" I heard it correct yet asked again to make sure did I hear correct? "Don't your thick head get things at once?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows without moving his gaze from mine. No way I am going to call him sir. Thick head! It's the second time he told that. What does he think of himself?I cleared my throat and spoke. "Firstly, I'm not going to call you sir. I'm not your slave to do so. And secondly, I don't have a thick head." I protested. "Slave? Seeing a word by its abbreviation." He quirked a brow. "Your thick head has a little knowledge in it." This time he inched more close while the corner of his perfect shifted to a smirk. Move back, Mister!"Yes, I do see a word by its meaning," I said, trying not to fall in his gaze. (S.I.R = Slave - I - Remain) He got closer and closer and stooped near my ear while keeping his hands on the table, either side of me. I could feel his brushing against my earlobe when he spoke in a low deep voice. "If you don't, I'll cancel this deal." 'No! I can't let this happen.'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I am either drown into the deep green sea or flew up into the bright blue sky, for sure I was lost in his blue-green eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time marched by days into months and months into a year. Everything in my life has changed but one thing remains the same. Years ago I would've never pictured my life the way it is now.

Christmas Eve was meant to be the culmination of seven years of long-distance longing—the day Lorenzo finally slid an engagement ring onto my finger. Instead, a sudden emergency surgery chained me to the operating table. The patient wasn't just suffering from a premature delivery and catastrophic hemorrhaging; she was riddled with infections, the biological fallout of a reckless, hedonistic lifestyle. The girl on the table spat out orders with a venomous entitlement that made my blood run cold. "My husband is the head of the Corleone family. He’s second to none, and this entire city bows to him. If you can’t save my baby, you’re all dead." My mind went blank. There was only one head of the Corleone family: Lorenzo. "You’ve got the wrong man," I said, my voice wavering despite my frown. "The news said he’s already engaged to a woman from a rival family for a strategic alliance." The girl looked at me as if I’d just told a pathetic joke. She surveyed me with a mocking sneer. "Oh, he’s mentioned that woman. He said she’s like a cold corpse—that even touching her makes him sick to his stomach. She doesn't provide him a fraction of the pleasure I do." She smirked. "He heard something happened to the baby. He’s en route from Sicily right now with his personal detail." She flicked her phone screen open. There it was: a photo of her and Lorenzo, locked in a suffocatingly intimate embrace. I froze. A second later, a notification from Lorenzo vibrated against my palm. “Darlin’, something urgent came up tonight. I’m skipping the engagement dinner. I’ll make it up to you later.” Since they were so utterly in love, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I dialed a number that had been silent for three years—the number of the true mastermind of the underworld, Don Sebastian. "Does your proposal from three years ago still stand?"

"Ms. Stout, please read the requirements carefully. Once you submit your personal profile and sign up, all of your information will be sealed. You must then enter the research institute within 15 working days. Until the research results are made public, you will not be allowed to leave." The response from the National Academy of Sciences Research Institute came quickly, accompanied by a form. Shermaine Stout stared at the screen, but the mouse in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The door to her room suddenly swung open, and Shermaine blinked, quickly closing the laptop without a trace of emotion.

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"

"Ms. Hall, these are the details of the feigned death service you booked with us. The date of death is set for the wedding, half a month from now. The cause of death will be suicide by drowning, and the deceased is yourself. Please confirm and sign here." Wendy Hall nodded. Without hesitation, she signed her name at the bottom of the document. The bustling street was alive with chatter and movement. As Wendy walked home alone, she glanced up, and there it was—the giant screen on a nearby building, looping a video of Grayson Bryce proposing to her.

Getting a good job that pays is kind of difficult and an offer came to her to commit a crime when she is no killer but for the money, she had no choice. She never planned to love but planned to be the billionaire hit woman, what happens when the table turns?

“Ashianna, you are the game. I can turn the table in my side. “ he said with the sweet tone of his voice. “My Father is a lawyer. You can’t hide anywhere.” I smirked, seeing him with full anger in his face.

Finally running away from her captors, whom she almost had a traumatizing experience with, Xanthe stumbled on the woods. There she met a wolf with enigmatic piercing green eyes that seemed to struck her whole being. On that day, Xanthe met her angel wolf.

Stephan had wanted to use parsley his fiancee to blackmail his uncle into giving him a contract while having affair with her step sister . unfortunately for Stephan his uncle who was known to be ruthless cold and arrogant turned the table on him and made parsley his.