Godmother Proposal Message Novels & Stories

WARNING This book contains mature scenes, explicit content, and potentially triggering themes. It is rated 18+ and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Reader discretion is advised. Claude Adams never wanted a mate—especially not her. As the Beta and son to the Alpha of the Rising Moon Pack, he knows fate isn’t something to fight. But when he meets the she-wolf destined to be his, the bond feels all wrong. Suffocating. A trap he can’t escape. So when a cryptic message—meant for a human—draws him onto a luxury cruise liner, he takes it as the perfect excuse to run. What he doesn’t expect is Nikolai Vladimirovich—a ruthless Russian Mafia boss with a dangerous aura and a stare that strips Claude down to something raw. What starts as a reckless, meaningless fling turns into something neither of them can walk away from. But Claude isn’t human. He was never meant to belong to Nikolai. And when the truth comes out, there will be no mercy. Because Nikolai doesn’t share. And fate? It doesn’t make mistakes.

On the day my sight returned, our family doctor, Anna Leone, stood right in front of me and mouthed to my husband, Don Marco Vitale, "Double the lubricant tonight. I promise it'll send you straight to heaven, my Don." Marco pressed a gentle kiss to my eyes. Then he turned away and replied with the same silent lip movements, "You little tease. That mouth of yours—and the one below—I'm crazy about them both." The two of them exchanged a knowing smile, convinced their secret was flawless. What they didn't know was that not only had my vision fully recovered—I was also fluent in lip-reading. My gaze drifted to the bottle of lubricant sitting brazenly in the wall cabinet. I said nothing. Instead, I quietly sent a single text message: [Papa, I've decided to come home.] In three days, I would vanish completely. All I would leave behind for them would be the hollowed-out fortune of billions—and that bottle of "lubricant" I had replaced with high-strength industrial superglue.

During an elective class, the campus belle, Jemima Ford, who is our senior, describes her ideal type with everyone egging her on. She says, "My future husband has to be at least six feet two inches tall. His parents must be college professors, and his grades should be top three in his major…" The room buzzes with teasing chatter and gossip. At the same time, I snap up my head in surprise. Why does Jemima's description of her ideal type sound like my boyfriend, Elijah Sanders? The next second, the professor standing by the podium smiles obsequiously and says, "Very well said. If Eli hears this, he'll definitely be very happy! Later, the two of you can meet. That way, he won't get tricked by some naive girl into going abroad." Amid the burst of laughter from the class, I lower my eyes and look at the message my parents sent me. It reads, "Sweetheart, are you really going abroad with your boyfriend? There'll be no one left to inherit our company with you gone."

Doris Albert，the Luna of the Red Moon Pack. But no one ever really respected her. Her husband constantly humiliates her, locks her in a small cell-like room and orders her to be the slave of his mistress... Doris has no way to resist, it only leads to worse whippings. And so two years passed... Until Doris' wolf, Shana, finally woke up after two years of slumber. A new story begins... *** As Doris continued to slice the chicken silently and precisely, the television above her head began to broadcast a major news announcement. "Now our spots have just received a message, the famous warrior goddess, Doris Albert, who disappeared two years ago, has made a surprise appearance today, announcing that she will soon be back in the public eye..." No one would have imagined that the terrifying Warrior Goddess on the television was now standing in a dirty kitchen, preparing a third-anniversary dinner for her husband and his mistress. And they'll have even less idea how the submissive and weak-looking Doris will tear them apart one by one...

There wasn't a package pickup station anywhere in our apartment complex. So out of goodwill, I turned my storage room into a pickup station. I took in packages, organized shelves, labeled everything, and stayed up late every night waiting for people to pick up their deliveries. Then one day, a resident showed up at my door and accused me of stealing her $3,000 gold necklace. "You signed for the delivery. Now it's gone. You had to have opened the package and swapped it out." Residents crowded the hallway, whispering behind my back. Not one person defended me. My stomach dropped. They were the ones complaining about packages getting stolen off their doorsteps. I was the one helping them. But over one baseless accusation, they turned on me instantly. I didn't argue. I just sent a message in the group chat: [Notice: Effective immediately, the One-Penny Pickup Station is officially closed. I will no longer accept, store, or manage packages for residents. Please make other pickup arrangements going forward.]

I was in a car accident on my way to my son, Nathan’s piano competition. Ignoring my injuries, I limped to the venue just in time for the awards ceremony. Nathan won the gold medal. With excitement shining in his eyes, he ran toward me. But as I smiled at him, he turned and placed the medal around the neck of my husband’s first love, Janine Beck. My husband of ten years, Christopher Frost, looked at me with irritation. “Look at what you’re wearing! You’re filthy, like a beggar,” he said cruelly. “Don’t come to Nathan’s celebration dinner tonight—he’s embarrassed by you!” I stayed silent and went alone to the hospital to have my injuries checked. Later, I returned to the villa, drenched in the rain, only to find the doors locked against me. I knocked on the door in the pouring rain for the entire night. At dawn, when the first light broke across the sky, I sent Christopher a message: [Let’s get a divorce. As you wish, I will no longer be an eyesore in your lives.]

Drew Anderson's beloved stepsister, Lisa Anderson, severely injured a pack member with wolfsbane. Drew wanted me to take the fall. He said that as long as I confessed, he would formally make me his Luna. Drew placed a forged confession in front of me. "Freya, you're the only one who can help me. I swear I'll protect you forever." After he finished speaking, I saw Lisa hiding behind him with a victorious smile on her face. I looked at Drew's pleading expression and silently picked up the feather quill. Just as the tip was about to touch the parchment paper, my phone lit up with two new messages. One was from Drew. [Don't worry. I've already spoken to the Council of Elders. You'll only be locked up for a few days.] The other was from his sworn nemesis, Liam Kramer. A video clip was attached. [The real evidence is in my hands. Interested in making a different choice?] I deleted Drew's message and replied to Liam. [What is the choice?]

At the family dinner over the holidays, Elias Barrett has given all of our relatives and their children thick wads of cash. When it's my turn, he just frowns at me. "We've been together for so long. What's the point in going through the motions? You're the one managing the finances, so you can just withdraw what you need from the account." I merely nod without saying anything. But soon, I notice a text message from his bank popping out on the notifications' list. "You have transferred 1,430 dollars to Jamie Sutton. Remark: Babe, happy holidays. XOXO Elias." It turns out that Elias' anti-formalism rule is meant for me, not others. I don't bother starting a fight or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I just cancel the booking on my wedding venue that will be used next month. After that, I shred the kidney donation consent form meant for Elias into pieces. Once the holidays are over, I'm not going to extend Elias' life for him anymore.

On a scale of one to ten, my life had always dangled between three and four, thanks to my very wretched humble background, until the day it hit zero. "I will give you the money on the condition that you send that text to Asher." Mia Harper began with a mischievous smile on her face. "Asher?" I repeated. "You heard me right." No way. Asher Thorne was the hottest, attractive and most popular kid in school. Bad boy, star hockey player, arrogant and snobbish, were the perfect words to describe him with. He hardly ever smiled and didn't talk to just 'anybody'. I stared down at the ridiculous message typed on my phone screen... And that was how it all started for the scholarship student, Grace Williams, the cool genius who preferred to stay invisible and out of trouble. But not for long. Thanks to Mia, she gets tangled with Asher and fresh troubles that came with their forbidden alliance. Determined to tame the bad boy, she steps into a world of secrets, rivalry, and dangerous attraction. Will she survive it? And more importantly… will she dare to step into the love zone?

A parent in my son's preschool group chat tagged me out of nowhere. "Theo's dad, your son's lunches always look pretty nice. Starting tomorrow, pack one for my daughter too." "I'm not asking for free food. I'll give you ten dollars a day. That adds up. You can make a little extra on the side." I stared at the message, almost laughing from how absurd it was. My son has severe food sensitivities and a fragile stomach. Every ingredient in his meals is specially sourced, and a single lunch costs far more than five hundred dollars to prepare. And this man thought ten dollars could buy it? I replied with two words: "Not happening." The next day, my son came home crying. His lunch had been taken by another child, and the teacher had scolded him for being selfish. Fine. Since they wanted to push this far, I would show them exactly how far I could go.